玄罚天尊的惩罚

The world of cultivation stretched across endless mountains and rivers, where mortals lived in the shadows of immortal sects and ancient beasts. From the lowest realm of Qi Refining, cultivators ascended through Foundation Establishment, Core Formation, Nascent Soul, and finally to the supreme height of Transcending Divinity. In this world, female cultivators outnumbered males by a significant margin, and the men who reached the higher realms were few but formidable. Among them, none inspired more dread and reverence than the one known as Xuanfa—the Punishment Heavenly Sovereign.

His true name had been lost to time, buried beneath centuries of fear and legend. He was a man of few words and fewer expressions, dressed always in black training robes that seemed to drink the light around them. His demeanor was cold as a frozen lake, his eyes empty of warmth, and his power was absolute. At the great circle of Transcending Divinity, he stood among the strongest in the world, a force that could shatter mountains with a flick of his fingers. He had but one peculiar obsession: the bottoms of women. To punish, to correct, to humiliate—that was his way, and woe to any female cultivator who crossed his path.

On the slopes of the Celestial Mist Mountain, the all-female sect known as the Immortal Mist Sect carried on its daily routines. The sect was a sanctuary for women cultivators, its halls echoing with the soft chatter of disciples, the clang of practice swords, and the rustle of black-and-white dao robes. At its head stood Shen Mengyue, a woman of unmatched beauty and considerable power. Her long black hair cascaded past her waist, her skin was fair as jade, and her features held a dual charm—pure and aloof like a celestial maiden, yet bewitching like a seductress. She was a mid-stage Transcending Divinity cultivator, skilled in the sword, and deeply devoted to her sect and her disciples.

The trouble began with a young disciple named Su Yan, a Foundation Establishment cultivator with more enthusiasm than caution. She had been dispatched to the Azure Flower Market in the nearby mortal city to procure herbs for the sect's alchemy hall. On her way back, she flew too hastily on her sword, her mind distracted by thoughts of an upcoming tournament. She did not see the figure standing motionless on the cloud path ahead until she crashed directly into him.

The impact sent her tumbling from her sword, and she hit the ground hard, scrambling to her feet to apologize. The man she had struck stood unmoved, brushing a speck of dust from his black sleeve. Su Yan's blood ran cold. She knew that face. The blank expression. The oppressive aura that made her want to kneel and beg for mercy. She had heard the stories—every female cultivator in the world had heard the stories.

"Forgive me, Sovereign Xuanfa!" she cried, dropping to her knees and pressing her forehead to the ground. "I was careless! I did not see you!"

Xuanfa looked down at her with eyes as empty as the void. "A mere Foundation Establishment insect dares to ram into me," he said, his voice flat and devoid of emotion. "Your sect will answer for this insolence."

"Please! It was my fault alone! Do not—"

He raised a finger, and Su Yan's mouth sealed shut. A simple technique, but effective. Tears streamed down her face as he turned and began walking toward the distant peaks of the Immortal Mist Sect. She tried to rise, tried to call out a warning, but her body would not obey. She remained frozen on the ground, watching the nightmare approach her home.

The news reached Shen Mengyue before Xuanfa did. A formation disciple came running into the main hall, pale as death, her robes disheveled. "Sect Leader! The Punishment Heavenly Sovereign is coming! He's already at the outer gate!"

Shen Mengyue rose from her seat at the head of the hall, her hand instinctively moving to the hilt of her sword. Her heart raced, but she kept her composure. "What does he want?"

"He encountered Su Yan in the mortal city! She flew into him by accident, and now he says our sect must answer for it!"

A murmur of panic spread through the disciples gathered in the hall. Shen Mengyue silenced them with a raised hand. "No one leaves this hall. I will speak with him."

She walked to the outer gate, where the black-clad figure of Xuanfa stood waiting. His hands were clasped behind his back, and he regarded her approach with the same empty expression he wore for all things. The mountain wind stirred his dark hair, but he did not blink.

"Sect Leader Shen," he said. "Your disciple assaulted me."

"She made a mistake," Shen Mengyue replied, keeping her voice steady. "She is young and careless. I will punish her personally. There is no need for you to involve yourself."

"Punish her?" A faint, chilling smile touched the corner of Xuanfa's mouth. "No. I will punish all of you. Every woman in this sect will learn what it means to offend me."

Shen Mengyue's sword was in her hand before she finished drawing it, a streak of silver light that hummed with spiritual energy. "I cannot allow that."

"You cannot stop me."

She attacked. Her sword traced arcs of light in the air, each strike carrying the weight of decades of cultivation. Her movements were fluid, precise, beautiful—but Xuanfa did not even step back. He raised two fingers and deflected her blade with a single tap, sending a shockwave up her arm that nearly made her drop the weapon.

"Mid-stage Transcending Divinity," he said, almost bored. "Impressive for a woman. But not enough."

They fought across the mountain peak, their battle shaking the very foundations of the sect. Disciples watched from behind barriers, their faces pale, their hands clasped in prayer. Shen Mengyue poured everything into her attacks—sword qi, elemental manipulation, secret techniques passed down through generations of sect leaders. None of it mattered. Xuanfa moved like a shadow, his fingers striking precise points that disrupted her qi flow, her balance, her defenses. He was toying with her.

At the thirty-seventh exchange, he ended it. A single finger strike to her dantian sent her qi spiraling out of control. Her sword clattered to the ground, and she fell to her knees, gasping, her body trembling from the backlash. She looked up at him, her eyes wide with a mixture of pain and fear.

"Seventy percent," Xuanfa said, standing over her. "That was seventy percent of my power. You lasted longer than I expected."

"I yield," Shen Mengyue whispered, her voice hoarse. "Spare my disciples. I will take any punishment you decree."

"Of course you will." He looked past her, at the gathered disciples who had begun to weep and tremble. "Your sect chose to resist. A foolish decision. From this day forward, every member of the Immortal Mist Sect will receive one hundred strikes on the buttocks with the Xuanwood Board each day. This punishment will continue for three years. No exceptions."

The disciples wailed. Some fainted. Others tried to flee, but the mountain's formation had been sealed the moment Xuanfa arrived. Shen Mengyue remained on her knees, her face drained of color, her hands clenched into fists.

"The Xuanwood Board..." she repeated, barely audible.

"Twenty-three layers of refinement," Xuanfa said, producing a dark wooden board from his spatial ring. It was about two feet long and half a foot wide, etched with runes that glowed faintly. "It will not break your bones. But by the end of the first month, you will all have trouble sitting. By the end of the first year, you will kneel to eat your meals. By the end of three years..." He paused, and that faint smile returned. "You will be grateful for any shred of mercy I offer."

He stepped past Shen Mengyue and into the sect's main courtyard. The disciples cowered before him, pressing themselves against walls, hiding behind one another. He ignored them all. He walked to the center of the courtyard, where a stone platform stood for ceremonial announcements. He turned and faced the assembled crowd.

"Line up," he said. "By seniority. Sect Leader first."

Shen Mengyue rose on unsteady legs. The Xuanwood Board lay across a stone pedestal, waiting. She walked forward, each step an effort of will. The other disciples watched in silence, their tears flowing freely.

When she reached the platform, Xuanfa gestured for her to present herself. She knew the position—kneeling forward, hands on the ground, her rear raised and exposed. It was the most humiliating position imaginable, made worse by the fact that all her disciples were watching.

"Remove your robes," Xuanfa said. "The board must strike bare skin."

Shen Mengyue's hands shook as she unfastened her sash. Her black-and-white dao robes fell away, pooling around her knees. The cold air touched her bare skin, and she could hear the sharp intakes of breath from her disciples. She closed her eyes and assumed the position, pressing her forehead against the cold stone of the platform.

The first strike hit like lightning. The Xuanwood Board was not a weapon of permanent damage, but the pain it delivered was exquisite. A sharp, burning crack that seemed to echo through her very soul. She bit her lip to keep from crying out.

The disciples watched in horrified silence as their elegant, powerful sect leader received strike after strike. By the thirtieth, her backside was a deep, angry red. By the fiftieth, she was trembling uncontrollably, tears streaming down her face. By the seventy-fifth, a small sob escaped her throat, and by the one hundredth, she collapsed forward, unable to hold herself up.

Xuanfa examined his work with cold satisfaction. "Next," he said.

The punishment continued through the afternoon and into the evening. The sect had three hundred and forty-two members. At one hundred strikes each, the process was slow and methodical. Xuanfa showed no fatigue, no mercy, no impatience. He struck each disciple with the same precise force, ensuring no one was spared.

When the last disciple had received her punishment, the courtyard was filled with the sounds of weeping and groaning. Women lay scattered across the stone, some crying, others simply unable to move. Their rears were raw and swollen, the pain a constant, burning reminder of their transgression.

Shen Mengyue had managed to crawl to the base of a pillar, her robes clutched loosely around her shoulders. Her lower body was bare, too painful to clothe. She looked up at Xuanfa as he approached her one final time.

"Tomorrow," he said, "at the same hour. Do not be late."

"Why?" she asked, her voice cracking. "Why do you do this?"

Xuanfa looked at her for a long moment. "Because you are all arrogant," he said. "Because you think your cultivation and your lineage protect you. Because you need to be reminded that in this world, there are those who can break you with a thought. I am that reminder."

He turned and walked away, his black robes merging with the shadows of the evening. He did not look back.

The Immortal Mist Sect fell silent. The moon rose over Celestial Mist Mountain, casting silver light upon a scene of broken pride and shattered dignity. And somewhere in the darkness, a young disciple named Su Yan remained frozen on the mortal road, tears still wet on her face, knowing that her carelessness had brought ruin upon everyone she loved.

Fifteen years had passed in the Xuantian Realm, and Li Que had long since surrendered to the rhythm of her new existence. Every morning began the same way—the creak of wooden floorboards beneath her palms and knees, the weight of the leather collar around her throat, and the cool air kissing her bare skin as she crawled to present herself before her master.

The daily two hundred strokes from the Celestial Punishment Plank had become as routine as breathing. She would present her buttocks, feel the wood connect with her flesh, and count each strike with a practiced stillness that betrayed none of the agony she felt. Her red hair, once the symbol of her pride as Vice Sect Leader of the Vermillion Bird Sect, now hung in a high ponytail that Xuan Fa could grip whenever he wished to guide her movements.

"Faster," Xuan Fa's cold voice cut through the morning silence.

Li Que pressed her palms harder against the floor, increasing her pace as she crawled across the chamber. Beside her, Lin Qiaoxin moved in perfect synchronization, her black twin-tails swaying with each step of her hands and knees. The leather leashes attached to their collars dragged behind them, loops of black material that Xuan Fa would occasionally step on just to feel them strain against the restraints.

They had long since memorized the path from the inner chamber to the main hall. The polished stone was cool beneath their palms, the temperature a constant reminder that they were nothing more than animals in this space. When they reached their designated spot before Xuan Fa's elevated seat, they stopped in unison, lowering their foreheads to touch the ground.

"Rise to kneeling," Xuan Fa commanded.

Li Que pushed herself up, her bare thighs pressing together as she settled into the kneeling position. Lin Qiaoxin did the same, her youthful body still carrying the same energy she'd had when she first became Xuan Fa's slave, even after fifteen years of daily discipline.

"Master," Lin Qiaoxin said, her voice bright despite her position. "This slave has a question."

Xuan Fa raised one eyebrow, the only indication that he was listening. He sat cross-legged on his elevated platform, his black training clothes immaculate, his face as expressionless as carved jade.

"What does Master enjoy most in this world?"

The question hung in the air. Li Que felt her heart quicken. In fifteen years, neither of them had dared to ask such a personal question. But Lin Qiaoxin had always been bold, even when stripped of everything but her skin.

Xuan Fa's lips curved into something that was barely a smile. "Watching female cultivators suffer," he said, his voice carrying no emotion. "Watching them squirm and cry as their buttocks are beaten raw. The pain they feel becomes my power. Their humiliation strengthens my cultivation. Every tear, every scream, every pleading whimper—they feed my soul."

Li Que felt a shiver run down her spine. She had known this, of course. Fifteen years of being beaten daily had taught her exactly what kind of man held her leash.

"Then Master will be very pleased with what this slave has to propose," Lin Qiaoxin said, lifting her head slightly. "The entire cultivation world already knows that the Sect Leader of the Immortal Mist Sect was stripped naked and knelt before her own sect's hall, presenting her bare bottom for punishment. But what they do not know is that the formation genius Lin Qiaoxin and the former Vice Sect Leader of the Vermillion Bird Sect have become Master's slaves."

Li Que picked up the thread. "Let Master parade us through the streets of Wuling City, crawling naked on all fours. Let Master lead us to the highest platform in the city, where all can see. And let Master summon the Sect Leader of the Immortal Mist Sect to join us."

Lin Qiaoxin's eyes sparkled with excitement. "Three of us, kneeling in a row. Our faces pressed to the ground, our buttocks raised high. The Celestial Punishment Plank can beat us until our flesh is shredded, until even cultivators need a week to recover. Then Master can spread our legs and whip the tender flesh between our cheeks. Our anuses, our caves—all swollen and raw. And finally, Master can insert anal hooks into our reddened holes and hang us up for a full week of public display."

Xuan Fa's expression did not change, but the air around him seemed to grow heavier. "You wish to offer yourselves as a public spectacle?"

"We wish to please Master," Li Que said, her voice steady. "Fifteen years of daily punishment have taught us our place. Now let the world see what happens to those who defy Xuan Fa."

Silence filled the chamber. Xuan Fa's fingers drummed against his knee as he considered their proposal. The seconds stretched into minutes, and Li Que felt the familiar tension building in her chest.

"Acceptable," Xuan Fa said at last. "The plan pleases me."

Relief washed through both women, but before they could express their gratitude, Xuan Fa raised a hand.

"However," he continued, "I have grown tired of the same methods. Before we enact your plan, I wish to try something new."

Lin Qiaoxin's brow furrowed slightly. "New, Master?"

"Kneel," Xuan Fa commanded. "Present your buttocks and spread your anuses."

Li Que and Lin Qiaoxin exchanged a glance before complying. They turned their backs to Xuan Fa, lowering their upper bodies until their faces touched the floor, their hips raised high in the air. Each woman reached behind herself with both hands, grabbing the cheeks of her own buttocks and pulling them apart, exposing the tight pink rosettes of their anuses.

Li Que felt the cool air against her most private entrance and shivered. The position was humiliating, more degrading than anything she had endured in fifteen years. Linn Qiaoxin's youthful body trembled beside her, but neither woman dared to move from the position.

Xuan Fa rose from his seat and walked to a chest in the corner of the chamber. When he returned, he carried a clay jar and a funnel. The jar was unremarkable, but the smell that emanated from it was unmistakable.

Divine Ginger.

Li Que's eyes widened. Divine Ginger, harvested from the highest peaks of the Xuantian Realm, was said to be so potent that even a single slice could burn the tongue for hours. Crushing it into juice would create a liquid fire.

Xuan Fa knelt behind Lin Qiaoxin first. He pressed the tip of the funnel against the young woman's anus and began to pour.

The first drop touched Lin Qiaoxin's flesh, and she jerked violently. A sound escaped her throat, half gasp, half whimper. As more of the ginger juice flowed into her bowels, her body began to shake. Her hands clenched into fists against the floor.

"Ah—Master—it burns—"

"Silence," Xuan Fa said. "Accept the punishment."

Lin Qiaoxin's entire body went rigid as the liquid fire spread through her insides. Her back arched, her toes curled against the floor, and her breath came in ragged gasps. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she struggled to maintain her position.

"It feels like a hot iron rod," she gasped. "In my stomach—Master, please—"

Xuan Fa ignored her pleas and finished pouring the juice into her. He sealed the funnel and moved to Li Que.

The moment the ginger juice touched Li Que's anus, she understood exactly what Lin Qiaoxin meant. It was as if someone had shoved a burning metal rod into her intestines. The heat radiated outward, spreading through her bowels, her abdomen, her entire core. She gritted her teeth and tried to focus on anything but the searing agony.

"Master," she managed through clenched teeth, "this is... quite intense."

The corner of Xuan Fa's mouth twitched. "That is the point."

When he had finished pouring the juice into both women, he returned to his seat. The two slaves remained in their positions, bodies trembling violently, sweat pouring down their skin. The ginger juice churned in their bowels, creating waves of fiery pain that made it almost impossible to think.

"You will hold it in," Xuan Fa said. "The two hundred strokes of the Celestial Punishment Plank will begin momentarily. You are not to allow any leakage. If you lose control and spray your intestines' contents onto my floor, the punishment will be doubled."

Li Que's heart plummeted. Two hundred strokes under normal conditions were already grueling. Two hundred strokes with her bowels filled with liquid fire would be torture beyond imagination. And the threat of doubling the punishment if she lost control...

The Celestial Punishment Plank materialized above them, its wooden surface gleaming with the light of countless beatings. It was a rectangular slab of polished wood, inscribed with runes that glowed with power. It hovered in the air, positioning itself behind the two women.

The first stroke fell on Lin Qiaoxin's upturned buttocks.

The crack echoed through the chamber, followed by a sharp cry from Lin Qiaoxin. Her body jerked forward, and Li Que could see the muscles of her back clench and release. The sound of the second stroke came immediately after, landing on the other cheek.

"One," Xuan Fa counted. "Two."

The plank continued its assault, alternating between the two women. With each stroke, the ginger juice sloshed inside them, spreading fresh waves of fire through their bowels. Both women struggled to maintain their composure, their bodies trembling violently as they fought the urge to clench their muscles and expel the burning liquid.

"Fifty-seven," Xuan Fa said. "Fifty-eight."

Lin Qiaoxin's breath came in short, sharp gasps. Her face was pressed against the floor, tears and drool pooling beneath her cheeks. Each stroke sent a fresh jolt of pain through her already inflamed buttocks, and the ginger juice made every movement feel like molten lava was flowing through her insides.

"Master," she whimpered, "this slave cannot... it's too much..."

"You can," Xuan Fa replied coldly. "You will."

"Ninety-three. Ninety-four."

Li Que felt the pressure building inside her. Her bowels were churning, the ginger juice mixing with her natural fluids and creating a pressure that demanded release. Her entire lower body felt like it was on fire, and with each stroke of the plank, the flames grew hotter.

She bit her lip until she tasted blood, using the metallic flavor to ground herself. She had been Vice Sect Leader of the Vermillion Bird Sect. She had faced opponents who sought to destroy her, schemes designed to ruin her, punishments that would break lesser cultivators. She would not break now.

"One hundred twenty-seven. One hundred twenty-eight."

Lin Qiaoxin let out a moan that was half pleasure, half pain. The sensations were becoming too intense to distinguish. The burning in her anus, the swelling of her buttocks, the pressure in her bowels—it all blended into a symphony of agony that made her vision blur.

"I can't—I'm going to—"

"One hundred fifty-one. One hundred fifty-two."

The pressure in Lin Qiaoxin's bowels reached a breaking point. Her muscles, trained to hold by years of discipline, finally gave way. With a cry of despair, she felt her sphincter release, and a stream of ginger juice mixed with intestinal fluids sprayed out of her anus, splattering across the floor behind her.

Xuan Fa's voice was ice. "Two hundred additional strokes. Begin counting from zero."

"No," Lin Qiaoxin sobbed. "Master, this slave tried, please—"

"Three. Four."

The plank descended on her already raw buttocks with renewed fury. Lin Qiaoxin's cries filled the chamber, echoing off the walls as she endured the doubled punishment. The ginger juice continued to leak from her anus, mixing with the blood that was beginning to seep from her beaten flesh.

"One hundred seventy-eight. One hundred seventy-nine."

Li Que felt her own control slipping. The ginger juice was becoming unbearable, and with every stroke of the plank, her muscles twitched in ways that threatened to betray her. She focused on her breathing, on the rhythm of the strikes, on anything that would

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The morning sun cast long shadows across the cobblestone streets of Wuling City as a strange procession made its way through the main thoroughfare. The air was thick with the sounds of merchants hawking their wares and the murmur of daily life, but all of that faded into a stunned silence as the crowd caught sight of the approaching figures.

At the front strode a man in black training robes, his expression an unreadable mask of cold indifference. His eyes swept over the crowd with the casual disdain of a predator surveying prey. He held two leather leashes in his right hand, the buckles jingling softly with each step.

Behind him, on all fours, crawled two naked women.

The crowd gasped. Children were hurriedly pulled behind their mothers' skirts. A fruit vendor dropped his basket, apples rolling forgotten across the stones. Whispers spread like wildfire.

"Is that... is that the one they call the Profound Punishment?"

"Look at their necks! Dog collars!"

"The redhead—that's Li Que, the deputy sect leader of Vermillion Gate! And the other one is Lin Qiaoxin, that prodigy!"

Their bodies were bare to the world. Every curve, every scar, every lingering bruise was on full display. The redhead's athletic frame moved with a strange, almost eager gait, her firm buttocks swaying as she crawled. The younger one, with her twin ponytails, had a playful gleam in her eyes despite her position. But both of them trembled visibly, their thighs quivering with each movement. Their rear ends bore fresh, angry red stripes from previous punishments, but the trembling had little to do with the pain on the surface.

Lining their intestines was a hellish concoction of pure ginger juice.

The spicy, burning liquid had been funneled into their bowels hours earlier. With every crawl, every shift of muscle, the fiery liquid sloshed and pressed against their sensitive inner walls. The sharp, relentless sting radiated upward into their stomachs, down into their cores. It was a constant, gnawing agony that made their eyes water and their legs weak. Yet they did not cry out. They could not. Their master had forbidden it.

Lin Qiaoxin's breath came in short, ragged gasps. She kept her head low, her twin ponytails brushing the ground, and crawled forward with a strained smile playing on her lips. The pain was exquisite, she told herself. It was a gift from her master. The burning inside her felt like a furnace, and she loved it. She loved the way it made her feel so utterly owned, so completely his. Every step of her hands and knees sent a fresh wave of agony through her abdomen, and she bit her lower lip to suppress a moan.

Li Que crawled beside her, her high ponytail—the only thing still on her body—swinging with each movement. Her face was flushed, her teeth clenched. As a former deputy sect leader who had never bowed to anyone weaker than herself, she had found a master worthy of her submission. The pain was proof of her dedication. The ginger juice burned like a living thing inside her, coiling around her insides like a serpent, and she welcomed it. Her eyes were bright with a strange, feverish devotion.

They followed their master obediently toward the tall platform in the center of the city—the Celestial Judgment Platform, where punishments were traditionally carried out in full view of the public.

But they were not the only spectacle.

From the opposite side of the square, another crowd parted to reveal a sight that made even the most hardened citizens avert their eyes in pity.

A woman with long black hair down to her waist crawled forward on all fours, a leather collar around her slender neck. A thin chain extended from the collar to the hand of a young girl in disciple robes—one of Shen Mengyue's own students.

The woman was Shen Mengyue herself, the revered sect leader of the Immortal Cloud Sect.

She was completely naked.

Her pale, flawless skin gleamed under the morning light. Her beautiful face, usually serene and commanding, was contorted in a mask of shame so deep that it seemed to carve years into her features. Her full breasts hung down as she crawled, brushing against the dusty stones. Her buttocks, still bearing the faded red marks from her previous punishment, quivered with every movement. Tears streamed silently down her cheeks, but she did not dare stop.

The crowd murmured. Many recognized her. Some gasped in shock. Others shook their heads in disbelief.

"Is that really Sect Leader Shen? The one who was spanked naked in front of the entire cultivation world?"

"How far she has fallen..."

Her own disciple! Leading her like a dog!

The shame was a physical weight pressing down on Shen Mengyue's chest, crushing her lungs, making it hard to breathe. Her mind screamed at her to stop, to stand up, to fight back. She was a sect leader! A mid-stage Nascent Soul cultivator! Her sword had carved its way through countless battles! And yet here she was, crawling naked through the streets of a mortal city, led by a leash held by a disciple she had once taught the basics of swordcraft.

Every step, every glance from the onlookers, was a dagger in her soul. She could feel their eyes on her. The men's lecherous stares lingering on her exposed breasts, the curve of her hips. The women's pitying gazes, the children's curious questions. Some people even laughed. She heard a young man say, "Look at that ass! It's still red from last time!" and his companion snickered.

The words cut deeper than any blade.

Her mind retreated into a hollow darkness. She remembered the days when she wore flowing white and black robes, when her word was law, when her presence commanded respect. Now she was nothing but a plaything, a public spectacle, a lesson to all who dared defy the Profound Punishment. The humiliation was so absolute that she felt her spirit shatter a little more with each crawl.

The ginger juice in her bowels—for she too had been prepared—burned with a vengeance. She had tried to resist, had tried to expel it, but her master's methods were thorough. The fiery liquid was deep inside her, coating her insides, and every movement of her crawl made it worse. The burning was so intense that at times she nearly blacked out. She would have welcomed unconsciousness, but her cultivation kept her awake, alert, fully aware of every second of her degradation.

Her disciple tugged the chain gently, guiding her toward the platform. The girl's face was a mixture of sorrow and fear. She did not want to do this, but she had no choice. The order came from the Profound Punishment himself, and defiance meant worse than death.

Finally, all three women reached the base of the Celestial Judgment Platform. The structure was made of white stone, raised about ten feet above the ground, with a flat top large enough to accommodate several people. Runes were carved into its surface, ancient symbols of judgment and retribution. The crowd gathered around, forming a sea of faces stretching in all directions.

Xuan Fa climbed the steps with measured, unhurried strides. He turned and looked down at the three women below him. His face showed no emotion whatsoever, as if he were examining livestock.

"Crawl up," he commanded.

One by one, the women mounted the platform on their hands and knees. The stones were cool against their bare skin. Lin Qiaoxin and Li Que moved with eagerness despite their internal agony, their eyes fixed on their master with adoration. Shen Mengyue crawled slowly, her head hanging low, her hair falling forward to hide her face. Her shoulders shook.

When all three were on the platform, Xuan Fa addressed the crowd. His voice carried effortlessly, amplified by a subtle use of cultivation energy.

"These three women have been brought before the public today to receive judgment for their offenses. Lin Qiaoxin and Li Que have willingly submitted themselves to me as my slaves. They have proven their loyalty through their suffering. Shen Mengyue has defied me, and this punishment serves as a reminder of her place."

He paused, letting his words sink in.

"Today, I will administer the punishment of the buttocks. Each of them shall receive a full beating from the Heavenly Judgment Boards, until their flesh is reduced to a state that even cultivators will require a full week to recover. Their legs will be spread, and their intimate parts shall be whipped until swollen. Then, anal hooks will be inserted, and they will be suspended here, above this platform, for an entire week, as a public example."

Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Some looked horrified. Others leaned forward with morbid curiosity.

"Now," Xuan Fa said, "kneel in a row. Upper body flat on the ground. Raise your buttocks high."

Lin Qiaoxin and Li Que immediately complied. They lowered their chests to the stone floor, stretching their arms forward, and pushed their hips upward. Their buttocks—already marked with red stripes—rose high into the air, presenting themselves perfectly. Shen Mengyue hesitated for a fraction of a second, but a sharp glance from Xuan Fa made her obey. She bent forward, pressing her face and breasts against the cold stone, and arched her back. Her buttocks lifted, round and pale, with the faint red marks from previous punishments still visible.

All three women were now in position, their most private parts fully exposed to the thousands of eyes watching from below.

Xuan Fa raised his hand and made a gesture. The runes on the platform began to glow. From the sky, three rectangular wooden boards descended slowly, each about two feet long, one foot wide, and an inch thick. They were carved from the wood of the Heaven's Judgment Tree, a legendary material said to be impervious to normal cultivation. They hovered in the air, angled to strike.

"Begin," Xuan Fa commanded.

The first board shot downward and struck Lin Qiaoxin's raised buttocks with a resounding *SMACK*.

The sound echoed across the square. Her flesh rippled from the impact, and a bright red handprint bloomed across her skin. She let out a sharp gasp but forced a smile. "Thank you, Master!"

The second board struck Li Que. *CRACK*. Her athletic buttocks bounced from the force, and a red welt appeared instantly. She grunted, her legs shaking, but her eyes shone with pride.

The third board struck Shen Mengyue. *WHAP*. She cried out, a sound of pure pain and shame. The impact sent a shockwave through her entire body. Her fingers clawed at the stone.

Again and again the boards descended in a relentless rhythm. *SMACK* *CRACK* *WHAP* *SMACK* *CRACK* *WHAP*

Lin Qiaoxin bit her lip, her eyes glazed with a mixture of pain and pleasure. Each blow sent fire through her buttocks, but she welcomed it. She counted each strike in her head, feeling the flesh grow hotter, more tender. The ginger juice inside her added an extra layer of torment, the internal burning combining with the external punishment to create a symphony of sensation. She moaned softly, "More, Master, please more..."

Li Que endured in silence, her fists clenched. The boards slammed into her firm buttocks, turning the skin from red to purple to a deep, angry black. She did not make a sound of complaint. She had sworn to be the strongest slave her master could have, and she would prove it. Her body trembled with each blow, but her spirit remained unbroken. After the fiftieth strike, her buttocks were a swollen mass of bruised flesh, the original shape barely recognizable.

Shen Mengyue was the most vocal. Tears streamed down her face as the boards rained down on her. *SMACK* She screamed. *CRACK* She sobbed. Each blow felt like a blade slicing into her soul. Her beautiful, pale buttocks were transformed into a grotesque mess of welts and open wounds. Blood began to seep from the worst of the cracks. The crowd watched in horror and fascination. Some turned away. Others were transfixed.

The boards continued for a full hundred and eighty strikes—sixty per woman.

When they finally stopped, the three wome

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The seventh dawn broke over Wuling City, and for Shen Mengyue, each ray of light that crept across the square felt like another blade slicing through what remained of her dignity. The anal hook that had suspended her for seven days had become a familiar agony, the constant pressure and stretch a dull ache that never truly faded. But it was the stares that had broken her. Thousands of eyes had watched her naked body twist and dangle, her most private parts exposed to the mocking gazes of cultivators and mortals alike. Every day she had hung there, feeling the weight of her shame grow heavier until it crushed whatever pride she had left.

Lin Qiaoxin hung to her left, her youthful body swaying gently in the morning breeze. The twin-tailed girl had long since stopped struggling against her bonds, her expression almost serene. She had accepted her place in this strange hierarchy. Li Que hung to her right, her athletic form still and composed, her red hair a splash of fire against the pale sky. Both women had crossed some threshold that Shen Mengyue still could not bring herself to approach.

The chains groaned as invisible mechanisms began to lower them. Shen Mengyue's heart hammered against her ribs as her feet finally touched the cold stone of the square. Her legs buckled immediately, the muscles having atrophied from a week of disuse. She collapsed to her knees, her hands pressed against the ground, her body trembling with exhaustion and relief.

Then she felt him.

Xuan Fa materialized before them, his black training robes immaculate, his face a mask of cold indifference. His eyes swept over the three naked women with the casual disinterest of a man examining livestock. When his gaze settled on Shen Mengyue, she felt her blood turn to ice.

"I have been patient with you," Xuan Fa said, his voice carrying no emotion whatsoever. "A full week suspended, ample time for reflection. I had hoped you would come to understand your position without further instruction."

Shen Mengyue pressed her forehead to the ground. "T-Tianzun, I have learned my lesson. I understand now that I offended you, that I was arrogant and foolish. The punishment you have given me is deserved. Please, I beg you, let this be the end of it."

Xuan Fa's eyebrow rose a fraction of a millimeter. "You think this is about a simple punishment?"

"Please, Tianzun." Shen Mengyue's voice cracked. "I am the掌门 of the Immortal Xia Sect. I have disciples who depend on me, a sect that needs my guidance. I cannot become... I cannot..."

"Become what?" Xuan Fa's voice carried a hint of amusement now, though his face remained unchanged. "Become what your companions have already accepted?"

Shen Mengyue risked a glance at Lin Qiaoxin and Li Que. Both women were kneeling quietly, their heads bowed, their bodies relaxed. They did not look afraid. They looked resigned, perhaps even content.

"Please," Shen Mengyue whispered. "Anything else. I will pay any price, face any punishment. But do not make me your slave."

Xuan Fa's lips curled into something that might have been a smile on a less terrifying face. "I made your companions an offer, and they accepted willingly. I am extending the same courtesy to you. Enter the Xuan Realm willingly. Become my woman slave. Serve me faithfully, and I will protect your sect from all harm."

"My sect..." Shen Mengyue's mind raced. She thought of her disciples, the young faces that looked to her for guidance and protection. She thought of the Immortal Xia Sect's ancient halls, her cultivation chambers, her garden of spirit herbs. All of it could be destroyed if she refused. All of it could be protected if she accepted.

But the price was herself.

"I cannot," she said, her voice barely audible. "Please, Tianzun, I beg you. Do not force this upon me."

Xuan Fa's expression hardened. "Stubborn to the very end." He turned to Lin Qiaoxin and Li Que. "You two. Show her what happens to those who refuse my generosity."

Before Shen Mengyue could react, Lin Qiaoxin and Li Que were on their feet, moving with fluid grace despite their week of suspension. Each woman grabbed one of Shen Mengyue's arms, forcing her down onto all fours. Shen Mengyue struggled, but her cultivation was suppressed, her body weak, and the two women held her effortlessly.

"Please, stop!" Shen Mengyue cried out as she felt hands spreading her buttocks apart. "What are you doing?"

"Teaching you a lesson," Lin Qiaoxin said cheerfully, her voice light and playful. "The master has been very patient with you. Much more patient than you deserve."

Li Que said nothing, but her hands were steady and merciless as she held Shen Mengyue's cheeks apart, exposing her most intimate orifice to the morning air.

Shen Mengyue felt something cold touch her anus, and then a thin tube was being inserted into her body. She screamed and thrashed, but the two women held her fast, and an invisible force pressed her hips down, holding her in the familiar pose of submission she had come to know so well during her beatings.

The first stream of ginger juice entered her intestines, and Shen Mengyue's world exploded in fire.

It was unlike anything she had ever experienced. The ginger burned, a liquid flame that spread through her insides, searing and consuming everything it touched. She screamed until her throat went raw, her body convulsing and jerking, tears streaming down her face. But the flow continued, relentless and merciless, filling her with agony that had no end.

"Please!" she shrieked, her voice breaking. "Stop! I'll do anything! Please!"

The flow ceased. Shen Mengyue hung her head, gasping, her entire body trembling with the aftershocks of pain. But before she could catch her breath, she felt something being pressed into her hands. She looked down and saw two wooden planks, each inscribed with flowing characters that pulsed with faint energy.

Heavenly Punishment Boards.

Lin Qiaoxin and Li Que each took one of the boards, their faces eager. Shen Mengyue tried to scramble away, but the invisible force held her in place, her knees spread wide, her buttocks presented in perfect offering.

"Every time I strike you," Lin Qiaoxin said, hefting the board with practiced ease, "you will say 'Thank you, Xuan Fa Tianzun, for disciplining my buttocks.' If you fail to speak, or if your words are not clear enough, we will administer another dose of the ginger juice."

"Please," Shen Mengyue begged, looking up at Xuan Fa, who stood watching with cold disinterest. "Please, I'll do anything, just don't—"

The first blow fell.

The board connected with her right buttock, and Shen Mengyue felt the impact through her entire body. The sound echoed across the square, a sharp crack that seemed to hang in the air. Her flesh quivered and reddened, the pain blooming outward like a flower of fire.

"Thank you, Xuan Fa Tianzun, for disciplining my buttocks," she gasped out, the words tasting like ash in her mouth.

"Louder," Li Que commanded, her voice flat and cold.

The second blow fell on her left cheek, harder than the first. Shen Mengyue's vision went white for a moment, her body arching forward as she screamed the required words.

"THANK YOU, XUAN FA TIANZUN, FOR DISCIPLINING MY BUTTOCKS!"

Lin Qiaoxin giggled. "That's more like it!"

And then the boards began to fall in earnest.

The Heavenly Punishment Boards were no ordinary implements. Each strike carried the weight of heavenly law, the energy of celestial judgment. They did not merely bruise the flesh; they humiliated the spirit, breaking down the barriers of pride and dignity with each merciless blow.

Lin Qiaoxin struck with enthusiasm, her strikes landing in quick succession, each one driving Shen Mengyue's gratitude deeper into the air. Li Que was more methodical, her blows measured and precise, landing on the same spots to maximize the damage. Together they painted Shen Mengyue's buttocks in shades of crimson and purple, raising welts that would take days to heal.

"Thank you, Xuan Fa Tianzun, for disciplining my buttocks!"

"Thank you, Xuan Fa Tianzun, for disciplining my buttocks!"

"Thank you, Xuan Fa Tianzun, for disciplining my buttocks!"

The words became a chant, a mantra of submission that Shen Mengyue repeated over and over as the boards continued to fall. Her voice grew hoarse, then cracked, then faded to a whisper, but she never stopped speaking the words.

After thirty strokes, Shen Mengyue's body was shaking uncontrollably. Tears and snot mingled on her face as she hung her head, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Her buttocks were a ruin of bruises, the skin broken in places where the boards had landed with particular force.

"Please," she whispered, her voice barely carrying. "Please, stop. I'll accept. I'll be your slave. Just please, don't hurt my sect."

Xuan Fa stepped closer, his shadow falling over her trembling form. "You agree to enter the Xuan Realm willingly?"

"Yes," she sobbed. "Yes, Tianzun. I will become your slave. I will serve you faithfully. Just promise me that you will protect the Immortal Xia Sect. Promise me you will not harm my disciples."

"I have already given you my word," Xuan Fa said, his voice carrying the weight of absolute authority. "I am a man of my promises. The Immortal Xia Sect will be under my protection from this moment forward. No harm will come to them."

Shen Mengyue felt her resistance crumble completely. The last walls of her pride fell, and she collapsed forward, her forehead pressing against the cold stone.

"Thank you, Tianzun," she whispered. "Thank you for your mercy."

She felt a shift in the air, a strange dislocation of space and time. The world around her dissolved, the sounds of Wuling City fading into silence. She was falling, or perhaps rising, her senses overwhelmed by the sensation of crossing between realms.

When her vision cleared, she was standing in a vast courtyard surrounded by celestial architecture. The sky above was a color she had never seen before, a deep purple shot through with veins of gold. The buildings around her seemed to be made of light and shadow, their forms shifting and changing in the corner of her eye.

The Xuan Realm.

Lin Qiaoxin and Li Que stood beside her, already looking at home in this strange place. And on her neck, Shen Mengyue felt a weight that had not been there before. She reached up and touched it, her fingers tracing the cold metal of a slave collar, identical to the ones worn by her companions.

The collar tightened slightly, and Shen Mengyue felt a surge of shame mixed with a strange sense of relief. It was done. She was no longer the Noble Immortal Xia Sect Leader. She was a slave, bound to serve Xuan Fa for the rest of her existence.

A form materialized before her, and Xuan Fa descended from the sky, his robes billowing around him. He landed lightly before Shen Mengyue, his eyes cold and assessing.

"Now," he said, his voice carrying no emotion, "I believe you still owe me a debt. Two hundred strikes remain."

Shen Mengyue swallowed hard. Her buttocks were already ravaged, the pain a constant screaming presence in her awareness. But she knew better than to argue. She had accepted this fate. She would see it through.

Without a word, she lowered herself to the ground, arranging her body into the position she had come to know so well. Knees spread wide, hips raised high, her face pressed against the cool stone of the courtyard. Her ruined buttocks presented themselves for further punishment, the flesh already dark with bruises and cuts.

"I am ready, Tianzun," she said, her voice steady despite the tears still streaming down her face.

Xuan Fa waved his hand, and one of the Heavenly Punishment Boards flew into his grip. He tested its weight, the wood seeming to hum with anticipation.

"You will continue your recitation," he said. "One thousand times total for this session. You have spoken thirty times already. Nine hundred and seventy more."

"Yes, Tianzun," Shen Mengyue whispered.

The f

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A hundred years had passed in the Xuantian Realm, and the sky above the endless plains was perpetually stained with the color of twilight. Below that eternal dusk, a bizarre and humiliating spectacle unfolded day after day.

Row upon row of pale white buttocks jutted upward into the air, each pair belonging to a female cultivator who had once commanded respect and fear across the realm. They knelt with their upper bodies pressed flat against the ground, their arms stretched forward, their faces buried in the dirt. Their bare bottoms were arranged in perfect alignment, each one raised high and presented without any shred of dignity.

There were thirty-seven women in total. Some were sect masters of ancient lineages, others were supreme elders who had governed territories spanning thousands of miles. A few were rogue cultivators of legendary talent, and several were daughters of aristocratic families whose names had once been spoken with reverence. All of them shared one thing in common: they had been defeated by Xuanfa, stripped completely naked, and subjected to the torment of the Heavenly Punishment Boards until they had sobbed and begged to become his property.

Behind each exposed posterior, two dark wooden boards floated in the air. The boards were smooth, polished by centuries of use, and etched with faint golden runes that pulsed with a rhythmic glow. They alternated in their assault, left and right, smacking into the soft curves of the buttocks with sharp, echoing cracks that reverberated across the plains. The rhythm was relentless. The sound was wet and heavy.

The skin of those raised bottoms had long since lost its original color. It was a deep, angry red, marred by purple bruises and swollen welts that crossed over one another in a lattice of punishment. Some of the women whimpered. Some wept silently. All of them held their positions.

Behind this row of bent-over beauties stood three figures. They were the only ones who remained upright, but they too were completely naked. Their bodies were flawless, their skin luminous even in the dim light of the Xuantian Realm. They moved among the kneeling women, correcting postures, offering instructions, and ensuring that each punishment board struck with perfect accuracy.

The first was Lin Qiaoxin. A hundred years had done nothing to diminish her youthful charm. Her twin tails of black hair still bounced behind her head, though they were slightly messier now. Her face was as sweet and mischievous as ever, but there was a depth in her eyes that had not been present before. Her body had matured into something dangerously graceful. Her breasts were full and firm, her waist slender yet curved, her hips wide and round. The skin of her backside was a patchwork of old scars. Faint white lines crisscrossed over her cheeks, evidence of countless punishments endured. The most prominent marks were two vivid purple handprints that covered each cheek entirely, barely visible against the darker hue of her beaten skin. She moved with a light bounce in her steps, her rear jiggling slightly as she walked.

The second was Li Que. Her red hair was pulled back into a high ponytail that swung with every movement. Her body was athletic, every muscle defined and sculpted from years of combat and discipline. Her shoulders were broad, her stomach flat and lined with subtle ridges of abdominal muscle. Her legs were long and powerful, tapering down to firm calves and delicate ankles. Her buttocks were round and muscular, the flesh taut and springy. The surface of those cheeks was a deep crimson, covered in overlapping bruises that formed a dark, almost black pattern across the center of each cheek. The edges of the bruises faded into red and purple, blending with the natural tan of her skin. She walked with an air of authority, her chin held high, her posture perfect despite the bareness of her form.

The third was Shen Mengyue. Her black hair cascaded down her back, reaching all the way to the curve of her waist. Her body was a masterpiece of contrasts: soft and firm, elegant and voluptuous. Her skin was the palest white, almost luminous, and her curves were generous. Her breasts were heavy and round, her waist narrow, her hips flared and lush. Her buttocks were the largest among the three, full and plump, the flesh jiggling with every step she took. The surface of those cheeks was a dark, angry red, covered with thick welts that ran horizontally across both cheeks. The deepest welts had split the skin, forming thin scabs that had healed into pale scars. In the center of each cheek, faint outlines of fingers could be seen, bruised deep into the tissue. She moved with a graceful dignity, her steps measured and calm.

Lin Qiaoxin walked over to a new girl who had just been brought in the day before. The girl's buttocks were still relatively pale, only lightly pink from the first few dozen strokes. Lin leaned down and placed her hand on the girl's lower back.

"Higher," she said, her voice sweet but firm. "You need to push your hips up more. Like this."

She pressed down on the girl's back while lifting her hips, adjusting the angle until the bottom was properly presented. The girl whimpered but obeyed.

On the other side, Li Que was inspecting the welts on another cultivator. She ran her fingers over the swollen lines, her touch clinical and detached.

"Your muscles are too tense," Li Que said. "Relax. If you clench, the bruises form deeper and take longer to heal. Breathe out and let your body go limp."

The woman beneath her trembled but tried to follow the instruction.

At the back of the line, Shen Mengyue stood behind a woman who had once been a great elder of a prominent sect. The elder's bottom was a mess of black and purple, swollen to nearly twice its normal size. Shen placed a hand on the woman's hip and leaned close to her ear.

"You are holding your breath," Shen said softly. "That will only make it worse. The boards will not stop until your flesh yields. Surrender to it."

The elder let out a shuddering breath and lowered her head further.

The three overseers continued their work, moving from woman to woman, adjusting positions, offering guidance, and ensuring that each punishment was administered with exacting precision.

Suddenly, the air around them changed.

A presence descended upon the plains, heavy and absolute. The temperature dropped. The light dimmed. The rhythm of the boards faltered for just a moment before resuming, but the women on the ground felt a chill run down their spines.

Lin Qiaoxin's heart skipped a beat. She turned her head and saw him.

Xuanfa stood at the edge of the plains, his black training robes flowing around his tall frame. His face was expressionless, his dark eyes scanning the scene before him. He looked exactly as he had a hundred years ago: cold, powerful, and utterly indifferent.

Lin Qiaoxin dropped to her knees instantly. Her hands flew to the ground in front of her, palms flat, and she lowered her head until her forehead touched the dirt. Her buttocks, already raised from her kneeling posture, pushed upward even higher.

Li Que followed a heartbeat later, her movements sharp and precise. She knelt, placed her hands palm-down on the earth, and bowed her head. Her muscular rear lifted proudly into the air.

Shen Mengyue moved with quiet grace, her descent smooth and controlled. She assumed the same position, her hands flat, her head bowed, her plump buttocks presented humbly behind her.

The three of them knelt in perfect alignment, their faces hidden, their bodies exposed, their beaten bottoms raised high in silent submission.

"Welcome back, Master," they said in unison.

Lin Qiaoxin spoke first, her voice warm and eager. "Master, we were just instructing the new sisters. They are learning quickly, though some still struggle with proper form. Did you come to observe my punishment today? Rest assured, I will endure every strike to the very end. I will not disappoint you."

Li Que spoke next, her tone measured and respectful. "The new recruits show promise. Their resistance breaks more easily when they see how we submit. If you wish to witness my correction today, I am ready. I will hold until the final blow."

Shen Mengyue's voice was soft but steady. "Master, the new sisters have all reached the point of surrender. They understand their place now. If you desire to watch my discipline, I am prepared. I will not yield to the pain before you are satisfied."

Xuanfa walked slowly toward them. His footsteps were silent on the grass, but the women could feel the ground vibrate with each step. He stopped in front of the three kneeling figures and looked down at them.

"You may proceed," he said.

Lin Qiaoxin let out a quiet breath of relief. She reached one hand behind her back, fingers finding the curve of her right buttock. She pressed her thumb against the cheek and pulled it outward, spreading herself open. Her other hand did the same to the left side.

Above her, the air shimmered. A syringe materialized out of thin air, filled with a thick, golden liquid. The smell of ginger was sharp and pungent. The needle descended, sliding into her exposed opening with clinical precision. Lin Qiaoxin inhaled sharply as the cold fluid flooded her insides. Her muscles clenched involuntarily, but she forced herself to relax, to accept the filling. The syringe emptied and withdrew, leaving her stuffed and burning.

Li Que performed the same motion with practiced ease. She spread her cheeks with both hands, presenting herself fully. The syringe appeared above her and inserted itself. Her breathing hitched for a moment, but she held steady. The ginger juice poured into her, hot and stinging. She felt her stomach churn, but she kept her position.

Shen Mengyue completed the gesture with quiet dignity. Her fingers parted her cheeks, exposing the darker, more sensitive area. The syringe slid in, depositing its load deep inside her. She shivered as the warmth spread through her lower abdomen, the burn intensifying with each passing second.

The three of them remained kneeling, their bodies trembling slightly from the internal heat, their buttocks still spread open.

Above each of them, three pairs of Heavenly Punishment Boards materialized. Six boards per woman, three on the left, three on the right. Their surfaces gleamed with ancient runes.

Lin Qiaoxin felt the boards align behind her. She knew the pattern from countless repetitions. First the left, then the right, alternating in a precise rhythm.

The first board swung.

Crack.

The sound was like thunder. The board smashed into her right cheek, the impact sending a shockwave through her entire body. The runes flared as they struck, amplifying the force. Her flesh rippled from the blow, the already bruised skin turning a deeper shade of red. She let out a sharp cry, her toes curling against the dirt.

The second board landed an instant later on her left cheek.

Crack.

Her whole body jerked forward, but she held her kneeling position. The burn from the ginger juice intensified with the impact, the heat spreading through her hips and down her thighs. She gasped for air.

Crack. Crack. Crack. Crack.

The boards fell in a relentless cadence, each strike landing with surgical precision. Left, right, left, right. The rhythm was hypnotic and brutal. Lin Qiaoxin's buttocks jiggled and bounced with every blow, the flesh quivering like jelly. The skin had turned a vivid crimson, with purple patches forming around the edges of the impacts.

The runes on the boards pulsed brighter with each strike, and the pain intensified. Lin Qiaoxin's vision swam. She could feel the ginger juice sloshing inside her, the pressure building with every impact. She wanted to clench, to hold it in, but she forced her muscles to stay relaxed.

Crack. Crack. Crack. Crack.

The blows came faster now, the boards alternating with dizzying speed. Her flesh was being reshaped, swollen to twice it

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The mountain peak rose from the mist like a blade thrust through the clouds, its slopes veined with spiritual energy so dense it shimmered like liquid jade. Zexuan had chosen well—this place would serve as the foundation of his new sect.

He stood at the summit's edge, black training robes rippling in the mountain wind, his face an unreadable mask of cold authority. Behind him, three figures knelt in the dewy grass, naked save for the iron collars encircling their throats. Their buttocks bore the deep purple-black bruising of recent punishment, a mark of their status as his slaves.

"The Zephyrium Phoenix Sect," Zexuan announced, his voice carrying across the peak without raising it. "From this day forward, this mountain belongs to us. It will be a refuge for women who seek true strength."

Lin Qiaoxin clapped her hands together, her twin ponytails bouncing with childlike enthusiasm. "Oh! Oh! What a grand name! Master has such exquisite taste in naming things!" Her bare bottom shifted against her heels as she rocked forward, the motion drawing attention to the extent of her discolored flesh.

Li Que snorted, her red hair falling across one eye. "He chose a name that means 'punish phoenix.' You're reading too much into it, girl."

"Still exquisite!" Lin Qiaoxin insisted.

Shen Mengyue remained silent, her long black hair spilling over her shoulders as she maintained her kneeling position with the grace of a woman who had long since accepted her place. The bruises on her buttocks matched those of her companions, earned through service and discipline alike.

Zexuan turned from the view. "The sect will be structured as follows. Lin Qiaoxin—you will serve as Array Grand Elder. You will teach formations and arrays to promising disciples."

"Yes, Master!" Lin Qiaoxin's voice rang with genuine delight.

"Li Que—you will serve as Combat Grand Elder. You will train disciples in martial skills and battle tactics."

Li Que touched her fist to her chest. "It will be done."

"Shen Mengyue—you will serve as Internal Affairs Grand Elder. The sect's daily operations, resource allocation, and disciple welfare fall under your purview."

Shen Mengyue inclined her head. "As Master commands."

Zexuan's gaze swept over them. "Disciples will enter the sect without clothing. They will perform all tasks in the nude. They will learn from you while exposed to the elements and the gazes of their peers. This is not cruelty—it is preparation. Those who cannot bear the shame cannot bear the strength that follows."

Lin Qiaoxin giggled. "They'll learn quickly. Nothing builds character like having your bare bottom exposed while trying to calculate spirit stone arrays!"

"Qiaoxin," Shen Mengyue chided gently, though a softness touched her eyes.

"What? It's true!"

Li Que cracked her neck. "The weak flee. The strong remain. Those who remain become worthy."

News of the Zephyrium Phoenix Sect spread through the cultivation world like wildfire. Women arrived at the mountain's base, some driven by desperation, others by ambition. They ascended the winding path naked, their clothes left behind as a symbol of shedding their old selves. Inside the sect's grounds, they studied, trained, and lived without cover, their bodies gradually hardening through exposure and exertion.

To the outside world, it was depravity. To those who understood, it was liberation through submission.

The sect's hierarchy was simple to read. Disciple women walked bare and unadorned. The slave elders—Lin Qiaoxin, Li Que, and Shen Mengyue—moved on hands and knees like loyal hounds, their necks encircled by iron, their buttocks painted with the dark evidence of their Master's discipline. The scars of punishment were not hidden; they were displayed, a mark of honor and commitment.

One afternoon, a disturbance rippled through the sect's barrier. A woman descended from the sky, her robes blazing with phoenix motifs, her aura crackling with fury. She landed in the main courtyard, her eyes scanning the naked disciples with undisguised contempt.

"Where is the fiend who runs this den of indecency?" she demanded. "I am Murong Ying, Sect Master of the Heavenly Phoenix Sect! I challenge Zexuan to face me!"

Li Que emerged from the training grounds, her red hair tied high, her body moving with predatory grace. She crawled forward, her hands and knees carrying her across the stone, her bruised buttocks swaying with each movement.

"You want to fight the Master?" Li Que's voice carried amusement. "You'll have to go through me first."

Murong Ying's lip curled. "A slave speaks to me? Show some respect."

"I respect strength," Li Que said, rising to her feet in one fluid motion. "Show me yours."

The battle lasted three exchanges.

Murong Ying was powerful—Soul Formation mid-stage, her techniques honed through decades of cultivation. But Li Que had been forged in fires Murong Ying could not imagine. The red-haired woman moved like a phantom, her strikes precise and devastating. In the third exchange, she caught Murong Ying's wrist, twisted, and drove her knee into the woman's diaphragm. Murong Ying collapsed, gasping.

Li Que straddled her, pinning her arms. "Weak."

Zexuan appeared at the courtyard's edge, his hands clasped behind his back. "Impressive, Que. You have earned recognition."

Li Que's eyes lit up. "Recognition, Master?"

"The three of you have performed admirably. Qiaoxin has advanced the disciples' understanding of arrays by forty percent. Mengyue has streamlined the sect's operations with flawless efficiency. And you have defended the sect's honor against a challenger." He paused. "You will undergo public punishment."

Murong Ying struggled beneath Li Que. "Punishment? For serving you well? What kind of madness is this?"

Lin Qiaixin bounced up, clapping. "Oh, it's the best kind of reward! The Master's judgment is always so thorough!"

Shen Mengyue approached, her face calm, though a faint tremor of anticipation colored her voice. "We are honored, Master."

At the sect's main hall, the disciples gathered. They stood naked, their eyes fixed on the dais before them. On the dais, four kneeling cushions had been arranged.

Zexuan held three leather leashes. He clipped them one by one to the collars of his slave elders. Lin Qiaoxin, Li Que, and Shen Mengyue followed him on hands and knees, their movements synchronized, their heads bowed.

Murong Ying was dragged behind them by Li Que, stripped of her robes, her body exposed to the assembled disciples. She struggled, her face red with humiliation. "Release me! You have no right!"

Zexuan ignored her. He positioned each of his slaves behind their cushion, then turned to face Murong Ying. "You came to the Zephyrium Phoenix Sect to issue a challenge. You fought. You lost. Now you will share in our reward."

"Reward? This is—"

"A taste of what awaits those who submit."

He forced her to her knees, then pressed her upper body down until her forehead touched the ground. Her buttocks rose, pale and unmarked, exposed to the crowd.

Lin Qiaoxin, Li Que, and Shen Mengyue assumed the same position, their bruised buttocks presented to the assembly, their hands planted on either side of their cushions.

"Disciples," Zexuan addressed the gathered women. "Observe. This is the reward for faithful service. This is the penalty for cowardice and defeat."

He raised his hand.

From the sky descended four slabs of polished jade, each inscribed with heavenly runes. They hovered above the proffered buttocks, humming with restrained power.

"First punishment—Lin Qiaoxin. For exceptional advancement in the transmission of array knowledge."

The slab swung down.

*CRACK*

Lin Qiaoxin's body lurched forward, a sharp cry escaping her lips. The jade left a bright red imprint across her darkly bruised flesh. She gasped, then managed a breathless laugh. "Ooh, that one—that one had some weight to it! Master, are you trying to knock my cultivation out through my backside?"

*CRACK*

Another strike, landing slightly lower. Her legs trembled. "Ah! Okay, okay, that one—ow—that one really tested my spirit stone array theory!"

*CRACK*

Lin Qiaoxin's grip on the cushion tightened. Tears streamed down her face, but her smile never wavered. "See, disciples? This is—hah—this is what happens when you study hard! You get your—ow!—your bottom properly disciplined!"

*CRACK* *CRACK*

Her voice broke into a sob, then giggles. "I bet none of you—hehe—I bet none of you thought the Grand Array Elder would be—hah—crying like a baby! Well, guess what! Arrays don't make your bottom sting less!"

*CRACK*

Lin Qiaoxin's entire body convulsed. She pressed her forehead into the cushion, her breath ragged. "Master... your disciple... your disciple thanks you..."

Zexuan's expression did not change. "Second punishment—Li Que. For defending the sect's honor and defeating an opponent of higher cultivation."

The slab descended on Li Que's reddened buttocks.

*THWACK*

Li Que grunted, absorbing the blow without flinching. Her nostrils flared, but her posture remained rigid.

*THWACK*

The second strike made her exhale sharply. She glanced sideways at Murong Ying, who was watching with wide, horrified eyes. "You see this, interloper? This is what happens when you challenge us. You don't just lose—you get shown what losing means."

*THWACK* *THWACK*

Li Que's composure cracked. A low groan escaped her throat. "Your... your buttocks... they are not as hard as my Master's discipline."

*THWACK*

"Mmmph—that is—that is the truth!"

*THWACK*

"And your technique—" *THWACK* "—is sloppy!"

*THWACK*

Li Que's voice dropped to a strained whisper. "But my Master's hand... his judgment... they are perfect..."

The jade slab continued its work. Each strike deepened the purple hue spreading across her skin.

*THWACK* *THWACK* *THWACK*

Li Que cried out, then caught herself. Tears fell freely, but her legs remained planted, her buttocks presented without reservation.

"Third punishment—Shen Mengyue. For flawless management of sect resources and operations."

Shen Mengyue's shoulders squared. She had watched her sisters suffer. Now it was her turn.

*SMACK*

She gasped, her body bowing forward. The pain radiated through her, sharp and absolute. But beneath it, a warmth spread—a sense of purpose fulfilled.

*SMACK*

"Disciples," she managed, her voice steady despite the tears, "do not fear... do not fear this path. It strips away... ah!... it strips away the pretense of strength and leaves only... only what is real."

*SMACK*

"Submission is not weakness. It is... it is the choice to grow under... under guidance."

*SMACK*

"Every strike... every line of discipline... shapes you into... into something greater."

*SMACK* *SMACK*

She sobbed, but her words continued. "I stand before you bare. I kneel before you beaten. And yet... and yet I am more powerful than I have ever been."

*SMACK* *SMACK* *SMACK*

"Because I know my place. And I embrace it."

Zexuan moved to Murong Ying. "Fourth punishment—Murong Ying. For challenging the authority of this sect and losing."

Murong Ying's eyes blazed. "I will not—I will never—you cannot force me to submit!"

*SLAM*

The jade board struck her virgin flesh with merciless precision. She screamed, a raw and animal sound.

"AAAHHH! How—how dare you!"

*SLAM*

"I am the Sect Master of the Heavenly Phoenix Sect! I have cultivated for—AAAHHH!—for three hundred years!"

*SLAM*

"You cannot—you must not—I demand you stop!"

*SLAM* *SLAM*

Murong Ying's defiance crumbled with each blow. Her hands clawed at the ground, her legs kicked helplessly, but there was no escape.

*SLAM*

"STOP! PLEASE! I BEG YOU!"

*SLAM*

"IT HURTS! IT HURTS SO MUCH! I CAN'T—I CAN'T TAKE IT!"

*SLAM* *SLAM* *SLAM*

"NO MORE! PLEASE, NO MORE! I SUBMIT! I SUBMIT!"

But the board did not relent. Zexuan watched without expression, counting the strikes with precision.

*SLAM* *SLAM* *SLAM* *SLAM*

Murong Ying's screams dissolved into sobs. Her body shook, her spirit b

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A few days later, Xuan Fa led Lin Qiaoxin, Li Que, and Shen Mengyue on a leisurely stroll through the grounds of Zepen Gate. The three women crawled behind him on all fours, their bodies bare and their movements smooth and practiced, as if they had been doing this for years rather than weeks. Their breasts swayed beneath them, their hips rolled with each careful step of hand and knee, and their faces held expressions of calm acceptance, even contentment.

Disciples of Zepen Gate paused in their training and their chores to stare. Many had seen this sight before, but each time it struck them anew. These were their great elders, the women who had taught them cultivation techniques, who had guided their swordsmanship, who had lectured them on the proper way to form a spiritual array. To see Lin Qiaoxin, Li Que, and Shen Mengyue crawling naked like obedient bitches behind the man in black was a shock that did not fade with repetition.

Lin Qiaoxin tilted her head up, her twin ponytails brushing the grass. "Hehe, Master, the disciples are watching Xin奴 right now."

Li Que did not bother to look at the onlookers. "It has been this long, and they still have not grown accustomed to it?"

Shen Mengyue spoke in her usual calm tone. "Some of them may distinguish themselves in the future. They could become Master's female slaves as well."

Xuan Fa walked at an easy pace, his hands clasped behind his back. He did not turn to look at the women crawling behind him. "Do you remember how you became my female slaves?"

Lin Qiaoxin's voice came bright and cheerful. "Xin奴 remembers very well. Master appeared directly before Xin奴 and forcefully declared that Xin奴 would be Master's female slave. Xin奴 was unwilling at the time, and tried to play clever tricks in front of Master. Master took off Xin奴's skirt and spanked Xin奴's pert bottom very hard, and made Xin奴 cry. Under Master's threats and temptations, Xin奴 became Master's female slave."

Li Que spoke next, her voice carrying a faint edge of remembered humiliation. "Que奴 remembers. I led the Vermillion Bird Sect to cause trouble for Taiqing Palace. Thinking myself invincible at the same cultivation level, I was defeated by Sister Xin, whom Master had taught. Sister Xin used her arrays to spank my bottom severely. Master then inserted a ginger stick into my anus, and finally hung me up with an anal hook for public display. Not knowing my place, I still wanted to challenge Master. I was defeated in one move. Que奴 then obediently became Master's female slave."

Lin Qiaoxin giggled. "If Sister Que's bottom itches, Xin奴 can always use her array to spank it for you."

Shen Mengyue's voice was flat and reflective. "Yue奴 remembers. After being punished with Sister Xin and Sister Que in Wuling City, Master graciously offered to take Yue奴 as a female slave. Yue奴 was ungrateful and refused. Master used ginger juice to give Yue奴 an enema, and made Sister Xin and Sister Que take turns spanking Yue奴's ungrateful bottom hard with the Heavenly Dao plank. Yue奴 cried and obediently became Master's female slave."

Xuan Fa stopped walking. The three women halted behind him, their hands resting on the ground, their backsides presented upward in perfect alignment. "And now? How does it feel to be spanked as a female slave?"

Lin Qiaoxin's voice was playful and sincere. "Although Master's Heavenly Dao plank hurts terribly on Xin奴's bottom, Xin奴's bottom now loves receiving Master's spanks the most. Xin奴's bottom is split open happily every day, and it cannot be more delighted."

Li Que spoke with firm certainty. "Que奴 was defeated and taken as a female slave by Master. Que奴 should obediently accept all of Master's humiliation and punishment. Que奴's bottom must be split open every day as punishment."

Shen Mengyue's voice carried quiet conviction. "Yue奴's refusal of Master's kindness in taking Yue奴 as a female slave was ungrateful. This fault must be repaid by having Yue奴's bottom split open every day."

Xuan Fa let out a single laugh. "You three have quite the awareness. Today's punishment will take place here. Each of you will receive two hundred strikes of the Heavenly Dao plank on your buttocks, all at once."

Without hesitation, Lin Qiaoxin, Li Que, and Shen Mengyue knelt on the grass. They bent forward, pressing their foreheads to the ground, and lifted their hips high into the air. Their buttocks presented themselves fully, round and smooth, already bearing the faint traces of previous punishments. They were ready.

Xuan Fa raised his right hand. A plank of dark wood materialized in his grip, its surface inscribed with faint golden characters that glowed with spiritual power. He stepped behind Lin Qiaoxin first.

The first strike fell with a sharp crack that echoed across the training grounds. Lin Qiaoxin's bottom cheeks compressed under the blow, then rebounded, already reddening. She let out a soft gasp but held her position.

Crack. The second strike landed an inch below the first. Her skin turned a deeper shade of pink, the imprint of the plank clearly visible.

Crack. Crack. Crack. The strikes came in steady rhythm, each one precise and devastating. Lin Qiaoxin's buttocks began to glow with heat, the skin darkening to crimson. She whimpered with each hit, but her voice remained light, almost musical. By the thirtieth strike, her bottom was a uniform red, the blood vessels swelling beneath the surface.

Crack. The forty-fifth strike caught the curve where her buttock met her thigh. Lin Qiaoxin let out a sharp squeak, her fingers digging into the grass. "Hehe, that one hurt!"

Xuan Fa continued without pause. The fiftieth strike, the sixty-fifth, the seventy-ninth. Lin Qiaoxin's bottom began to develop darker patches, deep red marks that promised bruises. She panted heavily, but her smile remained on her face.

By the hundredth strike, her buttocks were a vivid scarlet, dotted with the first hints of purple contusions. The skin had swollen noticeably, each cheek plump and tight. Lin Qiaoxin's voice had become breathless, her giggles mixed with sobs.

On the hundred and twenty-third strike, a thin trickle of blood appeared where the plank's edge had split the skin. Lin Qiaoxin cried out, then bit her lip and stayed still.

The hundred and fiftieth strike brought a muffled scream. Her bottom was now a landscape of red, purple, and black, the flesh hot to the touch, the skin stretched thin over the swelling.

On the hundred and eighty-second strike, she collapsed forward, her arms giving out. Xuan Fa waited. She pushed herself back up, sobbing, and presented her ruined buttocks again.

The two hundredth strike fell. Lin Qiaoxin's body convulsed, then went limp. She stayed in position, panting, her bottom a mess of split skin, bruises, and raised welts.

Xuan Fa turned to Li Que. She had watched every strike without flinching. Her eyes were hard, her jaw set. She presented her bottom even higher.

Crack. The first strike on Li Que's buttocks was just as sharp, just as heavy. She did not make a sound.

Crack. Crack. Crack. The rhythm continued. Li Que's muscular buttocks, built from years of combat, absorbed the blows with grim endurance. The skin reddened slowly, stubbornly, as if refusing to show damage.

By the thirtieth strike, her bottom had reached a deep pink. By the fiftieth, it was red. She had not made a sound, but her breathing had grown heavier, and sweat ran down her temples.

On the seventy-second strike, a low grunt escaped her throat. The plank had caught a particularly sensitive spot at the top of her thigh.

On the ninety-ninth strike, she let out a sharp exhale. Her bottom was now crimson, the flesh beginning to swell.

The hundred and twenty-fifth strike produced a crack that was louder than the others. A patch of skin on her left buttock split open. Li Que hissed through her teeth but did not cry out.

By the hundred and fiftieth strike, her entire posterior was a mass of purple and black. The skin had broken in multiple places, and blood ran in thin rivulets down the backs of her thighs.

On the hundred and eighty-seventh strike, she let out a loud groan, her arms trembling. She forced herself to stay up.

The two hundredth strike landed. Li Que's body shuddered violently, then stilled. Her breath came in ragged gasps, but she remained in position, her bottom thoroughly destroyed.

Xuan Fa moved to Shen Mengyue. She had watched the two hundred strikes on each of her companions with contained stillness. Her own buttocks were pale in contrast, unmarked, waiting.

Crack. The first strike on Shen Mengyue's elegant bottom was brutal. The pale skin immediately flushed deep red. She let out a soft moan.

Crack. The second strike landed on the opposite cheek, creating a matching mark. She swayed slightly but kept her balance.

The rhythm was the same, steady and merciless. Shen Mengyue's bottom quickly turned from white to pink to red. The skin was delicate, and bruises formed easily. By the twentieth strike, the purple patches had already begun to appear.

On the thirty-eighth strike, she cried out, a sharp, high sound. Her bottom was swelling rapidly, the skin tight and hot.

The sixty-third strike produced a wet sound as the skin split. Shen Mengyue sobbed, her body shaking.

By the ninetieth strike, her buttocks were a mess of purple and black, the entire surface covered in welts and open wounds. Blood dripped onto the grass beneath her.

The hundred and twenty-second strike made her collapse entirely. She lay on the ground, her bottom raised, still presenting. Xuan Fa waited. She pushed herself up slowly, tearfully, and took the position again.

The hundred and sixty-eighth strike drew a long, wailing scream from her throat. Her bottom was beyond description, a ruin of flesh, blood, and broken skin.

On the hundred and ninety-fourth strike, she passed out. Her body went limp, her face hitting the grass. Xuan Fa waited a full ten seconds. She did not stir.

He struck the remaining six strikes on her unconscious form. Each blow made her body jump. By the two hundredth, her bottom was a blackened mass, the skin completely destroyed.

Lin Qiaoxin and Li Que had watched in silence. When it was done, Shen Mengyue slowly regained consciousness. She lifted her head, took in the position of her companions, and forced her own body back up, her destroyed bottom presented to the air.

Xuan Fa dismissed the plank. The three women remained in position, their buttocks a testament to the punishment they had received, their spirits broken and rebuilt into willing submission.

"Listen," Xuan Fa said. "In a period of time, Zepen Gate will hold its grand sect ceremony. The finale will be your punishment. Five hundred strikes on each of your buttocks, in front of the entire sect."

Lin Qiaoxin, Li Que, and Shen Mengyue pressed their foreheads to the ground. Their voices rose together, clear and grateful.

"We thank Master for the punishment."

They held the position, their ruined buttocks raised, their gratitude sincere, their submission absolute. The disciples of Zepen Gate looked on, and they understood that this was the price of serving their great elder, and also the reward.

The days passed, and the Punishment Sect grew steadily. What had begun as a handful of broken women, humiliated and stripped of all dignity, had swelled to a full thousand disciples. It was a number that seemed impressive at first glance, yet in the vast cultivation world, it was pathetically small. Many female cultivators heard the whispers of what awaited them within those gates—the constant threat of pain, the utter surrender of pride—and chose to keep their robes firmly on. But those who came, came willingly, driven by desperation or ambition, knowing that under Xuan Fa's rule, their power would grow faster than they could ever achieve alone.

Xuan Fa stood in the center of his sect's main courtyard, surveying the gathered crowd with cold, calculating eyes. He wore his usual black training robes, his expression unreadable, his presence commanding absolute silence. The time had come for a formal ceremony, a declaration to the world that the Punishment Sect was no mere gathering of outcasts. It was a force to be reckoned with.

"Prepare for the sect inauguration," he said, his voice carrying over the assembly without effort. "All disciples are to attend. No exceptions."

The day of the ceremony arrived with clear skies and a sun that seemed to shine especially bright, as if even heaven wanted a good view of what was about to unfold. The sect's main square was vast, paved with dark stone that absorbed the morning heat. Around the edges, a thousand female cultivators stood completely naked, their bodies exposed to the open air, their heads held high despite their vulnerability. They had all accepted this fate, and they bore it without shame.

In the center of the square, a space was cleared. Fifty women, the senior female slave elders of the sect, crawled forward on hands and knees, their bodies equally bare. They moved in perfect unison, their breasts swaying with each deliberate motion, their thighs glistening with a thin sheen of sweat. They reached their positions and knelt in neat rows, their faces turned toward the raised platform where Xuan Fa would preside.

Then came the three most important figures of all.

Xuan Fa strode onto the platform, his black robes pristine, his steps unhurried. In his hands, he held three leather leashes. Attached to the ends were three women—Lin Qiaoxin, Li Que, and Shen Mengyue—crawling on all fours behind him like obedient pets. Their bodies were completely naked, their skin bearing the faint marks of previous punishments, their expressions a mixture of reverence and submission.

Lin Qiaoxin led the line, her twin black ponytails bouncing with each careful crawl, her youthful face carrying a hint of her usual playfulness, but it was tempered now by genuine respect. Behind her came Li Que, her red hair tied high, her athletic frame moving with controlled grace, her pride long since bent to the will of the man before her. Finally, Shen Mengyue crawled with the poise of a fallen queen, her long black hair trailing on the ground, her white skin glowing, her features caught between celestial beauty and demonic allure.

Xuan Fa stopped at the center of the platform and turned. The three women crawled to his feet and knelt, their heads bowed, their bodies perfectly still. He released their leashes and stood before the assembled crowd, his gaze sweeping over them all.

"The Punishment Sect is now officially inaugurated," he declared, his voice carrying to every corner of the square. "You have all chosen this path. You have accepted the terms. There is no turning back."

The three senior female slaves rose to their feet and moved to the center of the platform, where a simple wooden board stood upright, mounted on a pedestal. It was the Celestial Spanking Board, the sacred artifact of the sect, the symbol of their purpose and their submission. Unlike other sects that worshipped ancient masters or divine weapons, the Punishment Sect venerated the tool of discipline itself.

Lin Qiaoxin stepped forward first, her voice bright but solemn as she addressed the crowd. "This board represents our duty. It represents the pain we accept and the growth we gain through it. Every strike is a lesson. Every bruise is a mark of our dedication."

Li Que followed, her tone harder, more commanding. "The name of our sect, Punishment, was chosen deliberately. We are here to be punished. We are here to learn humility through suffering. There is no honor in resistance. Only in surrender."

Shen Mengyue spoke last, her voice soft but carrying the weight of her former status as a sect leader. "As slaves, our only duty is to accept our master's will. Whether it is shame, pain, or humiliation, we bear it without complaint. We crawl because we are not worthy to walk. We kneel and present our buttocks because that is our proper posture before our master. And when we are struck, we do not flinch. We do not hide. We take every blow as a gift."

She paused, letting her words sink in. "When greeting our master, you will kneel, bow your head to the ground, and raise your buttocks high into the air. You will display the marks of your discipline proudly. This is the proper way."

The disciples listened in silence, absorbing the doctrine. Many had heard it before, but hearing it spoken by the three most favored slaves gave it a weight that pressed down on them.

When the speeches concluded, the three women proceeded to share cultivation insights and techniques with the gathered disciples. Lin Qiaoxin spoke of formation arrays and how physical endurance training had improved her control. Li Que discussed combat techniques, emphasizing how accepting punishment had sharpened her focus and removed all distractions. Shen Mengyue taught sword fundamentals, explaining that true mastery required a mind free from pride and ego.

They also instructed the elder female slaves on how to behave during punishment to please their master more effectively. "Do not scream too loudly, but do not remain silent either," Lin Qiaoxin said with a wink. "He likes to hear that you feel it. But he also likes to see that you can take it."

After the teachings, Xuan Fa stepped forward once more. He raised his hand, and glowing bottles of medicinal pills materialized in the air, floating gently down to each disciple. A thousand cultivators received a month's supply of high-grade elixirs, potent enough to accelerate their cultivation significantly. Then, for those who had shown exceptional dedication, he produced finely crafted magical artifacts—rings that enhanced spiritual recovery, bracelets that fortified the body against pain, and robes woven from starlight that offered protection beyond ordinary cloth.

But the main event was yet to come.

Xuan Fa gestured, and a group of five women was escorted forward from among the applicants who had petitioned to become his personal slaves. They had been under observation for weeks, and these five had proven their loyalty through acts of devotion. They knelt before him, trembling, their faces a mix of fear and hope.

"You have been chosen," Xuan Fa said, his voice flat. "From this moment forward, you belong to me. Your cultivation will advance rapidly. Your bodies will be disciplined harshly. There is no separation between the reward and the pain."

Each of the five women received a black leather collar, which they accepted with shaking hands. They placed them around their own necks, the clasps clicking shut with a sound that seemed to echo through the square. Then, without being told, they dropped to all fours and crawled to join the rows of elder slaves, their buttocks raised high as they assumed the proper position.

Now came the first public punishment.

The fifty elder slaves, including the five new additions, arranged themselves into five rows of ten women each. They knelt, spread their knees apart, and bent forward until their foreheads touched the ground, presenting their bare buttocks to the sky. The morning light fell upon them, illuminating the curves and contours of their flesh, some already bearing faint stripes from previous sessions, others smooth and unmarked.

Above them, the air shimmered. Fifty Celestial Spanking Boards materialized, each identical to the sacred artifact on the platform. They hovered for a moment, ominously still, then descended as one.

The first strike was a tremendous crack that echoed across the entire sect. Fifty buttocks shuddered under the impact, fifty cries rising in unison. The sound was not merely loud; it was a deep, resonant thunder that seemed to vibrate through the bones of every woman present.

The second strike followed immediately, and the third, and the fourth. The boards did not slow. They fell in a relentless rhythm, each blow landing with precision, painting the raised flesh in shades of pink, then red, then deep crimson.

Some of the women screamed. Some sobbed. Some gritted their teeth and bore the pain in silence. But not a single one tried to dodge. They had been taught that evasion was betrayal, and none of them wished to face their master's wrath for disobedience.

The flesh of their buttocks rippled with each impact, the skin stretching taut before being compressed by the force of the board. Tears streamed down their faces, mingling with sweat that dripped onto the stone floor. Their legs trembled, their arms shook, but they held their positions, knowing that any movement without permission would be punished even more severely.

One woman, a mid-stage Nascent Soul cultivator with copper-colored hair, bit her lip so hard that blood trickled down her chin. Another, younger and less experienced, began to wail openly, her voice rising with each blow until it became a raw, broken sound. But she did not move.

By the hundredth strike, many of the buttocks were welted and swollen, the skin glistening with moisture. By the hundred and fiftieth, some had begun to bruise, dark patches spreading across the abused flesh. And by the two hundredth, the final blow, every single one of the fifty women collapsed forward, their bodies heaving with exhaustion, their rear ends a chaotic mess of red and purple welts.

The boards vanished as quickly as they had appeared.

The women lay there, gasping, sobbing, but alive. They had endured. They had proven themselves worthy of their collars.

Xuan Fa watched without expression. "Well done," he said, the words carrying genuine approval. The women wept harder, whether from relief or pride, it was impossible to tell.

Now came the grand finale.

Xuan Fa turned to face Lin Qiaoxin, Li Que, and Shen Mengyue. These three were his first slaves, the ones he trusted most, the ones who had been with him from the beginning. They had proven their loyalty through countless trials, and now they would receive the heaviest punishment of all.

The three women rose from their kneeling positions and walked to the center of the platform, facing the crowd. Lin Qiaoxin was still youthful, her twin ponytails slightly disheveled, her small breasts perky and her waist narrow. Her skin was fair, with only the faintest marks of past discipline. Despite the gravity of the moment, there was a glint of mischief in her eyes, a hint of the playful girl who had first been caught by Xuan Fa.

Li Que stood tall and athletic, her red hair a fiery cascade that fell to her lower back. Her muscles were lean and defined, her body built for speed and power. Her expression was calm, almost serene, a far cry from the prideful woman who had once declared herself invincible. The years of submission had tempered her like steel.

Shen Mengyue was the most striking of the three. Her long black hair flowed like a river of ink, reaching past her hips. Her skin was flawless, as smooth as jade and twice as luminous. Her features held a haunting beauty, combining the purity of a celestial maiden with the seductive allure of a demoness. Her body was perfectly proportioned, her curves graceful and inviting, her breasts full and h

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