Punishment of the Celestial Punisher Xuanfa

The world of cultivation was vast and unforgiving, a realm where power dictated every rule. From the lowest Qi Refining to the lofty heights of Divinity Transformation, cultivators climbed the ladder of immortality through blood, sweat, and countless tribulations. Women outnumbered men by a wide margin, yet male cultivators, though few, were disproportionately strong—and they possessed a peculiar, ancient privilege: by spanking a female cultivator’s bare buttocks, they could bind her as a female slave, a bond that accelerated both parties’ cultivation. Most women resisted this fate with every fiber of their being.

In the eastern continent, the Immortal Cloud Sect stood as a bastion of female power, its disciples solely women. Its sect leader, Shen Mengyue, was a woman of cool grace and fierce protectiveness, her middle-stage Nascent Soul cultivation a formidable shield for her charges. But today, that shield was about to be tested.

It began with a trivial insult. A young disciple of the sect, out gathering herbs near the border of the Grisly Wastes, had accidentally splashed mud on the black robes of a passing cultivator. The cultivator was none other than Xuanfa, the Celestial Punisher, a man whose name was whispered in fear across the lands. He was a man who kept his promises, who followed through on every word—and whose greatest pleasure was the spanking of a woman’s bottom until it bloomed red as a peony.

When the disciple returned to the sect, pale and trembling, and reported what she had done, Shen Mengyue’s heart sank. She had heard of Xuanfa. His reputation was legend: Great Perfection of Nascent Soul, a master of finger techniques that could shatter mountains. And his love for administering punishment was no secret.

“He said he would come,” the disciple sobbed. “He said he would spank every single one of us until we couldn’t sit for a month.”

Shen Mengyue closed her eyes, then opened them, her gaze steel. “Prepare the defensive array. I will meet him at the gate.”

She did not have to wait long.

The sky darkened as a figure descended from above, landing on the white jade plaza before the sect’s main hall. Xuanfa wore simple black training clothes, his face cold and handsome, his eyes like chips of ice. He moved with the casual grace of a predator, his fingers twitching slightly as if eager to begin.

“Sect Leader Shen,” he said, his voice flat. “Your disciple insulted me. You know the custom. I will spank every woman in this sect until her buttocks are as red as sunset. That will settle the debt.”

Shen Mengyue stepped forward, her long black hair swaying, her black-and-white Daoist robes billowing. Her beauty was ethereal, yet her body held the subtle curves of a mature woman—a combination that made many men stare. But today, her eyes held only defiance.

“The disciple made a mistake,” she said, her voice calm but firm. “I will punish her myself. There is no need for you to involve the entire sect.”

Xuanfa’s lips curved—not quite a smile, but a cold acknowledgment. “I made a promise. I will spank every last one of you. Resistance only makes the punishment worse.”

Shen Mengyue drew her sword. The blade sang as it left the scabbard, glowing with pale light. “Then I will resist.”

The battle was brief—and brutal.

Xuanfa did not even draw a weapon. He raised his hand, and his fingers began to move, tracing impossible patterns in the air. Golden qi formed into streaks of light that lashed out like whips. Shen Mengyue’s sword technique was flawless, her movements like flowing water, but every strike she made was deflected by those fingers. She was a middle-stage Nascent Soul cultivator, one of the strongest women in the world—but Xuanfa was at the Great Perfection, and he was using only seventy percent of his power.

A flick of his wrist sent a finger strike crashing into her shoulder, spinning her midair. She recovered, barely, but the next strike took her in the abdomen, sending her crashing into the stone steps. Her sword clattered from her hand.

Before she could rise, Xuanfa was there, standing over her. His hand shot out and gripped her wrist, yanking her to her feet. Then, with a casual motion, he flipped her over his knee.

Shen Mengyue’s mind reeled. She was the sect leader, a woman revered by thousands. And now she was bent over the knee of a man, her robes still in place—for now.

“One hundred strokes of the Xuan Wood Board,” Xuanfa announced, his voice carrying across the plaza where horrified disciples had gathered. “Every day, for three years. That is the price of your resistance.”

The Xuan Wood Board appeared in his hand as if summoned from the void. It was a dark, polished plank, etched with formation symbols that would make each strike last, each bruise sing.

Shen Mengyue struggled, but his grip was iron. The first stroke landed flat on her robes, covering her bottom. The impact was immense—the board seemed to compress the qi in her body, sending a shockwave through her flesh. She bit her lip, refusing to cry out.

The second stroke fell.

Then the third.

Xuanfa’s face remained expressionless, but there was a glint in his eyes. He enjoyed this. He loved the way the board met flesh, the way the victim squirmed, the way they learned submission.

Behind them, the disciples of Immortal Cloud Sect wept and trembled. Some drew their swords, but Shen Mengyue’s voice cut through the air, strained but authoritative: “Stand down! Do not give him more reason to punish you!”

The strokes continued. Ten. Twenty. Fifty. Shen Mengyue’s robes did little to absorb the force. Her bottom burned, swelled, and she knew it was turning a deep crimson. Still, she did not beg. She would not give him that satisfaction.

At the hundredth stroke, Xuanfa stopped. He released her, and she crumpled to the ground, her body trembling, her pride shattered.

“Tomorrow, at the same hour,” he said, turning to face the assembled disciples. “All of you. Line up outside this hall. Every day, one hundred strokes for three years. That is my word. I do not break my word.”

He walked away, his footsteps echoing on the jade. Behind him, Shen Mengyue lay on the cold stone, staring at the sky. The Celestial Punisher had come, and he had delivered his judgment.

And for the first time in her life, she felt true, helpless fear.

Fifteen years had passed in the Heavenly Realm, and Li Que had grown accustomed to her daily routine. Every morning, without fail, she would present her bare buttocks to the Heavenly Dao Boards, feeling the wooden slats crash against her flesh in a rhythm that had become as predictable as the sunrise. The pain never lessened, but her acceptance of it had transformed into something almost meditative. She had learned to float above the suffering, to watch it from a distance as if it happened to someone else.

Xuanfa often took Lin Qiaoxin and Li Que for walks through the crystalline halls of his domain. They crawled naked on all fours, dog leashes attached to collars around their necks, their breasts swinging beneath them as they moved. The cool stone floors pressed against their palms and knees, and they had learned to move with a fluid grace that made their servitude appear almost natural. Passersby—those few servants and functionaries who inhabited the Heavenly Realm—averted their eyes or watched with barely concealed fascination. Xuanfa walked slowly, savoring the weight of the leashes in his hand, the slight tension as his slaves kept pace with him.

"Slaves do not walk," he reminded them whenever they attempted to rise without permission. "Slaves crawl. Slaves kneel. Slaves present themselves for punishment. This is your nature now."

Today, after their morning walk, Lin Qiaoxin and Li Que knelt before Xuanfa in his audience chamber. The hall was vast and empty, its walls shimmering with captured starlight. The two women knelt side by side, their hands resting on their thighs, their backs straight, their heads bowed in submission.

"Master," Lin Qiaoxin said, her voice carrying its usual playful lilt despite her position, "Li Que and I have been discussing something."

Xuanfa sat on his throne of black jade, one elbow resting on the armrest, his chin in his hand. His eyes, cold and unreadable, swept over them. "Speak."

"We want to know," Li Que said, her voice low and respectful, "what pleases you most. What brings you the greatest joy?"

Xuanfa was silent for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was flat, almost disinterested. "I love most to see female cultivators being spanked and tortured." He allowed the words to hang in the air. "Their suffering makes me mentally stronger. Their agony feeds my cultivation. Every scream, every tear, every helpless flinch—it is fuel for my power."

Lin Qiaoxin and Li Que exchanged a glance. Then Lin Qiaoxin smiled, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Master, there is an opportunity. The entire cultivation world knows that Shen Mengyue, the leader of Immortal Cloud Sect, was stripped and made to kneel with raised buttocks at her own sect gate to be spanked. Everyone saw her humiliation, heard her cries. But it is not yet widely known that Lin Qiaoxin and Li Que have become your female slaves."

Li Que took up the thread. "So we suggest this: walk us naked on leashes, crawling, to the highest platform of Wuling City. Have Shen Mengyue's disciples lead her there by a dog leash as well. The three of us will kneel in a row, upper bodies bent, buttocks raised high. You will summon Heaven Dao Boards to spank all three of us automatically. Beat us until our buttocks are completely ruined—so thoroughly damaged that even a cultivator needs a week to heal."

"And then," Lin Qiaoxin continued, her voice dropping to an eager whisper, "spread our legs forcibly and whip us severely on the butt crack. Ensure our anuses and vaginas are swollen and raw. Then insert anal hooks into our swollen anuses, and hang us for a week for public display. The entire cultivation world will see your power made manifest in our bodies."

They both looked up at him, their eyes shining with devotion. "This will surely make you happy, Master."

Xuanfa regarded them for a long moment. A small smile—barely a curve of his lips—touched his mouth. "I agree to the plan. It will be done."

He stood, and the two women remained kneeling, waiting. But Xuanfa did not dismiss them. Instead, he walked around his throne and retrieved a small jade bottle from a hidden compartment.

"Before that," he said, "I wish to try a new punishment."

Lin Qiaoxin's playful smile faltered for just an instant before she recovered. Li Que's spine stiffened, but she said nothing. They had both learned long ago that questioning Xuanfa's punishments only made them worse.

"Kneel," Xuanfa commanded. "Present your buttocks. Spread your anuses."

The two women complied without hesitation. They bent forward, pressing their chests to the cool floor, raising their hips high. Their hands reached back and grasped their buttocks, pulling them apart to expose the tight circles of their anuses to the air. They trembled slightly, but held the position.

Xuanfa uncorked the jade bottle. A sharp, pungent odor filled the air—divine ginger, harvested from the peaks of Mount Kunlun, its essence concentrated into a golden liquid that steamed faintly in the cool air. He approached Lin Qiaoxin first.

"You will hold still," he said. "If you move, I will double the dose."

Lin Qiaoxin's breath hitched. "Yes, Master."

Xuanfa tipped the bottle. A thin stream of golden liquid flowed out and dripped precisely into Lin Qiaoxin's anus. The effect was immediate. Lin Qiaoxin's entire body convulsed as if she had been struck by lightning. A scream tore from her throat—not the playful, exaggerated cries she sometimes gave during punishment, but a genuine, primal shriek of agony.

It felt as if a red-hot iron rod had been thrust into her bowels. The ginger juice seared through her intestines, coating every tender surface with liquid fire. She could feel it spreading inside her, burning deeper and deeper as if it would consume her from within. Her anus clenched and unclenched uncontrollably, but that only forced the liquid further in. Tears streamed down her face. Her fingers clawed at the floor. Her entire body shook as if possessed.

"Please," she gasped, "please, Master, it burns, it burns so much—"

Xuanfa ignored her. He moved to Li Que and repeated the process. Li Que had been watching Lin Qiaoxin's suffering with wide eyes, her body already tense with anticipation. When the ginger juice entered her, she made no sound at first. Her mouth opened, but no breath came out. Her eyes went wide and white, and for a moment she was completely frozen, caught in a moment of such intense agony that her mind could not process it.

Then the fire reached her core.

Li Que collapsed forward, her forehead hitting the floor, her body writhing as the liquid fire spread through her. She had endured countless punishments. She had been spanked until her buttocks were bloody pulp. She had been whipped, burned, pierced. Nothing had prepared her for this. The ginger juice was alive inside her, a living flame that licked at the walls of her intestines, that burrowed into every fold and crevice of her most intimate interior.

"Master," she choked out, "Master, it's too much, please, I can't—"

"You can," Xuanfa said calmly. "You will."

He returned to his throne and sat, watching them writhe on the floor before him. Their bodies twisted and arched as they tried to escape the fire inside them, but there was no escape. The ginger juice had been absorbed into their tissues, and it would continue to burn until it was metabolized by their cultivator bodies—a process that would take hours.

"Your daily punishment begins in fifteen minutes," Xuanfa said. "Two hundred strikes from the Heavenly Dao Boards. If either of you loses control and sprays intestinal fluid onto my floor, I will double the punishment."

Lin Qiaoxin and Li Que exchanged terrified glances. The pressure building in their bowels was immense. The ginger juice was a powerful irritant, and their bodies were already desperate to expel it. To hold it in through two hundred strikes of the Heavenly Dao Boards seemed impossible.

But they had no choice.

They crawled to their usual positions in the center of the hall. The floor was smooth black marble, polished to a mirror shine. They bent forward, pressing their foreheads to the cold stone, raising their buttocks high. The position stretched their anuses slightly, and they could feel the ginger juice shifting inside them, pressing against their sphincters, demanding release.

The Heavenly Dao Boards materialized above them. Two wooden slats, gleaming with faint silver light, each the width of a hand and twice as long. They hovered for a moment, then descended with a crack that echoed through the hall.

The first strike hit Lin Qiaoxin's buttocks. She screamed—a high, keening sound that mingled pleasure and agony. The board left a red mark across her flesh, and the impact sent a shockwave through her body that squeezed the ginger juice deeper into her bowels. She clenched her anus desperately, fighting the urge to release.

The second strike hit Li Que. She grunted, her fingers digging into the marble floor. The board had found the same spot it always hit—the sensitive curve where her buttocks met her thighs. The impact was precise, devastating, and it sent a jolt of pure agony through her body. Her sphincter clenched and relaxed, clenched and relaxed, and she felt a small amount of liquid seep out.

She caught it. Barely. With a supreme effort of will, she pulled the muscles tight again, forcing the liquid back inside. But the pressure was building, and she knew she could not hold it forever.

The boards continued their work. Strike after strike, methodical and relentless. They alternated between the two women, never giving either time to recover. By the thirtieth strike, both Lin Qiaoxin and Li Que were crying openly, their tears pooling on the marble floor. Their buttocks were covered in overlapping red welts, and the ginger juice had heated to a burning inferno inside them.

"Master," Lin Qiaoxin sobbed, "please, I need to—I can't hold it, I can't—"

"Hold it," Xuanfa said. "Or the punishment doubles."

The fortieth strike. Lin Qiaoxin's body convulsed. The pressure in her bowels had become unbearable. It was not just the ginger juice anymore—it was a desperate, primal need that overwhelmed every other sensation. She felt her anus begin to open, felt the liquid beginning to force its way out, and she screamed with the effort of holding it back.

The fiftieth strike. Li Que's control shattered.

With a sound halfway between a scream and a sob, she lost the battle. Her anus opened, and a stream of golden liquid sprayed from her, splattering across the marble floor. The ginger juice had been partially processed by her body, turning into a thin, pungent fluid that spread across the stone in a wide pool.

The boards stopped.

Xuanfa rose from his throne. His footsteps were slow and deliberate as he walked to where Li Que lay, still bent over, her body shaking with sobs of shame and pain.

"Two hundred additional strikes," he said. "For both of you."

"But Master," Lin Qiaoxin said desperately, "I didn't—I held it, I held it, she was the one who—"

"You are both responsible for each other's failures," Xuanfa said. "That is the rule. You know this."

Lin Qiaoxin's head fell. More tears dripped from her chin to the floor. "Yes, Master."

The boards resumed. Now they did not alternate. Both boards struck simultaneously, one on each woman's already-battered buttocks. The sound was a double crack that seemed to shake the very air. Lin Qiaoxin and Li Que screamed together, their voices mingling in a chorus of agony.

The sixtieth strike. The seventieth. Lin Qiaoxin's body was beginning to betray her. The ginger juice still churned inside her, and each impact of the board squeezed her bowels, forcing more pressure against her sphincter. She clenched and unclenched, fought and struggled, but she could feel her control slipping.

The ninetieth strike. Lin Qiaoxin lost the battle.

Her body gave out, and a stream of ginger-tinged fluid sprayed from her, joi

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The morning sun cast long shadows across Wuling City as Xuanfa strode through the eastern gate, a leather leash in each hand. Behind him, Lin Qiaoxin and Li Que crawled on all fours, their naked bodies glistening with a thin sheen of sweat in the warm air. The dog collars around their necks were made of black leather studded with silver rivets, matching the leashes that trailed from Xuanfa's grip.

The market street fell silent.

Merchants abandoned their stalls. Children were pulled behind their mothers' robes. Cultivators stopped mid-conversation, their jaws dropping as they took in the sight of two beautiful women crawling like animals through the dust.

Lin Qiaoxin's red hair hung in disheveled twin tails, swinging with each step of her hands and knees. The bruises on her buttocks had faded to a mottled purple and yellow, crisscrossed patterns that spoke of repeated punishment. Still, a small smile played at the corners of her lips as she moved, her tail wagging slightly as if she were truly enjoying the role of a pet.

Beside her, Li Que kept her head high despite her degrading position. Her athletic frame moved with feline grace, every muscle defined as she crawled forward. The whip marks on her rear had healed unevenly, leaving streaks of discolored skin that drew eyes like a macabre painting. She met the stares of onlookers with cold defiance, refusing to show shame.

But inside their bodies, a torment raged that no one could see.

The ginger juice filled their intestines like liquid fire. Each movement sent fresh waves of burning agony through their bowels, the sharp spice seeping into tender flesh and nerve endings. Lin Qiaoxin's smile tightened with every step, her hands clenching into fists where they touched the ground. Li Que's breathing came in controlled, shallow gasps, her jaw locked against the urge to cry out.

They crawled through the streets of Wuling City, past the gawking crowds, past the gasps and whispers and pointing fingers. Some recognized them. Some recognized Xuanfa. No one dared intervene.

---

At the center of Wuling City stood the Execution Platform, a circular stone stage raised three feet above the ground. On an ordinary day, it held criminals and traitors for public judgment. Today, it held Shen Mengyue.

She stood naked in the center of the platform, her long black hair the only covering she had. Her hands were bound behind her back with rope, and around her neck sat a dog collar identical to those worn by Lin Qiaoxin and Li Que. The leash attached to it was held by a young girl in Immortal Cloud Sect robes, her face streaked with tears.

"Forgive me, Sect Leader," the girl whispered, her voice trembling. "He made me do this."

Shen Mengyue said nothing. Her eyes stared straight ahead, unfocused, seeing nothing and everything at once. The morning breeze played across her bare skin, raising goosebumps that had nothing to do with cold. Thousands of eyes watched her from the crowd below—mortals and cultivators alike, men and women, young and old. She felt their gaze like physical weights pressing against her flesh.

This was worse than death.

Death would be a mercy, a release from the gnawing humiliation that ate at her soul. Death would restore her dignity, allow her to face her ancestors as a martyr rather than a whore displayed for the amusement of the masses. But Xuanfa had not granted her death. He had granted her this—eternal, public shame.

The faces in the crowd blurred before her eyes. Some showed pity. Some showed excitement. Some showed hunger. She could almost hear their thoughts: *Look at the great Sect Leader of Immortal Cloud Sect, brought so low. Look at her flawless body, her perfect skin, now nothing more than a spectacle.*

Her disciples had been forced to strip her. Her own disciples, the children she had raised and taught and protected, had been compelled to remove her robes and lead her here like a beast. She had watched their tears fall as their hands worked the fabric from her shoulders. She had heard their choked sobs as they fastened the collar around her neck.

That had broken something inside her.

The Shen Mengyue who had led Immortal Cloud Sect with grace and strength was gone. What remained was a hollow shell, a body that still breathed and bled but whose spirit had been crushed beneath the weight of absolute humiliation.

Tears rolled silently down her cheeks as she stood on the platform, waiting for the next act of degradation to begin.

---

The crowd parted as Xuanfa approached, his two crawling pets following at his heels. He climbed the steps to the platform with measured steps, the leashes trailing behind him. Lin Qiaoxin and Li Que crawled up after him, their naked bodies now displayed fully to the crowd.

"Kneel," Xuanfa commanded.

Shen Mengyue's disciple released the leash and retreated, unable to meet her former sect leader's eyes. Shen Mengyue remained standing, her bound hands useless behind her back.

"I said, kneel."

Xuanfa's finger twitched, and a burst of spiritual pressure slammed into Shen Mengyue's legs. Her knees buckled, striking the stone with a crack that echoed through the square. She knelt, facing the crowd, her bare body on full display.

Lin Qiaoxin and Li Que crawled to their designated positions and knelt beside her, forming a row of three. They bent forward, lowering their upper bodies until their chests touched their knees, their buttocks raised high in the air. The position was deliberate, obscene, displaying their most private parts to the watching thousands.

Shen Mengyue hesitated, but a sharp tug on her hair from Xuanfa's spiritual energy forced her into the same position. She bent forward, her face pressed against the cold stone, her buttocks thrust upward like an offering. She could feel the breeze against her most intimate places, could sense the eyes of the crowd fixed on the part of her body that should have been sacred and private.

"The punishment for defying the will of heaven," Xuanfa announced, his voice carrying across the square with unnatural force, "is discipline. The punishment for rebellion is correction. These three have sinned against order. Today, they will be purified."

He raised his hand, and Heavenly Dao Boards materialized above the platform.

Three boards, each as wide as a man's hand and twice as long, crafted from ancient wood that gleamed with the light of celestial laws. They hovered above each kneeling woman, angled perfectly to strike their raised buttocks.

"Begin."

The first board descended.

*SMACK!*

The sound was deafening, a thunderclap that echoed off the surrounding buildings. Shen Mengyue's body jerked violently as the board connected with her right buttock, leaving an immediate red imprint. She bit her lip, refusing to cry out, but tears streamed down her face.

*SMACK! SMACK!*

The boards struck in sequence, one after another, a relentless rhythm of punishment. They did not strike randomly but with precision, each blow landing on a different spot, systematically covering every inch of the women's buttocks.

Lin Qiaoxin took her punishment with a smile stretched tight across her face. Each strike sent a jolt of exquisite pain through her body, a reminder that she belonged to her master, that she existed to serve his whims. She moaned softly with each blow, not in pain but in pleasure, her body responding to the punishment as if it were a caress.

Li Que clenched her teeth and absorbed the blows. Her pride had been stripped away over the past weeks, beaten and fucked out of her until nothing remained but devotion. She no longer felt shame at being displayed like this. She felt purpose. She was being used, and that use gave her meaning.

Shen Mengyue screamed.

The first few blows she had endured in silence, but the boards did not relent. They struck harder, faster, targeting the same spots again and again until the skin split and blood welled. Her beautiful, flawless buttocks became a canvas of red and purple, then black and blue, then raw and bleeding. The Heavenly Dao Boards did not merely hurt—they punished the soul, amplifying every sensation until pain became the only reality.

Her screams filled the square, raw and animalistic, stripped of all dignity. She begged, she pleaded, she promised anything, everything, if only it would stop. But the boards continued their relentless assault, reducing her once-perfect form to a mangled ruin of flesh.

After three hundred strikes, the boards paused.

The buttocks of all three women were unrecognizable. What had been smooth, round curves were now swollen, misshapen masses of black and purple bruise, split skin, and weeping blood. Even with their cultivation, the damage was extreme—a week of healing at minimum before they would be whole again.

But Xuanfa was not finished.

He walked to the edge of the platform, where his disciples had prepared the next instruments of punishment. Long, thin whips made from braided leather, each tipped with nine tails that ended in tiny metal barbs. He took one, flexed it, and approached the kneeling women.

"Spread your legs wider."

Lin Qiaoxin obeyed instantly, shifting her knees apart until her thighs formed a wide V. Li Que followed suit, her athletic legs spreading with mechanical precision. Shen Mengyue hesitated, and the barbed end of the whip caught her inner thigh, drawing blood.

"You heard me."

Whimpering, she spread her legs, exposing the most intimate parts of her body to the crowd. Her labia, her vaginal opening, her anus—all on display, all vulnerable.

Xuanfa stood behind Lin Qiaoxin first. He raised the whip and brought it down directly on her butt crack, the leather slipping into the crevice between her swollen cheeks and snapping against the delicate flesh of her perineum.

"AH!" Lin Qiaoxin's cry was equal parts pain and ecstasy. Her body arched, her back bowing as the whip found its target again and again.

The barbed tails struck her anus directly, wrapping around the wrinkled opening and tearing at its edges. Each blow sent lightning through her nerves, connecting her most sensitive areas directly to her brain's pain centers. Her labia swelled from the repeated impacts, turning red and puffy. Her vaginal opening became raw and inflamed.

Xuanfa moved to Li Que and repeated the process. The red-haired beauty took the whipping without a sound, her body trembling violently but her voice silent. The barbs caught her outer labia, splitting the skin, drawing beads of blood that rolled down her thighs. Her anus puckered and spasmed as the whip lashed across it, leaving thin red lines that would soon become scars.

Finally, Xuanfa stood behind Shen Mengyue.

"No—please—no more—" she begged, her voice broken and hoarse from screaming.

The whip descended.

The first blow split her labia majora, tearing a small flap of skin that hung loose and bleeding. The second caught her clitoris directly, sending a jolt of pure agony through her that made her vision go white. The third, fourth, fifth strikes targeted her anus, the barbed tails digging into the tight ring of muscle and pulling it apart.

She screamed until her voice gave out, and then she screamed silently, her mouth open in a rictus of agony, no sound emerging. The whip continued its work, reducing her most intimate flesh to a swollen, bloody mess.

When it was done, all three women lay panting on the platform, their bodies slick with sweat and blood. Their genitals and anuses were almost unrecognizable—swollen to twice their normal size, red and purple and black, oozing fluid from a hundred tiny wounds.

Xuanfa set down the whip and gestured to his disciples. They approached carrying three objects that glinted in the sunlight: anal hooks, curved metal devices designed to be inserted and then suspended from a chain.

"The final lesson," Xuanfa said, taking the first hook. "You will hang from these hooks for one week. Every eye in Wuling City will see what happens to those who def

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The week stretched like an eternity etched in fire and shame. For Shen Mengyue, each passing hour carved deeper grooves of humiliation into her soul. The iron hooks through her anus held her suspended in the public square of the city, her naked body displayed for all to see. The physical pain was relentless—a burning, tearing agony that never ceased—but far worse was the knowledge that every cultivator who passed, every merchant, every child, had witnessed her bare buttocks and the gaping hole between them. Once, only the disciples of Immortal Cloud Sect had seen her punished. Now the entire city knew. She could hear their whispers, their snickers, their pity. Her face burned day and night, but she could hide nothing. Her long black hair hung tangled and matted, her pale skin marked with the grime of a week without wash.

Lin Qiaoxin and Li Que hung on either side of her, their bodies equally exposed. But their spirits seemed unbroken. Lin Qiaoxin even managed to hum a tune sometimes, swinging slightly on her hook as if it were a playground swing. Li Que stared straight ahead with a proud stillness, her red hair unkempt but her eyes defiant. They had accepted their role as slaves. To them, this was merely another punishment from their master, a test to be endured. They did not fight it. They embraced it.

The morning of the seventh day dawned gray and cold. Shen Mengyue's arms were numb, her legs trembling, her anus raw and swollen around the iron hook. She had long stopped struggling; there was no strength left. When she heard footsteps approaching, she lifted her head weakly.

Xuanfa walked into the square, his black training clothes immaculate, his face as cold and handsome as carved jade. He did not look at the crowd that had gathered to witness the end of the ordeal. His eyes fixed on the three women hanging like meat in a butcher's stall. He raised a hand, and with a flick of his fingers, the chains holding the hooks lowered them gently to the ground.

Shen Mengyue collapsed onto her hands and knees the moment her feet touched the stone. Her legs would not hold her. She gasped, her body wracked with shivers. The iron hook remained embedded in her anus; she did not dare to remove it without permission.

Xuanfa stood before her, looking down. His voice was calm, devoid of emotion. "Shen Mengyue. The week is over." He paused. "I hope you have considered my offer. Enter the Heavenly Realm willingly. Become my female slave, and your sect will be protected."

Shen Mengyue's heart lurched. She pressed her forehead to the cold stone, her voice trembling. "Celestial Punisher Xuanfa, I have been punished for my offense. I have learned my lesson. Please, I beg you—I do not wish to be a slave. I will never defy you again. I will keep the Immortal Cloud Sect out of your way. Just let me go."

Xuanfa's eyes narrowed. He let out a soft snort. "Stubborn."

He turned and gestured to Lin Qiaoxin and Li Que, who had already risen to their feet. Both women stood naked, their bodies marked with the ordeal, but their faces bright with anticipation. They knew what came next.

Lin Qiaoxin skipped over to a small cauldron that had been set on a brazier nearby. A pungent, sharp smell rose from it. She dipped a ladle in and stirred. "Oh, master, ginger juice! Freshly made! This will really wake her up!"

Li Que took her position beside Shen Mengyue. "On your hands and knees, Senior Sect Leader. You know the position."

Shen Mengyue's eyes widened. She had seen Lin Qiaoxin and Li Que punished before, but she had never experienced this. "No—please—"

But already an invisible force pressed down on her shoulders, forcing her into the familiar posture: kneeling, chest flat on the ground, arms stretched forward, and buttocks raised high in the air. Her sore, reddened buttocks stuck up obscenely. The iron hook still protruded from her anus, its ring shining.

Lin Qiaoxin and Li Que knelt on either side of her. Each took hold of one of Shen Mengyue's buttock cheeks and pulled them apart, spreading her anus wide around the hook. The cold air hit the tender pink flesh inside.

"Hold her open," Xuanfa ordered. He walked behind Shen Mengyue and examined her exposed hole. "She needs to learn submission."

Lin Qiaoxin giggled as she held the cheek. "Wide open, master! Ready for your medicine!"

Li Que said nothing, but she held her side firmly.

Xuanfa took the ladle from Lin Qiaoxin. He positioned it at Shen Mengyue's anus, beside the hook. "You will be given ginger juice. It will cleanse your insides and teach you that your body is no longer your own."

"No—please—not that—I can't—" Shen Mengyue tried to crawl away, but the invisible force held her immobile. She could only tremble as the ginger juice poured into her anus.

The liquid was warm at first, then came the burning. Ginger juice flooded her intestines, searing every inch of sensitive tissue. Shen Mengyue screamed. It was a raw, desperate sound torn from her throat. Her hands clawed at the stone. Her legs kicked wildly. But she could not move her hips; Lin Qiaoxin and Li Que held her wide open, and the force held her in place.

Tears streamed down Shen Mengyue's face. "It burns! It burns! Stop!"

The ladle emptied. Xuanfa set it down. "She needs to learn her lesson properly." He waved his hand, and two wooden boards appeared in the air, their surfaces etched with glowing symbols. The Heavenly Dao Boards. He handed one to Lin Qiaoxin and one to Li Que. "Spank her. Severely. For each strike, she must say, 'Thank you, Celestial Punisher Xuanfa, for the spanking.' If she fails to speak, pour more ginger juice."

Lin Qiaoxin's eyes lit up. "Oh, I love this board! It sings when it hits!" She hefted it. "Ready, Senior Shen?"

Li Que simply nodded, gripping her board.

Shen Mengyue, still burning inside, sobbed. "I—I won't say it—I won't be your slave—"

Xuanfa crossed his arms. "Begin."

Lin Qiaoxin swung first. The board smacked against Shen Mengyue's right buttock with a solid *thwack*. The symbol on the board flashed, and Shen Mengyue felt a deeper, sharper sting than any ordinary spanking. "Fifty more if you don't speak," Lin Qiaoxin said cheerfully.

Shen Mengyue bit her lip, refusing.

Li Que struck next on the left cheek. *Thwack!* Another flash, another wave of fire.

"Four more ginger juice refills if you stay silent," Li Que said flatly.

Shen Mengyue could not take another pour. She could still feel the ginger burning deep inside her. After the third strike, she choked out, "Thank you... thank you, Celestial Punisher Xuanfa, for the spanking."

"Louder," Xuanfa said.

*Thwack!*

"Thank you, Celestial Punisher Xuanfa, for the spanking!" she screamed.

The spanking continued. Lin Qiaoxin and LiQue took turns, each strike landing with precision on Shen Mengyue's already reddened buttocks. Thirty strikes. Forty. The boards rose and fell in a steady rhythm. Shen Mengyue repeated her line through gritted teeth, her voice becoming hoarse, her words slurred with tears.

At fifty strikes, her buttocks were a mass of purple and red, welts rising under the skin. At sixty, her voice cracked and broke. She could barely form the words. But she said them every time.

Xuanfa raised a hand, and the spanking stopped.

Shen Mengyue panted, her whole body shaking. Ginger juice still burned her insides. Her buttocks felt like two lumps of raw meat.

Xuanfa stepped in front of her and crouched down, his face level with hers. "Do you now agree? Become my slave. Wear the collar. Enter the Heavenly Realm. In return, I will not harm a single disciple of the Immortal Cloud Sect. I will protect it as my own domain."

Shen Mengyue looked at him through blurred eyes. She had no strength left. No pride left. Only the burning and the pain. "If... if you protect them... and never harm them... I... I will become your slave."

Xuanfa nodded once. "I keep my promises."

He straightened, then raised his hand. A golden light enveloped all three women. The world shimmered and dissolved. When Shen Mengyue opened her eyes again, she was kneeling on a vast white floor in an endless hall of jade and clouds. The Heavenly Realm.

A cold metal band wrapped around her neck. She looked down—a black slave collar, identical to the ones around Lin Qiaoxin's and Li Que's throats. The moment it clicked shut, Shen Mengyue felt a psychic connection, a binding that tethered her will to Xuanfa's presence.

Lin Qiaoxin clapped her hands. "Oh, she's got the collar now! One of us!"

Li Que simply knelt, waiting.

But the ordeal was not over. Shen Mengyue knew the rules. Every new slave must be broken in properly. Two hundred strokes of the Heavenly Dao Board, given willingly.

Xuanfa stood before her on a raised dais. "You know what must be done. Kneel before me. Present your punishment."

Shen Mengyue's heart hammered, but she had surrendered. She turned around, knelt down, and pressed her chest and face to the cold jade floor. She raised her buttocks high, the sore, battered globes spread by her position. The iron hook still dangled from her anus, but she ignored it.

"Moon Slave submits to her master's punishment," she whispered.

Xuanfa picked up a Heavenly Dao Board. The new slaves rarely understood how deep the pain would go.

He raised the board high and brought it down with full force.

*CRACK!*

The sound echoed through the hall. The symbol on the board flared brilliant white. Shen Mengyue's buttocks jiggled with the impact, a bright red line appearing across both cheeks. She gasped, her fingers clenching the floor.

One.

*CRACK!* Another strike, lower, across the sit-spots.

Two.

Shen Mengyue gritted her teeth. She had endured much, but these were different. The Heavenly Dao Board did not just sting—it sent waves of burning energy deep into her muscles, her bones, her very soul. Each strike made her see stars.

Ten. Twenty. Thirty. The board fell without mercy, without pause. Xuanfa's arm was steady, his aim precise. He alternated left and right, covering every inch of Shen Mengyue's buttocks. The pale skin that remained after the week of hanging and the fifty strikes from before was now completely covered in deep red, purple, and black bruises.

By fifty, Shen Mengyue was sobbing openly. Her buttocks felt like they were on fire, split open, broken. She cried out with each stroke, the numbers slipping from her lips. "Fifty-one... fifty-two..."

Lin Qiaoxin watched from the side, her eyes wide with appreciation. "Master's really laying it on her. Poor senior sect leader. But she'll learn."

Li Que remained silent, meditating.

At one hundred, Shen Mengyue's buttocks were swollen to twice their normal size. The skin had started to split in places, thin lines of blood trickling down her thighs. She could barely speak, only whimpering the count.

One hundred and one.

The board kept rising and falling.

One hundred and fifty. Shen Mengyue's consciousness wavered. She saw black spots. But she forced herself to stay alert, to count, to submit. The ginger juice still burned in her bowels, mixing with the raw pain of her buttocks.

One hundred and eighty. Her voice was a whisper, a ghost of sound. "One hundred eighty... one..."

*CRACK!*

*CRACK!*

*CRACK!*

Two hundred.

Xuanfa lowered the board. The final strike echoed and faded. Shen Mengyue's buttocks were unrecognizable—a mass of raw, bloody meat, purple-black with contusion, weeping fluid and blood. She lay trembling on the floor, unable to move, unable to think.

Xuanfa set the board aside. "Rise."

Shen Mengyue tried. Her arms shook. Her legs would not obey. Lin Qiaoxin hurried over and helped her kneel upright, supporting her. Li Que came to the other side.

Shen Mengyue, supported by the two slaves, turned to face Xuanfa. Slowly, painfully, she lowered herself so that her forehead touched the ground at his feet. The movement pulled at her torn buttocks, and she whimpered, but she completed the bow.

Then she spoke the words, her voice

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One hundred years had passed since Xuanfa established his dominion over the Heavenly Realm. The floating palace of clouds and jade now stood as a testament to his absolute authority, its halls echoing with the rhythmic crack of Heavenly Dao Boards against tender flesh. In the main punishment chamber, a long row of thirty female cultivators knelt side by side, their heads pressed to the cold floor, their bare, pale buttocks raised high in perfect alignment. Each pair of cheeks quivered slightly, anticipating the next strike. Behind each bottom, two translucent boards hovered, inscribed with golden runes that pulsed with punitive energy. They swung back and struck simultaneously, a thunderous chorus of smacks that sent ripples through the white mounds. The women gasped, some whimpering, others biting their lips to hold back screams. These were no ordinary cultivators—sect leaders who once commanded thousands, elders who had lectured from lofty peaks, rogue geniuses who had challenged the heavens, and heiresses of ancient families who had never known a single moment of humility. Now they were reduced to this: bare-assed, broken, and begging to become slaves.

Behind this row, three naked figures stood as instructors, their bodies a testament to years of discipline and punishment. Lin Qiaoxin, the Heart Slave, had grown into a woman of breathtaking beauty. Her twin tails still framed her face, but her figure had ripened into a perfect hourglass, her breasts full and firm, her waist narrow, her hips curved like a lute. Her skin, once pale, now bore a faint sheen of sweat and the subtle pattern of old bruises, fading to yellow and green across her thighs. Her buttocks, however, were a vivid tapestry of punishment—a deep purple-black, swollen and tender, the skin stretched taut over the muscles beneath. She moved with the grace of a dancer, her voice cheerful as she called out, "Buttocks higher, new sisters! Raise them as though offering them to the heavens! Relax your muscles—tensing only makes it hurt more, and Master prefers a soft target."

Beside her stood Li Que, the Que Slave, her tall, athletic frame even more imposing naked. Her red hair, still tied in a high ponytail, swayed as she paced. Her shoulders were broad, her arms toned, her stomach flat with defined muscles. Her breasts were smaller, firm, and her legs were powerful, like a warrior’s. Her buttocks were a matching set to Lin Qiaoxin’s—purple, swollen, the skin marred with crisscrossing welts and bruises that spoke of countless punishments. She had a faint smirk on her lips, her voice sharp and commanding: "Do not slouch! Master wants to see perfect arcs. If you fail, we will double your strokes."

Shen Mengyue, the Moon Slave, stood in the center, her long black hair cascading down her back, hiding some of the damage. Her beauty had only deepened over the century—her face an ethereal blend of celestial elegance and seductive allure. Her body was a masterpiece: creamy skin, delicate shoulders, a slim waist that flared into generous hips, and a rounded, full bottom that now bore the deepest bruises of all, a dark purple that almost looked black. The flesh was hot to the touch, the capillaries burst beneath the surface. She spoke softly, her voice gentle but firm: "Spread your legs wider, sisters. Do not clench your cheeks. Breathe through the pain. It is the only way to please Master."

The row of new slaves obeyed, their bottoms raised higher, the Heavenly Dao Boards continuing their relentless assault. The chamber filled with the sound of impact and muffled cries. Some of the women had tears streaming down their faces, their dignity shattered. They had been captured one by one over the century—Xuanfa had sought them out, defeated them in combat, torn off their robes, and spanked their bare buttocks with the Heavenly Dao Boards until they wept and begged to become his female slaves. Now they were learning the proper posture, the correct way to present their punishment.

Suddenly, a cold presence filled the hall. The temperature dropped. The boards paused mid-swing. The three instructors froze, their bodies tensing. Without a word, they dropped to their knees in perfect synchronization. They lowered their heads until their foreheads touched the floor, placed their palms flat on the ground, and raised their purplish-red, swollen buttocks high into the air, offering them to their master.

Xuanfa stepped into the chamber, his black training clothes immaculate, his face expressionless, his eyes dark and cold. He surveyed the scene—the row of trembling new slaves, the floating boards, and his three most prized possessions kneeling before him.

Lin Qiaoxin spoke first, her voice sweet and submissive: "Master, we are instructing the new sisters. Does Master wish to watch Heart Slave's punishment? Rest assured, I will endure to the end without spoiling Master's pleasure."

Li Que followed, her tone proud but softened: "Que Slave offers herself for Master's amusement. I will not fail."

Shen Mengyue’s voice was calm, serene: "Moon Slave is ready. Let Master watch as he pleases."

Xuanfa nodded once. "Proceed."

Without hesitation, the three women reached back with both hands. Their fingers found their own anuses, and they spread themselves open, exposing the pink inner flesh to the air. Above them, the sky shimmered, and three large syringes materialized, each filled with a thick, amber liquid—freshly pressed ginger juice, potent and burning. The syringes descended, their tips pressing against the exposed openings. The women did not flinch. They had done this countless times. The needles slid in smoothly, and the plungers depressed, filling their bowels with the fiery liquid. A shiver ran through each of them, but they held their positions, their bottoms still raised high.

Then the boards multiplied. Where there had been two per slave, now six Heavenly Dao Boards appeared above each of the three women. They hovered, rotating slowly, the runes glowing brighter. The women took a deep breath, bracing themselves.

The first strike fell. A simultaneous crack that echoed like thunder. The three bottoms jiggled violently, the impact sending shockwaves through their bodies. Lin Qiaoxin let out a sharp gasp, her back arching. Li Que grunted, her fists clenching on the floor. Shen Mengyue’s breath hitched, a low moan escaping her lips.

The second strike came immediately, then the third, the fourth, the fifth. The boards struck in rapid succession, each blow landing on a different spot—left cheek, right cheek, the crease where thigh met buttock, the sensitive undercurve. The rhythm was relentless, a cascade of pain that built upon itself. The ginger juice inside them swirled and burned with every movement, adding an internal fire to the external fire.

Lin Qiaoxin’s cheerful demeanor had melted into a pained smile. Her eyes were squeezed shut, tears leaking from the corners. Each smack sent a jolt through her entire body, the sound of her punishment—a wet, sharp crack—filling the air. Her buttocks, already bruised, turned a deeper shade of purple under the assault. She forced herself to stay still, to not clench, to not let the ginger juice escape. She moaned through gritted teeth, "Ah... ah... Master... please... it hurts so good..."

Li Que’s proud facade cracked. Her jaw was tight, her muscles straining. The boards slammed into her athletic cheeks, and she whimpered—a sound so uncharacteristic that it would have shocked anyone who knew her before. She had never yielded to anyone, but now she yielded completely. The pain was exquisite, unbearable, and yet she craved it. "Nngh... harder... Master... let me feel it..." she gasped, her voice ragged.

Shen Mengyue took the punishment with a serene agony. Her body rocked forward with each strike, her long hair swaying. The boards found their rhythm on her full, heavy bottom, and the sound was deep and resonant. She cried out, a melodic, pained sound that was both suffering and ecstasy. "Ah... oh... yes... Master... thank you..." She lost count of the strokes, lost herself in the rhythm, the heat, the burn. The ginger juice churned inside her, and she focused all her cultivation on holding it in, on being the perfect slave.

The boards continued, faster now, a blur of golden light. Twenty strokes, fifty, one hundred. The three women’s bottoms were no longer purple but a deep, angry red-black, the skin shiny with swelling. They were crying openly, their bodies trembling, but they did not break position. They kept their hands on the floor, their heads bowed, their anuses still spread slightly from the memory of the syringe.

At two hundred strikes, Lin Qiaoxin let out a sob. Li Que was panting heavily, drool pooling on the floor. Shen Mengyue’s moans had turned into a continuous, breathy chant. The boards seemed to grow heavier, the pain more intense. Yet they held.

At three hundred, the boards stopped. Silence fell. The six boards per slave withdrew and vanished. The three women remained kneeling, their bottoms smoking slightly from the heat. They took deep, shuddering breaths. Slowly, they composed themselves.

In unison, they spoke, their voices hoarse but clear: "We have finished three hundred strikes without leaking the ginger juice. Is Master satisfied?"

Xuanfa walked slowly along the row of new slaves, his eyes passing over their raised bottoms, then stopping before his three instructors. He looked down at their ruined backsides, the swollen mounds that had taken so much punishment. He nodded slightly, a rare gesture of approval.

"Good," he said, his voice flat. "You have done well."

The three women sagged with relief, their foreheads still touching the floor.

Xuanfa turned and gazed out at the forty or so of other female cultivators he had yet to capture. His mind wandered. There were still so many high-cultivation women in the world who had not tasted the Heavenly Dao Boards. He imagined them—proud sect mistresses, arrogant geniuses, haughty princesses—all bent over, their white, fat bottoms raised, screaming as the boards descended. He looked forward to hearing their shrill cries, to seeing their tears, to breaking their spirits one by one.

He also considered a new venture. He had enough slaves now to form a proper sect, a place where he could train them, use them as elders, and recruit new disciples who would be punished just the same. The sect would be his playground, his domain. He would call it the Spanking Phoenix Sect—a name that would strike fear and humiliation into the hearts of all female cultivators.

He glanced back at his three instructors, still kneeling in offering.

"You may rise," he said. "Continue your instruction."

He turned and walked away, his mind already plotting his next conquest.

The morning sun cast long shadows across the peak as Xuanfa stood at the entrance of the Spanking Phoenix Sect's main hall. Behind him, the newly constructed buildings gleamed with spiritual energy, their roofs curving upward like wings ready to take flight. The sect had been established quickly, its purpose clear to all who dared to look.

Xuanfa held three leashes in his left hand, each connected to a collar of dark jade that encircled the throat of a naked woman. Lin Qiaoxin crawled on all fours, her black twin tails bouncing with each movement, a playful smile on her lips despite the humiliation. Li Que followed with her head held high, her red ponytail trailing behind her, her athletic form moving with predatory grace. Shen Mengyue brought up the rear, her long black hair brushing against the ground, her face composed yet carrying a hint of embarrassment that she could not quite hide.

The disciples of the Spanking Phoenix Sect had gathered before the hall, a sea of naked bodies standing in neat rows. Some trembled, others watched with wide eyes, but none dared to speak. They had learned quickly that silence was the only acceptable response during their master's public ceremonies.

Xuanfa stopped at the top of the stone steps, his black training clothes immaculate, his cold gaze sweeping over the assembled women. "Heart Slave has distinguished herself in teaching formations," he announced, his voice carrying across the courtyard without effort. "Moon Slave has managed the sect's internal affairs with competence. Que Slave has defeated a challenger who sought to disrupt our peace."

He paused, letting the words sink in. "For their service, they shall receive a reward."

A ripple of murmurs passed through the disciples, quickly silenced by a single glance from Xuanfa. They knew what that reward meant. They had heard the stories, seen the bruises, witnessed the tears. And yet, they stayed.

Lin Qiaoxin's eyes lit up. "Master, you're too kind! I was hoping you'd say that. The disciples need to see how a proper spanking is done."

Li Que snorted but said nothing, her body already shifting into position. Shen Mengyue let out a soft sigh, her shoulders relaxing as she accepted what was to come.

Xuanfa gestured toward the side of the hall, where a figure knelt in chains. Mu Rongying, the sect leader of Heavenly Phoenix Sect, had come to challenge the Spanking Phoenix Sect three days ago. She had been confident, arrogant, convinced that her Middle Nascent Soul cultivation would allow her to crush this upstart sect. Li Que had defeated her in less than fifty exchanges.

Now, Mu Rongying knelt naked, her chains gleaming in the morning light. Her face was flushed with shame and anger, her pride wounded far deeper than her flesh. She had been forced to watch the daily rituals of the sect, to see her own disciples reduced to naked supplicants, and now she was to be part of a public spanking.

"Join them," Xuanfa said, his voice flat.

Mu Rongying's eyes blazed. "I will not debase myself for your amusement, Xuanfa. You may have defeated me, but you will never break me."

Xuanfa did not respond. He simply looked at her, his cold gaze holding no anger, no malice, only the absolute certainty of one who knew the outcome before it began. The chains around Mu Rongying's wrists glowed, and she felt an irresistible force pulling her forward. She tried to resist, her muscles straining, but the chains were stronger. She was dragged across the stone floor, her knees scraping against the rough surface, until she was positioned beside the three slave elders.

"Kneel," Xuanfa said.

Mu Rongying's jaw clenched. "No."

The chains tightened, forcing her down. She screamed as her knees hit the stone, the pain sharp and immediate. Her hands were bound behind her back, and her body was pushed forward until her forehead touched the ground, her buttocks raised high in the air.

"Raise your buttocks higher," Xuanfa commanded.

Mu Rongying's breath came in ragged gasps. She could feel the eyes of the disciples on her, hundreds of naked women watching her humiliation. Her ears burned, and tears of rage pricked at her eyes. But the chains did not relent, and slowly, agonizingly, she arched her back until her buttocks were presented fully, her most private parts exposed to the gaze of the crowd.

"Good," Xuanfa said. "Now you will learn what it means to serve."

The four women knelt in a row, their buttocks raised, their bodies trembling with anticipation. Lin Qiaoxin was practically vibrating with excitement, her fingers twitching against the ground. Li Que's muscles were tense, her breathing steady, her eyes fixed on the spot in front of her. Shen Mengyue's expression was calm, but a faint blush crept across her cheeks. Mu Rongying's face was buried in her arms, her shoulders shaking.

Xuanfa raised his hand, and the air above them shimmered. Four slabs of jade materialized, each one the size of a serving platter, their surfaces smooth and gleaming. The Heavenly Dao Boards, artifacts of punishment imbued with the power of the celestial realm, capable of delivering pain that reached the very soul.

"Begin," Xuanfa said.

The first board descended, striking Lin Qiaoxin's left buttock with a thunderous crack. The sound echoed across the courtyard, and the disciples flinched as one. Lin Qiaoxin let out a yelp, but her body remained in position, her buttocks still raised high. A red mark appeared on her skin, already beginning to swell.

"Ooh, that's a good one, Master!" she called out, her voice carrying a hint of a laugh. "You've been practicing. That one had a nice curve to it."

The board struck again, this time landing square on her right buttock. She gasped, her fingers digging into the stone floor, but she did not move. "Maybe a little lower next time? Or higher? I'm flexible."

Li Que's turn came next. The board slammed into her buttocks with brutal force, and she grunted, her body barely shifting. A faint smile played at the corners of her lips. "Is that all?" she muttered.

The board answered with another strike, harder this time. Li Que's breath hitched, and a flush spread across her face. "Better," she said, her voice strained. "But I've had worse from training accidents."

Xuanfa watched without expression. The boards continued their rhythm, striking each woman in turn, the sound of jade against flesh ringing through the air. The disciples watched in horrified fascination, some covering their mouths, others unable to look away. They had seen spankings before, but never like this, never with such precision and purpose.

Shen Mengyue's face was pale, her eyes closed, her lips pressed together. When the board struck her, she let out a soft cry, her body shuddering. The pain was intense, radiating from her buttocks through her entire being. But she did not cry, did not beg. She simply endured, her hands clenched into fists.

"Disciples," she said, her voice trembling but audible, "remember this. Cultivation requires sacrifice. Endurance. This is but one path to strength."

Lin Qiaoxin turned her head, a grin on her face despite the tears streaming down her cheeks. "Listen to Elder Moon! She's got the right idea. You should all strive to be like us. Nothing says dedication like getting your butt turned into a painting by the Heavenly Dao Boards."

The board struck her again, harder, and she yelped, her body jerking forward. "Ow! Okay, okay, I'll behave! Maybe."

Mu Rongying watched the scene unfold, her mind reeling. She had heard of the Spanking Phoenix Sect, had dismissed it as a perversion of cultivation, an aberration that would fade into obscurity. But now, seeing the slave elders willingly accept their punishment, seeing the rapt attention of the disciples, she began to understand something she did not want to admit.

The board swung toward her. She braced herself, but nothing could have prepared her for the impact. Pain exploded across her buttocks, white-hot and blinding, stealing her breath. She screamed, a raw, animal sound that tore from her throat. The disciples gasped, some covering their ears.

"Stop!" she cried. "You can't do this! I am a sect leader! I have disciples of my own!"

The board struck again, and her words dissolved into sobs. The pain was unlike anything she had ever experienced, not merely physical but spiritual, as if her very soul was being flayed. She tried to move, to escape, but the chains held her in place, forcing her to endure.

"Your disciples are not here," Li Que said, her voice flat. "And even if they were, they would see you as you are now. Naked. Defeated. Submissive."

Mu Rongying's tears fell freely, staining the stone beneath her. "Please," she whispered, her pride crumbling. "Please, no more."

But the board continued, each strike a testament to her defeat. By the time the punishment finished, her buttocks were a mass of purple and red, the skin raised and swollen. She lay crumpled on the ground, her body wracked with sobs, her spirit broken.

Lin Qiaoxin, despite her own reddened cheeks, hopped a little in place, her grin still intact. "See? That's how it's done. You have to take it like a proper slave. Or at least pretend to."

Li Que rolled her shoulders, wincing slightly. "Her tolerance is weak. A few dozen strokes and she's already crying."

Shen Mengyue rose slowly, her body aching, but her dignity intact. She looked at the disciples, her eyes soft but firm. "You have seen what it means to be a slave elder. You have seen the price of service. If you wish to walk this path, you must be willing to endure."

Xuanfa stepped forward, and the crowd fell silent. He looked at Mu Rongying, who lay trembling at his feet.

"You have been punished," he said. "Now you will be displayed."

He gestured, and from his storage ring, a curved piece of metal appeared. It was a hook, polished to a mirror sheen, attached to a chain. Mu Rongying's eyes widened in horror as she realized what it was.

"No," she whispered. "No, please. I cannot."

Xuanfa did not respond. With a flick of his fingers, the chains lifted Mu Rongying, positioning her body. She struggled, screaming, but the chains held her fast. The hook approached, and she felt a cold, sharp pressure against her most intimate place. She screamed again, but the hook slid inside, the pain of penetration adding to the agony of her spanked buttocks.

She was lifted, the chain pulling her upward until she dangled in the air, suspended by the hook. Her body twisted, her arms and legs flailing, but there was no escape. She was carried to the mountain gate, where a sturdy beam had been prepared. The chain was secured, and she hung there, a spectacle for all who entered or left the sect.

The disciples stared in silence. Some looked away, unable to bear the sight. Others watched with a mixture of horror and fascination, their minds racing with thoughts of what they had witnessed.

Lin Qiaoxin tilted her head, studying Mu Rongying's suspended form. "You know, if you relax, it doesn't hurt as much. Just let go."

Mu Rongying's only response was a choked sob.

Li Que stepped forward, her eyes gleaming. "She'll learn. They all do."

Shen Mengyue said nothing, but she looked at Mu Rongying with a hint of sympathy. She had been there, once, stripped and humiliated. Now she was an elder, a slave, but also a teacher. The path was harsh, but it was real.

Xuanfa turned and walked back into the main hall, his work done. The disciples slowly dispersed, returning to their duties, their lessons, their lives. But the image of Mu Rongying, hanging naked and broken at the gate, would remain with them for a long time.

And in the sky above, the Heavenly Dao Boards hovered, waiting for the next reward.

The morning sun cast long shadows across the training grounds of Spanking Phoenix Sect. Xuanfa walked slowly through the main path, three leather leashes held loosely in his left hand. Behind him, crawling on all fours, came Lin Qiaoxin, Li Que, and Shen Mengyue. Their naked bodies moved with practiced ease, knees and palms calloused from months of this routine. The collars around their necks bore the sect's phoenix emblem, and each leash trailed behind them like a tether to their new lives.

Disciples stopped their training to stare. Some had been here since the beginning, yet the sight never failed to send a shiver through them. These three women—the Grand Elders who had taught them cultivation techniques, who had guided their breakthroughs, who had stood as paragons of power—now crawled like domestic animals behind the man in black training clothes. Their bare buttocks swayed with each crawl, occasionally marked by the faint pink of recent punishments.

Lin Qiaoxin giggled, her twin tails bobbing as she turned her head. "Hehe, master, the disciples are looking at Heart Slave."

Li Que snorted, keeping her eyes forward. "Haven't they gotten used to it yet after so long? Que Slave has lost count of how many times we've crawled this path."

Shen Mengyue's voice came calm and measured, her waist-length black hair trailing on the ground. "Among them, those who perform well will become master's slaves one day. It is only a matter of time before they understand the honor of serving master directly."

Xuanfa stopped walking. The leashes went taut as the three women halted in unison. He turned to face them, his cold gaze sweeping over their forms. "Do you remember how you became my slaves?"

Lin Qiaoxin's voice bubbled with enthusiasm. "Heart Slave remembers! Master appeared before me directly and insisted I become his slave. I was unwilling and tried to be clever. Master took off my skirt and spanked my cute butt hard, making me cry. Under master's coercion and bribery, I became master's slave." She wiggled her hips as she spoke, as if recalling the sensation.

Li Que spoke next, her voice firm and unyielding. "Que Slave remembers. I led Vermilion Bird Sect to attack Taiqing Palace. Believing I was invincible at the same level, I was defeated by Heart Sister, whom Master had taught. Her formation spanked me hard, and master stuffed a ginger strip into my anus, then hung me on an anal hook for public display. Foolishly, I wanted to challenge master, but was defeated in one move. Que Slave obediently became master's slave."

Lin Qiaoxin giggled again. "Sister Que, if your butt itches, Heart Slave can use her formation to spank it for you anytime."

Li Que's red ponytail swished as she shook her head. "Que Slave's butt is master's to spank, Heart Sister. But I thank you for the offer."

Shen Mengyue spoke last, her voice smooth as flowing water. "Moon Slave remembers. After being punished in Wuling City with Heart Sister and Que Sister, master kindly offered to make me his slave, but I ungratefully refused. Master administered a ginger enema and had Heart Sister and Que Sister spank me left and right with Heavenly Dao Boards. Moon Slave cried and obediently became master's slave."

Xuanfa's lips curled into the faintest hint of a smile. "Now, how does it feel to be spanked as a slave?"

Lin Qiaoxin answered first, her voice bright. "Although master's Heavenly Dao Boards hurt like hell, Heart Slave's butt now loves master's spanking the most. Every day my butt is beaten blooming and I'm utterly delighted."

Li Que's voice carried conviction. "Que Slave was defeated and taken as a slave; I must obediently accept all master's humiliations and punishments. Que Slave's butt must be beaten blooming every day as punishment."

Shen Mengyue nodded serenely. "Moon Slave was ungrateful to refuse master's kindness in taking me as a slave. This fault must be repaid by having my butt beaten blooming every day."

Xuanfa laughed, a rare sound that carried across the training grounds. The disciples who heard it felt a chill run down their spines. "You three are quite enlightened. Today's punishment will be right here: two hundred Heavenly Dao Board strikes each, directly."

Without hesitation, the three women positioned themselves. They knelt in a line on the packed earth, raising their buttocks high. Lin Qiaoxin's rear was round and perky, Li Que's athletic and firm, Shen Mengyue's full and womanly. All three presented themselves perfectly, thighs spread slightly, tails of their spines visible above the cleft of their buttocks.

Xuanfa withdrew a Heavenly Dao Board from his storage ring. The implement was a flat slab of white jade, inscribed with formation arrays that glowed faintly. It was wider than his palm and longer than his forearm. He stepped behind Lin Qiaoxin first.

"Count," he ordered.

"Yes, master!" Lin Qiaoxin chirped. "Heart Slave will count every strike."

The board came down. *CRACK*. A sharp sound that echoed across the grounds. Lin Qiaoxin's buttocks jiggled, a pink mark blooming immediately.

"One! Thank you master for the punishment!" she cried out, her voice still cheerful.

*CRACK*. Another strike. Red spread across her left cheek.

"Two! Thank you master for the punishment!"

Xuanfa methodically worked through her two hundred strikes. Each *CRACK* was precise, landing on a different spot to ensure even coverage. By the time he reached fifty, Lin Qiaoxin's buttocks were a deep crimson. Sweat beaded on her forehead, but she continued counting, her voice only slightly strained. At one hundred, the color had deepened to purple in places, and her skin glistened with sweat. She trembled but held her position. At one hundred fifty, welts had formed, crisscrossing her backside like a map of pain. At two hundred, her buttocks were a swollen, bruised mass, the skin nearly black in some spots. Yet she finished with a bright, "Two hundred! Thank you master for the punishment!"

Xuanfa moved to Li Que. She didn't flinch as he positioned himself. The first strike landed with a *CRACK* that seemed louder than before.

"One! Thank you master for the punishment!" Li Que's voice was steady, her red hair swaying with each impact.

He struck harder with Li Que. She bore it with stoic resolve. At fifty strikes, her athletic buttocks had turned a vivid red. At one hundred, purple bruises had formed. At one hundred fifty, she began to sweat, her muscles tensing with each blow but she never cried out. At two hundred, her buttocks were a swollen mess, but she finished without wavering. "Two hundred! Thank you master for the punishment!"

Finally, Xuanfa stood before Shen Mengyue. Her full buttocks were perfectly presented, the skin pale and unmarked. He raised the board and brought it down with full force.

*CRACK*. The sound was sharp and crisp.

"One. Thank you master for the punishment." Shen Mengyue's voice was calm, almost serene.

The strikes continued. With each blow, her buttocks bounced and jiggled. At fifty, they were a deep pink. At one hundred, red with streaks of purple. At one hundred fifty, welts had formed. At two hundred, her buttocks were a bruised, swollen mess, but she had not once broken her composure. "Two hundred. Thank you master for the punishment."

Xuanfa placed the Heavenly Dao Board back into his storage ring. He surveyed the three women kneeling before him, their buttocks raw and beaten, yet all three remained in position, presenting themselves without complaint.

"Rise," he commanded.

They stood on their feet, still naked, still collared, still marked. Xuanfa spoke again, his voice carrying across the training grounds. "Soon, there will be the grand ceremony of Spanking Phoenix Sect. The finale will be five hundred strikes on each of you."

Lin Qiaoxin, Li Que, and Shen Mengyue immediately dropped to their knees and kowtowed, their foreheads touching the ground.

"Thank you master for the honor!" they said in unison.

Lin Qiaoxin's voice was filled with eagerness. "Heart Slave cannot wait to be beaten blooming for master at the ceremony!"

Li Que's voice was firm. "Que Slave will accept the punishment without wavering."

Shen Mengyue's voice was calm. "Moon Slave thanks master for this chance to repay her ingratitude."

Xuanfa turned and walked away, the leashes trailing behind him. The three women scrambled to follow, crawling on all fours once more. Behind them, the disciples stared at the raw, beaten buttocks of their Grand Elders as they crawled away, and each disciple wondered if one day they too would crawl behind that cold, handsome man, wearing a collar and a beaten rear as a badge of honor.

The morning sun cast long shadows across the sprawling grounds of Spanking Phoenix Sect. A thousand female cultivators stood in neat rows, their naked bodies glistening with the dew of dawn. The sect had grown rapidly, but Xuanfa knew this number was merely a seed compared to what it could become. The problem was simple: few female cultivators were willing to abandon their dignity entirely, to surrender their buttocks to the Heavenly Dao Boards and the master who wielded them.

Today would change that.

The grand ceremony began with silence. Xuanfa stood atop a raised platform of black jade, his hands clasped behind his back. He wore his customary black training clothes, his cold features betraying nothing as he surveyed the assembly. The a thousand disciples formed a ring around the center, their naked bodies arranged in perfect concentric circles, each woman's hands pressed flat against her thighs, eyes cast downward.

At the edges of the platform, the higher-ranking slave elders began to move. They crawled on all fours, knees scraping against the rough stone, heads bowed low. Fifty women, each marked by a black collar around her neck, made their way to the center of the platform in perfect synchronization. They knelt in a semicircle, their buttocks raised and resting on their heels in the posture of supplication that had become second nature to them.

Then came the three.

Lin Qiaoxin crawled first, twin black tails brushing against her shoulders. Her red dress was gone, her naked body exposed to the morning air. A leather leash was attached to her collar, the other end held firmly in Xuanfa's grip. Despite the degradation of crawling on all fours before a thousand witnesses, a mischievous glint remained in her eyes. She had chosen this path freely, and she would walk it with her head held high—even if that head was low to the ground.

Li Que followed, her red hair spilling forward as she crawled. Her athletic form tensed with each movement, her pride warring with her submission. She had been defeated, and she had accepted her place. But the fire in her eyes had not dimmed—it had merely been redirected toward pleasing the only man who had ever bested her.

Shen Mengyue came last. The former sect leader of Immortal Cloud Sect crawled with an elegance that seemed impossible for the position. Her long black hair trailed across the stone floor, her pale skin gleaming in the light. Her beauty had not diminished, nor had her dignity. She had simply chosen to redefine what dignity meant.

Xuanfa led them to the center of the platform, the leashes held loosely in his hand. The three women positioned themselves beside him, then lowered themselves to their knees. They knelt in perfect formation, hands on their thighs, heads bowed.

The ceremony proper began.

Lin Qiaoxin raised her head first, her voice carrying across the silent assembly. "Today, we welcome new sisters to the Spanking Phoenix Sect. Today, we reaffirm our devotion to the path of submission."

Li Que's voice followed, harsher but no less clear. "We do not venerate patriarchs. We do not venerate divine artifacts. We venerate the Heavenly Dao Boards, for they are the instruments of our correction and our cultivation."

Shen Mengyue's voice was silk over steel. "The Spanking Phoenix was founded to remind female cultivators that true strength comes not from resisting the natural order, but from embracing it. The phoenix rises from ashes. We rise from spanked buttocks."

Lin Qiaoxin continued, her playful tone creeping into her words. "The master's hand, the board, the cane—these are the tools of our enlightenment. A slave's duty is simple: to accept all humiliations, all punishments, no matter how shameful and painful."

Li Que's voice hardened. "When ordered, you crawl. Unless ordered to rise, your hands and knees remain on the ground. When saluting the master, you kneel and raise your bruised bottom high, presenting it for whatever judgment he deems fit."

Shen Mengyue clasped her hands together. "Through submission, we find freedom. Through pain, we find growth. Through humiliation, we find clarity."

The three Grand Elders then began the second phase of the ceremony. They imparted cultivation techniques, explaining how the flow of spiritual energy could be redirected through the punished areas, how the pain of the Heavenly Dao Board could unlock meridians that normal cultivation could not touch. They spoke of the importance of relaxation during punishment, of how to receive the blows without tensing, how to present the buttocks at the perfect angle to maximize both pain and benefit.

Lin Qiaoxin added her own advice, her voice almost cheerful. "When the board falls, do not clench. Let your buttocks accept the blow fully. The more you surrender to it, the more your cultivation will benefit. And if you cry, cry beautifully. The master appreciates aesthetics in all things."

Xuanfa stepped forward, his cold gaze sweeping over the assembly. He raised his hand, and a shimmering mist of pills appeared, floating gently above the disciples. "Each of you will receive one Enlightenment Pill. It will advance your cultivation by at least one minor realm."

The pills descended, each finding its way to a disciple. Then Xuanfa gestured, and five magical artifacts appeared: a jade hairpin, a silver bracelet, a copper bell, a golden needle, and a crystal mirror. He awarded them to the five disciples who had shown the most progress in their training, their eyes shining with pride as they accepted the gifts.

Then came the selection.

From among the disciples who had applied to become slaves, five were called forward. Their names were announced, and they crawled to the center of the platform with trembling limbs. They were young, their cultivation ranging from Golden Core to early Nascent Soul. They knelt before Xuanfa, their buttocks raised, their faces buried in the stone.

The first was a woman named Yue Hua, her short black hair falling across her face. Her heart pounded with a mixture of terror and elation. She had dreamed of this moment for months—the advancement in cultivation, the protection of the sect—but she had also dreamed of the spankings that would follow. The stories of the Grand Elders' punishments had spread throughout the cultivation world, and she had shuddered at every telling. Now she would experience them firsthand.

The second was Zuo Ling, a tall woman with a scar across her left cheek. She had been a rogue cultivator, struggling to advance. The promise of the Spanking Phoenix Sect's resources had drawn her, but the price was her dignity. She accepted it, but the fear in her eyes was unmistakable.

The remaining three—Mu Qing, Hong Xiu, and Bai Yan—all showed similar expressions: joy at the advancement, fear at the inevitable pain.

Xuanfa placed collars around their necks with a flick of his fingers. The black bands tightened, settling against their skin. "You are my slaves now," he said, his voice cold and final. "Crawl to your elder sisters."

The five new slaves crawled to the semicircle of slave elders, their faces flushed with shame and excitement.

Now came the spanking of the slave elders.

Fifty women—the forty-five existing slave elders and the five new ones—positioned themselves in five rows of ten. They knelt, their foreheads touching the ground, their buttocks raised high. The position was deliberate: it maximized the surface area available for punishment, presenting the fullest, fattest part of each buttock to the coming blows.

Xuanfa raised his hand, and a thousand Heavenly Dao Boards materialized in the air above the platform. They hovered for a moment, then descended with precision, each board finding its target.

The first strike echoed across the sect like thunder.

Fifty buttocks shuddered simultaneously. Fifty voices cried out in a chorus of pain. The boards rose and fell in perfect synchronization, each strike landing with the force of a Nascent Soul cultivator's full power. The flesh of the spanked buttocks rippled with each impact, turning from pale to pink to deep crimson.

The slave elders did not dodge. They did not attempt to move. They had been trained well, and their bodies obeyed. But their voices could not be controlled.

Yue Hua screamed as the first board struck her untrained buttocks. She had never felt such pain. It was as if lightning had exploded beneath her skin, radiating outward until her entire body burned. She tried to remember Lin Qiaoxin's advice, tried to relax, but her muscles tensed involuntarily. The next blow struck her raised buttock, and she shrieked.

Zuo Ling gritted her teeth, determined to endure with dignity. The boards fell, and she counted each strike in her mind. One. Two. Three. By the fourth, tears were streaming down her face. By the tenth, she was sobbing openly, her voice joining the chorus of wails.

The sound of boards hitting buttocks filled the air. It was a rhythmic cacophony, a symphony of discipline and submission. The boards rose and fell, a hundred in the air at any moment, fifty landing simultaneously, creating a percussion that seemed to shake the very foundations of the sect.

Mu Qing's mind went blank after the thirtieth strike. She was no longer aware of her surroundings, only of the burning, pulsing agony that had consumed her rear. Her screams had turned to hoarse sobs, her body shaking with each impact.

Hong Xiu had fainted by the eightieth strike. But the boards did not stop. They continued to fall on her unconscious form, her buttocks bouncing with each blow, the flesh already bruised black in places.

Bai Yan had not yet reached fifty strikes, but she had already wet herself. The shame was almost worse than the pain. Almost.

Through it all, the forty-five experienced slave elders endured with more dignity. Their buttocks had been bruised and healed many times, their bodies accustomed to the punishment. But even they cried out, their composure cracking under the relentless onslaught.

And then it was done.

Two hundred strikes. Every slave elder had received them, every one had endured. The boards vanished, and the fifty women collapsed forward, their buttocks steaming, their bodies wracked with sobs.

Xuanfa watched without expression. "Rise," he said. "Take your positions at the periphery."

The slave elders crawled to their places, their bruised buttocks swaying with each movement.

Now came the most important part.

Lin Qiaoxin, Li Que, and Shen Mengyue exchanged glances. Then they kowtowed to Xuanfa, their foreheads touching the ground in perfect synchronization. Once. A show of respect. A show of submission.

They rose to their knees, then turned around. They raised their buttocks high, presenting them to the master who had taken everything from them and given them everything in return.

The three Grand Elders were beautiful in their degradation. Lin Qiaoxin's buttocks were round and full, the flesh of a woman who had never known hunger but had known much pleasure. They were pale, unmarked by previous punishment, ready to receive their master's discipline.

Li Que's buttocks were tighter, more athletic, the muscle visible beneath the skin. Her back was straight, her red hair cascading down to the small of her back. She held her position with military precision, her pride bent but not broken.

And Shen Mengyue. The former sect leader's buttocks were perfect. They were full and round, paler than the rest of her skin, with a gentle curve that spoke of both strength and grace. Her long black hair pooled on the ground before her, and her body trembled slightly as she awaited her punishment.

Five hundred strikes. The harshest punishment the Spanking Phoenix Sect could offer. And they would receive every single one without flinching.

Xuanfa raised his hand, and a single Heavenly Dao Board materialized in his grip. It was larger than the others, carved from the wood of a thousand-year-old spiritual tree, reinforced with

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