Punishment of the Heavenly Lord Xuanfa

The world of cultivation stretched across endless mountains and rivers, a realm where mortals and immortals breathed the same air but walked vastly different paths. From the lowest Qi Refining stage, where cultivators first sensed the spiritual energy flowing through their meridians, to the Foundation Establishment stage, where their bodies and souls began to transcend mortality, and then to Core Formation, where a golden core of condensed power took root within their dantian—each step was a war against heaven itself. The Nascent Soul stage was the pinnacle most could only dream of, a realm where one's soul crystallized into a miniature version of the self, granting immense power and near-immortality. Beyond that lay only the Great Perfection of Nascent Soul, a threshold that few had ever crossed, and fewer still had survived to tell the tale.

In this world, women outnumbered men by a wide margin, yet the male cultivators who did exist were often born with superior talent and raw power. A peculiar custom had arisen among them: by spanking a female cultivator's bare buttocks, a bond could be formed that accelerated the cultivation of both parties. Most female cultivators despised the practice, seeing it as a humiliation and a loss of face. But the strong dictated the rules, and the weak could only endure.

Heavenly Lord Xuanfa was a man who needed no introduction. His black training clothes hugged a lean, muscular frame, and his face was a cold, handsome mask that rarely cracked into any expression. He stood on a stone platform overlooking a valley, his hands clasped behind his back, his eyes as sharp as blades. He was known for many things: his unmatched combat prowess, his unyielding word, and his peculiar obsession. He loved nothing more than spanking women's buttocks—stripping them bare, bending them over, and delivering crisp, echoing slaps that turned pale skin a deep, satisfying red. It was a pleasure he indulged in frequently, and the cultivation world had learned to fear him for it.

Today, a disciple from the Celestial Mist Sect had been foolish enough to bump into him at a market, spilling a vial of rare spiritual ink over his robes. The girl had stammered an apology, but Xuanfa had simply looked at the stain, then at her terrified face, and said nothing. He had turned and walked away without a word, but everyone who saw that cold silence knew—the Celestial Mist Sect would pay.

The Celestial Mist Sect was an all-female sect, nestled among the misty peaks of the Qingyun Mountains. Their white-and-black Daoist robes fluttered in the wind as they went about their daily training, unaware of the storm heading their way. Their Sect Leader, Shen Mengyue, sat in her meditation chamber, her long black hair cascading down her back like a waterfall of ink. Her face was a blend of ethereal beauty and mature allure, her skin fair and flawless. She was a Mid Nascent Soul cultivator, wielding a sword that had tasted the blood of countless demon beasts. She was proud, gentle, and fiercely protective of her disciples.

The alarm formation around the sect exploded into a deafening shriek. Shen Mengyue's eyes snapped open. She leaped to her feet and shot out of the chamber, her sword already in hand. As she soared over the sect's main courtyard, her heart sank.

Xuanfa stood at the center of the training ground, his black robes billowing in the wind. Around him, dozens of Celestial Mist Sect disciples lay on the ground, clutching their buttocks, sobbing and writhing in pain. Their robes were torn, exposing red, swollen flesh. Xuanfa had already started his work.

"Stop!" Shen Mengyue's voice rang out like a bell. She landed in front of him, her sword pointed at his throat. "What is the meaning of this, Heavenly Lord Xuanfa?"

Xuanfa turned his cold gaze toward her. "One of your disciples stained my robes. I'm here to collect the debt."

"That was an accident!" Shen Mengyue's hand trembled with rage. "I apologize on her behalf. Please, leave my sect."

Xuanfa's lips curled into the faintest hint of a smile—a terrifying sight. "I don't accept apologies. I accept payment." He gestured to the groaning disciples. "They've each received ten strokes. That's a discount for their prompt submission. But since you've come out with a sword, I assume you intend to resist."

Shen Mengyue gritted her teeth. She was a Mid Nascent Soul cultivator, but Xuanfa was at the Great Perfection. The gap was immense. Yet she could not let him defile her sect any further. "I won't let you touch another disciple."

"Then fight me," Xuanfa said, spreading his arms. "If you win, I'll leave. If you lose—" He paused, his gaze dropping to her waist. "I'll finish the job personally."

Shen Mengyue attacked without warning. Her sword blazed with spiritual light, a crescent of sharp energy arcing toward Xuanfa. He raised a single finger and flicked. The energy shattered like glass.

She didn't stop. She spun, her sword becoming a whirlwind of strikes, each one aimed at his vital points. Xuanfa moved like a phantom, dodging with minimal effort, his hands never leaving his pockets. He was toying with her.

"Seventy percent," he muttered, and then he raised his hand.

A finger of pure spiritual force shot out, piercing through her guard. Shen Mengyue's eyes widened as the attack struck her dantian, disrupting her qi. She stumbled, gasping. Xuanfa closed the distance in an instant, his hand seizing her wrist and twisting it behind her back. His other hand pressed between her shoulder blades, forcing her to bend over.

"No!" she cried, struggling with all her might.

Xuanfa's knee drove into her lower back, and she collapsed to the ground, her face pressing into the dirt. Her sword clattered out of reach. She felt his hand grip the waistband of her Daoist robe, and with a single, brutal tear, the fabric ripped away. The cold air bit at her bare buttocks, and she shuddered with humiliation.

"You resisted," Xuanfa said, his voice flat. He raised his hand. "One hundred strokes with the Xuanwood board. And because you are the Sect Leader, your punishment is doubled." He took out a jet-black board from his storage ring, its surface etched with restrictive runes. "This will be applied for three years. Every day, one hundred strokes for every member of your sect."

Shen Mengyue's scream tore through the air as the first strike landed. The board was unforgiving, leaving a searing line of fire across her skin. She tried to summon her qi, but Xuanfa's earlier strike had sealed her cultivation. She could only lie there, helpless, as the board fell again and again.

The other disciples watched in horror, their own pain forgotten. Their proud Sect Leader, stripped bare, being spanked like a naughty child. The sound of wood on flesh echoed through the courtyard, each strike a thunderclap of disgrace.

"Stop... please..." Shen Mengyue's voice was barely a whisper after the fiftieth stroke. Her buttocks had turned a deep, angry red, and tears streamed down her face.

Xuanfa did not stop. He counted each stroke with icy precision. At the hundredth, he finally lowered the board. Shen Mengyue lay limp on the ground, her body trembling with sobs.

"This is only the first day," Xuanfa said, stepping away. "I will return tomorrow. If any of you try to flee, I will find you and double the punishment." He cast a glance at the weeping disciples. "Spread the word. This is what happens when you offend Heavenly Lord Xuanfa."

He vanished in a swirl of black energy, leaving the Celestial Mist Sect in ruins. Shen Mengyue lay on the cold stone, her bare bottom exposed to the sky, her spirit broken. In the distance, the first tears of the three-year ordeal began to fall.

Fifteen years had passed in the Xuantian Realm, and Li Que had grown accustomed to the daily ritual. Every morning at dawn, she would crawl to the courtyard, her naked body glistening with dew, and present her buttocks to the Heaven's Dao Boards. The wooden slabs would descend with mechanical precision, each stroke painting a fresh coat of crimson across her cheeks. She no longer screamed. She had learned to count the strokes in her head, to detach her mind from the fire spreading through her flesh. Two hundred strokes. Every day. Without fail.

Xuanfa watched from his black jade throne, his expression as immovable as stone. Lin Qiaoxin knelt beside him, a leather leash trailing from her neck to his hand. Her twin ponytails bobbed as she tilted her head, watching Li Que's punishment with a mixture of sympathy and amusement.

"Master," Lin Qiaoxin said, her voice light, "do you ever tire of watching the same routine?"

Xuanfa's fingers tightened on the leash. "I never tire of discipline."

Li Que finished her two hundred strokes and crawled back to kneel beside Lin Qiaoxin. Her buttocks were a patchwork of welts and bruises, some fresh, some faded to yellow-green. She pressed her forehead to the ground. "Master, may I speak?"

"Speak."

Li Que raised her head, her red hair falling across her face. "I have served you for fifteen years. In that time, I have come to understand what brings you pleasure." She paused, choosing her words carefully. "You enjoy the suffering of female cultivators. The pain they endure sharpens your mind and strengthens your cultivation."

Xuanfa's eyes narrowed, but he did not deny it.

Lin Qiaoxin chimed in, "We know of an opportunity, Master. The entire cultivation world knows that Shen Mengyue, the Celestial Mist Sect's leader, was stripped naked and spanked at the entrance of her own sect hall. But few know that the formation genius Lin Qiaoxin and the Vermilion Bird Sect's Deputy Leader Li Que have become your female slaves."

Li Que nodded. "We propose that you lead us, crawling naked like bitches, to the highest platform of Wuling City. Have Shen Mengyue's disciples bring her there on a dog leash as well. The three of us will kneel in a row, upper bodies bent forward, buttocks raised high. You can summon the Heaven's Dao Boards to spank us automatically until our buttocks are completely destroyed—so ruined that even cultivators would need a week to recover."

Lin Qiaoxin's eyes sparkled with dark excitement. "Then, Master, you can force our legs apart and whip our buttock cracks severely. Ensure our anuses and vaginas are swollen and tender. And then—" She licked her lips. "Insert anal hooks into our swollen anuses and hang us for a week. A public display for all of Wuling City to see. Surely that will make you happy."

Xuanfa remained silent for a long moment. The only sound was the wind rustling through the courtyard. Then, the corner of his mouth twitched—the closest thing to a smile he ever showed.

"An interesting proposal," he said. "I will consider it."

Lin Qiaoxin and Li Que exchanged glances, hope flickering in their eyes.

But Xuanfa raised a hand. "However, before that, I wish to try something new."

He gestured, and a small jade bottle floated from his storage ring into his palm. The liquid inside was a vibrant orange, almost glowing. "Divine ginger juice," he said. "Squeezed from the roots of the Celestial Ginger plant. It is said to cause a burning sensation that rivals the fires of hell."

Lin Qiaoxin's smile faltered. Li Que's breath caught.

"Kneel," Xuanfa ordered. "Raise your buttocks. Spread your anuses open."

They obeyed. Lin Qiaoxin and Li Que positioned themselves side by side, their upper bodies pressed flat against the cold stone floor, their hips raised high. They reached back with their hands and pulled their cheeks apart, exposing their tight, puckered openings to the open air.

Xuanfa approached slowly, the jade bottle uncorked. The pungent smell of ginger filled the air, sharp and burning even from a distance.

"Please, Master," Lin Qiaoxin whispered, her playful demeanor gone. "It will hurt."

"That is the point."

He tilted the bottle. A stream of orange liquid poured out, landing directly on Lin Qiaoxin's anus. It seeped into her opening, and she bit her lip to stifle a scream. The sensation was immediate—a liquid fire that crawled up her insides, coating her intestinal walls like molten metal. Her entire body convulsed, her fingers clawing at the stone floor.

Li Que watched in horror, then felt the same liquid splash against her own anus. She gasped as the ginger juice invaded her, spreading through her bowels like a red-hot iron rod being shoved inside her. She clamped her teeth together, but a low moan escaped her throat.

"Hold still," Xuanfa said calmly. "You must let it reach deep inside."

He poured more. Lin Qiaoxin's back arched, her body trembling violently. She couldn't help but clench her muscles, trying to push the burning liquid out, but Xuanaf pressed a finger against her anus, sealing it shut.

"No escaping," he murmured. "Take it all."

The bottle emptied. Lin Qiaoxin and Li Que remained in position, their bodies shaking uncontrollably. Sweat beaded on their foreheads. Their intestines burned as if they had swallowed acid.

Then the familiar hum of the Heaven's Dao Boards filled the air.

Xuanfa stepped back. "Two hundred strokes. As usual. But—" He raised a finger. "If you lose control and spray intestinal fluid while being hit, the punishment will be doubled. Four hundred strokes each."

Lin Qiaoxin whimpered. Li Que's eyes went wide with fear.

The first board descended.

*SLAP!*

The impact sent a shockwave through Lin Qiaoxin's already tortured body. The combination of the burning ginger juice and the sharp sting of the board made her vision blur. She bit her lip so hard she tasted blood.

*SLAP! SLAP!*

Li Que fared no better. Each stroke landed on her bruised cheeks, the pain radiating inward, mixing with the fire in her bowels. She could feel her intestines cramping, the ginger juice churning, demanding release. She squeezed her anal muscles tight, fighting the urge to let go.

*SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!*

Ten strokes. Fifteen. At the eighteenth stroke, Lin Qiaoxin's control shattered. A violent spasm seized her, and a stream of orange-tinged liquid sprayed from her anus, splattering onto the stone floor. The smell of ginger mixed with feces filled the air.

She sobbed. "I'm sorry, Master. I'm sorry."

Xuanfa's expression did not change. "Four hundred strokes for Lin Qiaoxin."

Li Que gritted her teeth, determined not to suffer the same fate. She held on through another ten strokes, counting each one, focusing all her willpower on keeping her muscles clenched. But the ginger juice was relentless. It seemed to burrow deeper, coating every inch of her insides, setting her nerves ablaze.

At the thirty-second stroke, she lost control as well. A gush of liquid exploded from her anus, accompanied by a cramp that doubled her over. She collapsed onto her side, gasping, her buttocks still twitching from the ongoing punishment.

Xuanfa's voice was cold. "Four hundred strokes for Li Que as well."

The Heaven's Dao Boards continued their relentless rhythm. Lin Qiaoxin and Li Que endured, their bodies a canvas of red and orange, their minds retreating to a distant corner of consciousness. By the time the four hundred strokes were complete, they could no longer sit. They lay on the ground, their buttocks a mess of raw, bleeding flesh, their insides still burning with the residual ginger juice.

Xuanfa looked down at them, his eyes devoid of pity. "You performed adequately," he said. "I will consider your proposal for Wuling City. But first, you will learn to control yourselves."

He turned and walked away, leaving them to writhe in agony on the cold stone floor.

Xuanfa walked through the main gate of Wuling City with a dog leash in each hand, the leather straps trailing behind him like serpents. On the other ends of those leashes, Lin Qiaoxin and Li Que crawled on all fours, their naked bodies fully exposed to the midday sun.

The crowd parted before them like water before a blade.

Gasps rippled through the streets. Merchants abandoned their stalls. Children were hastily pulled behind their mothers' robes. Cultivators of every sect and station stopped dead in their tracks, eyes wide, mouths hanging open.

Lin Qiaoxin's twin ponytails bounced with each step of her hands and knees. Her youthful body, usually hidden beneath a red dress, was now bare for all to see. Her breasts swayed beneath her, small and firm, while her thighs trembled with every movement. But it was her buttocks that drew the most attention—still bearing the deep purple and black bruises from previous punishments, the skin mottled like spoiled fruit.

Li Que crawled beside her, her athletic frame taut with muscle, her red hair falling around her face. Her backside was a similar ruin of welts and contusions, the marks of her submission laid bare for the world. She kept her head low, but there was no shame in her posture. Only pride. Pride in serving a master who had defeated her.

The two women crawled in perfect synchronization, their movements practiced and obedient. But their faces were pale, their lips pressed tight, sweat beading on their brows. To any observer, this might seem like fear or humiliation. It was neither.

The ginger juice in their intestines was pure agony.

Each movement sent fresh waves of burning fire through their bowels. The pungent liquid had been injected that morning, filling their rectums and colon with a spiciness that defied description. It felt as though they had swallowed liquid flame, and now that flame was churning inside them, scorching their tender flesh with every crawl, every shift of weight, every breath.

Lin Qiaoxin's fingers dug into the cobblestones as she fought to keep her composure. The burning sensation radiated outward from her core, making her thighs clench and her buttocks tighten involuntarily. Each time she contracted, the ginger juice seeped deeper, coating new territory, spreading the fire.

Li Que's breath came in short, sharp pants. She had faced countless enemies on the battlefield, had been wounded more times than she could count. But this was different. This was a torture that had no end, no enemy to strike, no victory to achieve. It simply burned, and burned, and burned.

Xuanfa walked ahead of them, his black training clothes immaculate, his face as expressionless as carved jade. He did not look back at his slaves. He did not need to. The leashes told him everything he needed to know.

Near the center of the city, another spectacle was unfolding.

Shen Mengyue knelt on the cobblestones, her hands bound behind her back, a leather collar around her neck with a dog leash trailing from it. Her disciples—the very women she had trained, protected, and led for decades—held the other end of the leash.

"You will crawl," the lead disciple said, her voice cold. "You will crawl through the streets of Wuling City, and all will see what the Celestial Mist Sect has become."

Shen Mengyue's hair fell around her face, tangled and unkempt. Her naked body was a tapestry of old bruises and fresh welts, her skin still bearing the marks of previous punishments. She had thought she knew shame. She had thought she had plumbed the depths of humiliation when Xuanfa had stripped her before the entire cultivation world.

She had been wrong.

This was worse.

Her disciples—her own disciples—were leading her like a common animal through the streets. Women she had taught from childhood, women she had protected from bandits and beasts and rival sects, women who had called her "Sect Leader" with respect and love. Now they called her nothing. Now they dragged her through the dirt.

The crowd swelled around her. Hundreds of faces stared down at her naked form. Some were filled with disgust. Some with pity. Some with barely concealed lust. She could feel their eyes on her back, her breasts, the curve of her hips, the junction of her thighs.

Tears streamed down her face, but she made no sound.

She had learned, in the weeks since her fall, that crying did nothing. That begging did nothing. That defiance only brought more pain. Xuanfa had broken her will piece by piece, and all that remained was the hollow shell of what had once been the proud Sect Leader of the Celestial Mist Sect.

And yet, even now, some small part of her still burned with hatred. Not for Xuanfa—he was simply the instrument of her doom. But for the world that had allowed this to happen. For the cultivation world that had cheered her fall. For her disciples, who had so eagerly taken up the leash.

She crawled.

Each movement of her hands and knees sent fresh agony through her battered body. Her buttocks—still healing from the last punishment—pressed against the air, fully exposed, drawing more stares. She could hear the whispers now, the murmurs of the crowd.

"Is that really her?"

"The Sect Leader of the Celestial Mist Sect?"

"What happened to her?"

"Xuanfa happened."

"He's making her crawl like a dog?"

"And worse, from what I hear."

Shen Mengyue's face burned. Her tears fell faster, but she did not stop. She could not stop. The leash was held firm, and any resistance would only bring more punishment.

So she crawled.

Through the market square, past the fountain of the Heavenly Dragon, around the statue of the First Ancestor. Through streets she had once walked with pride, greeting merchants and cultivators alike. Now those same people looked down on her with contempt, or worse, with pleasure.

The journey seemed to take an eternity.

Finally, the platform came into view.

It had been erected in the center of the great plaza, a wooden structure raised three feet above the ground. On it stood Xuanfa, his hands clasped behind his back, his eyes surveying the crowd with cold detachment.

Lin Qiaoxin and Li Que were already there, kneeling on either side of him, their leashes tied to iron rings on the platform's surface. Their bodies were still trembling from the ginger juice, but they held their positions with perfect discipline.

Xuanfa's eyes found Shen Mengyue as she approached. There was no emotion in them. No satisfaction, no cruelty, no warmth. Simply the cold calculation of a master watching his property arrive.

"Bring her here," he said.

The disciples dragged Shen Mengyue onto the platform, forcing her to crawl up the steps. The wood was rough beneath her knees, scraping against her already damaged skin. At last, she reached the top, and the disciples tied her leash to the third iron ring, positioning her beside Li Que.

The three women knelt in a row, their bodies facing the crowd, their heads bowed.

Xuanfa stepped forward, raising his hand.

The crowd fell silent.

"These three," he said, his voice carrying across the entire plaza, "have been judged by the Heavens and found wanting. They have been given into my care for punishment and correction."

He gestured to the three kneeling women.

"Lin Qiaoxin. Former rogue cultivator. Now my slave."

Lin Qiaoxin's back straightened slightly at the words. She did not look up, but her lips curled into the ghost of a smile.

"Li Que. Former Deputy Sect Leader of the Vermilion Bird Sect. Now my slave."

Li Que remained still, her face expressionless, but her eyes gleamed with a fierce pride.

"Shen Mengyue. Former Sect Leader of the Celestial Mist Sect. Now my property."

Shen Mengyue's shoulders shook. Her tears fell onto the wooden platform, creating dark spots on the light-colored wood.

"The Heavens have decreed that they shall be punished publicly, as a warning to all who would defy the natural order of the world. Their crimes are many. Their punishment will be thorough."

Xuanfa snapped his fingers.

Behind him, three wooden boards rose from the platform. They were smooth and flat, about three feet long and a foot wide, with golden characters inscribed on their surfaces. The Heaven's Dao Boards.

"The first punishment," Xuanfa announced, "is one thousand spanks each, administered by the Heaven's Dao Boards."

The crowd murmured with excitement.

Xuanfa gestured, and the three women rose to their knees. They positioned themselves as they had been trained—upper bodies bent forward, chests touching the platform, arms extended before them, lower bodies tilted upward. Their buttocks rose high in the air, fully exposed to the crowd, the bruises and welts on display for all to see.

Shen Mengyue felt the position as a fresh humiliation. Her breasts pressed against the rough wood of the platform. Her face was hidden, but her buttocks were raised like an offering, presented to the judgment of the boards.

She could feel the eyes of the crowd on her most intimate places. The crack between her buttocks, the folds of her sex, the small pucker of her anus—all fully visible, all on display.

Tears continued to stream down her face.

The first board moved.

It rose slowly, then descended with terrible speed.

*SMACK!*

The sound echoed across the plaza.

Shen Mengyue's body jolted forward. The board had struck the center of her right buttock, exactly where the bruise was thickest. The impact sent fresh agony racing through her nerves, making her gasp.

*SMACK!*

The second board struck Lin Qiaoxin. She let out a small cry, but it was more of surprise than pain. She had expected this. She had prepared for this.

*SMACK!*

The third board struck Li Que. She accepted the blow without a sound, her body barely moving.

The boards continued.

*SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!*

Each strike was precise and measured, landing exactly on the same spot, building the pain layer by layer. The boards did not simply hit—they ground into the flesh, compressing the tissue, deepening the bruise.

Shen Mengyue lost count after the first hundred.

Her buttocks were on fire. Each blow sent shockwaves through her entire body, making her teeth rattle, her vision blur. She could feel the skin splitting beneath the relentless assault, could feel blood beginning to seep from the wounds.

She cried out with each strike now, unable to control herself.

*SMACK!*

"Ah!"

*SMACK!*

"Please!"

*SMACK!*

"No more!"

But the boards did not stop.

Two hundred strikes.

Three hundred.

Four hundred.

By five hundred, Shen Mengyue's buttocks were a ruin. The skin had split across both cheeks, revealing the dark, pulped flesh beneath. Blood ran down her thighs in rivulets, pooling on the platform beneath her.

Lin Qiaoxin had stopped crying out. Instead, she had fallen into a state of almost meditative calm, accepting each blow as part of her service to her master. The pain was intense, yes, but it was also cleansing. Each strike purged some part of her old self, leaving something new in its wake.

Li Que remained silent throughout, her pride intact. She had endured worse on the battlefield. This was simply another trial to overcome.

Seven hundred.

Eight hundred.

Nine hundred.

One thousand.

The boards stopped.

All three women collapsed forward, their bodies shaking with exhaustion and pain. Shen Mengyue sobbed openly, her face pressed against the bloody platform. Lin Qiaoxin lay still, her breath coming in shallow gasps. Li Que forced herself to remain on her knees, refusing to fall.

But the punishment was not over.

Xuanfa walked around them, examining their ruined buttocks with cold detachment. He ran his finger along the split flesh of Shen Mengyue's right cheek, and she screamed at the contact.

"They are not yet fully destroyed," he said. "The punishment must be complete."

He gestured, and the boards rose again.

"Shen Mengyue, five hundred additional spanks. Her flesh must be rendered entirely powerless. She must not walk for a week."

The boards

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The week stretched on, an eternity of agony and humiliation. For Shen Mengyue, each passing hour carved deeper wounds into her soul. The anal hook was a constant, searing torment, a foreign object that nagged at her insides with every involuntary clench of muscle. The physical pain was bad enough, a burning reminder of her utter vulnerability. But the mental anguish was far worse.

She hung suspended from the ceiling of Wuling City's main square, her naked body on full display for all to see. The citizens of Wuling, cultivators and mortals alike, had gathered in droves at first, their whispers and stares a relentless assault. Now, after seven days, the crowd had thinned, but there were always onlookers, always eyes upon her shame.

This was different from before. When Xuanfa had spanked her bare bottom in the Celestial Mist Sect, it had only been her own disciples who witnessed her disgrace. They were her people, bound by loyalty and fear to her authority. But here, in Wuling City, she was nothing but a spectacle, a former sect leader brought low for all the world to see.

Lin Qiaoxin and Li Que fared much better. Hanging nearby, their bodies also naked and pierced, they seemed almost at peace. Lin Qiaoxin occasionally hummed a tune, her twin ponails swaying as she swung gently on her hook. Li Que's face was set in a mask of stoic acceptance, her proud eyes fixed on the horizon. They had already accepted their place as Xuanfa's female slaves. This punishment was just another lesson to be endured.

"Master will come for us soon," Lin Qiaoxin called out cheerfully to Shen Mengyue. "A week is almost up!"

Shen Mengyue did not answer. She could not find the words. The thought of facing Xuanfa again filled her with a cold dread that settled in her bones.

Finally, on the seventh day, as the sun dipped below the horizon, the chains that held the three women groaned and began to lower. The hooks were carefully removed, a process that brought fresh waves of pain. Shen Mengyue bit her lip until she tasted blood, refusing to cry out in front of the remaining onlookers.

They were released into a side chamber, where soft robes were laid out for them. Before any of them could dress, the air shimmered and Xuanfa materialized before them.

He was exactly as she remembered him. Black training clothes, cold and handsome features, expression utterly unreadable. His eyes swept over their naked forms, lingering on Shen Mengyue's bruised and reddened buttocks.

"The week is complete," he said, his voice flat. "Shen Mengyue. I hope this time has given you ample opportunity to contemplate your position."

Shen Mengyue fell to her knees, her body trembling. "Heavenly Lord Xuanfa," she said, her voice cracking. "I have been punished. I was wrong to offend you. Please, I beg you, let this be enough."

"It is not enough," Xuanfa said. "You will enter the Xuantian Realm. You will become my female slave, just as Lin Qiaoxin and Li Que have done."

"No!" The word tore from Shen Mengyue's throat before she could stop it. She kowtowed, pressing her forehead to the cold stone floor. "Please, Heavenly Lord! I have learned my lesson! I was spanked, humiliated before all! I beg you, do not make me a slave! I am a sect leader, I have responsibilities, disciples who depend on me—"

Xuanfa snorted. "Stubborn and unyielding."

He snapped his fingers. Lin Qiaoxin and Li Que moved instantly, their obedience absolute. They stepped to either side of Shen Mengyue, grabbing her arms and forcing her onto all fours. Shen Mengyue struggled, but she was weak from a week of hanging, and their grips were like iron.

"What are you doing?" Shen Mengyue demanded, panic rising in her voice.

Lin Qiaoxin giggled. "Master wants to teach you a lesson, Yue-jie. You should just accept it."

Li Que said nothing, but her hands were steady as she spread Shen Mengyue's buttocks apart, exposing the tight rosebud of her anus. The skin around it was still chafed from the hook.

Xuanfa produced a small jade bottle. He uncorked it, and the sharp, pungent smell of ginger filled the air. Shen Mengyue's eyes widened with horror.

"No, please, not that—"

Xuanfa tipped the bottle. A stream of thick, amber liquid poured out, and Lin Qiaoxin caught it in a small cup. She knelt behind Shen Mengyue, her playful demeanor replaced with focused concentration.

"We'll be gentle," Lin Qiaoxin said, though there was a hint of mischief in her voice. "Well, maybe not."

The rim of the cup pressed against Shen Mengyue's anus. She thrashed, trying to escape, but Li Que held her firmly in place. An invisible force descended upon her, pressing down on her shoulders and hips, forcing her into a familiar position: kneeling, buttocks raised high in the air, completely exposed and vulnerable.

"No, no, no—" Shen Mengyue's protests turned into a scream as the ginger juice began to flow into her. It poured into her intestines, a river of liquid fire. The burning sensation was immediate and all-consuming. It felt as though molten metal was being pumped into her insides, searing her from within.

Shen Mengyue's body convulsed. She screamed, a raw, animal sound of pure agony. Her hands clawed at the stone floor, breaking her nails, but the pain did not stop. It spread through her abdomen, radiating outward until her entire lower body felt like it was on fire.

"It burns!" she shrieked. "It burns! Please, stop!"

Lin Qiaoxin emptied the cup and set it aside. She and Li Que stepped back, awaiting Xuanfa's next command.

Xuanfa produced two wooden implements. They were foot-long boards, slightly curved, with characters etched into their surface. He handed one to Lin Qiaoxin and one to Li Que. "The Heaven's Dao Board," he said. "Each stroke will be recorded. Each impact will be remembered. You will spank her buttocks. One hundred strokes each."

Lin Qiaoxin's face lit up with excitement. Li Que nodded, her expression businesslike.

"And Shen Mengyue," Xuanfa said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "For each stroke you receive, you will say, 'Thank you, Heavenly Lord Xuanfa, for spanking me.' If you fail to do so, you will receive another cup of ginger juice."

Shen Mengyue was writhing on the floor, tears streaming down her face. The ginger juice was a living hell inside her, churning and burning. She could barely think, let alone speak.

Lin Qiaoxin stepped into position on Shen Mengyue's left side. She raised the Heaven's Dao Board and brought it down with a satisfying *crack* across Shen Mengyue's right buttock.

"THANK YOU, HEAVENLY LORD XUANFA, FOR SPANKING ME!" Shen Mengyue screamed the words, the pain of the board slicing through the haze of ginger fire.

"Good girl," Lin Qiaoxin said, and struck again.

*Crack.*

"Thank you, Heavenly Lord Xuanfa, for spanking me!"

Li Que took her turn, her stroke heavier and more precise. The board landed with a sound like thunder.

*CRACK.*

"THANK YOU, HEAVENLY LORD XUANFA, FOR SPANKING ME!"

The spanking continued, stroke after stroke. The Heaven's Dao Boards were far worse than a hand. Each impact was a concentrated burst of pain that seemed to radiate through her entire body. Her buttocks, already sore from a week of hanging, quickly became a mass of purple and red bruising. The skin split in places, and blood beaded on the surface.

Between strokes, Shen Mengyue sobbed and squirmed, but the invisible force held her in place. She could not escape. She could only endure.

"Fifty," Lin Qiaoxin counted, taking a break to admire her handiwork. "Your butt looks like a sunset, Yue-jie. Very pretty."

Shen Mengyue could not appreciate the compliment. She was drowning in pain, her mind fractured by the relentless assault on her body and spirit.

"Please," she gasped, her voice barely audible. "Please, I beg you..."

"The conditions are simple," Xuanfa said, standing before her. "You become my female slave. I will not harm the disciples of the Celestial Mist Sect. I will protect your sect from all threats. In return, you belong to me. Body and soul."

A fresh wave of ginger fire clawed at her insides, and Shen Mengyue screamed again. But through the pain, she heard his words. Protection. Safety for her sect. The disciples who had followed her, who had believed in her.

It was either this, or death. Or worse, eternal torment.

"I... I agree," she choked out. "I will become your female slave. Please, just make the pain stop."

"Swear it," Xuanfa said. "Swear on your dao heart and your cultivation."

"I swear!" Shen Mengyue cried. "I, Shen Mengyue, Sect Leader of the Celestial Mist Sect, swear on my dao heart and my cultivation! I will become the female slave of Heavenly Lord Xuanfa! I accept your protection for my sect! Please, just—"

The ginger fire ceased. Not instantly, but the burning began to recede, leaving behind a deep, lingering ache.

Xuanfa waved his hand. The air around them shimmered and shifted. The stone chamber dissolved, replaced by a vast, open landscape of rolling hills and crystal-clear streams under a sky of perpetual twilight. The Xuantian Realm.

A slave collar materialized around Shen Mengyue's neck. It was identical to the ones Lin Qiaoxin and Li Que wore, a band of black metal etched with glowing runes.

Shen Mengyue understood now. She knew the rules of this realm. She knelt, her body still trembling, and raised her plump buttocks high in the air, presenting them for punishment. The gesture was humiliating, degrading, but it was also acceptance.

"I have violated my master's will," she said, her voice steady despite the tears streaming down her face. "I must be punished. Two hundred strokes of the Heaven's Dao Board, as is the custom for a new female slave."

Xuanfa nodded. He took the board from Lin Qiaoxin, dismissing the two with a wave of his hand. They stepped back, watching with rapt attention.

The first stroke landed, and Shen Mengyue cried out.

*CRACK.*

The sound echoed across the hills. Her buttocks were already battered and broken, but the Heaven's Dao Board found fresh pain, new depths of agony to explore.

"One," she counted. "Thank you, master, for punishing this unworthy slave."

*CRACK.*

"Two. Thank you, master, for punishing this unworthy slave."

Each stroke was a lesson. Each impact a reforging of her will. The board rose and fell with mechanical precision, Xuanfa's face utterly devoid of emotion. He was not angry. He was not cruel. He was simply correcting a flaw, training a tool.

By the time they reached fifty, Shen Mengyue's lower body was a ruin. The skin was split open in a dozen places, blood and lymph weeping from the wounds. Her entire rear end was swollen to twice its normal size, the flesh hot to the touch.

She continued to count, her voice hoarse but unwavering.

"One hundred."

*CRACK.*

"One hundred and one."

*CRACK.*

She lost count of the individual pains, the specific locations of the board's impact. There was only the rhythm, the endless, burning rhythm of punishment.

"Two hundred," she finally gasped, as the last stroke fell.

*CRACK.*

Silence. The sound of her ragged breathing, the distant chirping of birds in the Xuantian Realm.

Shen Mengyue remained in position, her buttocks raised, her body shaking. She did not move until she heard Xuanfa's footsteps approaching.

He stood before her. She raised her head, looking up at him through tear-blurred eyes. She rose slowly, painfully, and knelt before him in a formal posture. Head bowed, hands placed on her thighs.

This was it. The final surrender.

She kowtowed, pressing her forehead to the ground three times. Then she looked up at him, her eyes red but clear.

"Yue-nu willingly becomes her master's female slave," she said, her voice steady. "And is willing to accept any punishment."

Xuanfa looked down at her, his expression unchanged. But for a moment, Shen Mengyue thought she saw something flicker in his eyes. Approval, perhaps. Or satisfaction.

He reached down and touched her slave collar. The runes

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One hundred years had passed since Xuanfa first descended upon the Xuantian Realm. The world had changed, but the rhythm of punishment remained constant. In a vast, open hall carved from white jade and black obsidian, a row of fair, plump buttocks was raised high into the air. The owners of those buttocks—thirty or so female cultivators—knelt with their foreheads pressed to the cold floor, their arms stretched forward, their hips tilted upward in perfect submission. Behind each of them, two Heaven's Dao Boards hovered silently, their surfaces etched with ancient runes that pulsed with a soft, golden light. With a sharp *crack*, the boards began their work, striking those fair buttocks in alternating rhythm. The flesh quivered and reddened with each blow, and the air filled with a chorus of muffled cries and sharp intakes of breath.

Among the punished were sect leaders of once-mighty sects, elders who had commanded thousands of disciples, genius rogue cultivators whose names had been whispered with reverence, and daughters of noble families who had never known a hand raised against them. They had all been lofty existences, proud and untouchable. But Xuanfa had found them, defeated them, torn away their robes, and bent them over until they wept and begged to become his slaves. Now they knelt here, their bare buttocks raised, learning the first lesson of submission.

Behind this row of quivering flesh stood three naked figures, their bodies illuminated by the soft glow of the formation lights. These three were the instructors, the ones who had endured the longest and risen highest in their master's favor. They moved among the kneeling women, correcting postures, murmuring words of encouragement and warning.

The first was Xin-nu Lin Qiaoxin. Her black twin ponytails swayed as she walked, her youthful face still carrying a hint of mischief despite the years of discipline. Her body was slender and well-proportioned, with pert breasts that bounced lightly with each step. Her skin was fair, but her buttocks were a canvas of purple and deep red bruises, the marks of countless punishments that had healed and been re-inflicted. The bruises spread from the crest of her hips down to the tops of her thighs, a gradient of pain and pleasure that she had long since learned to wear with pride.

The second was Que-nu Li Que. Tall and athletic, her red hair tied in a high ponytail that trailed down her back, she exuded a raw, feral energy. Her muscles were defined but not bulky, every curve of her body speaking of speed and power. Her buttocks, too, bore the unmistakable pattern of the Heaven's Dao Board: a lattice of purple stripes that crossed and recrossed like a map of her submission. She walked with a slight limp, a reminder of the previous day's punishment, but her proud chin was held high. She had been a deputy sect leader of the Vermilion Bird Sect, a woman who claimed invincibility at the same cultivation level. Now she knelt before Xuanfa without shame.

The third was Yue-nu Shen Mengyue. Once the Sect Leader of the Celestial Mist Sect, she was now the most elegant of the three. Her waist-length black hair cascaded down her back, contrasting with her pale skin. Her figure combined the ethereal refinement of a young woman with the seductive allure of maturity—full breasts, a narrow waist, and hips that curved into a perfect, spankable shape. Her buttocks were the most brutalized of the three, the purple bruises so deep they looked almost black in the dim light. She had been punished the most severely over the years, and she wore those marks like a badge of honor. She moved gracefully, her voice soft as she instructed a new slave to relax her muscles and raise her buttocks higher.

"Relax," Shen Mengyue said, her voice carrying the weight of experience. "The harder you clench, the more it will hurt. Accept the pain. Let it flow through you. Only then will you find the pleasure in submission."

Lin Qiaoxin grinned, slapping a particularly plump buttock with her hand. "That's right! Think of it as a massage. A very, very painful massage."

Li Que rolled her eyes but said nothing. She was more serious, more focused. She walked to the end of the row and adjusted the position of a young woman who had been a rogue cultivator genius. "Higher," she commanded. "You are not raising your buttocks high enough. Do you want to disappoint the master?"

The young woman whimpered but obeyed, pushing her hips up until her thighs trembled.

Suddenly, a shift in the air. The temperature dropped. The light seemed to dim. The three instructors froze, their bodies responding to a presence they knew better than their own heartbeat.

Xuanfa appeared at the entrance of the hall. He wore black training clothes, his cold and handsome face expressionless. His eyes swept over the scene—the row of raised buttocks, the Heaven's Dao Boards striking relentlessly, the three naked figures standing among them.

The three women moved as one. They turned, dropped to their knees, lowered their heads onto their folded hands, and raised their spanked purple-red buttocks high into the air. It was a gesture of absolute submission, one they had performed thousands of times. Their buttocks, already bruised and sore, stretched upward, offering themselves for further punishment.

"Master," they said in unison, their voices respectful and eager. "We are instructing the new sisters. Does Master wish to watch Xin-nu/Que-nu/Yue-nu's punishment? Rest assured, we will do our best to endure to the end and not spoil Master's mood."

Xuanfa nodded once. That was all the permission they needed.

The three women simultaneously reached behind themselves, their fingers finding their anuses, spreading them open without hesitation. It was a motion they had performed countless times, and they did it now with a practiced ease that spoke of complete obedience. The moment they spread themselves, syringes appeared in the air above them, filled with a dark, pungent ginger juice. The syringes descended, their tips inserting into the opened anuses, and the ginger juice flooded into their intestines. The three women gasped, their bodies shuddering as the burning sensation spread through their insides. But they held still, not moving, not crying out. They had learned to endure.

Because their cultivation levels had increased to Mid Nascent Soul Great Perfection, the punishment stroke count had also increased. Instead of the usual one hundred or two hundred strokes, they would now receive three hundred strokes each. Six Heaven's Dao Boards materialized in the air, three for each woman, arranged in pairs on either side of their raised buttocks. The boards began to strike, vicious and relentless, slapping against the bruised flesh from both sides simultaneously.

The first stroke landed with a sound like thunder. Lin Qiaoxin's body jolted, her buttocks bouncing from the impact. A sharp cry escaped her lips, but it was mixed with a hint of pleasure. The ginger juice inside her churned, amplifying every sensation. The second stroke came immediately after, on the opposite cheek, and she let out a longer, louder scream. Her skin turned from purple to a deeper, angry red. The veins on her thighs stood out as she fought to keep her position.

Li Que took her strokes with gritted teeth. Her athletic body absorbed the punishment with a certain pride, but even she could not suppress the occasional groan. The Heaven's Dao Boards struck with unerring accuracy, landing on the same spots over and over, deepening the bruises. Her red ponytail whipped around as her body rocked from the blows. She closed her eyes, focusing on the rhythm of the pain, letting it wash over her. The ginger juice burned inside her, a fire that matched the fire on her skin.

Shen Mengyue, the most refined of the three, was reduced to a quivering mess. Her elegant figure shuddered with each stroke, her black hair falling over her face as she trembled. She let out screams that were both painful and strangely pleasurable, her voice echoing through the hall. The other female slaves, still being punished themselves, watched from the corner of their eyes. They saw their instructor, the former sect leader, being spanked with a ferocity that made their own punishment seem light. Shen Mengyue's buttocks were already the most bruised, and now fresh stripes appeared, overlapping the old ones, turning her skin into a patchwork of purple, black, and red. She cried out, but she did not beg. She had learned not to beg. She endured.

The strokes continued, a relentless barrage. Fifty strokes, one hundred, one hundred fifty. The three women's screams blended into a symphony of pain. Their bodies glistened with sweat, their muscles twitching with each impact. The ginger juice inside them made every movement a new torture, and yet they held on. Two hundred strokes. Two hundred fifty. Their voices grew hoarse, but they did not stop. They remembered their promise: to endure to the end.

At three hundred strokes, the Heaven's Dao Boards stopped. The six boards retreated, hovering in the air, waiting. The hall fell silent except for the heavy breathing of the three women and the continued spanking of the other slaves.

The three women did not move. They remained kneeling, their buttocks raised, their bodies shaking. Not a drop of ginger juice had leaked from their anuses. They had held it all inside, a testament to their control.

Slowly, they lowered their buttocks and sat back on their heels, still keeping their heads bowed. They spoke in unison, their voices hoarse but clear.

"Three hundred strokes completed, no ginger juice leaked. Is Master satisfied?"

Xuanfa looked at them, his cold eyes flickering with a hint of approval. He nodded slightly. That was enough. The three women relaxed, their bodies sagging with relief. They had pleased their master.

Xuanfa's mind wandered. He thought about the future. There were still many high-level female cultivators in the Xuantian Realm who had not yet tasted the flavor of the Heaven's Dao Board. He could see them in his mind's eye—proud sect leaders, arrogant geniuses, noble daughters—all of them eventually bent over, their fair plump buttocks raised, their screams filling the air. He looked forward to catching them, to defeating them, to teaching them the same lesson.

He also thought about establishing a new sect. These female slaves would become the elders, the foundation of his power. He would call it the Zehuang Sect, the Spanking Phoenix Sect. It would be a place where discipline was enforced with the Heaven's Dao Board, where submission was the highest virtue, and where the sound of spanking echoed through the halls.

But that was for another day. For now, he watched his three favorite slaves rise to their feet, their bruised buttocks swaying as they returned to instructing the new ones. He allowed himself the faintest smile, a rare expression that vanished as quickly as it appeared.

The punishment continued. The world of the Xuantian Realm turned, and Xuanfa's rule remained unchallenged.

Chapter 14

The morning sun cast long shadows across the marble steps of the Zehuang Sect's Grand Hall. Disciples gathered in the courtyard below, their naked bodies glistening with the dew of early practice. They whispered among themselves, pointing toward the four figures being led up the stairs by a man in black training clothes.

Xuanfa held four leather leashes in his left hand. Three were attached to collars around the necks of women who crawled on all fours behind him. The fourth leash was tied around the wrists of a woman who stumbled along, her clothes having been torn from her body moments ago.

Lin Qiaoxin giggled as she crawled, her twin ponytails bobbing with each movement. Her purple-red buttocks swayed behind her, the marks of previous punishments still visible on her smooth skin. "Master, I taught three new formation breakthroughs to the disciples this morning. They're so clever! A few of them might qualify for your attentions soon."

"Quiet, Xin-nu," Xuanfa said without turning around.

Li Que crawled beside Lin Qiaoxin, her athletic body moving with practiced grace. The red hair tied in a high ponytail swung behind her. She glanced back at the woman being dragged behind them. "Master, this one's name is Mo Ying. She claimed the Zehuang Sect was an abomination. I broke her sword in three exchanges."

"Liar!" Mo Ying struggled against the rope binding her wrists. "You used formations! Your master interfered!"

"I defeated you fairly," Li Que said with a smirk. "Your pride writes checks your cultivation can't cash."

Shen Mengyue crawled in front, her waist-length black hair trailing across the stone steps. Despite her position, she maintained a dignified air, her voice soft and measured. "Master, the sect's accounts are in order. The new batch of spirit herbs has been planted. The disciples show good progress in their sword forms."

Xuanfa stopped at the top of the stairs, turning to face the four women. The Grand Hall's doors stood open behind him, revealing an empty throne of black jade. Below, hundreds of naked female cultivators watched in silence.

"Xin-nu," Xuanfa said, "you have been meritorious in teaching formations. The disciples under your guidance have advanced faster than expected."

Lin Qiaoxin beamed. "Thank you, Master! Can I choose the public spanking?"

"You may."

"Yes!" She clapped her hands together, then immediately lowered herself into position, her buttocks raised high in the air. "I love when everyone watches."

"Yue-nu," Xuanfa continued, "you have managed the sect well. The kitchens run smoothly, the schedules are kept, and disputes among disciples are resolved before they reach my ears."

Shen Mengyue bowed her head. "It is my duty, Master." She too lowered herself, presenting her spanked buttocks to the crowd.

"Que-nu," Xuanfa said, "you have defeated a challenger who came to disrupt the sect's peace. Your combat skills grow sharper."

Li Que's lips curled into a proud smile. "She was no match for me, Master. But I accept the reward." She knelt and raised her buttocks, the muscles in her thighs tensing.

Xuanfa pointed at Mo Ying. "And you. You came to my sect, called me a tyrant, a defiler of women. You said you would burn this place to the ground."

Mo Ying glared at him, her naked body trembling with rage and humiliation. "I stand by every word. You are a monster."

"Perhaps." Xuanfa gestured, and a Heaven's Dao Board materialized beside her. Then three more appeared, one for each of the kneeling women. The boards were rectangular slabs of white jade, each inscribed with glowing runes, hanging in the air at the perfect height to strike raised buttocks.

"Disciples," Xuanfa said, his voice carrying across the courtyard, "watch. This is the reward for service to the Zehuang Sect. To be punished before the master, before your sisters, is to accept your place. It is to cultivate humility, endurance, and devotion."

Lin Qiaoxin wiggled her buttocks. "Come on, come on! I've been waiting since yesterday!"

The first board swung. It struck Lin Qiaoxin's left cheek with a sharp crack that echoed off the mountains. Her body jolted, but she let out a happy squeal. "Oh! That's a good one! More!"

The second board hit right. Another crack, her buttocks bouncing from the impact. "Master, your boards are in top form today!"

Xuanfa's expression remained stone cold, but a flicker of amusement passed through his eyes.

The board struck Li Que next. She grunted, her fingers digging into the stone floor. The third board hit her other cheek, and she let out a low groan. "Hah... not bad. Feels like a proper sparring session."

Shen Mengyue took her first strike in silence, her body swaying but not moving from position. The second hit drew a soft gasp from her lips. She closed her eyes, focusing on breathing through the pain.

Mo Ying watched in horror as the board before her began to glow. "No! I won't submit to this! I am the Sect Leader of the Heavenly Phoenix Sect! I—"

The board struck.

Pain exploded through her buttocks, a searing fire that stole her breath. She screamed, trying to scramble away, but Xuanfa's rope held her in place. The board hit again, and tears sprang to her eyes.

"Stop! Stop this madness!"

Lin Qiaoxin laughed between her own strikes. "You get used to it! Just relax your muscles!"

"Shut up!" Mo Ying cried as another blow landed.

The boards maintained a rhythmic pace. Every few seconds, a crack, a scream, a grunt, or a giggle. The disciples below watched with wide eyes, some covering their mouths, others leaning forward with morbid fascination.

Li Que's buttocks were turning a deep shade of red. She glanced at Mo Ying. "Your form is terrible. You're clenching. That makes it hurt more."

"I don't want advice from a slave!"

"Suit yourself." Li Que took another strike without flinching. "But your butt won't last ten more hits if you keep tensing up."

Shen Mengyue spoke to the crowd between her own blows. Her voice was strained but clear. "Sisters... each strike... teaches us something. The master's punishment... is a gift. To feel pain... and accept it... that is strength."

A young disciple near the front whispered, "Elder Shen, how do you bear it?"

Shen Mengyue's buttocks were now a uniform purple-red. Sweat beaded on her forehead. "I remember... why I am here. To grow stronger. To serve one who can guide me... to heights I could not reach alone."

Lin Qiaoxin twisted her head to look at the disciples. Her face was flushed, her eyes bright. "Also, it feels kind of good after a while! The endorphins kick in!"

Li Que snorted. "You're just a masochist."

"Takes one to know one, Que-nu!"

The boards continued their work. Mo Ying's screams had turned to sobs. Her proud demeanor had crumbled, replaced by raw, animal pain. Each blow made her jerk, but the rope held her firm.

"Please... please, no more..."

Xuanfa raised a hand. The four boards stopped, hovering in the air. All four women's buttocks were now a matching shade of angry purple-red, some spots nearly black with bruising.

"Mo Ying," Xuanfa said. "You sought to destroy my sect. You called my methods barbaric. Yet now, you kneel naked before hundreds, your buttocks beaten raw by a board. What do you have to say?"

Mo Ying's tears dripped onto the stone. Her voice was hoarse. "I... I was wrong..."

"Wrong about what?"

"I was wrong... to challenge you..." She choked. "I was weak... and you showed me my weakness..."

Xuanfa nodded. "Good. But the lesson is not complete."

He snapped his fingers. A new object materialized: a curved metal hook, polished to a mirror shine, connected to a chain.

Mo Ying's eyes widened. "No... no, not that..."

Li Que grinned. "Welcome to the Zehuang Sect's welcome ceremony."

The disciples watched in stunned silence as two female slave elders approached Mo Ying. One held her down while the other carefully inserted the anal hook. Mo Ying screamed, her body arching, but she was too beaten to resist.

The chain was attached to a pulley system at the top of the sect's mountain gate. Xuanfa pulled a rope, and Mo Ying was lifted into the air, her ankles and wrists bound, her body dangling naked from the gate. The hook held her in place, ensuring she could not struggle without causing herself more pain.

"Let her hang for three days," Xuanfa announced. "Let every visitor to our sect see what happens to those who challenge the Zehuang Sect."

As the disciples slowly dispersed, murmuring among themselves, Lin Qiaoxin crawled over to Li Que. "That was fun! My butt feels so warm."

Li Que rubbed her own sore posterior. "You have a strange definition of fun."

"I'm just saying, it's better than being bored."

Shen Mengyue rose to her hands and knees, then began crawling toward the Grand Hall. She paused, looking back at the disciples still lingering. "Practice hard, sisters. Someday, you too may earn the master's attention."

From the gate, Mo Ying's muffled sobs drifted down, a reminder of the price of defiance and the strange currency of punishment within the Zehuang Sect.

The sun hung high over the Zehuang Sect, casting long shadows across the stone paths that wound between the training grounds and meditation halls. Disciples moved about their duties, but many paused, their eyes drawn to a sight that never failed to stir a mix of awe and disbelief.

Xuanfa walked at the front, his black training clothes immaculate, his face as expressionless as carved jade. Behind him, on all fours, crawled three women. Their naked bodies were bared to the world—smooth backs, curved hips, and the soft flesh of their buttocks swaying with each step. Shen Mengyue's waist-length black hair swept the ground as she moved with a grace that seemed almost ceremonial. Lin Qiaoxin's twin ponytails bobbed with her playful gait, a mischievous grin fixed on her face. Li Que's red ponytail swayed behind her, her athletic form taut and proud even in this humiliating posture.

They crawled with practiced ease, their knees and palms callused from countless such outings. A group of young disciples near the main hall stopped their sparring, jaws dropping. One boy elbowed his companion, whispering, "Is that... the Sect Leader? And the Deputy Sect Leader of Vermilion Bird?"

"Shh," the other hissed, "don't stare too long. Lord Xuanfa will notice."

But the three women seemed unbothered. Lin Qiaoxin tilted her head up, her cheeks flushed with amusement. "Hehe, Master, the disciples are watching Xin-nu." She giggled, a light, carefree sound that echoed off the walls. "They always look so shocked, as if they've never seen a well-spanked bottom before."

Li Que snorted, her voice steady despite her position. "Haven't they gotten used to it yet after all this time? We crawl like this every day. You'd think they'd be bored by now."

Shen Mengyue's tone was calm, almost serene. "Some of them may become Master's female slaves in the future if they perform well. Let them watch and learn. This is what devotion looks like."

Xuanfa stopped walking. He turned slowly, his dark eyes sweeping over the three women. They halted immediately, heads bowed. "Do you remember how you became my female slaves?" His voice was low, carrying the weight of absolute authority.

Lin Qiaoxin's grin widened. She shifted her weight, her pert buttocks wiggling slightly. "Xin-nu remembers, Master. You appeared directly before me, out of nowhere, and forcefully told me to be your female slave. I was unwilling, of course—I thought I was clever enough to talk my way out. But Master..." She let out a playful sigh. "Master took off my skirt and fiercely spanked my perky buttocks until I cried. Under your coercion and bribery, I became your female slave." She spoke the words with a fondness that belied the memory.

Li Que's jaw tightened, but she spoke clearly. "Que-nu remembers. I led the Vermilion Bird Sect to trouble the Supreme Purity Palace. I believed I was invincible at the same cultivation level. Master had taught Sister Xin, and her formation spanked me hard. Then Master stuffed a ginger strip into my anus." Her cheeks reddened, but she pressed on. "Finally, I was hung by an anal hook for public display. Arrogantly, I wanted to challenge Master, but you defeated me in one move. I obediently became your female slave."

Lin Qiaoxin giggled, turning her head to look at Li Que's raised bottom. "Sister Que, if your buttocks feel itchy, Xin-nu can use formations to spank you anytime."

Li Que shot her a sideways glare, but there was no venom in it. "Save your formations for the ceremony, Sister Xin."

Shen Mengyue spoke next, her voice carrying the dignity she had once commanded as Sect Leader. "Yue-nu remembers. After being punished at Wuling City with Sister Xin and Sister Que, I was ungrateful. I refused Master's kindness of taking me as a female slave. Master gave me an enema with ginger juice and had Sister Xin and Sister Que use Heaven's Dao Boards to spank this ungrateful buttocks alternately." She paused, her breath steady. "I cried and obediently became Master's female slave."

Xuanfa's lips curved into a faint, cold smile. "And now, how do you feel about being a female slave and getting spanked?"

Lin Qiaoxin grinned from ear to ear. "Although Master's Heaven's Dao Boards hurt like hell, Xin-nu's buttocks now love Master's spanking the most. My buttocks bloom every day and are extremely happy." She arched her back, presenting her round bottom as if offering it.

Li Que spoke firmly, her pride channeled into submission. "Que-nu was defeated and taken as a female slave by Master. I should obediently accept all of Master's humiliation and punishment. My buttocks must be spanked raw every day as punishment."

Shen Mengyue's tone was calm, resolved. "Yue-nu's initial refusal of Master's kindness in taking me as a female slave was ungrateful. This fault must be repaid by having my buttocks spanked raw every day."

Xuanfa allowed a rare, short laugh—a sound that carried no warmth but absolute satisfaction. "You three have good awareness. Today's punishment will be here: two hundred strokes of the Heaven's Dao Board for each of you, done all at once."

Without hesitation, Lin Qiaoxin, Li Que, and Shen Mengyue knelt on the stone path. They lowered their upper bodies, pressing their foreheads to the cool ground, and raised their buttocks high. The three pairs of cheeks were pale and smooth, slightly pink from the morning's crawl. Lin Qiaoxin's were round and perky, Li Que's compact and muscular, Shen Mengyue's fuller and more womanly. They held the pose, waiting.

Xuanfa waved his hand. Three Heaven's Dao Boards materialized in the air—long, wide slabs of dark wood etched with golden runes. They floated beside him, humming with power. He gestured, and the first board swung.

*CRACK.*

It struck Lin Qiaoxin's left cheek, leaving a bright red handprint-shaped welt. She gasped, her body jolting but staying in place. "One," she counted, her voice strained but cheerful.

The second board descended on Li Que's right cheek. *THWACK.* The sound was sharp, and a red mark bloomed across her athletic flesh. "One," she gritted out.

The third board landed on Shen Mengyue's full bottom. *SMACK.* The impact echoed, and her skin turned crimson. "One," she said, her voice steady.

The boards moved in perfect rhythm, alternating between the three women. Each strike was precise, landing with enough force to leave a stinging welt but not enough to break skin. The disciples watched from a distance, some covering their mouths, others unable to look away. The number grew: ten, twenty, thirty. Red handprints layered over each other, turning buttocks into a patchwork of crimson.

Lin Qiaoxin's breath came in short gasps, but she kept her grin. "Forty-eight... forty-nine... fifty!" She wiggled as the board struck, as if greeting it.

Li Que's muscles tensed with each hit, her voice growing tighter but still clear. "Sixty-three... sixty-four... sixty-five." Her bottom was now a deep pink, the marks spreading to her thighs.

Shen Mengyue remained composed, though her voice had a slight tremor. "Eighty-one... eighty-two... eighty-three." Her full cheeks jiggled with each impact, the skin turning a uniform red.

By the hundredth stroke, all three were breathing heavily. Sweat beaded on their foreheads, but they held their positions. The boards continued their relentless assault. One hundred twenty, one hundred forty, one hundred sixty. The sound of wood on flesh became a steady drumbeat across the training grounds.

At one hundred eighty, Lin Qiaoxin let out a small whimper. "Almost there... Master... Xin-nu's buttocks are so warm..." She clenched her teeth.

Li Que's voice was hoarse. "One hundred ninety... one hundred ninety-one... I... Que-nu endures."

Shen Mengyue's calm was breaking. "One hundred ninety-seven... one hundred ninety-eight..." She closed her eyes, a single tear tracing down her cheek.

*CRACK. THWACK. SMACK.*

The last three strokes landed in perfect unison. The women collapsed forward, their buttocks a deep, angry red, covered in overlapping welts. They panted, sweat dripping onto the stone, but they remained kneeling.

Xuanfa dismissed the boards with a wave. "Rise."

They struggled to their feet, wobbling. Lin Qiaoxin rubbed her bottom with a pout. "Master is so fierce today. Xin-nu's bottom will be sore for the ceremony."

Li Que stood straight, ignoring the sting. "It is as it should be."

Shen Mengyue wiped her tear, her face composed again. "Thank you, Master, for the punishment."

Xuanfa looked at them, his expression unreadable. "In a while, the Zehuang Sect's grand ceremony will be held. The highlight will be your five-hundred-stroke spanking. Prepare yourselves."

The three women knelt immediately, pressing their foreheads to the ground. Their red, throbbing buttocks rose behind them as they kowtowed in unison. "Thank you, Master, for the punishment."

Lin Qiaoxin added cheerfully, "Xin-nu's bottom can't wait."

Li Que's voice was firm. "Que-nu will not disappoint."

Shen Mengyue murmured, "Yue-nu accepts all that Master decrees."

Xuanfa turned and walked away, his black robes billowing. Behind him, the three women remained kneeling, their punished bottoms bared to the setting sun, awaiting the next trial.

The morning sun cast long shadows across the Zehuang Sect’s main plaza. Thousands of disciples had gathered, their bodies bare under the open sky. They stood in neat rows at the periphery, hands clasped behind their backs, breasts and buttocks exposed to the crisp air. No one dared to cover themselves. This was the price of joining Xuanfa’s sect—complete surrender of dignity, absolute obedience.

In the center of the plaza, a raised platform of white jade gleamed. Upon it rested the Heaven’s Dao Board, a flat slab of black stone etched with glowing runes. It was no ordinary artifact. Countless times had it been used to punish, to humiliate, to break the pride of haughty female cultivators. Now it would be worshiped as the sect’s sacred symbol.

Xuanfa stood at the head of the platform, clad in black training clothes that hugged his muscular frame. His face was a mask of cold indifference, yet his eyes held a glint of satisfaction as he surveyed the gathered crowd. Beside him knelt three women on all fours, leather collars around their necks, chains leading from the collars to Xuanfa’s hand.

Shen Mengyue, once the proud Sect Leader of the Celestial Mist Sect, now crawled like a dog. Her waist-length black hair spilled over her shoulders, brushing the ground. Her fair skin glowed in the light, her mature curves accentuated by the position. She kept her eyes lowered, but there was a quiet dignity in her posture—a dignity that had been shaped by countless strokes of the board.

Beside her, Lin Qiaokin’s twin ponytails bobbed as she crawled forward. Her youthful face held a playful smile, as if she found amusement even in this degradation. Her lithe body moved with feline grace, her red lips parted slightly.

Li Que followed last, her red hair tied in a high ponytail, her athletic frame taut with suppressed pride. Even on her hands and knees, she exuded power. But she had learned to submit. The memory of that first humiliating defeat still burned, yet the rewards had been undeniable.

Xuanfa tugged the chains gently, and the three women crawled to their designated spots beside the platform. They knelt with perfect alignment, their hands resting on their thighs, their bare buttocks lifted slightly from the ground.

“The Zehuang Sect,” Xuanfa announced, his voice carrying through the silent plaza, “was founded for a single purpose: to punish the arrogance of female cultivators and to elevate those who submit. Today, we honor that purpose.”

He gestured, and Shen Mengyue rose to her knees, her voice steady as she addressed the disciples. “The name ‘Zehuang’ means the Emperor’s Favor. It is a favor born of discipline. We, who were once proud, learned that true strength comes from obedience. The female slave’s duty is to accept all humiliation and punishment from the master. No matter how shameful, no matter how painful, we bear it willingly.”

Lin Qiaokin continued, her tone more lighthearted but no less firm. “When the master commands us to move, we crawl. When the master commands us to stop, we kneel. When we salute, we raise our buttocks high, displaying the marks of our submission. This is our honor.”

Li Que spoke last, her voice sharp. “The Heaven’s Dao Board is our teacher. It teaches humility. It teaches endurance. We worship it not out of fear, but out of gratitude. Through its strokes, we have grown stronger.”

The three women then shared cultivation experiences, their voices blending as they explained techniques that required absolute focus and surrender. They taught the disciples how to relax their muscles before punishment, how to mentally prepare for the pain, how to translate each stroke into spiritual energy. The disciples listened intently, some nodding, others swallowing nervously.

Xuanfa stepped forward, his hand waving over a storage ring. Hundreds of jade bottles materialized on the platform. “Elixirs for every disciple. Take them—they will aid your cultivation.”

The disciples lined up, each taking a bottle. Then Xuanfa produced several magic artifacts—glowing swords, protective bracelets, and formation flags—and distributed them to those who had shown exceptional progress.

But the main event was yet to come.

“Now,” Xuanfa said, his eyes scanning the kneeling figures of the female slave elders—fifty of them, all naked, all marked with the scars of previous punishments. “I will select five new female slaves from among those who applied.”

A ripple of tension went through the crowd. Five female cultivators stepped forward, their bodies trembling with a mixture of anticipation and fear. They had volunteered for this—how could they not? The promise of accelerated cultivation, of direct guidance from Xuanfa himself, was irresistible. But they knew what it meant. Their buttocks would never be the same.

Xuanfa pointed to each in turn. “You. You. You. You. And you.”

The five women knelt, their faces pale. One of them, a tall cultivator with a scar on her thigh, bit her lip. Another, a slender woman with short hair, had tears already forming in her eyes.

“Raise your heads,” Xuanfa commanded.

They obeyed. He walked before them, placing leather collars around each neck. The collars clicked shut, and the women felt a surge of binding energy. They were now his property.

“Crawl to your positions,” Xuanfa ordered.

The five new female slaves dropped to all fours and crawled, moving slowly toward the line of the other female slave elders. They found their spots and knelt, hands on thighs, buttocks raised.

Now came the punishment.

The Heaven’s Dao Board on the platform shimmered and multiplied. Suddenly, fifty identical boards appeared in the air, each hovering behind a female slave elder. Xuanfa did not move, but his will was clear.

The boards descended.

The first stroke landed with a sharp crack that echoed across the plaza. Fifty buttocks jiggled under the impact. Fifty gasps of pain filled the air. Then the second stroke, harder. The third. The fourth.

The boards struck in a relentless rhythm, each stroke leaving a red welt. The female slaves bit their lips, clenched their fists, and tried to hold still. Some succeeded. Others screamed, their bodies jerking forward, but they forced themselves back into position. To dodge was to fail. To fail was to be expelled and humiliated in the eyes of everyone.

The scent of sweat and bruised skin filled the air. Tears rolled down cheeks. Cries of agony mixed with choked sobs. Yet not a single woman fled. They endured, knowing that their cultivation would advance, knowing that the master’s favor was worth the price.

Two hundred strokes. The boards vanished.

The female slave elders collapsed forward, their buttocks a mess of red and purple, some bleeding, all swollen to twice their normal size. They gasped for breath, their bodies trembling.

But the ceremony was not over.

Xuanfa turned to the three women beside him. Shen Mengyue, Lin Qiaokin, and Li Que knelt in perfect unison, their kowtows deep and respectful.

“You three,” Xuanfa said, his voice cold, “are my first female slaves. My most trusted. You have served me well.” He paused. “But trust must be proven again and again.”

Lin Qiaokin smiled through the apprehension. “We know, Master. My butt has missed your board.”

Li Que’s jaw tightened. “I am ready.”

Shen Mengyue simply said, “Your will.”

The three women positioned themselves side by side, kneeling with their buttocks raised high. Their plump, unmarked mounds—healed by Xuanfa’s magic from previous sessions—were now perfect targets. They knew this time would be the worst. Five hundred strokes.

The Heaven’s Dao Board split into three, each hovering behind one of the women.

The first stroke landed on Shen Mengyue. She gasped, her body swaying but not collapsing. The second stroke hit Lin Qiaokin, and she let out a yelp. The third struck Li Que, and she grunted, her back arching.

The boards continued. Each stroke was harder than the last. The flesh of their buttocks turned pink, then red, then purple. The sound of wood on flesh was constant, overlapping like a drumbeat.

Lin Qiaokin tried to joke through the pain. “Master... your aim is perfect... as always... oww!”

Li Que gritted her teeth. “Is that... all you’ve got?” But her voice cracked at the hundredth stroke.

Shen Mengyue said nothing. Her jaw was clenched, her fingers digging into her palms. The pain was immense, but she had endured worse. She focused on her breathing, on the energy flowing through her, on the fact that each stroke purified her pride.

At the three hundredth stroke, their buttocks were unrecognizable—a mess of blood, deep purple bruises, and open welts. They could barely kneel. Their arms shook. Their thighs quivered.

At the four hundredth stroke, Lin Qiaokin’s tears fell freely. “Master... please... just a little more... I can take it...”

Li Que’s body was shaking violently. “I... I won’t break...”

Shen Mengyue’s voice was a whisper. “I trust you, Master.”

At the five hundredth stroke, the boards vanished. The three women collapsed forward, their faces pressed against the cool jade, their buttocks a hideous sight. They lay there, gasping, trembling, barely conscious.

Xuanfa watched them. His expression did not change, but inside he felt a deep satisfaction. They had passed the test.

He stepped forward and raised his hand. A soft golden light emanated from his palm, enveloping the three women. The wounds on their buttocks began to close, the swelling to recede, the bruises to fade. In moments, their flesh was smooth and unblemished once more. Like new.

The three women sighed with relief, their strength returning. They pushed themselves up onto their knees, then raised their buttocks high again—the same motion they had made countless times.

“We will forever accept the master’s spanking,” they said in unison.

Lin Qiaokin added with a weary smile, “Even if it kills us.”

Li Que nodded curtly.

Shen Mengyue met Xuanfa’s eyes. “This is our devotion.”

Xuanfa turned and addressed the entire sect. “Let this be a reminder. The Zehuang Sect is built on discipline, on submission, on the willingness to endure for the sake of power. You will all serve. And you will all prove yourselves.”

The disciples bowed, their bodies bare, their minds filled with the sight of the three great elders’ punishment. They understood now what it meant to be part of this sect.

The ceremony ended. The crowd dispersed, but the memory of the boards and the screams of the punished lingered in the air like incense.

Days passed. The sect grew stronger. The five new female slaves were trained, their buttocks soon bearing the same marks as their sisters. And Xuanfa watched it all, a cold smile touching his lips.

The Zehuang Sect would become the greatest in the world. One stroke at a time.