Punishment of the Heavenly Punishment Deity

The world of cultivation stretched across vast continents, where spiritual energy flowed like rivers through the veins of the earth. The path of immortality was divided into realms: Qi Refining, Foundation Establishment, Golden Core, and Nascent Soul—the highest attainable in this age. Among cultivators, women outnumbered men by a wide margin, yet those few male cultivators who reached the Nascent Soul realm were disproportionately powerful, their cultivation bases honed by a unique and ancient law.

That law was simple: a male cultivator could claim a female cultivator as his female slave by spanking her bare buttocks. The act, humiliating as it was, created a bond that accelerated the cultivation of both parties. Most female cultivators despised it, resisted it, but the law was woven into the fabric of the world itself, backed by the raw strength of those who enforced it.

And no one enforced it more ruthlessly than Lord Xuan Fa.

He stood at the peak of Nascent Soul Great Perfection, a realm few had ever touched. His black training clothes clung to a lean, powerful frame, and his face was a mask of cold handsomeness, devoid of emotion. He had no sect, no allegiances. He answered only to his own desires, and chief among those desires was the sight of a woman's pale buttocks reddening under his palm.

Today, a disciple of the Immortal Cloud Sect had been foolish enough to insult him during a gathering of minor sects. The offense was trivial—a sharp word, a misplaced sneer—but Xuan Fa did not distinguish between small slights and great ones. He had announced his intention to the trembling elder who had come to apologize: the Immortal Cloud Sect would pay. Every single female cultivator within its walls would have her buttocks spanked until they were swollen and purple.

The Immortal Cloud Sect was nestled among the peaks of the Azure Cloud Mountains, a sanctuary of jade halls and floating pavilions. It was an all-female sect, known for its elegance and discipline. Its head, Shen Mengyue, was a Nascent Soul Mid Stage cultivator, a woman of both ethereal beauty and formidable power. Her long black hair cascaded to her waist, and her black-and-white Daoist robes could not hide the alluring curves of her mature figure. She had heard of Xuan Fa's approach and had gathered her senior disciples in the main hall.

"Sect Head, we should not provoke him," a trembling elder said. "He said he would spank every one of us if we resist."

"Then we resist," Shen Mengyue replied, her voice cool but firm. "I will not let that beast defile my sect."

She was strong. She knew it. But she also knew the legends of Xuan Fa's brutality. Still, she had no choice. She stepped out of the hall, her sword in hand, and faced the dark figure descending from the sky like a falling star.

Xuan Fa landed in the courtyard, his black robes settling around him. His dark eyes swept over the assembled female cultivators, lingering for a moment on Shen Mengyue. "You know why I am here," he said, his voice flat and cold. "I will say this once. Surrender. Kneel. Present your buttocks. If you do not resist, I will be merciful. One hundred spanks each. That is all."

Shen Mengyue's sword sang as she drew it. "I refuse."

"Then you will be punished accordingly," Xuan Fa said. He raised a hand, his fingers extended, and a thin blade of sharp finger energy shot toward her.

The battle erupted.

Shen Mengyue moved like flowing water, her sword techniques weaving clouds and mist around her. She struck with the power of a Nascent Soul cultivator, her spiritual energy roaring through the courtyard, cracking the jade tiles and shattering the nearby pillars. Xuan Fa did not even draw a weapon. He simply deflected her strikes with his fingers, each movement precise and effortless, as if he were swatting flies.

She was fast. She was strong. She had trained for centuries to reach this realm. But Xuan Fa was something else entirely. He only used seventy percent of his power, and still, she could not land a single blow. His finger techniques carved through her defenses like a hot blade through silk. A burst of energy slammed into her chest, sending her flying backward. She crashed into the stone wall of the main hall, the impact cracking the rock.

Before she could rise, Xuan Fa appeared before her, his hand gripping her throat and lifting her off the ground. Her sword clattered to the floor. She struggled, clawing at his wrist, but his grip was like iron. He held her there, suspended, her feet dangling, her face turning red as she gasped for air.

"I gave you a chance," Xuan Fa said, his voice utterly devoid of emotion. "You chose to resist. So the punishment increases."

He threw her to the ground. Shen Mengyue landed hard, the breath knocked out of her. She lay there, her robes torn and disheveled, her long black hair spread around her like a dark halo. Her cultivation was suppressed, her meridians locked by a technique she had never seen. She could not move, could not even form a basic spell. Panic began to creep into her heart as she watched Xuan Fa walk toward her, his steps measured and deliberate.

He stopped beside her, looking down at her with those cold, dark eyes. Then he spoke, his voice carrying across the entire sect, amplified by his spiritual power so that every woman in the Immortal Cloud Sect could hear him clearly.

"Because the Immortal Cloud Sect has chosen to resist, the punishment has changed. Every single cultivator in this sect—from the Sect Head to the newest Qi Refining disciple—will receive one hundred spanks on the buttocks with the Xuan Wood Board. This will be administered every day. For the next three years."

The words hung in the air, absolute and final.

Shen Mengyue's heart sank. Tears welled in her eyes, not from pain, but from the sheer, crushing humiliation. Three years. Every day. The Xuan Wood Board was a legendary instrument of punishment, one that left no lasting physical damage but delivered excruciating pain. And it was said that once a spanking with that board was completed, the cultivator's cultivation would accelerate, bound to the one who administered it.

She would become his slave.

No. That could not happen. But even as she thought it, Xuan Fa's hand reached down, and she felt his spiritual energy tear through her robes, shredding them from her body. The cool air hit her bare skin. She was lying on the ground, completely naked, her pale buttocks exposed to the world.

"This is but the beginning," Xuan Fa said, a faint, cruel smile touching his lips for the first time. "You will learn to obey, Shen Mengyue. All of you will."

He raised his hand, and the Xuan Wood Board materialized in his palm, dark and heavy. The first stroke was coming.

And there was nothing she could do to stop it.

Fifteen years had passed in the Heaven's Xuan Realm, and the daily rhythm of kneeling side by side had become as natural as breathing for Li Que and Lin Qiaoxin. Every morning, as the sun painted the sky with pale gold, they would position themselves in the courtyard of Xuan Fa's secluded manor—a place hidden from the world by layers of formation barriers that Lin Qiaoxin herself had reinforced. Bare knees pressed against the cold stone, upper bodies bent forward until their foreheads touched the ground, and their buttocks raised high, exposed to the air and to the inevitable punishment that followed. The Heaven's Path wood board, a slab of ancient darkwood inscribed with flowing runes that pulsed with amber light, would descend upon their flesh with mechanical precision, two hundred strokes each, without fail.

Li Que had grown leaner over the years, her athletic build now honed to a razor's edge. Her red hair, still tied in its high ponytail, swayed with each impact of the board. What surprised her most was not the endurance she had developed—that was expected of a cultivator of her caliber—but the subtle shift in her perception of pain. In the early days, each stroke had been pure agony, a searing humiliation that clawed at her pride. Now, as the board connected with her raised buttocks for the one hundred and fiftieth time that morning, she felt a warmth spreading through her lower body, a heat that bordered on pleasure. The sting was still there, sharp and unforgiving, but it mingled with something else, something she could not name. She glanced sideways at Lin Qiaoxin, who knelt beside her, head down, buttocks up, taking the punishment with her characteristic calm. Li Que's lips parted, then closed. She was too embarrassed to voice the question that burned in her mind.

Lin Qiaoxin, as if sensing the gaze, turned her head slightly. Her double ponytails, black and neat despite the morning's ordeal, swayed as she caught Li Que's eye. Her face was flushed from the exertion, but her eyes held a knowing glint. She winked—a quick, playful motion that spoke volumes. Li Que looked away, heat rising to her cheeks. So Lin Qiaoxin knew. Of course she knew. Nothing escaped that clever formation master.

When the final stroke landed, the wood board retracted into the air, hovering nearby like a patient executioner. Xuan Fa stood at the edge of the courtyard, his black training clothes immaculate, his expression unreadable. He had watched the entire session in silence, as he always did. His fingers were tucked into his sleeves, and his cold eyes swept over the two women with the detached interest of a collector examining prized possessions.

Li Que and Lin Qiaoxin remained in position, not daring to move without permission. The routine was drilled into them: after punishment, they were to wait. Xuan Fa would either dismiss them or summon them for further ministrations. Today, he gestured with a single finger. They rose to their knees, then crawled toward him on all fours, the dog leashes attached to their collars trailing behind them. The leather straps were thin but unbreakable, enchanted to resist any attempt at removal. They stopped before his feet, upper bodies dropping low, foreheads touching the ground.

"You are settled," Xuan Fa said. His voice was flat, emotionless. It was not a question.

"Yes, master," Lin Qiaoxin replied, her tone light despite the circumstances.

Li Que echoed the affirmation, her voice steady.

Xuan Fa turned and walked toward the stone table at the center of the courtyard, where a pot of tea steamed gently in the morning air. He sat, and the two women crawled after him, positioning themselves at his feet as he poured a cup. The tea was dark amber, fragrant with the essence of mountain blossoms. He took a sip, then set the cup down.

"What do you desire?" he asked.

Li Que exchanged a glance with Lin Qiaoxin. This was the moment they had prepared for. The proposal had been discussed in whispers during the nights, when the pain of the day's punishment still throbbed in their bodies. They had weighed the risks, the humiliation, the public spectacle. But they had also seen the vacancy in Xuan Fa's eyes during their daily sessions, the way he seemed to grow bored with routine. If they could offer him something new, something grander, perhaps his attention would sharpen again. Perhaps the punishments would become more intense, more satisfying.

Lin Qiaoxin spoke first. "Master, we have a suggestion." She lifted her head slightly, meeting his gaze. "We have noticed that your pleasure in punishment has waned. The daily strokes are routine, but they no longer stir your cultivation or your spirit."

Xuan Fa's eyebrow twitched, a fraction of movement. "Continue."

Li Que took over. "The entire cultivation world knows that Shen Mengyue, the head of the Immortal Cloud Sect, was stripped naked by you and forced to kneel before her sect hall with her buttocks raised for spanking. That was over a decade ago. But they do not yet know that the formation genius Lin Qiaoxin and the Vermilion Bird Sect Vice Head Li Que have become your female slaves. We are still hidden behind these barriers." She paused, her pride burning but her resolve firm. "If you were to lead us, naked and crawling on all fours with dog leashes, to the highest terrace of Wuling City, and if Shen Mengyue's own disciples were to bring her there in the same manner—naked, crawling, on a leash—and if the three of us knelt in a row, upper bodies on the ground, our buttocks raised high, and you summoned the Heaven's Path wood board to spank us until our buttocks were completely destroyed, to the point that even a cultivator would need a week to recover. And then our legs were forced apart, and our buttock creases were whipped until our anuses and pussies were swollen. And then anal hooks were inserted into our swollen anuses, and we were hung for a week for public display." She took a breath. "That would make you happy, master."

Xuan Fa was silent. He picked up his tea cup and drank deeply. The wind rustled through the courtyard, carrying the scent of plum blossoms. When he set the cup down, his lips curled into the faintest hint of a smile—a rare sight that made Li Que's stomach tighten.

"Very well," he said. "The plan is acceptable. I will arrange for Shen Mengyue's presence."

Relief flooded through Li Que and Lin Qiaoxin. They had pleased him. But then Xuan Fa raised a hand, and the relief vanished.

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

Lin Qiaoxin's eyes widened slightly, then narrowed with anticipation. Li Que's heart began to pound.

Xuan Fa stood and walked to a small chest at the side of the courtyard. He opened it and retrieved a clay jar, sealed with wax. When he broke the seal, a pungent, sharp odor filled the air—ginger, but not ordinary ginger. This was divine ginger, cultivated in the celestial peaks of the upper realms, its essence concentrated to a blinding heat that could sear flesh and spirit alike.

He returned to the table and set the jar down. Then he produced two slender bamboo tubes, each the length of a hand, hollow and polished smooth. He filled each tube with the ginger juice, the liquid a pale, translucent gold that seemed to glow with contained energy.

"Kneel," Xuan Fa commanded.

Lin Qiaoxin and Li Que crawled into position, side by side, their upper bodies lowering until their foreheads touched the ground. Their buttocks rose, already marked from the morning's punishment, the skin pink and warm. They spread their knees apart as they had been trained, exposing everything.

"Spread your anal openings," Xuan Fa said.

Li Que's hands trembled as she reached back. Her fingers found the rim of her anus, still tender from previous punishments, and she pulled the flesh apart. Beside her, Lin Qiaoxin did the same, her movements smooth and practiced. The morning light fell on their exposed holes, soft and vulnerable.

Xuan Fa knelt behind them, holding the bamboo tubes. He inserted one into Lin Qiaoxin first, sliding the tube past the tight ring of muscle with practiced ease. Lin Qiaoxin gasped but did not flinch. Then he poured the ginger juice.

The effect was immediate. Lin Qiaoxin's body convulsed. A strangled cry escaped her lips as the liquid burned into her intestines. It felt as if a red-hot iron rod had been shoved inside her, molten metal flooding her core. Her muscles clenched against the invasion, but the ginger juice seeped deeper, coating every fold of her insides with searing fire. She dug her fingers into the ground, her knuckles white, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

Xuan Fa turned to Li Que. She held her position, her anus spread wide, her body rigid with dread. He inserted the tube and poured. The first drop of ginger juice sent a jolt of pure agony through her. It was pain beyond anything she had felt before—a burning, twisting fire that clawed at her from the inside. Her vision blurred, and a scream built in her throat, but she choked it down. She would not break, not yet. The juice continued to flow, filling her, expanding, until she felt as if her entire lower body was engulfed in flame. Her legs shook uncontrollably, and sweat beaded on her forehead.

Xuan Fa withdrew the tubes and set them aside. He stood, looking down at the two women, who were panting and trembling, their bodies slick with sweat, their anuses still twitching from the trauma.

"The daily spanking has arrived," he said. "You will receive two hundred strokes from the Heaven's Path wood board. You must not lose control and leak any intestinal fluid. If you do, the punishment will be doubled."

Lin Qiaoxin's eyes widened in horror. The ginger juice was already churning inside her, and the urge to expel it was overwhelming. She looked at Li Que, whose face was pale, her lips pressed into a thin line of determination.

The Heaven's Path wood board descended from the air, positioning itself behind Lin Qiaoxin. It struck.

*Whack.*

The sound was sharp, echoing across the courtyard. Lin Qiaoxin's buttocks jiggled with the impact, and a wave of pain shot through her. The ginger juice sloshed inside her, the movement intensifying the burning sensation. She bit her lip, tasting blood.

*Whack.*

The second stroke landed lower, catching the curve of her left buttock. She let out a muffled moan. The fire in her intestines roared, and she felt a pressure building, a desperate need to release. She clenched her muscles, fighting against the urge.

*Whack. Whack. Whack.*

The strokes came in a steady rhythm, each one a hammer blow to her already tortured flesh. The skin on her buttocks turned from pink to red to deep crimson, weeping small beads of blood. The ginger juice burned with every movement, and the pressure in her bowels grew unbearable. She squeezed her eyes shut, focusing all her will on holding the liquid inside.

Beside her, Li Que was faring no better. The board struck her with the same precision, and she grunted with each hit. The ginger juice was a living fire in her gut, and every impact sent waves of agony through her abdomen. She remembered her pride, her claim of being unmatched at her realm. But this was beyond cultivation, beyond strength. This was pure endurance.

*Whack.* Ten strokes in. Lin Qiaoxin's body was shaking violently. The pressure in her bowels was a physical presence, demanding release. She tried to breathe through it, to distract herself with the counting, but the pain was too great. The ginger juice had spread to every corner, and the heat was so intense she felt as if she were being cooked from the inside.

*Whack.* Fifteen strokes. The board landed squarely on her crease, and the shock sent a spasm through her. She lost control. A trickle of fluid escaped her anus, thin and amber-tinged, before she clamped down again. But it was enough.

Xuan Fa's voice cut through the air. "You have failed, Lin Qiaoxin. The punishment is doubled. Four hundred stro

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The morning sun cast long shadows across the cobblestone streets of Wuling City as Xuan Fa walked through the main gate, a dog leash in each hand. At the ends of those leashes, Lin Qiaoxin and Li Que crawled on all fours, their naked bodies glistening with a thin sheen of sweat under the bright sky. The collars around their necks were dark leather, studded with small metal spikes that caught the light with each movement.

Passersby stopped mid-stride. Merchants abandoned their stalls. Children pointed and were quickly shooed away by their red-faced mothers. The crowd parted like water before a stone, and then closed again, forming a dense wall of staring eyes on either side of the street.

"Is that... is that the Lin Qiaoxin? The formation prodigy?" a young cultivator whispered to his companion.

"And the red-haired one—that's Vice Head Li Que of the Vermilion Bird Sect! I saw her at the tournament last year. She defeated three Golden Core elders single-handedly!"

The two women kept their heads low, but their bodies swayed with an unnatural rhythm. Every few steps, a tremor ran through Lin Qiaoxin's thighs, and her fingers dug into the dirt as a muffled whimper escaped her lips. Beside her, Li Que's jaw was clenched so tight that the muscles in her neck stood out like cords, and her breath came in sharp, ragged gasps.

Inside their bowels, the ginger juice roiled. It had been injected the night before—pure, undiluted ginger essence mixed with a pinch of spiritual pepper powder to keep the burn alive and relentless. Each jostle of crawling sent fresh waves of fire through their intestines, a searing, clawing heat that radiated outward and made their thighs tremble uncontrollably. The bruises on their buttocks, purple and black from the previous day's spanking, only added to the torment as the tender flesh pressed against the ground with every forward crawl.

But they did not stop. They did not rise. They crawled.

Xuan Fa walked ahead, his black training clothes immaculate, his face a mask of cold indifference. He did not glance back at his two slaves, nor did he acknowledge the gasps and murmurs of the crowd. He simply tugged the leashes whenever the women slowed, and they scrambled to keep up, their bare breasts swinging, their bruised rear ends catching the stares of every man, woman, and child in Wuling City.

"Look at their backsides!" a woman in a green dress hissed to her friend. "They're beaten black and blue!"

"And they're just crawling like dogs! How humiliating!"

Lin Qiaoxin's lips curled into a faint smile at those words. Humiliating? Perhaps. But she understood the game. Her master's punishment was a form of ownership, a mark of belonging. Every blow, every burn, every leashed step brought her closer to him. She was his, and that thought made the ginger fire in her belly almost bearable.

Li Que, for her part, kept her eyes fixed on the ground ahead. She had sworn to obey only the strong, and Xuan Fa had proven himself stronger. If this was the price of serving such a master, she would pay it with pride. The pain in her gut and the ache in her buttocks were merely the currency of her submission.

They crawled through the main square, past the fountain where children usually played, past the stalls selling spirit fruits and talismans. The crowd grew thicker, and the whispers grew louder. Some laughed. Some shook their heads in pity. A few older cultivators watched with hard eyes, recognizing the humiliation for what it was—a public display of absolute dominance.

On the other side of the city, a different procession was underway.

Shen Mengyue knelt on the cold stone floor of the small room her disciple had led her to. Around her neck was a collar of the same dark leather, and a leash trailed from it, held in the trembling hand of a young woman in the white and blue robes of the Immortal Cloud Sect.

"M-Master Shen, I... I'm so sorry," the disciple whispered, her voice cracking. Tears streamed down her face as she stared at the naked figure before her. The head of her sect, the woman she had looked up to for years, knelt naked on the floor, her long black hair spilling over her shoulders, her fair skin exposed to the air.

Shen Mengyue did not look up. She kept her eyes on the floor, her breath steady, her face a mask of cold composure. But inside, a storm raged.

This was worse than any wound she had ever suffered. Worse than the sword that had pierced her shoulder in the battle of the Azure Plains. Worse than the spiritual poison that had nearly destroyed her cultivation base. This was public humiliation, and it stripped her of everything she had built—her dignity, her authority, her identity as the head of the Immortal Cloud Sect.

She had led her sect through wars. She had faced demon lords and ancient beasts. She had never bowed. And now she knelt, naked and collared, about to be led through the streets like an animal.

"Please, Master, just... just say something," the disciple begged. "Tell me this is a test. Tell me you're not really—"

"Lead me," Shen Mengyue said, her voice hollow. "Lead me to the terrace."

The disciple sobbed but obeyed. She tugged the leash gently, and Shen Mengyue began to crawl. Her hands and knees pressed against the cold stone, then the dusty street beyond the door. The first rays of sunlight hit her skin, and she heard the gasps of the crowd that had already gathered outside.

"It's the head of the Immortal Cloud Sect!"

"Shen Mengyue! Naked!"

"What happened to her? Who dares—"

"Is that the same woman who defeated the Blood Demon Patriarch?"

Shen Mengyue's cheeks burned, but she kept crawling. Her disciple walked ahead, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. The crowd parted, and the whispers became a roar in Shen Mengyue's ears. She saw feet—dozens of feet—sandals and boots and bare soles. She saw the hems of robes, the shadows of the onlookers. She heard laughter, pity, and disbelief.

Her mind wandered to her sect. What would the elders think? What would the younger disciples say when they heard? She had been their pillar, their unshakable mountain. And now she was a crawling spectacle, her naked body displayed for all to see.

The bruises on her buttocks throbbed with each movement. They were still fresh from the last punishment—deep purple crescents that covered both cheeks, a reminder of Xuan Fa's power. She had thought that was the worst of it. She had been wrong.

The terrace was ahead. A raised platform of white stone, used for public announcements and executions. Today, it would serve a different purpose.

By the time Shen Mengyue reached the base of the terrace, Lin Qiaoxin and Li Que were already there, kneeling side by side. Their leashes were tied to iron rings embedded in the stone floor. They looked at Shen Mengyue as she crawled up the low steps, and Lin Qiaoxin offered her a small, almost cheerful smile.

"Glad you could join us, Sect Head," Lin Qiaoxin said lightly. "The view is lovely from here."

Shen Mengyue did not respond. She crawled to her designated spot and knelt, her hands on her thighs, her head bowed. The crowd had pressed in around the terrace, hundreds of faces staring up at them. Some cultivators had even taken to the rooftops for a better view.

Xuan Fa stood at the center of the terrace, his arms crossed, his cold gaze sweeping over the crowd. When they fell silent, he spoke.

"These three women have violated the terms I set for them. They have been punished privately, but their transgressions warrant a public lesson. Today, they will be disciplined on this terrace, so that all may see the cost of defiance."

He gestured, and the three women understood. Lin Qiaoxin and Li Que immediately lowered themselves, pressing their chests flat against the cool stone and raising their hips, presenting their bruised buttocks to the sky. Shen Mengyue hesitated for a fraction of a second, then followed suit. The movement sent a jolt of pain through her already tender flesh.

Their bottoms were fully exposed—round, full, and covered in a patchwork of purple, black, and red bruises. The crowd murmured, some in shock, others in barely concealed excitement.

Xuan Fa raised his hand, and a wooden board materialized in his grip. It was plain, unadorned, but it hummed with spiritual power. The Heaven's Path wood board—a tool of punishment that could amplify pain and leave wounds that even cultivators struggled to heal.

He stood behind Lin Qiaoxin first. She wiggled her hips slightly, a gesture that might have been playful if her body hadn't been trembling from the ginger burn inside her. Xuan Fa raised the board and brought it down.

Crack.

The sound echoed across the terrace. Lin Qiaoxin's body jerked forward, and a sharp gasp escaped her lips. A fresh red mark bloomed on her already battered buttock.

Crack.

Another blow, on the other cheek. Lin Qiaoxin bit her lip, but a small moan slipped out. The pain was intense, but she focused on the fire in her gut, the way it seemed to dance in rhythm with each strike. She was serving her master. That knowledge made the pain feel almost sacred.

Xuan Fa moved to Li Que. She did not wiggle. She braced herself, her red hair hanging down, her muscles tensed.

Crack.

The board connected with her right cheek, and Li Que grunted. Her eyes narrowed, but she did not cry out.

Crack.

The left cheek. Her thighs quivered, but she held her position.

Then Xuan Fa stood behind Shen Mengyue.

She felt his presence like a shadow falling over her. Her breath caught in her throat. The board rose.

Crack.

The pain exploded through her. It was worse than before, sharper, deeper. The Heaven's Path wood carried a cold energy that seeped into her flesh, making the bruising spread faster, the damage go deeper. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming.

Crack.

Her vision blurred. Tears formed in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She was the head of the Immortal Cloud Sect. She would not weep in front of this crowd.

Crack. Crack. Crack.

The board fell again and again, a relentless rhythm that filled the square. Lin Qiaoxin began to moan openly, not entirely from pain—the ginger in her guts had reached a peak, and the combination of heat and pressure was almost overwhelming. Li Que remained silent, her jaw locked, her breath coming in harsh bursts. Shen Mengyue trembled with each blow, her fingers clawing at the stone.

After thirty strokes each, their buttocks were unrecognizable. The skin had split in places, and dark blood oozed from the cracks. The bruises had spread down to their thighs and up to their lower backs. Even a cultivator would need a week of concentrated healing to fully recover.

But Xuan Fa was not done.

He dropped the board and raised his hand again. A thin, flexible whip appeared—a braided cord of spirit beast sinew, black and glistening. He gestured, and the three women shifted, spreading their knees apart so that their most private places were exposed to the crowd.

Lin Qiaoxin's pussy was already slick from the ginger torment, her lips swollen and red. Li Que's was dry but visible, a neat slit between her muscular thighs. Shen Mengyue's was pale and pristine, untouched by any man, and the sight of it exposed to hundreds of eyes made her whole body flush with shame.

Xuan Fa stepped behind Lin Qiaoxin first. He raised the whip and brought it down across the crease where her buttocks met her thighs.

Ssssshhh.

The cord bit into the tender skin, splitting it open. Lin Qiaoxin screamed—a surprised, high-pitched sound that quickly turned into a moan. Blood welled up, and the whip rose again.

Ssssshhh. Ssssshhh.

Each stroke landed precisely on the crease, targeting the sensitive flesh around her anus and vagina. After four strokes, her entire perineum was a swollen, bloody mess. Her pussy lips had doubled in size, bruised and split. Her anus was puffy, the dark ring of muscle visible even through the blood.

Li Que endured her strok

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The week of hanging from the anal hooks was an eternity of fire and humiliation for Shen Mengyue. The iron claws that pierced her most private orifice kept her suspended from a black iron beam in the central square of Wuling City, and every dawn brought fresh crowds of cultivators and mortals who came to gawk at the former head of the Immortal Cloud Sect. Her naked body dangled helplessly, her legs spread wide by the cruel metal, and the weight of her own flesh stretched the tender ring of muscle around the hooks until she thought she would tear apart. The pain was a constant, burning scream in her nerves, but the shame was worse—far worse. She had been spanked bare-assed before her own disciples, but that was a private humiliation. Here, in the heart of Wuling City, thousands of eyes drank in the sight of her pale buttocks, her parted thighs, the glistening metal that violated her anus. She heard whispers, snickers, and once, a child asking its mother why the pretty lady had a tail made of iron. Shen Mengyue closed her eyes and wept silent tears that dripped onto the cobblestones below.

Lin Qiaoxin and Li Que hung beside her, but their spirits were entirely different. Lin Qiaoxin had long since accepted her role as a female slave, and she treated the hanging as a lesson learned. She hummed a little tune between gasps of pain, and whenever she caught the eye of a spectator, she would wink or blow a kiss. Li Que, for her part, bore the punishment with the stoic pride of a warrior. She had been defeated fairly, had pledged herself to Xuan Fa willingly, and if this was the price of service, she would pay it without complaint. Both women understood that their master’s punishments were tests of obedience, and they intended to pass.

But Shen Mengyue did not understand. Or rather, she understood only that she was being tormented, and each passing day hardened her resistance even as it broke her spirit.

The seventh dawn broke red and gold over the spires of Wuling City. As the sun climbed, a pair of Xuan Fa’s masked attendants approached the beam and began to lower the three women. Shen Mengyue felt the hooks shift inside her as the tension on the chain eased, and a fresh wave of agony made her gasp. When her feet finally touched the ground, her knees buckled, and she collapsed onto the cold stone. The attendants worked quickly, releasing the hooks from the beam and then, with clinical efficiency, withdrawing them from the women’s bodies. Shen Mengyue screamed as the iron claws scraped past her sphincter, and she curled into a fetal position, pressing her thighs together, trembling.

Lin Qiaoxin and Li Que rose to their knees without being told, their heads bowed, their postures humble. They knew their master would come.

And come he did.

Xuan Fa stepped out of the air itself, his black training clothes immaculate, his face a cold mask of marble. He stood before the three women, his hands clasped behind his back, and his gaze swept over them with the detached assessment of a man inspecting livestock. When his eyes settled on Shen Mengyue, still curled on the ground, his lips thinned.

“Rise,” he said.

Lin Qiaoxin and Li Que stood immediately. Shen Mengyue struggled to her feet, her legs shaking, her hands covering her nakedness as best she could. She could not meet his eyes.

“The week is over,” Xuan Fa said. His voice was flat, without a trace of sympathy. “I have shown you what defiance costs. Now I offer you a choice.” He paused, letting the silence stretch. “Enter the Heaven’s Xuan Realm of your own will. Become my female slave. Serve me, and your sect will be protected. Refuse, and I will return you to the hook until your spirit breaks entirely.”

Shen Mengyue’s head snapped up. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her face streaked with tears and dirt. “Heavenly Lord,” she whispered, her voice raw from screaming. “Please… please show mercy. I was wrong. I should never have offended you. But I cannot become your slave. I am the head of the Immortal Cloud Sect. My disciples look to me. Please, let this punishment be enough. I beg you.”

Xuan Fa’s expression did not change. “You beg for mercy, but you do not offer submission. You ask for leniency, but you do not surrender your pride.” He shook his head once, slowly. “Stubborn.”

He turned his gaze to Lin Qiaoxin and Li Que. “Hold her open.”

The two women moved without hesitation. Lin Qiaoxin circled behind Shen Mengyue and grabbed her hips, while Li Que knelt and seized Shen Mengyue’s ankles, pulling her legs apart. Shen Mengyue cried out and tried to twist away, but she was weak from a week of hanging, and the other two were Nascent Soul cultivers in full health. They forced her knees apart and bent her forward until her palms were flat on the ground, her buttocks thrust up and spread wide. The puckered hole of her anus, still red and raw from the hooks, was fully exposed to the morning air.

Xuan Fa produced a small jade bottle from his sleeve. He uncorked it, and the sharp, pungent scent of ginger filled the air. He stepped forward, standing directly behind Shen Mengyue’s raised posterior.

“No,” Shen Mengyue gasped, craning her neck to look back. “No, please, what are you doing?”

Xuan Fa did not answer. He tipped the bottle, and a stream of thick, amber liquid splashed directly into her open anus. The ginger juice was fresh and potent, a concentrated essence that burned like liquid fire. The moment it touched her sensitive inner flesh, Shen Mengyue screamed. It was a raw, animal sound of agony and shock. She thrashed wildly, trying to close her legs, trying to clench her muscles and expel the burning liquid, but Lin Qiaoxin held her hips firm, and Li Que kept her legs spread, and the invisible force of Xuan Fa’s will pressed down on her back, forcing her to remain in the kneeling, butt-up position she had come to know so well. The ginger juice seeped deeper into her bowels, coating the lining of her rectum with searing heat. It felt as though she had been filled with molten metal. She screamed again, and tears poured down her face.

Xuan Fa recorked the bottle and stepped back. He gestured, and two slender planks of pale wood appeared in his hands. Heaven’s Path wood—dense, heavy, smooth. He handed one to Lin Qiaoxin and one to Li Que. “Spank her. One hundred strokes each. For every stroke, she must say, ‘Thank you, Lord Xuan Fa, for spanking me.’ If she fails to speak, pour in more ginger juice and begin again.”

Lin Qiaoxin’s eyes lit up with a grin. She loved punishment duty. She hefted the board in her hand, testing its weight, and took her position on Shen Mengyue’s left side. Li Que, more solemn but no less obedient, stood on the right.

The first stroke fell from Lin Qiaoxin’s hand. The Heaven’s Path wood connected with the peak of Shen Mengyue’s right buttock with a sharp, wet crack that echoed across the square. A red stripe bloomed instantly on the pale flesh.

Shen Mengyue screamed again, but the scream was cut short by Lin Qiaoxin’s cheerful voice. “You need to say the words, Senior Shen. Or we’ll have to use more ginger juice.”

“Thank you, Lord Xuan Fa, for spanking me!” Shen Mengyue sobbed the words, her voice high and broken.

The second stroke came from Li Que, landing on the left cheek with equal force. Shen Mengyue’s body jerked forward, but the invisible force held her in place.

“Thank you, Lord Xuan Fa, for spanking me!” she repeated, the words becoming a desperate mantra.

The spanking continued in a steady rhythm: left, right, left, right. The boards rose and fell, and with each impact, the ginger juice inside her churned and burned, amplifying the pain of every blow. Her buttocks turned from white to pink to deep, angry red. The flesh quivered under the punishment, and the sound of wood on skin became a dull, wet thud. By the thirtieth stroke, Shen Mengyue was weeping openly, her words slurred by tears and mucus. By the fiftieth, she was barely coherent, but she still forced out the required phrase after every hit, terrified of the ginger juice.

Lin Qiaoxin and Li Que maintained a cheerful banter between strokes. “You have such lovely buttocks, Moon Slave,” Lin Qiaoxin said, using the name that had been given to her. “Such a shame to turn them into hamburger.” Whack. “Thank you, Lord Xuan Fa, for spanking me.” “But the master knows what’s best, doesn’t he? You’ll look beautiful in the Heaven’s Xuan Realm.” Whack.

At the fifty-eighth stroke, Shen Mengyue broke. She no longer had the strength to scream. The pain from her anus, the burning of the ginger, the relentless beating on her tender, swollen flesh—it all combined into a single wave of agony that washed away her pride, her resistance, her hope. She slumped as far as the invisible force would allow, her head hanging, her hair dragging on the ground.

“Stop,” she whispered.

Lin Qiaoxin’s board paused mid-swing. Li Que lowered hers.

Shen Mengyue took a shuddering breath. “Stop,” she said again, louder. “Heavenly Lord… Xuan Fa… I yield.” She lifted her head, meeting his cold eyes with her own red, swollen ones. “I will become your female slave. But you must promise me—you cannot harm the disciples of the Immortal Cloud Sect. You must protect my sect. If you swear this, I will serve you until my last breath.”

Xuan Fa regarded her for a long moment. Then he nodded once. “I swear it. The Immortal Cloud Sect will be under my protection. No harm will come to it from any outside force, as long as you serve me faithfully.”

Shen Mengyue let out a sob of relief. She bowed her head, pressing her forehead to the cold stone. “Then I accept.”

Xuan Fa raised his hand, and a shimmering portal opened in the air before them—the gate to the Heaven’s Xuan Realm. He stepped through first. Lin Qiaoxin and Li Que each took one of Shen Mengyue’s arms and helped her to her feet, half-carrying her through the portal.

The Heaven’s Xuan Realm was a place of ethereal beauty: a vast hall of white jade and flowing silk, with pools of crystal-clear water and gardens of impossible flowers. But Shen Mengyue saw none of it. The moment she crossed the threshold, a band of cool metal snapped around her throat. She looked down and saw a silver slave collar, identical to the ones worn by Lin Qiaoxin and Li Que. It fit snugly against her skin, and she felt its enchantment settle over her like a second skin—a reminder that she was no longer free.

Xuan Fa stood before her, his arms crossed. “You know the rules of this realm,” he said. “You have seen them administered to others. Now you will receive them yourself.”

Shen Mengyue nodded, her throat tight. She knew. She had watched Lin Qiaoxin and Li Que kneel, raise their buttocks, and receive their punishment strokes. With a heavy heart, she lowered herself to the jade floor, assuming the familiar position: knees wide apart, torso pressed to the ground, arms stretched forward, and buttocks raised high. Her poor, beaten cheeks were a mottled mess of red and purple, already swelling from the spanking she had just received. But she knew that the proper punishment for a new female slave was two hundred strokes of the Heaven’s Path wood, and she would receive every one.

Xuan Fa produced a fresh board—longer and thicker than the ones Lin Qiaoxin and Li Que had used. He tested it in his hand, then stepped behind Shen Mengyue.

“Count,” he said.

The first stroke fell like a thunderclap. The board caught her exactly at the crease where her buttocks met her thighs, and the impact sent a shockwave through her entire body. She had thought she knew pain from the previous spanking, but that had been nothing compared to this. Xuan Fa’s strength was immense, and he put the full force of his Nascent Soul Great Perfection cultivation into every blow.

“One,” she gasped. “Thank you, Lord Xuan Fa, for spanking me.”

Whack. “Two. Thank you, Lord Xuan Fa, for spanking me.”

Whack. “Three. Thank you, Lord Xuan Fa, for spanking me.”

The strokes came in

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One hundred years had passed since the founding of the Heaven's Xuan Realm, and the domain had grown into a fortress of order and discipline under the iron will of its master. Within a vast, open hall carved from white jade and veined with spiritual energy, a peculiar and rigorous scene unfolded daily. Rows of female cultivators knelt on soft silk mats, their bodies bent forward, arms extended, and their bare buttocks raised high in the air. The skin of these buttocks varied in hue—some pale as moonlight, others sun-kissed gold, a few flushed with the pink of recent punishment. They were plump, firm, and utterly exposed, each pair of cheeks trembling slightly in anticipation.

Suspended behind each raised posterior floated two Heaven's Path wood boards. These boards were not ordinary instruments; they were carved from the petrified branches of ancient trees that had absorbed the essence of heavenly tribulations. They glowed with a faint golden light, humming with latent power. With mechanical precision, they swung forward simultaneously, slapping against the raised buttocks with sharp, resounding cracks. The hall filled with a symphony of wet smacks, pained gasps, and the occasional whimper.

There were approximately thirty female cultivators in this formation. They came from every corner of the cultivation world: the proud head of the Azure Frost Sect, the stern elder of the Golden Lotus Temple, a rogue cultivator known for her lightning affinity, the youngest daughter of the Crimson Sun Clan. Once, they had stood atop peaks of power, commanding respect and fear. Now, they were new additions to Xuan Fa's harem of female slaves, their robes stripped away, their dignity shattered, their only purpose to learn how to present their buttocks correctly and accept the bite of the Heaven's Path wood board until they broke into begging obedience.

Behind this row of raised buttocks stood three naked figures, their beauty and presence dominating the hall. They were the first three female slaves, now elevated to the role of instructors. Their bodies were works of art sculpted by punishment and cultivation. Each possessed the flawless complexion of jade, the curves of a goddess, and the poise of a warrior who had learned submission.

Li Que, the Sparrow Slave, stood at the left. Her athletic frame was tall and lean, her red hair tied in a high ponytail that brushed her shoulder blades. Her skin was tan from years of outdoor training, but smooth as silk. Her breasts were firm and modest, her waist narrow, her hips wide and muscular. The most striking feature was her buttocks. They were a deep, purplish-red, covered in overlapping welts and faint scars from countless spankings. The skin had taken on a permanent glossy sheen, like polished mahogany, every inch a testament to her endurance. She held her spine straight, her chin lifted, but her eyes were downcast in habitual deference.

In the center stood Lin Qiaoxin, the Heart Slave. Her black hair fell in two playful ponytails that framed her youthful face, but her body had matured into a perfect hourglass. She was shorter than Li Que, but her proportions were generous—full breasts, a soft belly, and hips that flared wide. Her buttocks were a shade darker than Li Que's, a deep burgundy with bruise-like patches of black and blue hidden under the redness. Faint lines crisscrossed them like a map of her punishment history. She exuded an air of cheerful mischief even now, her lips curved in a slight smile, though her stance was perfectly obedient.

On the right stood Shen Mengyue, the Moon Slave. Her long black hair cascaded down to her waist, contrasting against skin so fair it seemed to glow. She was both ethereal and sensual, her face carrying the cold beauty of a snow lotus, her body carrying the ripe curves of a woman in her prime. Her breasts were full and heavy, her waist slender, her hips round and prominent. Her buttocks were the most severely marked of the three. They were a deep, angry purple, almost black in places, with raised welts and split skin that had healed into permanent ridges. The flesh was swollen but firm, and she bore the marks with stoic pride. Among the three, she had received the longest and harshest punishments, and her rear showed it.

The three supervisors moved among the kneeling row, their voices calm but firm. Li Que used her hand to tap a raised buttock. "Relax. You're clenching too tight. The board will strike harder if you resist."

Lin Qiaoxin giggled and patted another cheek. "A bit higher, little sister. You want to present it nicely for Master, don't you? Imagine it's a precious offering."

Shen Mengyue said nothing, merely adjusting a posture with a gentle push, her cold eyes appraising. Her touch was light, but the new slave she corrected trembled, recalling the tales of how even the great Shen Mengyue had been brought low.

Suddenly, the air in the hall shifted. A presence of immense pressure descended, cold and absolute. The humming of the Heaven's Path boards paused, and the chests of even the kneeling slaves seized in instinctive fear. Xuan Fa appeared in the center of the hall, his black training clothes immaculate, his face expressionless. His eyes swept over the scene with the detached interest of a collector examining his treasures.

In an instant, the three instructors moved. They had done this a thousand times. They turned, dropped to their knees, lowered their heads until their foreheads nearly touched the floor, and placed their palms flat on the white jade. Then, as one, they raised their hips high, presenting their purplish-red, welted buttocks to their master. The position was perfect: backs arched, heads down, anuses displayed to the sky, legs spread wide.

Li Que spoke first, her voice steady but soft. "Master, we are instructing the new sisters. Does Master wish to watch Sparrow Slave's punishment? Rest assured, this slave will endure to the end and not spoil Master's fun."

Lin Qiaoxin followed, a playful lilt in her tone. "Heart Slave is ready as well, Master. Please enjoy the show."

Shen Mengyue said nothing for a moment, then added quietly, "Moon Slave will not disappoint."

Xuan Fa's gaze lingered on the three raised buttocks, each a canvas of his authority. He nodded once, a slight incline of his head.

Without hesitation, the three women reached behind themselves with both hands. Their fingers found their anuses, and they pulled the openings wide, stretching the pink, sensitive flesh. The muscles yielded with practiced ease. Then, from thin air, three syringes materialized—long, crystalline devices filled with a thick, amber liquid. The pungent, burning scent of ginger juice filled the air. The needles pressed against the stretched openings, and the plungers were pushed home.

The three women gasped simultaneously, their bodies shuddering as the ginger juice flooded their intestines. The heat spread instantly, a searing, tingling fire that filled their lower bellies. They held still, not allowing a single drop to escape, their muscles clenching rhythmically to keep the liquid contained.

Above them, six Heaven's Path wood boards materialized, two per kneeling figure. They were larger and darker than those used on the new slaves, vibrating with stored punishment energy. The boards hovered, one on each side of each woman's raised buttocks, then swung inward simultaneously.

The first strike cracked like thunder. Two boards slammed into Li Que's left and right cheeks, flattening the flesh against the bone. She let out a sharp cry—a mix of pain and something deeper, a strange pleasure born of submission. The boards lifted, swung back, and struck again. Lin Qiaoxin's buttocks jiggled violently, the sound a wet slap that echoed through the hall. She whimpered, her ponytails swinging as she braced herself.

Shen Mengyue's face was a mask of concentration, but her body betrayed her. At the first blow, her back arched, and a breathy moan escaped her lips. The boards struck her with relentless cadence, each impact leaving a fresh red imprint on the purple skin. The rhythm was merciless: left, right, left, right, a dozen strikes per second. The sound built into a continuous roar of flesh meeting wood.

Li Que's cries grew louder, her body rocking forward with each blow. "Ah! Yes! Master! Punish your Sparrow!" she shouted, her voice cracking. The boards beat a furious tattoo on her athletic rear, the skin turning from purple to a vivid crimson, the welts raising new bumps.

Lin Qiaoxin's reactions were more vocal. She laughed through her pain, a breathless, broken sound. "Hehe—ow! Master's boards—ah!—they never disappoint!" Her buttocks bounced and jiggled, the fat rippling under each strike. The ginger juice burned inside her, adding a layer of exquisite torture.

Shen Mengyue remained silent except for her breathing, which grew heavy and ragged. Her body took the punishment with a grace that bordered on reverence. The boards struck her swollen rear with particular ferocity, as if the wood itself wanted to break through her flesh. Each impact drove her hips forward, then back, the motion becoming rhythmic. A thin sheen of sweat covered her porcelain skin, and her long hair clung to her back.

The count reached fifty. One hundred. The new slaves in the front row watched, their own punishment momentarily forgotten. They saw the legendary figures they had once envied now being spanked raw, their anuses still spread, the ginger juice held tight. The sight was both horrifying and arousing, a lesson in the absolute power of Xuan Fa.

One hundred fifty. Li Que's thighs trembled. Lin Qiaoxin's playful demeanor faded into raw endurance. Shen Mengyue's eyes were closed, her face peaceful.

Two hundred. The boards struck faster, harder, leaving no inch of the three buttocks unbruised. The skin began to split at the creases, tiny droplets of blood mingling with sweat. The ginger juice burned hotter, and the three women clenched their muscles desperately to keep it contained.

Two hundred fifty. Li Que let out a long, shuddering moan. "Master... almost... can't..." But she held. Lin Qiaoxin bit her lip, tears streaming from her eyes. Shen Mengyue's body quaked, but she did not move.

Three hundred. The final blows landed with a sound like boulders colliding. The six boards retreated, vanishing into the air. The three women remained in position, their buttocks a ruin of purple, red, black, and fresh welts. They did not move, did not release the ginger juice. Their muscles were locked in perfect control.

After a long moment, they rose slightly from their kneeling bow, their faces flushed and sweating. Li Que spoke first, her voice hoarse. "Three hundred spanks completed. No ginger juice leaked out. Is Master satisfied?"

Lin Qiaoxin smiled weakly, her ponytails askew. "Heart Slave did her best. Did you enjoy the show, Master?"

Shen Mengyue simply said, "Moon Slave awaits Master's verdict."

Xuan Fa regarded them for a long moment. Then, the corner of his mouth twitched—the ghost of a satisfied smirk. He nodded slightly. It was all the approval they needed. Pride flickered in their eyes before they lowered their gazes again.

Xuan Fa turned his mind to other matters. The Heaven's Xuan Realm was now a haven of obedient slaves, but his appetite was far from sated. There were still many high-realm female cultivators who had not yet tasted the Heaven's Path wood board. He imagined their future cries, the sight of their white, round buttocks raised high as he personally delivered the first spanking. He thought of the Jade Serpent Sect leader, the Phoenix Mountain elders, the secluded genius of the Northern Wastes. They would all kneel here eventually.

And then there was the next step. With his growing collection of female slaves, he could found a new sect. Not just a realm, but an institution. The elders would be his most punished slaves—Shen Mengyue, Lin Qiaoxin, Li Que, and the others who proved

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The morning sun cast long shadows across the mountain peak as Xuan Fa stood at the entrance of the newly established Spanking Phoenix Sect's main hall. Behind him, the grand structure rose with elegant curves and crimson pillars, its name carved in bold characters above the door. Before him, a crowd of naked female disciples gathered, their bodies exposed to the elements and each other's gaze, a sea of bare flesh and bowed heads.

To his left, Lin Qiaoxin knelt on all fours, her double ponytails swinging as she glanced up with a mischievous grin. The slave collar around her neck glinted in the light, and her purplish-red buttocks bore the marks of many previous punishments. Beside her, Li Que maintained a proud posture despite her position, her red hair cascading down her back as she knelt with perfect form. Shen Mengyue completed the trio, her long black hair pooling on the ground, her expression serene even as she awaited what was to come.

Behind them, a fourth figure knelt naked and trembling. Mu Rongying, once the proud head of the Heavenly Phoenix Sect, now found herself stripped of both clothing and dignity. Her hands were bound behind her back, and her knees pressed into the cold stone. Her eyes burned with fury and humiliation, but she dared not move.

Xuan Fa raised a hand, and the murmuring crowd fell silent. "Today, we gather to reward those who have brought merit to the Spanking Phoenix Sect." His voice carried no emotion, yet each word pierced the air like a blade. "Heart Slave has taught formations with diligence and skill. Her disciples show promise. Moon Slave has managed the sect's affairs flawlessly, ensuring order and prosperity. Sparrow Slave has defeated a challenger who sought to undermine our authority—this woman before you."

He gestured to Mu Rongying, who stiffened at the acknowledgment.

"Therefore," Xuan Fa continued, "they shall be spanked publicly, as is fitting for those who serve well."

A ripple of shock passed through the watching disciples. Public spanking was both punishment and honor—a chance to demonstrate devotion, to endure the master's will before all eyes. The three female slaves remained still, their bodies ready.

Lin Qiaoxin giggled softly. "Oh, Master, you spoil us! I do hope the board is warm today—I so enjoy the sting."

Li Que snorted. "Quiet, Heart Slave. Let the master proceed without your chatter."

"I'm merely expressing gratitude," Lin Qoxin replied, wiggling her hips slightly. "Is that a crime?"

Shen Mengyue said nothing, but her hands, resting on the ground, trembled almost imperceptibly. She had endured much since becoming Xuan Fa's slave, yet the eyes of her own disciples upon her naked form still brought a flush to her cheeks.

Xuan Fa snapped his fingers. Four thick wooden boards materialized in the air, each carved with the symbols of the Heaven's Path. They hovered above the women, waiting.

"Assume the position," Xuan Fa commanded.

The three female slaves obeyed without hesitation. They lowered their chests to the ground, arching their backs, raising their buttocks high. Their legs spread slightly apart, and their hands lay flat on the stone. It was a posture of complete submission, one they had been trained to perform.

Mu Rongying, however, remained rigid. "I will not debase myself for your amusement, you fiend!"

Xuan Fa's gaze fell upon her. "You will learn." He gestured, and two female disciples stepped forward. They forced Mu Rongying into the same position, pressing her shoulders down and spreading her knees. She struggled, but they were stronger, and soon she too presented her bare buttocks to the sky.

"First punishment," Xuan Fa announced. "Twenty strikes for Heart Slave."

The first board descended with a sharp crack against Lin Qiaoxin's upturned buttocks. She gasped, then let out a breathy laugh. "Ah, delightful! That one had a lovely rhythm to it."

Another strike fell, and another. Each blow painted red marks across her skin, but she continued to speak, her voice only slightly strained. "You know, disciples, if you practice your formations well, you too might earn such a reward. There's nothing quite like the feeling of the board meeting your bare bottom in perfect harmony."

A third strike landed, harder. "Ooh, yes, that one stung just right!"

The disciples watched in horrified fascination. Their usually composed formation elder, who guided them through complex arrays with patience and wit, now writhed and giggled under the spanking. Her buttocks turned from pink to red to a deeper shade, yet she never once tried to lower them.

Beside her, Li Que waited her turn, her eyes fixed ahead. She paid no attention to Lin Qiaoxin's antics, saving her energy for what was to come.

"Twenty strikes for Sparrow Slave," Xuan Fa intoned.

The board turned to Li Que. The first strike landed with a thunderous smack, and she grunted, her body swaying but keeping position. The second strike drew a sharp hiss through her teeth. By the fifth, her buttocks were already a vivid crimson, and sweat beaded on her brow.

Yet her voice remained steady. "Is this all the strength the board can muster?" she called out. "I've taken harder blows from sparring partners."

Xuan Fa's lips twitched—a rare hint of amusement. "Increase force."

The next strike landed with a force that made Li Que's entire body jerk. She bit her lip, refusing to cry out. The board continued its relentless assault, painting her backside in shades of purple and red. Through it all, she kept her position, her pride intact even in submission.

When the twentieth strike ended, she let out a long breath and lowered her head. "Thank you, Master."

"Twenty strikes for Moon Slave," Xuan Fa said.

Shen Mengyue braced herself. The first strike sent a shock of pain through her, and she clenched her jaw. Her disciples watched in silence, many of them covering their mouths in shock. The dignified head of the Immortal Cloud Sect, now naked and being spanked before them.

Yet Shen Mengyue forced herself to speak. "Disciples... heed my words." Another strike interrupted her, and she gasped. "Cultivation... requires endurance. Do not fear the path... because of temporary pain."

A third strike landed, harder than the last. Tears welled in her eyes, but she continued. "One day... if you work diligently... you too may stand before the master... and receive such a reward."

Her voice cracked on the fifth strike, but she did not stop. She spoke of discipline, of dedication, of the honor in serving the sect and its master. The spanking continued, each blow drawing more tears, yet her words never faltered. By the twentieth strike, she was weeping openly, but her buttocks remained raised, her position unbroken.

The disciples exchanged glances. Some were terrified, others awed. The elders they respected and feared now lay before them, broken and weeping, yet still speaking of cultivation and honor.

At last, Xuan Fa turned to Mu Rongying. "Forty strikes for the challenger."

"My disciples will hear of this!" Mu Rongying shouted, her voice trembling with rage. "The Heavenly Phoenix Sect will not stand for—"

The first strike silenced her. She screamed, a raw, involuntary sound that echoed across the training ground. The board came down again, and she struggled, trying to scramble away, but the disciples held her in place.

"Let me go! You cannot—ahh!" Another strike, and her words dissolved into a yelp.

Lin Qiaoxin, still recovering from her own punishment, propped herself up on her elbows. "Oh, dear. She really doesn't know how to take it, does she? You need to relax, Sister. Tensing up only makes it worse."

"Be quiet!" Mu Rongying sobbed. "I'll kill you all!"

Li Que glanced over. "Her buttocks are softer than the board. No wonder she lost."

"Speak not ill of the punished," Shen Mengyue said softly, though her voice was hoarse. "She will learn."

The board continued its work. Mu Rongying's screams turned to cries, then to sobs, then to desperate pleas. "Please... please stop... I'll do anything... just stop..."

Xuan Fa watched impassively. "Ten more."

Her pleas turned to wordless weeping as the final blows landed. By the end, her buttocks were a mess of purple, red, and black, swelling visibly. She collapsed to the ground, trembling and crying, her pride shattered.

The disciples stood in stunned silence. The public spanking was over, but the lesson would linger.

Xuan Fa stepped forward. "Mu Rongying has been judged worthy of further display." He snapped his fingers, and a metal anal hook appeared, its curved end gleaming in the light. Two disciples approached the sobbing woman and forced her to stand. They inserted the hook with practiced efficiency, and she screamed again, but her struggles were useless.

A chain was attached to the hook, and the other end secured to a bracket above the sect's mountain gate. Mu Rongying was lifted, her body suspended in midair, her weight supported by the hook. She dangled there, naked and exposed, her spanked buttocks on full display for all who entered or left the sect.

"The Heavenly Phoenix Sect will receive word," Xuan Fa said. "Let them see what becomes of those who challenge the Spanking Phoenix Sect."

Lin Qiaoxin crawled over to him, still on all fours, and nuzzled against his leg. "Master, that was most entertaining. May I have a treat now?"

Xuan Fa looked down at her. "You have had your reward."

"I suppose so." She grinned, her eyes bright despite the tears still drying on her cheeks. "I do love being spanked before an audience. It makes me feel so... special."

Li Que approached as well, her movements stiff from the punishment. "Master, if there is nothing else, I shall return to training."

"Go," he said.

Shen Mengyue lingered, her gaze on the hanging Mu Rongying. "Master, will she survive?"

Xuan Fa followed her gaze. "She will. Pain is not death. And she will learn humility."

"Perhaps," Shen Mengyue said softly. She turned and crawled after the others, her slave collar clinking with each movement.

The disciples slowly dispersed, their minds filled with the sight of their elders being spanked, of their tears and their words. Some felt fear, others fascination. A few felt a strange desire burning in their chests—a desire to one day kneel before the master and receive their own punishment.

Above them all, Mu Rongying hung in silence, her tears falling to the ground below, her body a testament to the price of pride.

The morning sun cast long shadows across the stone pathways of the Spanking Phoenix Sect. Xuan Fa walked slowly, three leather leashes held loosely in his hand. Behind him crawled Lin Qiaoxin, Li Que, and Shen Mengyue, their naked bodies moving with practiced ease on hands and knees. Their breasts swayed gently with each movement, and their buttocks—still bearing the faint pink marks of previous punishments—rose and fell in a steady rhythm.

Disciples of the sect stopped and stared. They had seen this sight many times now, yet it never failed to send a shock through their hearts. These three women, who spent their days teaching formations, combat techniques, and cultivation methods to the younger generation, who commanded respect with their wisdom and power, now crawled behind the dark-robed man like obedient bitches. Their faces showed no shame, only a calm acceptance that was somehow more disturbing than resistance.

Lin Qiaoxin looked up at the watching disciples and grinned. "Hehe, master, the disciples are watching Heart Slave."

Li Que's red ponytail swished as she turned her head. "Haven't they gotten used to it yet after so long? Sparrow Slave crawls every day now."

Shen Mengyue's long black hair trailed on the ground as she moved. "Some of them may become master's female slaves in the future if they perform well. Let them watch and learn."

Xuan Fa stopped at the center of the training ground. The morning breeze stirred his black training clothes. He turned to face the three kneeling women, his cold eyes passing over each of them in turn.

"Do you remember how you became my female slaves?"

Lin Qiaoxin's eyes lit up. "Heart Slave remembers. Master directly appeared before Heart Slave and forcefully demanded that Heart Slave become his female slave. Heart Slave was unwilling at the time and tried to be clever, so master pulled down Heart Slave's skirt and spanked her pert butt fiercely, making Heart Slave cry. Under master's intimidation and bribery, Heart Slave became master's female slave." She giggled, her double ponytails bobbing.

Li Que spoke next, her voice steady and proud despite her position. "Sparrow Slave remembers. I was leading the Vermilion Bird Sect to trouble Taiqing Palace. Considering myself invincible at the same realm, I was defeated by sister Heart, whom master had taught. I was spanked by sister Heart's formation and had a ginger strip stuffed into my anus by master, and finally hung from an anal hook for display. Not knowing my place, I even challenged master and was defeated in one move. Then Sparrow Slave obediently became master's female slave."

Lin Qiaoxin's grin widened. "If sister Sparrow's butt wants to be spanked, Heart Slave can always help you with her formation anytime."

Li Que's lips twitched, but she said nothing.

Shen Mengyue's voice was calm and measured, carrying the weight of a sect leader who had fallen far. "Moon Slave remembers. After being punished in Wuling City with sister Heart and sister Sparrow, I was offered the kindness of becoming master's female slave, but I foolishly refused. Master gave me a ginger juice enema and had sister Heart and sister Sparrow spank my ungrateful butt alternately with the Heaven's Path wood board. Moon Slave cried and obediently became master's female slave."

Xuan Fa nodded slowly. "And now? How does it feel to be spanked as a female slave?"

Lin Qiaoxin answered first, her voice cheerful. "Although master's Heaven's Path wood board hurts terribly on the butt, Heart Slave's butt now loves being spanked by master. Heart Slave's butt is swollen happily every day."

Li Que spoke firmly, her pride tempered into submission. "Sparrow Slave was defeated by master and taken as a female slave, so I should obediently accept all humiliation and punishment from master. Sparrow Slave's butt must be swollen every day as punishment."

Shen Mengyue's tone was serene, almost philosophical. "Moon Slave's refusal of master's kindness to take me as a female slave was ungrateful. This fault must be repaid by having Moon Slave's butt swollen every day."

All three spoke in unison: "This slave's butt exists for master to spank."

A faint, cold smile crossed Xuan Fa's lips. "You three have quite the awareness. Today's punishment will be here: each of you will receive two hundred spanks from the Heaven's Path wood board, all at once."

Without hesitation, the three women turned and knelt on the training ground. They lowered their upper bodies until their chests touched the cool stone, and raised their buttocks high in the air. The morning light fell upon their three pairs of naked buttocks—Lin Qiaoxin's plump and round, Li Que's firm and athletic, Shen Mengyue's pale and elegant. All three presented themselves without the slightest tremble, their thighs spread slightly to expose their most intimate places.

Xuan Fa withdrew the Heaven's Path wood board from his storage ring. It was a foot-long slab of dark, grainless wood, polished smooth by countless spankings. He stepped behind Lin Qiaoxin first.

The first strike landed with a sharp crack that echoed across the training ground. Lin Qiaoxin's buttocks quivered, and a pink handprint bloomed on the right cheek. She let out a soft gasp but held her position.

Crack. The second strike landed on the left cheek, perfectly symmetrical. Lin Qiaoxin's body swayed, and she bit her lower lip.

Crack. Crack. Crack. The spanks came in a steady rhythm, each one landing with surgical precision. After ten strikes, Lin Qiaoxin's buttocks were an even shade of pink. After thirty, they had turned red. After fifty, tiny beads of sweat appeared on her forehead, and her breathing grew ragged.

"Twenty-four... twenty-five... twenty-six..." she counted in a soft voice, her playful nature subdued by the intensity of the punishment.

At one hundred strikes, Lin Qiaoxin's buttocks were a deep, angry red, swollen and hot to the touch. Her legs trembled, and she had to grip the stone ground with both hands to stay upright. Tears streamed down her cheeks, but she did not stop counting.

One hundred fifty. Her buttocks had taken on a purple hue in places, and the skin looked stretched and tight. She whimpered between counts, her voice cracking.

Two hundred. The final strike landed, and Lin Qiaoxin collapsed forward, her buttocks throbbing and blazing. She managed to whisper, "Heart Slave thanks master for the punishment," before resting her forehead on the ground, panting.

Xuan Fa moved to Li Que. She did not flinch as he positioned himself behind her. The first strike cracked against her firm buttocks, and she grunted, her hands clenching into fists.

Crack. Crack. The spanks were harder now, as if Xuan Fa was testing her limits. Li Que's athletic body absorbed the blows, her muscles tensing with each impact. At twenty strikes, her buttocks were red. At fifty, they were a dark crimson, and she was breathing heavily through her nose.

"One hundred... and three... one hundred and four..." Her voice was tight, controlled, but the strain was evident.

By one hundred fifty, Li Que's pride had shattered into whimpers. Her body shook with each blow, and she had to spread her knees wider to keep her balance. The skin of her buttocks was a mottled purple-red, and small bruises were forming where the wood board had landed hardest.

Two hundred. She sagged forward, her arms giving out. "Sparrow Slave thanks master for the punishment," she gasped, her cheek pressed against the stone.

Finally, Xuan Fa stood behind Shen Mengyue. She did not move, did not speak, only maintained her position with the dignity of a sect leader even as she presented her naked rear for punishment.

The first strike landed with a sound like thunder. Shen Mengyue's pale buttocks turned pink instantly. She let out a soft breath but made no other sound.

Crack. Crack. The rhythm continued. Shen Mengyue's body accepted each blow with the same quiet grace. At thirty strikes, her buttocks were red. At sixty, they were a deep rose. At ninety, tears began to flow silently down her cheeks, but she never broke her posture.

One hundred forty. Her legs were shaking violently. Her buttocks had swollen to nearly twice their normal size, covered in a patchwork of reds and purples. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from crying out.

Two hundred. The final strike echoed across the training ground. Shen Mengyue's body went limp, but she found her voice. "Moon Slave thanks master for the punishment."

Xuan Fa stood before them, the wood board still in his hand. The three women lay on the ground, their buttocks a testament to the severity of the punishment. Steam rose from their heated skin in the cool morning air.

He spoke, his voice carrying across the training ground where disciples still watched in stunned silence. "After a while, there will be a grand sect ceremony for the Spanking Phoenix Sect. The highlight will be your five hundred spanks."

The three women stirred. With visible effort, they pushed themselves upright and knelt before him, their swollen buttocks pressing against their heels. In perfect unison, they lowered their foreheads to the ground.

"This slave thanks master."

Xuan Fa turned and walked away, the leashes dragging behind him. After a moment, Lin Qiaoxin, Li Que, and Shen Mengyue rose to their hands and knees and began to crawl after him, their freshly punished buttocks swaying with each movement, their faces a mixture of pain and contentment.

The disciples parted before them, and the morning sun climbed higher over the Spanking Phoenix Sect.

The morning sun cast long shadows across the vast training grounds of the Spanking Phoenix Sect. Thousands of female cultivators stood in orderly ranks, their bodies bare under the open sky, a testament to their complete submission. The stone plaza, carved with intricate formation arrays, gleamed with a polished sheen that reflected the gathered disciples like a mirror of humility.

Xuan Fa stood atop a raised platform of black jade, his dark training robes stark against the pale morning. His expression remained unreadable, a mask of cold authority that brooked no defiance. Behind him, the sect's emblem—a phoenix descending with a wooden board in its talons—hung from a massive banner that fluttered in the gentle breeze.

On the periphery, a thousand disciples maintained their positions, their eyes fixed forward, their hands clasped behind their backs. None dared to move, to speak, to even shift their weight. They had learned the price of disobedience, and their buttocks bore the marks to prove it.

A rustle of movement drew attention as the female slave elders crawled into the plaza. Fifty women, their bodies also unclothed, moved on hands and knees with practiced grace. Their heads were bowed, their hair trailing behind them like dark rivers. They arranged themselves in neat rows at the base of the platform, then knelt upright, their thighs apart, their rear ends resting on their heels.

The crowd held its breath.

Xuan Fa raised his hand, and three dog leashes materialized in his grip. The leather straps were black and studded with tiny silver spikes, each leash ending in a collar that gleamed like polished obsidian.

From behind the platform, Lin Qiaoxin emerged first, her twin ponytails bouncing with each crawl. Her red hair clips were gone, replaced by the black collar around her slender neck. Her playful eyes met the crowd for a moment before she lowered her gaze, a hint of mischief still dancing in their depths despite her submissive posture.

Li Que followed, her red high ponytail swaying. Her athletic frame moved with controlled power, each crawl a deliberate act of will. Her jaw was set, her pride visible in the straightness of her back even as she lowered herself. She had chosen this path, and she would walk it with dignity.

Shen Mengyue came last. Her long black hair cascaded over her shoulders, partially veiling her elegant form. The Immortal Cloud Sect's former leader moved with ethereal grace, her pale skin almost glowing in the morning light. Despite her nudity, despite the collar, despite the leash, she carried herself with a quiet dignity that spoke of acceptance rather than defeat.

They crawled to Xuan Fa's feet, then knelt at his sides, their bodies pressed against his legs. The leashes hung slack, but they did not rise.

"Sisters of the Spanking Phoenix Sect," Xuan Fa's voice cut through the silence, cold and clear. "Today, we consecrate our purpose. Today, we affirm our path."

Lin Qiaoxin rose to her knees and crawled to the center of the platform. From a velvet cushion, she retrieved a wooden board. It was unremarkable—ordinary, even—but as she lifted it, the board seemed to absorb the light, becoming denser, heavier. This was the Heaven's Path wood board, the sacred artifact of their sect, the tool through which discipline and growth were forged.

She placed it on an altar of white jade, then knelt beside it.

Li Que crawled forward next, her movements deliberate. She positioned herself on the opposite side of the altar, her hands resting flat on the jade surface.

Shen Mengyue followed, completing the triangle.

The three women kowtowed to the wooden board, their foreheads touching the platform. Then they rose to their knees and began the ritual.

"Fellow disciples," Shen Mengyue's voice carried, melodious yet firm. "Most sects worship their founders or divine artifacts. We worship a different principle. We worship the tool through which weakness is corrected, through which arrogance is humbled, through which cultivation is purified."

Lin Qiaoxin grinned, her playful nature peeking through. "The board doesn't discriminate. Nascent Soul, Foundation Establishment, even a mortal—every buttock tastes the same justice."

Li Que added, her voice steady, "This sect was founded because the cultivation world had forgotten humility. Women soared too high, their heads in the clouds, their bottoms untouched by discipline. We are here to restore balance."

Shen Mengyue nodded. "The name 'Spanking Phoenix' honors the phoenix's rebirth through fire. We are reborn through the board. Each strike burns away impurity. Each punishment refines our spirit."

Lin Qiaoxin leaned forward, her eyes sparkling. "And let me tell you, there's nothing like a good spanking to remind you of your place. The pain clears the mind. The submission strengthens the soul."

Li Que's lips twitched, the ghost of a smile. "She speaks truth. I fought it at first. I thought my pride would break. Instead, it was reforged."

Shen Mengyue continued, "Your duty is clear. Accept all humiliation. Accept all punishment. No matter how shameful, no matter how painful, you bear it obediently. You crawl. You do not rise without our master's command. When greeting him, kneel, then raise your buttocks high. Let the scars speak of your dedication."

The thousand disciples stood motionless, absorbing the words.

Lin Qiaoxin clapped her hands. "Now then, let's talk cultivation. You might think that sore bottoms make poor meditation, but you'd be wrong. After a good spanking, the blood flows, the energy channels open, and your dantian burns brighter than ever."

She demonstrated a breathing technique, her chest rising and falling in a rhythmic pattern. "Inhale as the board descends. Exhale as it strikes. Let the pain fuel your qi circulation. Try it sometime—it's a revelation."

Li Que rose, her athletic form stretching. "Formations require precision. Punishment trains that precision. When your butt is on fire, every movement must be deliberate. Every thought must be clear. Practice holding your positions during punishment. It will sharpen your control."

Shen Mengyue spoke of sword intent. "A sword must be tempered. So must the wielder. The board tempers your will until it is as sharp as any blade. When you have endured five hundred strikes, your resolve becomes unyielding."

Lin Qiaoxin giggled. "And if you want to please the master more during punishment, don't just take it—enjoy it. Or at least pretend to. Squeal, squirm, but don't dodge. Arch your back. Show him you're grateful for the correction. Trust me, it works."

Li Que nodded. "Discipline is an art. The more gracefully you accept it, the more you grow."

Xuan Fa raised his hand, and the crowd fell silent. "This sect has grown to a thousand disciples. Not enough. But today, we celebrate what we have achieved." He waved his arm, and pills materialized above each disciple—small golden spheres that hummed with spiritual energy. "These pills will aid your cultivation. Use them wisely."

The pills descended, landing in each disciple's cupped hands.

Xuan Fa's gaze swept the crowd. "Five among you have demonstrated exceptional performance. You will be elevated to the status of female slave elders. Step forward."

Five women emerged from the ranks, their steps hesitant but determined. They were of varying ages and builds, but all bore the marks of dedicated cultivation. One had hair the color of chestnut, another a cascade of silver. A third had skin like burnished bronze, and the last two appeared as sisters, with matching auburn locks.

They knelt before the platform, their heads bowed.

Xuan Fa studied them. "You understand what this means?"

The chestnut-haired woman spoke, her voice trembling slightly. "Yes, Master. We will be your female slaves. Our cultivation will advance under your guidance. Our bodies and spirits will submit to your will."

"And your buttocks?" Xuan Fa's voice held no warmth.

The silver-haired woman answered, "They will welcome your board, Master. As often as you see fit."

"Good." Xuan Fa gestured, and five collars materialized. They floated to the women, settling around their necks with soft clicks.

"From this moment, you belong to me. Your achievements are mine. Your discipline is mine." Xuan Fa's eyes narrowed. "You are both happy and afraid. That is appropriate. Happiness for the growth ahead. Fear for the pain to come. Both will serve you well."

The five new female slaves kowtowed, then crawled to join the ranks of the other forty-five elders. They knelt, their new collars gleaming.

"The punishment of the elders," Xuan Fa announced, his voice carrying to every corner of the plaza. "Fifty in five rows. Each will receive two hundred strikes from the Heaven's Path wood board. No one will dodge. No one will cry out for mercy. This is the price of your positions."

The wooden board on the altar began to glow. It rose, then multiplied. Fifty boards appeared, floating above the kneeling elders.

The elders assumed the position without hesitation. They knelt, then lowered their chests to the ground, raising their buttocks high. Their thighs spread, their vulnerable flesh exposed to the cold air and the coming storm.

The bronze-skinned woman, one of the new slaves, trembled slightly. Beside her, a veteran elder whispered, "Do not fear the board. Fear disappointing the master."

The boards descended.

The first strike cracked across the plaza like thunder. Fifty boards met fifty buttocks with synchronized precision. The sound was a single, devastating note of flesh meeting wood.

Red welts bloomed across pale, bronze, and dark skin alike.

The second strike followed immediately. Then the third. The fourth.

The elders' bodies jerked with each impact, but none moved from position. Their buttocks began to darken, the welts merging into uniform patches of crimson and purple.

By the fiftieth strike, tears streamed down many faces. The silver-haired new slave bit her lip so hard that blood trickled down her chin. The chestnut-haired woman sobbed silently, her shoulders shaking, but her buttocks remained raised.

By the hundredth strike, the sound changed. The wet, meaty thud spoke of deep tissue damage, of broken capillaries, of flesh that had been beaten past simple punishment into something more profound.

The sisters with auburn hair clung to each other's hands, their bodies vibrating with shared agony. Their buttocks had turned black in patches, the skin splitting in places.

At one hundred and fifty, the veteran elders showed the training of past punishments. They breathed in rhythm, their qi circulating to minimize the damage. But even they grimaced, their composure cracking.

The bronze-skinned woman had stopped shaking. She had entered a state of focused endurance, her mind retreating to a place beyond pain. Her eyes were open but unseeing.

The last fifty strikes came faster, the boards a blur. The sound became a continuous roar, punctuated by the occasional sharp crack of a particularly vicious hit.

Two hundred.

The boards vanished.

The elders remained in position, their buttocks a landscape of devastation. Some wept openly. Others shook with silent sobs. All of them stayed, waiting for the command to rise.

Xuan Fa nodded, a flicker of approval in his cold eyes. "You have done well. Rise and heal."

The elders slowly straightened, their movements careful, painful. They sat back on their ruined flesh and began circulating qi, the swelling slowly receding, the worst of the damage mending.

Now came the main event.

"The grand elder female slaves," Xuan Fa announced, his voice dropping to a resonant tone that commanded absolute attention. "Lin Qiaoxin, Li Que, Shen Mengyue. My first. My most trusted. My most disciplined."

The three women rose from their positions at Xuan Fa's feet. They turned to face the altar, then the crowd, then their master.

Shen Mengyue's long black hair clung to her back, partially veiling

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