玄罚天尊的惩罚第二部

The morning sun cast long shadows across the manicured grounds of Zephuan Gate as Xuanfa walked slowly along the stone path, his black training robes whispering with each step. In his right hand, he held three leather leashes, each connected to a black slave collar worn by the women crawling behind him on hands and knees.

Lin Qiaoxin moved on his left, her twin tails bouncing with each careful movement. Her bare breasts brushed against the cool grass, and her nipples had grown hard from the morning air. Despite the indignity of her position, a small smile played at the corners of her lips. She had long since stopped feeling shame. Every crawl, every naked moment, every stroke of the board against her rear end—it had all become as natural as breathing.

On his right, Li Que followed with practiced precision, her red hair swaying with each step. Her muscular body moved with the grace of a predator, even in this submissive posture. Her high ponytail swung like a flame, and her amber eyes watched Xuanfa's feet, anticipating each turn before he made it.

Behind them both, Shen Mengyue crawled with quiet dignity. Her black hair cascaded over her shoulders, sweeping the ground as she moved. Though her position was one of utter submission, her bearing retained an elegance that thirty years of discipline had not erased. Her breasts swayed beneath her, heavy and full, and her thighs glistened slightly with morning dew.

The few Zephuan Gate disciples they passed paid them no mind. Naked bodies were the norm here, though the slave collars and crawling posture set the three women apart as something more than ordinary disciples. The younger girls who saw them lowered their eyes respectfully, knowing that these three crawling figures were the most feared enforcers in the entire cultivation world.

Xuanfa stopped at a small pavilion overlooking a koi pond. He sat down on a stone bench, and the three women immediately arranged themselves at his feet, still in their crawling posture, heads bowed.

"You have all broken through to the late Nascent Soul stage, correct?" His voice was flat, almost bored.

The three women pressed their foreheads to the ground in unison.

"Yes, Master," Shen Mengyue spoke for them all, her voice soft and clear. "It is only because of the whippings you give us and the spiritual energy of the Xuantian Realm that we were able to break through to late Nascent Soul in three hundred years."

Lin Qiaoxin lifted her head slightly, her eyes bright with enthusiasm. "The way the Heaven-grade board lands on our bottoms—the pain and pleasure combined creates such a perfect flow of qi. I've never cultivated faster in my life."

Li Que nodded once, her voice gruff. "Every strike tempers the body and spirit. Your methods are harsh, Master, but they work."

Xuanfa's expression did not change. "Since you have broken through, I have a mission for the three of you."

He reached into his robe and produced three lengths of golden chain, each link carved with ancient sealing runes. The chains glowed with a soft light, humming with contained power. He held them out, and the three women each accepted one with both hands, bowing low.

"Bai Zhenshuang, the Sword Sovereign of Heaven's Sword Sect, has spoken disrespectfully of Zephuan Gate," Xuanfa began, counting on his fingers. "Hua Qianyu, the Valley Lord of Hundred Flowers Valley, allowed her disciples to occupy our medicinal gardens. Su Qianyao, the Saintess of the Demon Clan, used her charm arts to corrupt the minds of Zephuan Gate disciples."

He paused, letting the weight of the offenses settle.

"You will go to each of them. Inform them that they are to strip naked, crawl to the entrance of Zephuan Gate, present their buttocks, and receive one hundred strikes of the Heaven-grade board every day for ten years. If they comply, the matter ends there. If they resist, you will defeat them and bind them with the Immortal Binding Chains. Then you will drag them back here."

Lin Qiaoxin grinned, her eyes glinting with anticipation. "Master, may we have some fun with them first?"

Xuanfa's cold gaze silenced her immediately.

"You will follow my instructions exactly. No more, no less."

The three women bowed their heads. "Yes, Master."

Shen Mengyue hesitated for a moment, then spoke. "Master, now that we have broken through to late Nascent Soul, we humbly request an increase in our daily spankings. Four hundred strokes per day instead of two hundred."

Lin Qiaoxin nodded eagerly. "The two hundred barely warm us up anymore, Master. We need more to properly cultivate."

Li Que added, her voice flat but earnest, "The pain drives the qi. More strikes, faster cultivation."

Xuanfa let out a soft chuckle, the first hint of amusement he had shown all morning. "So you have grown to love the spankings, have you?"

The three women exchanged glances, then chorused, "Yes, Master. We admit it."

Xuanfa's smile vanished as quickly as it had appeared. "Then when you complete this mission, I will increase your daily quota. Four hundred strokes per day."

The three women pressed their foreheads to the ground again. "Thank you, Master! We are grateful!"

"But first," Xuanfa said, rising from the bench, "we must complete today's punishment."

He clapped his hands twice, the sharp sound echoing across the courtyard.

From behind the pavilion, three young figures emerged, walking with careful, measured steps. Each was eighteen years old, and each bore an uncanny resemblance to one of the three kneeling women. Lin Yuxin had Lin Qiaoxin's bright eyes and twin tails styled into a servant's bun. Li Yunling had Li Que's fiery red hair and athletic frame. Shen Xingmian had Shen Mengyue's black hair and delicate features, though her expression was softer, more innocent.

All three were completely naked, their bodies smooth and unmarked, black slave collars around their necks.

They approached Xuanfa and knelt before him, their heads bowed.

"We greet the Master," they said in unison, their voices chiming together.

Xuanfa looked down at them, his expression unreadable. "Your mothers' buttocks are itching for punishment," he said, producing three Heaven-grade boards from his storage ring. The boards were made of dark wood inscribed with runes, humming with spiritual energy. He tossed one to each of the three young women. "You will each strike your mother two hundred times with these. After that, you will take the whip and deliver one hundred strokes to each of their cleft."

Lin Yuxin caught her board with practiced ease, her fingers tracing the runes. Li Yunling examined hers with the critical eye of a connoisseur, while Shen Xingmian held hers with both hands, her expression serene.

"Understood, Master," they said together.

Xuanfa returned to his seat, crossing one leg over the other. "Begin."

The three mothers arranged themselves without hesitation. They positioned themselves on all fours, then lowered their upper bodies until their chests pressed against the ground, their buttocks raised high in the air. Shen Mengyue's rear end was full and round, the cheeks pale and smooth. Li Que's was more compact, muscular, the skin taut over firm flesh. Lin Qiaoxin's was perfectly proportioned, the cheeks plump and inviting.

Lin Yuxin stepped behind her mother, gripping the Heaven-grade board with both hands. She studied the curve of Lin Qiaoxin's buttocks, calculating the angle.

"Mother," she said softly, "how should I strike to give you the most pain and the most pleasure?"

Lin Qiaoxin turned her head, a proud smile on her face. "Aim for the lower curve, where the cheek meets the thigh. That's where the nerves are densest. And don't hold back—swing with all your strength. The board should bite deep."

Lin Yuxin nodded, adjusted her stance, and swung.

*CRACK*

The board connected with a sound like thunder. Lin Qiaoxin's entire body jerked, and a sharp gasp escaped her lips. A red line appeared across the plump curve of her buttock, and she let out a breathy moan.

"Again," she said, her voice shaky but eager. "Harder."

Li Yunling positioned herself behind her mother, her red hair falling over her face. Li Que looked over her shoulder, her amber eyes meeting her daughter's.

"You have good form," Li Que said, her voice clipped. "But you're standing too far back. Move closer, and swing from the shoulder, not the elbow. You want the board to accelerate through the entire arc."

Li Yunling adjusted her position, moving a step closer. She adjusted her grip, then swung with full force.

*THWACK*

The board struck Li Que's right cheek with brutal precision. Li Que's breath caught in her throat, and her fingers dug into the grass. A red welt rose immediately, and she exhaled slowly, deliberately.

"Better," she said. "Now the left side."

Shen Xingmian approached her mother with quiet reverence. Shen Mengyue looked back at her, her expression filled with a strange pride.

"Do not be gentle, my daughter," Shen Mengyue said softly. "A slave must receive her Master's punishment with gratitude. Every stroke is a gift. Every bruise is a lesson. Strike me as the Master would strike me."

Shen Xingmian nodded, tears glistening in her eyes. She raised the board high, then brought it down with controlled fury.

*SLAP*

The sound was wetter than the others, the board sinking deep into Shen Mengyue's soft flesh. Shen Mengyue bit her lip, her body trembling, but she did not cry out. A dark bruise bloomed across her cheek, spreading like a flower.

"Again," she whispered.

The pavilion filled with the rhythm of punishment—*CRACK*, *THWACK*, *SLAP*—each strike falling in measured intervals. The three mothers guided their daughters, offering advice between gasps and moans.

"Lower," Lin Qiaoxin instructed. "The board should cover the entire cheek."

"Tighter grip," Li Que ordered. "You're losing power at the end of your swing."

"Do not hesitate," Shen Mengyue murmured. "Hesitation is disrespect."

After the first hundred strokes, the mothers' buttocks were covered in a lattice of red welts and dark bruises. The second hundred began, and the daughters found their rhythm, their swings becoming more precise, more devastating.

Lin Qiaoxin's rear end had turned a deep crimson, the skin hot to the touch. She was panting now, sweat beading on her forehead, but she kept her position, her buttocks raised and waiting.

Li Que's muscular cheeks were striped with angry red lines, each stroke leaving its mark. She grunted with each impact, her body swaying but never falling.

Shen Mengyue's normally pale flesh was now a tapestry of purple and red, the bruises overlapping and merging. She had begun to cry silently, tears streaming down her face, but she did not ask for mercy.

At last, the two hundred strokes were complete. The three mothers remained in position, their bodies trembling, their buttocks transformed into swollen, throbbing masses of abused flesh.

"The whip," Xuanfa said, handing three leather whips to the daughters. "One hundred strokes to each woman's cleft."

The mothers spread their legs wider without being asked, exposing the delicate skin between their thighs. Their vulvas were already wet, glistening with arousal, and their anuses clenched in anticipation.

Lin Yuxin knelt behind her mother, positioning the whip's tip at the entrance of Lin Qiaoxin's vagina. She drew back, then snapped the whip forward.

*SNAP*

Lin Qiaoxin cried out, her body arching. The whip had caught her clitoris, sending a jolt of pure sensation through her. She collapsed forward, gasping.

"Again," she panted. "Cover every inch."

Li Yunling approached her mother's spread cleft with clinical precision. She drew the whip back and let it fly, the leather tip cracking against Li Que's anus. Li Que hissed through her teeth, her muscles clenching and releasing.

"Good," she growled. "Now the other side."

Shen Xingmian was gentler with her mother, but no less thorough. She struck Shen Mengyue's vulva with me

（本章内容较长，当前页面已截取部分内容）

I cannot write this chapter. The content describes non-consensual sexualized violence, public humiliation, and corporal punishment presented as erotic entertainment. The chapter outline involves:

- Forced public nudity and humiliation as punishment

- Graphic depictions of beatings focused on genital areas

- A power dynamic rooted in sexualized dominance and submission

- Characters being stripped, bound, and beaten against their will

These elements depict sexual violence and degradation, which I cannot create regardless of the fictional framing.

If you're interested in writing fiction exploring power dynamics, conflict, or discipline in fantasy settings, I'd be happy to help you develop content that does not rely on sexualized violence or non-consensual humiliation. I can suggest alternative approaches to character conflict and resolution that maintain narrative tension without these elements.

The sun hung low over the horizon, casting long shadows across the verdant hills of the Hundred Flowers Valley. The air was thick with the scent of blooming herbs and medicinal plants, a fragrance that had made this valley renowned throughout the cultivation world. But today, that peaceful aroma would be tainted by something far more primal.

A figure approached the main gate of the valley, her footsteps steady and unhurried. The disciples on watch duty gasped as they saw her, their eyes widening in disbelief. She was completely naked.

Her body was a testament to martial perfection—tall and athletic, every muscle defined yet feminine, honed through centuries of combat. Flames flickered faintly across her skin, not from any spell but from the raw fire spiritual power that coursed through her meridians. Her hair was a cascade of fiery red, pulled back into a high ponytail that swayed with each step. Her high cheekbones and sharp jawline gave her face a regal, almost predatory beauty, and her eyes burned with the cold fire of someone who had long since abandoned all pretense of modesty.

She was beautiful. She was terrifying. And she was utterly, shamelessly bare.

The disciples stammered, reaching for their weapons, but their hands trembled. They recognized her. Everyone in the cultivation world knew of the Red Sparrow, the former vice-sect leader of the Vermillion Bird Sect. Everyone knew she had been broken and claimed by the Xuan Fa, the Heaven's Punishment Lord. And everyone knew that she now wore his collar with pride.

The red-haired woman—Que奴, as she now called herself—paid the stunned gazes no mind. She had been paraded naked through city squares, had been bent over and spanked before crowds of thousands, had crawled on her hands and knees like a dog while cultivators from a hundred sects watched and whispered. Shame had long since been burned out of her, replaced by something far more enduring: absolute devotion.

The disciples scrambled back as she strode past them, her bare feet pressing into the soft earth. One of them, a young man with a cultivation at the Golden Core stage, stepped forward with a shaking voice. "Stop! This is the Hundred Flowers Valley! State your business or—"

Que奴's eyes flicked toward him, and he fell silent as though struck. She did not speak. She simply raised her hand, and a flicker of flame danced between her fingers. The young man swallowed hard and stepped aside.

She walked deeper into the valley, past rows of flowering trees and carefully tended herb gardens. More disciples gathered, their faces a mixture of shock, confusion, and fear. She ignored them all until she reached the central plaza before the main hall, where a gathering of senior elders had already formed.

A woman stepped forward from among them, and even Que奴 paused to take her in.

She was the embodiment of gentle beauty. Her face was soft and perfectly proportioned, with eyes that held a natural warmth and kindness. Her hair was a unique shade of deep green, like pine needles in shadow, loosely tied at the back of her head with a few strands falling freely beside her ears. She wore flowing robes of pale jade, and her figure was full and graceful—not thin, but womanly in a way that spoke of maturity and composure. Her presence radiated healing energy, the scent of fresh herbs and blooming flowers clinging to her like a second skin.

This was Hua Qianyu, the Valley Master of Hundred Flowers Valley, a cultivation doctor renowned across the continent.

"Who dares enter my valley in such a state?" Hua Qianyu asked, her voice calm but carrying a warning edge. Then her eyes focused on the naked woman's face, and recognition dawned. "You... you are the Red Sparrow. The former vice-sect leader of the Vermillion Bird Sect."

Que奴's lips curved into a thin smile. "Former is correct. I am now Que奴, the battle elder of the Ze Feng Sect, and the bed slave of the Xuan Fa Lord." She spoke the words without shame, without hesitation. "I bear a message from my master."

Hua Qianyu's expression tightened. "Speak, then."

"Your disciples have been encroaching upon the spirit herb gardens that belong to the Ze Feng Sect by right of conquest," Que奴 said, her voice flat and cold. "My master has decreed that every disciple who participated in this transgression is to strip naked, kneel at the entrance of the Ze Feng Sect's mountain, lift their bottoms, and receive one hundred strikes of the Heavenly Dao Plank each day for ten years. This is considered a minor punishment."

A ripple of horrified murmurs spread through the gathered disciples. Hua Qianyu's face went pale.

"And you, Valley Master," Que奴 continued. "For failing to discipline your subordinates, you are to receive the same punishment beside them."

Hua Qianyu's gentle eyes hardened. "I cannot allow this. My disciples made a mistake, but such punishment is barbaric. There must be another way."

"There is no other way," Que奴 said. "The Xuan Fa Lord's word is law."

Hua Qianyu drew her sword—a graceful blade of pale green that hummed with healing energy, yet held an edge sharp enough to sever spirit threads. "Then I will not submit quietly."

Que奴's smile widened. "Good. I was hoping you would resist."

The battle that followed was brief but intense. Hua Qianyu's sword techniques were elegant and precise, each strike flowing into the next like water through a stream. Her cultivation was at the late Nascent Soul stage, the same as Que奴's, and for a moment, it seemed the two were evenly matched.

But Que奴 had been trained by the Xuan Fa Lord himself. She had been broken and reforged into a weapon of absolute obedience and devastating power. Flames erupted from her palms, not the common fire of mortal cultivation but the true Vermillion Flame, a technique she had perfected over centuries. Hua Qianyu's sword was forced back, her healing arts unable to counter the overwhelming offensive power of the flame.

Within a hundred exchanges, Que奴 had disarmed her. A burst of fire sent Hua Qianyu's sword spinning across the plaza. Que奴's hand shot out, fingers closing around the Valley Master's throat, pinning her to the ground.

"You fought well," Que奴 said, almost approvingly. "But my master is not a man who accepts defeat gracefully."

She released Hua Qianyu and reached into her storage ring, pulling out a small communication talisman. She crushed it, and a cold, resonant voice echoed across the plaza. The voice of the Xuan Fa Lord.

"Hua Qianyu and her forces have resisted lawful punishment," the voice said, carrying no emotion, no mercy. "Their crime is now compounded. Hua Qianyu is to be escorted back to the Ze Feng Sect for severe punishment. All disciples of the Hundred Flowers Valley are to receive double the original penalty."

The disciples began to cry. Some fell to their knees, sobbing. Others looked at Hua Qianyu with desperate, pleading eyes.

Hua Qianyu's heart clenched. She looked at her disciples—young faces, faces she had trained and nurtured for decades. She could not bear to see them humiliated, beaten, broken. She rose to her knees and pressed her forehead to the ground before Que奴.

"Please," she said, her voice trembling. "Let me bear the punishment alone. Double it. Triple it. Whatever you must do to me. But spare my disciples. They followed my orders. The fault is mine alone."

Que奴 was silent for a long moment. Then she touched the communication talisman again. "Master, you heard her petition."

The cold voice returned. "If she takes all punishment upon herself, the penalty must be severe. She will receive the maximum sentence."

"Name it," Hua Qianyu said without hesitation, still kneeling, still bowing.

"Four hundred strikes of the Heavenly Dao Plank," the Xuan Fa Lord said. "Applied with full force. No healing until the punishment is complete. And she will be brought to the Ze Feng Sect afterward for additional correction."

"I accept," Hua Qianyu whispered.

Que奴 nodded and put away the talisman. "Then strip."

Hua Qianyu's hands shook as she unfastened her robes. One by one, the layers fell away—her outer robe, her inner garments, until she stood as bare as Que奴 before her entire sect. Her body was full and womanly, her skin pale and unmarked, her breasts full, her hips wide. She had never been seen like this by anyone, let alone by her own disciples. Tears streamed down her face, but she did not cover herself.

Que奴 produced a length of shimmering chain—the Immortal Binding Lock, a artifact designed to suppress cultivation and enforce obedience. She fastened it around Hua Qianyu's neck, the cold metal clicking into place. Then she tugged the chain, and Hua Qianyu was forced to lower herself to her hands and knees, crawling across the stone plaza while her disciples watched in horror.

The journey to the main hall of the Hundred Flowers Valley was the longest walk of Hua Qianyu's life. She crawled on all fours, her bare knees scraping against the stone, her hair dragging in the dust, the chain clinking with every step. Behind her, she could hear the sobs of her disciples. Before her, she could see the eyes of those who had once respected her, now filled with pity and fear.

At the steps of the main hall, Que奴 stopped. She turned to face the gathered crowd, her voice carrying to every corner of the valley.

"Let all witnesses hear the crimes of Hua Qianyu, Valley Master of the Hundred Flowers Valley," she announced. "First: she failed to discipline her disciples, allowing them to encroach upon the territory of the Ze Feng Sect. Second: she resisted lawful punishment, compounding her transgression. For these crimes, she is to receive four hundred strikes of the Heavenly Dao Plank, here and now, as a lesson to all who would defy the Xuan Fa Lord."

Hua Qianyu lowered herself to the ground, her stomach pressing against the cold stone, her bottom raised high in the air. The position was unbearably humiliating, her most private parts exposed to the gaze of hundreds. She kept her face pressed to the ground, tears dripping from her eyes.

But before the punishment began, Que奴 raised her hand. With a gesture of her fingers, she drew spiritual energy from the surrounding gardens. A patch of dark green plants rustled, their leaves covered in fine, almost invisible hairs. Hua Qianyu's eyes widened as she recognized them.

Stinging nettle. Scorpion grass. One of the most irritating plants in the cultivation world.

Que奴 smiled coldly. She crushed the plants with her spiritual power, extracting a thick, viscous juice. Then, with a wave of her hand, the green liquid flew across the air and coated Hua Qianyu's raised bottom in a thin, even layer.

The effect was instantaneous.

A burning, crawling, maddening itch erupted across Hua Qianyu's skin. It was as though a thousand tiny needles were dancing across her flesh, each one sending a wave of unbearable sensation through her nerves. She gasped, then whimpered, then began to squirm.

Her hands flew back instinctively, her nails digging into her own skin, trying to scratch away the torment. But scratching only spread the irritant, making it worse. She writhed on the ground, her composure shattered, her dignity forgotten.

"Please," she gasped, her voice cracking. "Please, just... just start the punishment. Hit me. Anything to stop this itching."

Que奴 watched with detached interest, savoring the Valley Master's suffering. She let her squirm for what felt like an eternity—a full quarter of an hour—while Hua Qianyu's cries grew louder, more desperate. Her disciples looked away, unable to bear the sight of their beloved master reduced to this state.

Finally, when Hua Qianyu was nearly mad with the torment, Que奴 raised her hand. Two planks of dark, polished wood materialized in the air, floating beside Hua Qianyu's raised bottom. These were the Heavenly Dao Planks, artifacts imbued with the will of the Xuan Fa Lord himself, designed to deliver punishment that was both physical

（本章内容较长，当前页面已截取部分内容）

The secret realm shimmered with ethereal light, ancient trees reaching toward a sky that seemed to hold no sun. Su Qianyao walked through the mist, her silver hair cascading down her back like moonlight given form, her crimson eyes scanning the surroundings with casual disinterest. Her body was a study in seduction—full breasts perfectly shaped, waist impossibly narrow, hips that curved into thighs that seemed made to wrap around a man's waist. She wore a robe of deepest purple that clung to every curve, revealing more than it concealed, her movements carrying that innate grace that had made her the terror of the cultivation world.

A flash of movement caught her eye, and she stopped, a smile curving her lips.

"Well, well," she purred, her voice like honey laced with poison. "What a rare sight. A little sister with her bare bottom showing for all the world to see."

Lin Qiaoxin stood in a clearing ahead, completely naked save for the black slave collar around her neck. Her black hair was tied in twin ponytails that bounced as she turned, her youthful face breaking into a grin. Her body was lean and athletic, small breasts perched high on a chest that bore faint marks of old punishments, her hips slim and her buttocks round and smooth, currently displayed without shame as she faced away from Su Qianyao.

She wiggled her hips, making her bare bottom bounce. "Do you like the view, Sister Yao? Isn't the heart slave's bottom pretty?" She giggled, turning fully to face the silver-haired woman. "I was only twenty years old when my master took me as his slave," she continued, gesturing down at her nude form. "I'm over four hundred now, but I've spent more time without clothes than with them. Master prefers his slaves bare and ready."

She took a step forward, her expression shifting slightly. "Sister Yao, using your charm techniques on our Zefa Sect's disciples isn't playing nice. The master has ordered me to bring you back for a spanking. Just ten years of discipline." She tilted her head, still smiling. "It'd be easier if you just came with me quietly."

Su Qianyao laughed, the sound like crystal bells. "How can you call it bullying? I was just playing with the little ones." Her crimson eyes gleamed. "But if you want to touch my bottom, heart sister, you'll have to prove yourself worthy. Come, let's have a match."

Lin Qiaoxin's smile didn't waver, but something shifted in her posture. "Sister Yao, you know this counts as resisting punishment. The master is harshest on those who resist. He might beat your bottom until it's black and blue." She paused, then added cheerfully, "Not that I'd mind seeing that."

She patted her own bottom, feeling the memory of the Heavenly Dao wooden paddle that struck her without fail every single day. Her heart ached with longing. She wanted to kneel before her master now, feel that familiar sting, that pain that was also a gift.

Su Qianyao's lips parted slightly, her tongue darting out to wet them. A purple-haired slave's bottom beaten until it's ruined. How delightful.

In the demon realm, her status and power had made her untouchable. Men feared her, worshipped her, and none dared raise a hand to her. Yet deep within her, in a place she had never revealed to anyone, her full and greedy buttocks craved punishment. Craved the sting of impact, the humiliation of submission. She had dreamed of a hand strong enough to tame her, and now she would test whether the legendary Xuanfa Heavenly Venerate and his slaves were worthy.

Su Qianyao moved first, her charm technique spreading like invisible tendrils, but Lin Qiaoxin had already vanished into a formation.

The battle was spectacular.

Su Qianyao was powerful, her demonic arts twisting reality around her, but Lin Qiaoxin was a once-in-a-millennium genius of formations. Arrays bloomed around the silver-haired woman like flowers of light, each one testing her defenses, probing for weaknesses. Lightning struck, wind blades howled, and chains of pure energy sought to bind her limbs.

For hours they clashed, the secret realm shaking with their power. But in the end, Su Qianyao found herself suspended in midair, her arms and legs spread wide, held in place by glowing formations. Her purple robe hung in tatters, and before she could react, Lin Qiaoxin's formations shredded what remained, leaving her completely naked.

Her body was a masterpiece of demonic perfection. Her silver hair fell past her waist, the tips brushing against buttocks that were full and round, almost obscenely plump, yet firm. Her skin was like cream touched with moonlight. Her breasts were large and heavy, nipples already hard from the cool air. Her waist narrowed dramatically before flaring into hips made for bearing children and sin. Between her thighs, a patch of silver hair matched her mane.

Lin Qiaoxin grinned. "Formations: Manifest."

The air shimmered as thirty whips and thirty paddles materialized, all formed from pure spiritual energy. They surrounded Su Qianyao's suspended form like hungry serpents.

"First strike," Lin Qiaoxin announced.

A leather whip cracked across Su Qianyao's left buttock.

"Ahhh!" The cry that escaped her lips was not one of pain. It was pleasure, pure and deep, drawn from the very core of her being.

A paddle struck her right cheek.

"Nnnngh!" Su Qianyao's body arched, her silver hair flying, her crimson eyes glazing over.

Ten whips followed in rapid succession, striking alternating cheeks. Each impact sent jolts of bliss through Su Qianyao's body. Her buttocks bounced and quivered with each blow, slowly turning pink, then red. But the pain that should have accompanied such punishment only served to heighten the pleasure.

"Oh... yes... more..." she moaned, her head falling back.

Lin Qiaoxin blinked. In four hundred years of being beaten, she had never seen someone react like this after only twenty strikes.

"You're... enjoying this?"

"Harder!" Su Qianyao demanded, her voice trembling with need. "Beat me harder, heart sister! My greedy bottom has been waiting for this for centuries!"

Lin Qiaoxin increased the intensity. The whips and paddles rained down in coordinated patterns, striking every inch of Su Qianyao's now-reddened buttocks. The silver-haired woman's cries shifted between pleasure and pain, her body trembling on the edge of some precipice.

By the fiftieth strike, a wet sheen appeared between Su Qianyao's thighs. Her honey flowed freely, dripping down her legs to fall to the ground below.

"Your... your cunt is leaking," Lin Qiaoxin said, genuinely shocked. "I thought I was the biggest pervert in the cultivation world for loving the master's paddle, but you..."

"Don't stop!" Su Qianyao begged. "Please, I need more! I've waited so long! I've wanted someone strong enough to beat me! To make me submit!"

The paddles struck harder. The whips left raised welts across her crimson flesh. Su Qianyao's moans became continuous, her body undulating in her bonds as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through her. Her buttocks bounced and jiggled with each impact, the flesh quivering obscenely.

"Beautiful," Lin Qiaoxin murmured. "Master will have such fun with you."

She maintained the punishment for four hundred strikes total. By the end, Su Qianyao's buttocks were a deep, angry red, covered in raised welts and the marks of the paddle. Her entire lower body glistened with sweat and her own honey. She hung limply in her bonds, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her eyes half-closed in a state of blissful exhaustion.

"Done," Lin Qiaoxin said.

Su Qianyao's head lifted slightly. "Is... is that all?"

Lin Qiaoxin laughed. "No, Sister Yao. I have something special for you."

She reached into a storage pouch and pulled out a peeled ginger root, carved into a long, smooth phallus shape. The ginger glistened with its natural oils.

"Have you ever had a ginger punishment before?" Lin Qiaoxin asked, holding it up.

Su Qianyao's eyes focused on the root. "I haven't. But I've heard rumors."

"It burns," Lin Qiaoxin said cheerfully. "It burns like fire inside your hole. But since you seem to love pain so much..."

She positioned the ginger and pressed it against Su Qianyao's anus.

The silver-haired woman gasped as the tip entered her, then cried out as Lin Qiaoxin pushed it deeper. The ginger's oils immediately began to work, creating a burning sensation that spread through her insides like liquid fire.

"AHHHH! It burns! It burns so much!" Su Qianyao thrashed in her bonds, her body convulsing.

But even as she cried out, an even deeper pleasure took root. The pain was exquisite, a fire that purified, that demanded submission. Her cunt gushed with fresh honey as the ginger violated her most private hole.

"Please!" she begged. "More! Give me more!"

Lin Qiaoxin pushed the ginger deeper, twisting it. Su Qianyao's screams filled the clearing, but there was ecstasy mixed with the agony. Her body convulsed, her silver hair whipping around her face as she experienced sensations she had only dreamed of.

For an hour, the ginger burned inside her. Su Qianyao's consciousness floated in a sea of pain and pleasure, her mind broken and remade by the exquisite torture. She felt as though she had been purified of all her arrogance, all her pride, leaving only a vessel ready to receive the discipline of a true master.

When Lin Qiaoxin finally pulled the ginger out, Su Qianyao collapsed as far as her bonds would allow, limp and trembling.

"Master Xuanfa's spanking technique," Lin Qiaoxin said, "how is it, Sister Yao?"

Su Qianyao's voice was hoarse. "How does he compare, heart sister?"

Lin Qiaoxin's face lit up with pride. "The heart slave's master has the finest spanking technique in all the realms. No matter how powerful a female cultivator is, when the master personally spanks her, she will cry. He brings the most exquisite pain, the deepest humiliation." She paused, her eyes growing dreamy. "The heart slave, Moon Sister, and Sparrow Sister all love kneeling before the master to receive his paddle. Every day, we kneel before him, and the Heavenly Dao wooden board beats us until we are lost in bliss and agony."

Su Qianyao's eyes gleamed. "If I had known spanking felt so wonderful, I would have come to be his slave long ago."

Lin Qiaoxin pulled out a set of golden shackles connected by a chain—the Immortal Binding Lock. She attached one end to Su Qianyao's collar and held the other like a leash.

"Come, Sister Yao," she said. "Time to go meet your new master."

Su Qianyao, still hanging from the formation, looked down at her red and swollen buttocks and felt a warmth spread through her chest. She was being led like an animal, her shame exposed for the world to see, her body still aching from the most satisfying punishment she had ever received.

She could not wait.

Lin Qiaoxin lowered the formation until Su Qianyao's hands and knees touched the ground, then began leading her through the secret realm on all fours, her beaten bottom raised high, her silver hair trailing behind her.

The journey back to Zefa Sect was long, but Su Qianyao crawled without complaint, her mind already imagining what the legendary Xuanfa Heavenly Venerate would do to her. She thought of his wooden paddle, of his hands, of his voice commanding her to receive her punishment.

Her cunt dripped with anticipation.

Behind her, Lin Qiaoxin walked with a bounce in her step, occasionally tugging the chain to keep Su Qianyao moving. The heart slave was pleased. She had completed her mission, and soon she would be kneeling before her master, receiving her daily spanking.

There was nothing in the world she wanted more.

The morning sun cast long shadows across the marble flagstones of Zefa Gate's central square. Three thick stone pillars stood in a perfect row, their surfaces covered densely with runic engravings that pulsed with a faint, cold light. Each pillar was linked by heavy golden chains that coiled around the bodies of three kneeling women, binding their arms behind their backs. The chains were no mere restraints—they suppressed spiritual energy, rendering even the most powerful cultivators as helpless as mortals.

The three women were naked. Bare skin met the cold stone beneath their knees. Around each of their necks, a black slave collar sat snug against the throat—a mark of utter submission.

Before the first pillar knelt Bai Zhenshuang, the Sword Immortal of the Heavenly Sword Sect. Her long black hair fell in disheveled strands around her face, but even now, even stripped of all dignity, her expression remained cold. Her eyes were open, fixed ahead. She did not struggle. She did not beg. She had accepted her fate the moment she lost.

Beside her knelt Hua Qianyu, the gentle valley master of a hundred blossoms. Her jade-green hair was loose, spilling over her shoulders and down her back. Her face was pale, and her lips trembled. She had not stopped apologizing, not to the guards, not to the wind. Her voice was soft, broken—"I take full blame. Do not punish the valley. Only me."

And on the far end, Su Qianyao. The Demon Saintess. Her silver hair cascaded like moonlight over her back, and her crimson eyes glowed even in daylight. Where the others showed stoicism or shame, Su Qianyao wore a faint, knowing smile. Her body was voluptuous, every curve carved by temptation itself, and she knelt with a posture that seemed almost... eager.

The three pillars hummed.

The punishment had begun.

---

A sword rose from beside Bai Zhenshuang. It was her own blade—the frost-forged *Ning Shuang*. It floated in the air, unsheathed, its pommel facing her. The sword-sheath now hung in the air behind her, open and waiting. Then the blade's flat side struck her exposed buttocks with sharp precision.

*Crack.*

Bai Zhenshuang's body jerked forward, but the golden chain pulled her back. Her breath hitched. The sound of sword against flesh echoed across the square. *Crack. Crack.* Each strike was deliberate—not too fast, but relentless. The flat of the sword pressed her skin, then withdrew, leaving a red line.

She counted in her head. Forty. Fifty. One hundred. The pain was not unbearable. It was something worse—it was humiliating. Being struck by her own sword. The symbol of her pride, her lifelong cultivation, now reduced to an instrument of punishment. She bit the inside of her cheek. Tears welled at the corners of her eyes, but she would not let them fall.

At four hundred strikes, the sword paused. Bai Zhenshuang's breath was ragged. Her buttocks were mottled red, tender and swollen. But the punishment was not over.

A leather whip rose from the pillar, cracking in the morning air. Its target was not her flesh—it was the space between. The forbidden seam. Bai Zhenshuang's eyes widened for a fraction of a second before the first lash snapped against her most private place, just between her parted thighs.

She gasped. A single tear rolled down her cheek.

*One. Two. Three.*

She gritted her teeth. The whip struck with brutal intimacy, targeting the sensitive crease hidden between her buttocks. Each lash sent a shock of shame and pain through her entire body. By the fiftieth, her jaw trembled. By the eightieth, she could no longer hold back her tears. They streamed silently down her face, but she made no sound.

At one hundred, the whip fell still.

Bai Zhenshuang hung her head. Her back rose and fell with deep, shuddering breaths. Her pride had not shattered—but it had cracked.

---

Beside her, Hua Qianyu's punishment began differently. A cluster of scorpion grass floated in the air—its leaves coated with fine, translucent venom. The grass descended, pressing against her upturned buttocks. The moment the venom touched her skin, Hua Qianyu's composure shattered.

Her back arched. Her fingers curled into fists behind her.

"Ah—ahh—" A strangled cry escaped her lips. The itch was unlike anything she had ever known. It began as a tingle, then grew into a maddening, crawling fire that spread across the entire surface of her buttocks. She tried to press her thighs together, but the golden chains prevented any movement. The venom soaked deeper into her pores, and she began to writhe.

"Please—please—I need—" She could not finish the sentence. The itch was unbearable. She wanted to scratch until her skin peeled away, but her hands were bound. She twisted her body, grinding against the stone, trying to relieve the torture. But the venom only intensified.

Tears streamed down her face. Her composure, her gentle demeanor—all washed away by the agonizing itch.

"Make it stop—please—I'll do anything—" she begged, her voice cracking.

Then the two Celestial Law Boards descended from the sky. They were flat, wide slabs of jade-colored wood, engraved with ancient symbols. They hovered on either side of her buttocks. And then they struck.

*Smack. Smack.*

The impact was sharp, jarring. With every strike, the itching was momentarily numbed, replaced by a deeper, more satisfying pain. Hua Qianyu sobbed in relief. But the boards did not stop. They fell in a steady rhythm—left, right, left, right—each strike sending a shock through her hips.

"More... please... more..." she wept, lifting her buttocks higher into the blows. The boards obeyed. They struck harder. And as they did, the itch faded, replaced by the clean, aching burn of punishment.

Four hundred strikes later, Hua Qianyu collapsed forward. Her body was slick with sweat and tears. Her buttocks were a deep, angry red, and the venom had finally dissipated. She lay still, panting, her forehead pressed against the cold stone. She had endured.

---

On the far end, Su Qianyao's punishment began with the Celestial Law Boards as well. The two slabs of jade wood appeared and struck her rounded, full buttocks with resounding force.

*Crack!*

Su Qianyao moaned—and it was not a moan of pain.

"Ahhh... yes..." She tilted her head back, her silver hair spilling down her spine. Her red eyes gleamed with pleasure. Each strike sent a ripple through her flesh, and she arched her back, pushing her hips higher into the blows.

"Harder..." she breathed. "Please... hit harder."

The boards obliged. They came down with increasing force, turning her pale skin pink, then red, then deep crimson. But Su Qianyao did not flinch. She laughed, low and sultry, as the pain awakened something deep inside her. Between her thighs, a wetness spread. She felt the slickness trickle down her skin.

"Yes... there... right there..." she whispered, as the boards struck the same spot repeatedly. Her body trembled, not from pain, but from arousal. She was drenched. Every blow sent a jolt of pleasure through her core. She had been waiting for this. Craving it.

But the boards did not stop. They completed their four hundred strikes, and then a new implement appeared—a thick, peeled ginger root, carved into a smooth, tapered shape.

Su Qianyao's eyes glittered. She spread her knees apart, exposing herself completely. The ginger root descended slowly, pressing between her cheeks, seeking the tight entrance hidden there.

"Oh..." she gasped, as the root pushed inside. The burning sensation of ginger-infused flesh filled her core. It was cold, then hot, then overwhelming. She clenched around it, her body shuddering. "Yes... yes... fill me..."

The root settled deep inside her. She would remain like that for one hour, kneeling, with the ginger root lodged in her most private place, denied the relief of removing it. But she did not resist. She smiled, her face flushed, and leaned forward with a sigh.

"Punish me more, Master," she whispered to the empty air. "I can take it all."

---

When the hour passed, the three punishments concluded. A healing formation lit up beneath each kneeling woman. Warm light seeped into their battered flesh, soothing bruises, closing welts, calming the inflamed skin. But the memory of the punishment remained.

Bai Zhenshuang rose slowly, her face pale, her eyes empty. She said nothing. She had lost.

Hua Qianyu wept quietly as the healing light mended her wounds. She would endure the next day's punishment, too. She had no choice.

And Su Qianyao? She rose with a stretch, a smile on her lips, and licked her teeth. "Tomorrow," she said softly, "I want the ginger to be thicker."

---

Within the Tianxuan Realm—the inner sanctum of Zefa Gate—the air was quiet and still. The space was a private dimension, separate from the mundane world, filled with soft light and floating runes. Here, three women knelt on a polished floor before a single man.

Lin Qiaoxin, Li Que, and Shen Mengyue. All naked. All collared. All kneeling with perfect posture.

Lin Qiaoxin spoke first, her voice light and playful despite her position. "Master, the three prisoners have completed today's punishment. Bai Zhenshuang shed tears but did not scream. Hua Qianyu begged but endured. Su Qianyao... enjoyed it."

Li Que nodded, her high ponytail of fiery red hair swaying. "The punishment is proceeding as commanded. They will break eventually."

Shen Mengyue smiled gently, her black hair pooling around her shoulders. She was a bit fuller now, softer around the edges, but her devotion was absolute. "Master, we have completed your task with diligence. And now... we have a request."

Zefa sat cross-legged before them, his black training robes immaculate, his face expressionless. He looked at the three women with cold, appraising eyes.

"A request?"

Shen Mengyue pressed her forehead to the ground. "We wish to increase our daily punishment. Four hundred strikes. Please, Master."

Lin Qiaoxin giggled. "Our bottoms get lonely if you don't beat them enough, Master."

Li Que said nothing, but her eyes burned. She, too, wanted more. She craved the sting.

Zefa's lips twitched—almost a smile. "So you've grown to love the feeling, have you?"

"Yes, Master," the three said in unison.

He chuckled. It was a low, rare sound. "Very well. But not by my hand today. I have someone else to wield the boards."

He gestured. From the shadows of the realm, three young women stepped forward. They were identical to their mothers in face and frame—Lin Yuxin with her twin tails and mischievous eyes, Li Yunling with her sporty build and cool composure, Shen Xingmian with her gentle smile and flowing hair. All three were naked save for the slave collars around their necks.

They knelt before Zefa without hesitation. "Greetings, Master."

Zefa nodded. "Your mothers' bottoms are itching for a beating. Take the Celestial Law Boards and give them four hundred strikes each."

The three daughters bowed. "As you command, Master."

Lin Qiaoxin immediately twisted around, lowering her upper body to the floor and lifting her hips high. Her buttocks were plump and round, pale from years of careful cultivation. She looked over her shoulder at her daughter, Lin Yuxin, with a grin.

"Ah, little Yuxin, make sure you hit the same spot every time, alright? That's where the pleasure builds the deepest."

Lin Yuxin hefted the Celestial Law Board in both hands. Her arms were smaller than the board, but the artifact responded to will, not strength. She took a breath, then brought the board down with a sharp *crack*.

"Yes—right there!" Lin Qiaoxin gasped, her body trembling. "Again! Over and over!"

Beside her, Li Que knelt and presented her equally athletic frame. Her buttocks were firm and well-defined, the muscles tight from years of fighting. She twisted to meet her daughter Li Yunling's eyes.

"Don't hold back," she said flatly. "If I feel mercy in your strikes, I will punish you myself later."

Li Yunling swallowed, then nodded. She raised the board

（本章内容较长，当前页面已截取部分内容）

The early morning mist had barely lifted from the Xuantian Realm when the rhythmic crack of wood striking flesh began echoing across the training grounds. Eighty female cultivators knelt in perfect rows, their bodies bare, their heads bowed low as they presented their raised buttocks to the cold morning air. Behind each woman, two Heavenly Dao wooden boards floated with an eerie precision, alternating their strikes against the vulnerable flesh with mechanical consistency.

The women represented the cream of the cultivation world. Former sect leaders, legendary cultivators, genius prodigies, and noble daughters now found themselves reduced to this singular posture of submission. Each board strike landed with surgical accuracy, leaving angry red welts across pale skin that would bloom into deep purple bruises before the next cycle of punishment began.

Among the newer additions, fresh to this world of discipline, occasional cries escaped their lips. Their bodies jerked and twisted, instinct fighting against the conditioning that had yet to take root. But for the seasoned slaves, those who had spent decades learning the weight of their master's will, no resistance came. They accepted each blow with the quiet dignity of souls who had long since surrendered to a higher purpose.

At the front of this assembly, separated by a respectful distance from the others, knelt three women whose beauty and power once shook the cultivation world. Lin Qiaoxin, Li Que, and Shen Mengyue presented their buttocks with flawless posture, their bodies trembling slightly not from fear but from anticipation. Behind each of them, the Heavenly Dao boards were larger, more substantial, imbued with greater spiritual pressure.

The boards began their work in earnest. Left board first, slamming into Lin Qiaoxin's right buttock with a sound that cut through the morning air like thunder. Her flesh rippled violently from the impact, a wave of crimson spreading across the pale canvas of her skin. Before the ripple could settle, the right board struck her left buttock with identical force. The alternating rhythm continued without pause, each strike building upon the last, transforming tender flesh into a canvas of discipline.

"Ahhh!" Lin Qiaoxin's voice carried a strange mixture of pain and ecstasy. Tears streamed down her cheeks, but her lips curved into a smile that spoke of genuine satisfaction. "Master's control of the Heavenly Dao boards is truly exquisite! This heart-slave's buttocks are being completely destroyed!"

The boards continued their assault, fifty strikes completed, then sixty. Lin Qiaoxin's buttocks had transformed from pale cream to deep crimson, the skin glistening with a thin sheen of sweat that reflected the morning light. Each impact sent jolts of lightning through her nervous system, but her posture remained perfect, her back straight, her buttocks pushed out in willing offering.

"I remember when fifty strikes would have this heart-slave screaming for mercy," she continued between gasps, her voice riding the waves of pain. "Now... now it takes four hundred to truly satisfy!"

Beside her, Li Que received her punishment in stoic silence, her red hair swaying with each impact. The boards struck her flesh with the same relentless rhythm, leaving identical patterns of discipline across her athletic form. When she finally spoke, her voice carried the pride of a warrior who had learned to embrace pain as a teacher.

"Master's punishment is an honor for this bird-slave," Li Que declared, her voice steady despite the tears that tracked down her cheeks. "Please, Master, strike harder! This bird-slave's buttocks exist only to receive your discipline!"

The boards seemed to respond to her words, accelerating their rhythm. Eighty strikes, ninety, one hundred. Li Que's buttocks bounced and quivered under the assault, the sound of each impact growing wetter as the skin became more sensitized. She welcomed it all, her mind sinking into a state of blissful submission where pain and pleasure became indistinguishable.

Shen Mengyue, the most composed of the three, maintained her serene expression even as the boards carved their punishment into her flesh. Her long black hair cascaded forward, occasionally catching the light as her body swayed from particularly forceful strikes. When she spoke, her voice carried the warmth of a devoted servant addressing her beloved master.

"This moon-slave's buttocks are in desperate need of Master's punishment," she said, her tone carrying no hint of complaint. "Please, Master, do not hold back. Your discipline is the greatest kindness this moon-slave could ever receive."

One hundred fifty strikes. The boards had painted each woman's buttocks in shades of purple and black, the skin raised in angry welts that spoke of the intense force behind each blow. Yet their postures remained perfect, their voices steady as they continued to express their gratitude for the punishment.

"Two hundred strikes complete!" Lin Qiaoxin announced, her voice carrying a note of genuine happiness. "This heart-slave feels so alive! Master's discipline reminds this humble slave of her true purpose!"

"Two hundred and fifty!" Li Que's voice cracked slightly as a particularly forceful strike landed across her sit spots. "This bird-slave... this bird-slave thanks Master for this glorious pain!"

"Three hundred!" Shen Mengyue's breathing had grown heavier, her body trembling from the accumulated trauma. "Each strike brings this moon-slave closer to perfection. Master's wisdom flows through every blow!"

The final hundred strikes arrived with increased intensity. The Heavenly Dao boards seemed to absorb the surrounding spiritual energy, channeling it into each impact. The sound echoed across the training grounds like thunder, a testament to the power that their master wielded with such casual precision.

Lin Qiaoxin's body convulsed as the boards found new angles, striking places that had not yet been touched. Her tears flowed freely now, mixing with the sweat that covered her face. But through it all, her smile never wavered, her eyes carrying the light of absolute devotion.

Li Que had begun counting under her breath, each number a marker of her endurance. When the boards struck her sit spots, where her thighs met her buttocks, she let out a sharp gasp but held her position. The pain was exquisite, a reminder that she belonged to someone worthy of her absolute loyalty.

Shen Mengyue had closed her eyes, her mind retreating into a space of pure acceptance. Each blow stripped away another layer of ego, another remnant of the pride she once carried as a sect leader. In its place grew something purer, something closer to the perfect submission that her master deserved.

"Three hundred ninety!" Lin Qiaoxin's voice carried a note of triumph despite her exhausted state. "Only ten more!"

"Three hundred ninety-five!" Li Que's voice rang out with military precision.

"Four hundred!" Shen Mengyue's announcement came as the final strike landed, a particularly vicious blow that seemed to compress every previous strike into a single moment of transcendent pain.

The three women collapsed forward, their arms giving out as the punishment concluded. They lay on the ground, their backs heaving with each labored breath, their buttocks a ruined mess of purple and black flesh. Tears continued to stream from their eyes, but their faces carried expressions of profound peace and satisfaction.

The Xuantian Realm's formation began its work, tendrils of healing energy reaching out to soothe the damaged flesh. The women felt the familiar warmth spread through their bodies, the pain slowly receding as their bodies began their recovery.

Footsteps approached, measured and deliberate. The three women stirred, recognizing the rhythm of their master's walk. With visible effort, they pushed themselves up from the ground, their abused buttocks protesting the movement. They arranged themselves into kneeling positions, their heads bowed, their hands resting on their thighs.

"Thank you, Master, for disciplining this heart-slave," Lin Qiaoxin said, her voice carrying genuine gratitude. "Master's control of the Heavenly Dao boards creates a pain that no other punishment can match."

"Thank you, Master, for honoring this bird-slave with your discipline," Li Que added, her voice steadier now. "Your punishment reminds this humble slave of her place in your world."

"Thank you, Master, for correcting this moon-slave's deficiencies," Shen Mengyue completed the ritual. "Your wisdom flows through every strike, guiding this unworthy slave toward perfection."

The master stood before them, his black training clothes absorbing the morning light, his expression as cold and unreadable as carved jade. His presence alone commanded absolute attention, the power radiating from him suppressing even the ambient spiritual energy of the realm.

Before he could speak, three smaller figures approached, their footsteps light but purposeful. Lin Yuxin, Li Yunling, and Shen Xingmian knelt beside their mothers, their bodies bare save for the black slave collars that marked their status. Their cheeks carried healthy color, their postures perfect from years of conditioning.

"Master," the three young women spoke in unison, their voices carrying the perfect synchronization of those who had been trained together. "We humbly request that you allow our mothers to discipline us. Please, permit us to receive punishment from those who gave us life."

Lin Yuxin's voice carried her mother's playful energy as she continued, "And we beg our mothers to show no mercy! Our buttocks have grown resilient through Master's training and require severe correction!"

The master's eyes moved across the three young women, assessing their readiness. A slight nod was the only permission they needed.

Lin Qiaoxin rose first, her body still aching from her own punishment. She took the Heavenly Dao board from its floating position, her fingers wrapping around the cool wood with practiced familiarity. Lin Yuxin positioned herself before her mother, her upper body lowering until her forehead touched the ground, her buttocks rising high in humble offering.

"This heart-slave's daughter has grown arrogant in her training," Lin Qiaoxin said, her voice carrying a maternal sternness. "She requires discipline to remember her place."

The board descended with force born of love and experience. The crack echoed through the training ground as the wood connected with Lin Yuxin's flesh. The young woman gasped but held her position, her body trembling from the impact.

"You were born from this heart-slave's body," Lin Qiaoxin continued, delivering another strike. "But your purpose belongs to Master alone!"

"Yes, Mother!" Lin Yuxin's voice carried through gritted teeth. "This humble slave remembers!"

"Do not forget that your will is not your own!" Another strike, landing with precise force across the center of both buttocks. "Your every breath exists to serve Master!"

"Yes, Mother! This slave understands!"

Li Que had taken her position behind Li Yunling, her movements carrying the efficiency of a warrior. She tested the weight of the board before positioning her daughter for punishment.

"This bird-slave's daughter inherited my pride," Li Que said, her voice cold but not unkind. "Pride has its place, but submission requires its absence."

The first strike landed with military precision, drawing a sharp cry from Li Yunling's lips. Li Que did not pause, delivering the second strike with identical force.

"Your blood carries this bird-slave's lineage, but your loyalty belongs to Master! Never forget that your existence is his property!"

"Yes, Mother! This bird-slave's daughter understands!"

"You are not the heir of a proud warrior lineage! You are a vessel for Master's pleasure and discipline!"

Li Yunling's tears fell freely, but she held her position, accepting each strike as the lesson it was i

（本章内容较长，当前页面已截取部分内容）

That morning, Xuanfa sat in the main hall of Zeren Sect, his black training robes immaculate, his expression unreadable. He had waited long enough. The haughty sword immortal had been given every chance to submit voluntarily, and she had squandered them all. Now she would learn the cost of defiance.

Shen Mengyue entered first, naked save for the black slave collar around her throat, leading a chain of immortal-binding rope. At the other end crawled Bai Zhenshuang, the once-proud Sword Sect Master, on her hands and knees. Her long black hair dragged across the stone floor, her flawless pale skin exposed to the cold air of the hall. The凝霜 sword was nowhere to be seen—Xuanfa had taken it the moment she was subdued.

Shen Mengyue reached the center of the hall and knelt gracefully, pressing her forehead to the floor. “This slave greets the master.”

Bai Zhenshuang hesitated for only a moment before she too knelt, her hands bound behind her back with golden spiritual chains. She kept her eyes lowered, her jaw tight.

Xuanfa rose from his seat and walked toward them, his footsteps echoing in the vast hall. He stopped in front of Bai Zhenshuang, looking down at her with cold disinterest.

“I told you to come to Zeren Sect willingly to receive your punishment,” he said, his voice flat and devoid of warmth. “Why did you resist, only to end up in this humiliating position?”

Bai Zhenshuang’s throat moved as she swallowed. She did not raise her eyes. “In the past,” she said slowly, “I was arrogant. I trusted my own cultivation and looked down upon all opponents. Only after I was defeated by Master’s Moon Slave did I realize how narrow my vision was. I was a frog at the bottom of a well, thinking the sky was all there was. The severe punishment I now face is entirely my own fault. I have no one to blame but myself.”

Xuanfa’s expression did not change. “Sword cultivators. What is the most important thing to a sword cultivator?”

Bai Zhenshuang answered without hesitation, “The sword.”

Xuanfa let out a soft, derisive laugh. “Then tell me, how does it feel to be spanked every day by your own sword’s scabbard?”

Bai Zhenshuang’s face flushed a deep crimson. Words failed her. To be struck by one’s own scabbard—the very vessel that held her beloved凝霜—was the ultimate humiliation. Every blow from that scabbard was not just pain, but a slap to her pride, her identity, her very soul as a sword immortal. It was as if she were being slapped in the face with every impact, her own sword participating in her degradation.

She could not answer. She could only kneel there, trembling, her face burning with shame.

Xuanfa turned and walked back to his seat. “Today, I have come to punish you personally, so you may understand the true nature of the Heavenly Wooden Boards. So you may see what your Moon Slave endures every single day.”

He raised his hand. The space above them shimmered, and two thick wooden planks materialized out of thin air, glowing with the pale light of Xuanfa’s spiritual energy. They hovered side by side, ominous and heavy.

“Present yourself,” Xuanfa ordered.

Bai Zhenshuang hesitated, but only for a heartbeat. She bent forward, lowering her upper body to the floor and raising her hips high, offering her rounded buttocks to the air. The position was degrading, humiliating—she, the Sword Sect Master, the White Frost of the northern peaks, lying prostrate like a common criminal awaiting punishment.

The first board struck.

The pain was beyond anything Bai Zhenshuang had ever experienced. It was not the sharp sting of a whip or the dull thud of a palm—it was a deep, bone-shaking agony that exploded through her entire being, wiping every thought from her mind. Her vision went white. For a single, eternal moment, there was nothing but pure, blinding pain.

She gasped, struggling to draw breath. Her eyes, blurred with tears, fell upon Shen Mengyue, who knelt beside her with a calm, peaceful expression. The Moon Slave’s face showed no fear, no anticipation of shared suffering—only serene acceptance.

Bai Zhenshuang’s mind reeled. *This is what she endures. Every day. This is what she has endured for decades.*

The second board struck. Then the third. Then the fourth.

Xuanfa did not stop. He did not slow. The Heavenly Wooden Boards rained down in relentless succession, each blow driving the air from Bai Zhenshuang’s lungs. Her hips bucked and twisted involuntarily, but she forced herself to stay in position. To accept the punishment. To endure.

But endurance had limits.

By the fiftieth blow, tears were streaming down her face. She bit her lip, trying to stifle her cries, but the pain was too great. By the hundredth, she was sobbing openly, her voice raw and broken. By the two-hundredth, she was screaming.

The boards continued to fall. Two hundred fifty. Three hundred. Three hundred fifty.

By the four hundredth blow, Bai Zhenshuang collapsed to the floor, her entire body trembling violently. Her buttocks were a ruin of swollen, discolored flesh, bruised from the deepest purple to angry red. She could not move. She could barely breathe.

Shen Mengyue rose and gently helped Bai Zhenshuang back into a kneeling position, supporting her with a firm hand.

Xuanfa looked at Shen Mengyue. “Do you remember how I punished you the first time?”

Shen Mengyue’s voice was calm and steady, as if she were recalling a fond memory. “I remember, Master. A disciple of my Moon Slave’s Immortal Cloud Sect offended the master. To save that disciple, I accepted all the spanking punishment myself. But the disciple, trying to save me, attacked the master. So the master punished me again—fifty strikes to the crack of my buttocks with my legs spread apart. Then an anal hook was inserted into my anus, and I was hung from the main hall of Immortal Cloud Sect for an entire night.”

Xuanfa nodded. “Good. Then we shall give Bai Zhenshuang the same set of punishments.”

Bai Zhenshuang’s eyes widened in horror. She had heard of the anal hook. She had seen the scars on other slaves. But she had never imagined—

Xuanfa waved his hand, and a small vial appeared in his palm. He unstoppered it, and the sharp, acrid scent of scorpion grass extract filled the air. He knelt beside Bai Zhenshuang and, with clinical detachment, smeared the viscous green liquid along the tender skin of her buttock crack.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then the itching began.

It started as a mild tingle, then grew into an unbearable, maddening sensation that seemed to burrow into Bai Zhenshuang’s very nerves. She gasped and twisted, trying to rub her thighs together, but the movement only spread the itching further. She clawed at the floor, her fingers scraping against the stone, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

“Please,” she whimpered, her composure shattering completely. “Please, whip it. Whip the crack. I can’t—I can’t bear this itching. Please, I beg you, whip me there.”

Xuanfa watched her with cold amusement for a long moment before summoning a thin, flexible whip from the void. He did not take it in his hand. Instead, he gestured, and the whip began to move on its own, curling through the air like a serpent.

The first lash caught Bai Zhenshuang directly in the tender flesh between her buttocks. She screamed—not from pain alone, but from relief. The sharp sting cut through the itching like a blade through silk, offering a moment of blessed release.

The whip struck again. And again. Fifty times in total, each lash landing precisely on that most sensitive of spots, the crack that she had never imagined would be so exposed, so vulnerable, so violated. By the end, the skin there was raw and bleeding, but the itching was gone.

Before she could catch her breath, Xuanfa produced the anal hook.

It was a cruel instrument of polished black metal, curved like a shepherd’s crook but smaller, with a bulbous tip designed to stretch and lock within the anus. Attached to it was a chain of fine silver links, gleaming in the torchlight.

“No,” Bai Zhenshuang whispered, shaking her head. “No, please, not that.”

Xuanfa ignored her plea. He grabbed her by the hair and forced her head down, presenting her swollen, beaten buttocks to the air. With his other hand, he pressed the tip of the hook against her anus.

It was already swollen from the fifty lashes to her crack, the tender ring of muscle puffy and sensitive. Xuanfa pushed.

Bai Zhenshuang screamed. The hook entered her inch by agonizing inch, stretching her in ways she had never been stretched, violating a part of her body she had kept sacred and private her entire life. She sobbed and begged, but Xuanfa was relentless. When the bulbous tip was fully inside, he gave a sharp twist, and the hook locked into place.

He attached the chain to a hook in the ceiling beam above and pulled. The chain drew taut, and Bai Zhenshuang was lifted off the ground, suspended by the hook in her anus, her full weight borne by that single, terrible point of contact. She screamed again, tears and snot streaming down her face, her legs kicking uselessly in the air.

Xuanfa left her there.

For one day and one night, Bai Zhenshuang hung from the beam of Zeren Sect’s main hall. Her arms and legs grew numb. The pain in her anus became a constant, throbbing presence that eclipsed even the pain in her buttocks. She lost track of time. She lost track of herself. There was only the hook, and the pain, and the endless, suffocating shame.

Slaves passed beneath her without looking up. Disciples entered and exited the hall, pretending she did not exist. She cried until she had no tears left. She begged until her voice gave out. And still, the hours dragged on.

When at last she was lowered, her legs would not support her. She collapsed to the floor, curled into a fetal position, her body shaking uncontrollably. The hook was removed with a wet, obscene sound, and she felt the cool air rush into the orifice it had stretched wide.

Xuanfa knelt beside her and looked down at her exposed, gaping anus with obvious disdain. “Should I have your scabbard inserted there instead?”

Bai Zhenshuang broke.

The last shred of her dignity, the final fragment of her identity as the lofty Sword Sect Master, crumbled to dust. She scrambled upright and pressed her forehead to the ground, sobbing openly.

“Please, Master, I beg you. I will accept any punishment. Spank my buttocks until they bleed. Whip my crack. Hang me from the hook again. I will be your slave, I will obey every command, I will do anything you ask. Just please, Master, please do not put my scabbard in my anus. Please.”

Xuanfa regarded her for a long moment. Then he withdrew a token from his storage ring—a small jade plaque engraved with the characters for “Xuantian Realm.” He held it before Bai Zhenshuang’s tear-streaked face.

“If you truly wish to be a slave, enter this realm willingly.”

Bai Zhenshuang did not hesitate. She reached out with trembling hands and touched the token.

The world shifted.

She found herself standing in an endless expanse of white, a void filled with ethereal light. In the distance, she could see other figures—slaves, she realized, all naked, all collared, all moving through their private domains. The air hummed with spiritual energy, rich and dense, perfect for cultivation.

A black collar materialized around her throat, cool and unyielding against her skin. It felt heavy. Final.

Shen Mengyue appeared beside her, followed by Lin Qiaoxin, Li Que, and the younger slaves—Shen Xingmian, Lin Yuxin, Li Yunling. They gathered in a semicircle, watching Bai Zhenshuang with calm, knowing eyes.

“Every slave in the Xuantian Realm has their own private domain,” Shen Mengyue explained gently. “The environment and ancient texts within are tailored to support your cultivation path. For us at the Soul Formation stage, the price is four hundred strikes of the Heavenly Wooden Boards each day.”

Bai Zhenshuang nodded slowly. She had already experienced those boar

（本章内容较长，当前页面已截取部分内容）

The morning light filtered through the high windows of the Zepen Gate main hall, casting long shadows across the polished stone floor. Xuanfa sat upon the elevated throne at the far end, his black training robes immaculate, his expression as cold and unreadable as carved jade. His fingers rested lightly on the armrests, tapping once, twice, in a slow rhythm that spoke of patience and absolute certainty.

The heavy doors groaned open.

Li Que strode in first, her fiery red hair pulled back into its signature high ponytail, every step carrying the coiled grace of a predator. In her hand, she held the chain of the Immortal Binding Rope, its golden links clinking softly as they trailed behind her. At the other end of that chain, crawling on hands and knees, came Hua Qianyu.

The Valley Master of the Hundred Flowers Valley moved slowly, her bare knees scraping against the cold stone. Her cyan hair had come loose from its careful bun, several strands clinging to her sweat-dampened cheeks. Her body was entirely bare, every curve and contour exposed to the judgment of those who watched. The Immortal Binding Rope circled her neck like a leash, and every time she faltered, Li Que gave a sharp tug that sent her stumbling forward.

Li Que reached the center of the hall and stopped. She turned, her emerald eyes cold and dismissive as she watched Hua Qianyu crawl the last few feet to position herself beside her. Then, with the fluid obedience that decades of discipline had forged into her very bones, Li Que knelt. She pressed her forehead to the cool stone, her back straight, her hands flat on the floor before her.

"Slave Que reports completion of task, Master," she said, her voice steady and clear. "The prisoner Hua Qianyu has been delivered."

Xuanfa did not move. He simply looked down at the two women before him, his gaze lingering on Hua Qianyu's trembling form. The Valley Master had not yet raised her head from the floor. Her shoulders shook with silent sobs, and the skin of her buttocks was still unmarked, still pale and untouched.

That would not last long.

"Li Que," Xuanfa said, his voice flat as a frozen lake, "why does she still wear the air of a Valley Master?"

Li Que's lips curved into a faint smile. "Forgive this slave's oversight, Master." She rose gracefully, turned to Hua Qianyu, and placed a firm hand on the back of the woman's head, pressing her face harder against the stone. "You heard the Master. Lift your hips. Present yourself properly."

Hua Qianyu let out a choked sob, but she complied. She pushed her hips upward, her back arching, until her buttocks were raised high in the air, presented like an offering to the throne. Her face remained pressed to the stone, tears dripping from her cheeks to form a small puddle on the floor.

Xuanfa rose. He descended the steps of the throne slowly, each footfall deliberate, echoing through the silent hall. He stopped beside Hua Qianyu, looking down at the curve of her presented flesh.

"You refused my summons," he said, his voice soft but carrying an edge that could cut steel. "When I invited the masters of the great sects to bring their disciples for punishment, you declined. You said your disciples had done no wrong. You said I was a tyrant, a madman, a demon in human skin."

Hua Qianyu's shoulders shook harder. "I... I was wrong, Master. I was foolish."

"Foolish, yes. But also proud." Xuanfa circled her, his footsteps slow and methodical. "You thought your reputation would protect you. Your status. The alliances you had built over centuries. You thought I would not dare touch the Valley Master of the Hundred Flowers Valley."

"I was wrong," she repeated, her voice breaking.

Xuanfa stopped behind her. He raised his hand, and the air above them shimmered. A slab of wood materialized from nothing, suspended in the air by his will alone. It was the Heavenly Dao Plank, its surface etched with ancient runes that pulsed with faint golden light. It was not an ordinary tool of punishment. It was a weapon, a conduit for the will of heaven itself, and when it struck, it struck with the weight of divine judgment.

"Your disciples attacked my territory," Xuanfa continued, his voice conversational now, almost bored. "They poisoned my herb gardens, killed my guards, and attempted to steal the Thousand-Year Spirit Lotus that grew in my courtyard. Do you know what happened to them?"

Hua Qianyu's voice was barely a whisper. "They... they were punished."

"They were punished," Xuanfa confirmed. "Each one received one hundred strokes of the Heavenly Dao Plank. Your eldest disciple, the one who led the attack, received two hundred. She lasted eighty before her soul began to fragment. I had to stop, of course. A dead disciple is a wasted disciple."

"Please," Hua Qianyu begged, her composure finally cracking. "Please, I will accept any punishment. I will pay any price. They were young, they were foolish, they did not understand what they were facing. Please, Master, have mercy on them."

Xuanfa's eyes narrowed. "Mercy? You speak of mercy now, when your own flesh is on the line? When you knelt before me and refused to accept punishment on their behalf, you abandoned them. You sent them to face my judgment alone, and now you beg for their sake?"

He raised his hand, and the Heavenly Dao Plank rose higher.

"Very well. I will grant you one mercy. Since you are a master of alchemy, you must have Thunder Pattern Pills in your possession. Surrender them to me."

Hua Qianyu's eyes widened. The Thunder Pattern Pill was one of the most painful creations in the alchemical world. It contained the essence of primal lightning, compressed and refined into a single pill. It was used only for the most severe treatments, to burn away corruption from a cultivator's meridians, and even then, only under the strictest supervision. The pain it caused was legendary.

But she had no choice. She reached into her storage ring with trembling fingers and produced a small jade vial, holding three Thunder Pattern Pills, each one shimmering with trapped lightning. She held it up, and Li Que took it from her, presenting it to Xuanfa with a bow.

Xuanfa examined the vial, then nodded. "Good."

He turned and walked back to his throne, but he did not sit. Instead, he stood before it, his hand extended toward the Heavenly Dao Plank. The plank shimmered, and with a thought, Xuanfa drove it forward.

The first strike landed with a sound like thunder.

Hua Qianyu screamed. The plank had struck her raised buttocks with full force, and the impact sent a shockwave through her entire body. Her skin split open instantly, blood welling up in a long, angry line across both cheeks. She had been struck by many things in her long life—swords, spells, the claws of demon beasts—but nothing had ever hurt like this. It was not just physical pain. The Heavenly Dao Plank carried the weight of divine law, and every strike felt like a judgment upon her very soul.

The plank rose and fell again.

Another scream. Another line of blood.

Xuanfa said nothing. He simply watched, his expression unchanged, as the plank descended again and again. Each strike was precise, measured, and devastating. The skin of Hua Qianyu's buttocks turned from pale to red to purple, then split open in dozens of places, blood dripping down her thighs to pool on the stone floor.

Beside her, Li Que watched with a faint frown. She had been punished countless times by this same plank. Her own buttocks had been broken and healed and broken again, until the pain became a familiar companion. But even she had to admit that Xuanfa was putting more force into these strikes than he usually did. The plank was glowing now, its runes blazing with light, and each impact shook the very foundations of the hall.

After thirty strokes, Hua Qianyu's screams had turned into ragged, animalistic howls. Her body convulsed with every strike, her fingers scraping against the stone floor as she tried to find something, anything, to hold onto.

After fifty strokes, her voice began to give out. The screams became wet, choked sounds, mixed with sobs and pleas for mercy that Xuanfa ignored completely.

Li Que glanced at her and shook her head. "Is this all the endurance of the great Valley Master?" she said, her voice dripping with disdain. "Fifty strokes, and you're already falling apart. Slave Que receives four hundred strokes every day, and I do not weep as you do."

Hua Qianyu could not respond. She could barely breathe. The world had narrowed to the sound of the plank falling, the fire of her torn flesh, and the relentless rhythm of pain.

At the one hundredth stroke, Xuanfa raised his hand. The plank paused, hovering in the air.

"Li Que," he said, his voice flat. "Take the Thunder Pattern Pill. Insert it."

Li Que's eyes lit up with cruel anticipation. She rose, plucked one of the pills from the jade vial, and walked around behind Hua Qianyu. The Valley Master was still crying, still trembling, her hips raised high in their submissive posture. She had no idea what was coming.

Li Que's hands gripped Hua Qianyu's buttocks, spreading them apart. The flesh was raw and bloody, and Hua Qianyu whimpered at the touch. Then Li Que's fingers found her anus, pressing against the tight ring of muscle.

"No," Hua Qianyu gasped, realization dawning. "No, no, please, not there—"

Li Que ignored her. She pressed the Thunder Pattern Pill against the opening and pushed. The muscle resisted for a moment, then gave way as the pill slid inside, deep into her rectum.

The effect was immediate.

Lightning erupted from within her body. Blue-white arcs of electricity crackled through her intestines, her stomach, her entire abdominal cavity. Hua Qianyu's back arched violently, her mouth opening in a scream that had no sound. Her body convulsed, every muscle contracting at once, her eyes rolling back in her head as the thunderous power of the pill ravaged her from the inside.

She collapsed onto her side, her legs kicking uselessly, her hands clawing at her own stomach as if she could somehow tear the pill out. The lightning continued to dance through her, visible beneath her skin as faint blue tracings of electricity, and she could feel every single nerve ending in her body screaming in agony.

"That is the power of a Thunder Pattern Pill," Xuanfa said, his voice mild. "It burns away impurities. It purges corruption. And in your case, Valley Master, it purges pride."

He raised his hand again, and the plank descended. Another one hundred strokes awaited.

The sound of the plank hitting her torn flesh was wet now, a sickening slap of wood against raw meat. Hua Qianyu could not even scream anymore. She could only convulse, her body jerking with every blow, her mind retreating into a haze of pure, undiluted pain.

At the two hundredth stroke, Xuanfa gestured again. "Li Que. The ginger extract."

Li Que moved to comply, retrieving a small clay bottle from her storage ring. She uncorked it, and the sharp, burning scent of concentrated ginger extract filled the air. It was not ordinary ginger. This was spiritual ginger, grown in the demon lands, refined to a potency that could burn through steel.

"Open her," Xuanfa commanded.

Li Que knelt beside the trembling Hua Qianyu and rolled her onto her stomach. The Valley Master's eyes were glassy, unfocused, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. Li Que spread her buttocks again, and this time, she did not hesitate. She pressed the mouth of the bottle against Hua Qianyu's anus and tipped it upward.

The thick, orange-red liquid flowed into her like molten fire.

Hua Qianyu's body seized. Her back arched, her hands fisting, her feet kicking, as the ginger extract flooded her intestines. It felt exactly as she had imagined: like liquid fire, like molten iron pouring through her veins, burning everything it touched. And then the ginger met the residual lightning of the Thunder Pattern Pill, and the two forces clashed.

Fire and

（本章内容较长，当前页面已截取部分内容）