玄罚天尊的惩罚第二部

The morning sun cast long shadows across the责凰门's main path as Xuanfa walked slowly, a coiled dog leash in each hand. Behind him, on all fours, three women crawled with perfect obedience, their bodies bare except for the black slave collars around their necks. Lin Qiaoxin moved on his left, her twin ponytails bobbing with each crawling step. Li Que followed on his right, her fiery red hair trailing behind her like a banner of submission. Shen Mengyue brought up the rear, her black hair sweeping the ground as she kept her head lowered in proper deference.

To any outsider, the sight would have been incomprehensible. These three women—Xin奴, Que奴, and Yue奴—were legends throughout the cultivation world. When Xuanfa sent them out on missions, entire sects trembled. They were the enforcers of his will, the instruments of his justice, and the terror of any woman who dared to defy the责凰门.

Yet here they crawled like the most devoted pets, their breasts swaying beneath them, their hips swaying with deliberate rhythm as they matched their master's pace.

Xuanfa stopped at the edge of a small pond, the water reflecting the clear blue sky above. He turned to look down at his three slaves, his face as impassive as carved jade.

"You have all broken through to the late Nascent Soul stage, correct?"

The three women immediately pressed their foreheads to the ground in kowtow.

"All thanks to our master's diligent discipline of our bottoms and the spiritual energy of the Xuantian Realm," Shen Mengyue said, her voice warm and sincere. "Without your punishments, we would never have reached late Nascent Soul in just three hundred years."

Lin Qiaoxin lifted her head slightly, a playful smile on her lips. "Every spanking brought us closer to you, Master. And every board made us stronger."

Li Que remained silent, but her red eyes burned with fierce devotion as she gazed up at Xuanfa.

He nodded once, accepting their praise as his due. "Since you have broken through, I have a mission for the three of you."

They remained prostrate, ears attentive.

"The Sword Sect Sect Master, Bai Zhenshuang, has spoken disrespectfully of our sect in recent months," Xuanfa said, his voice cold and flat. "The Hundred Flowers Valley Valley Master, Hua Qianyu, allowed her disciples to occupy our medicinal gardens for three days. And the Demon Saintess, Su Qianyao, used her enchantment techniques on three of our outer disciples, confusing their minds."

He paused, letting the weight of these offenses settle.

"You three will go to them. Inform Bai Zhenshuang, Hua Qianyu, and Su Qianyao that they are to strip completely naked, kneel at the entrance of the责凰门, present their buttocks, and receive one hundred strikes of the Heavenly Wood Board each day for ten years. This is a minor punishment for their transgressions."

He reached into his storage ring and withdrew three lengths of gleaming golden chain. The links shimmered with inscribed talismans, radiating an energy that could bind even a peak Nascent Soul cultivator.

"If they resist, defeat them and use these Confinement Immortal Chains to bring them back. I trust three late Nascent Soul cultivators can handle three women of the same realm."

Lin Qiaoxin, Li Que, and Shen Mengyue each accepted a chain with both hands, treating it as the sacred artifact it was.

"We will not fail you, Master," Shen Mengyue said.

"We'll drag them back by their hair if we have to," Lin Qiaoxin added with a giggle.

Li Que simply nodded, her expression fierce.

But before they could rise, Lin Qiaoxin spoke again, her voice carrying a hint of pleading. "Master, since we've all reached late Nascent Soul, we humbly request an increase in our daily punishment. Four hundred strikes instead of two hundred."

Shen Mengyue's breath caught, and even Li Que's ears perked up.

Xuanfa's lips curved into the faintest hint of a smile. "You've grown to enjoy the spankings, haven't you?"

The three women exchanged glances, then simultaneously kowtowed again.

"We have, Master," they admitted in unison, their voices carrying equal parts shame and excitement.

"Very well," Xuanfa said. "Complete this mission successfully, and I shall increase your daily punishment."

"Thank you, Master! Thank you!" They pressed their foreheads to the ground repeatedly, genuine gratitude in their voices.

"Rise," Xuanfa commanded. "But first, we must complete today's punishment."

He raised his hand and snapped his fingers. Three young women emerged from a nearby pavilion, their footsteps light on the stone path. Each was eighteen years old in appearance, their features bearing striking resemblance to the three kneeling slaves.

Lin Yuxin looked like Lin Qiaoxin's younger mirror, the same twin ponytails framing her face, the same mischievous spark in her eyes, though tempered by the strict discipline of her upbringing.

Li Yunling had inherited Li Que's proud bearing and fiery red hair, her posture straight and her gaze sharp, even as she walked forward in complete nudity, her black collar glinting in the sunlight.

Shen Xingmian moved with Shen Mengyue's grace, her black hair flowing behind her, her features so similar to her mother's that they could have been sisters.

The three young women approached Xuanfa and knelt before him, pressing their foreheads to the ground.

"We greet our Master," they said in unison, their voices perfectly synchronized.

Xuanfa looked down at his daughters with cold approval. "Your mothers' bottoms are itching for discipline. Take the Heavenly Wood Boards and deliver two hundred strikes to each. Afterward, spread their legs and whip their perineums one hundred times each."

"Yes, Master," the three young women replied without hesitation.

Lin Yuxin, Li Yunling, and Shen Xingmian rose and walked to a nearby rack where three wooden boards rested. These were no ordinary boards—the Heavenly Wood Boards were crafted from the wood of heaven-ascending trees, infused with tribulation lightning and inscribed with pain-amplifying arrays. Each board was long, wide, and heavy, requiring two hands to wield properly.

The three daughters returned to their mothers, who had already positioned themselves. Lin Qiaoxin, Li Que, and Shen Mengyue knelt on the ground, then leaned forward, pressing their chests to the earth and raising their hips high in the air. Their buttocks, already beautifully shaped from decades of discipline, were presented fully for punishment.

"Mom, can you spread a bit wider?" Lin Yuxin asked, positioning herself behind Lin Qiaoxin. "I want to make sure the board covers everything."

Lin Qiaoxin shifted her knees apart, opening herself more fully. "Like this, Yuxin? You'll want to strike at a slight angle, from upper left to lower right. That covers more surface area and creates a more satisfying sting when the board meets the fullest part of the cheek."

"I understand, Mom. Thank you for the guidance."

"Make sure you start from the top of the sit-spot and work your way down," Lin Qiaoxin continued, her voice carrying the experience of decades. "And don't hold back. A weak strike is an insult to both the board and the bottom receiving it."

Li Yunling stood behind her mother Li Que, who had arranged herself with military precision, her back straight even as she bowed forward. "Should I warm you up first, Mother, or go straight into the punishment?"

"Straight into it," Li Que said, her voice clipped. "I am no novice who needs warming. Strike with full force from the very first blow. And make sure you cover the entire surface—from the top of the crack to the bottom of the curve, and from the left hip to the right. Leave no inch unpunished."

"Yes, Mother."

Shen Xingmian positioned herself behind Shen Mengyue with quiet grace. "Mother, I will try to make this worthy of the discipline you taught me."

Shen Mengyue turned her head slightly, a warm smile on her face despite her vulnerable position. "You have always done me proud, Xingmian. Now show your Master what you have learned."

Xuanfa stood to the side, arms folded, watching the scene unfold. The morning light caught the six bare bodies, highlighting the contrast between the mothers' experienced curves and the daughters' youthful frames.

Lin Yuxin was the first to strike. She raised the Heavenly Wood Board high above her head, then brought it down with all her strength. The board met Lin Qiaoxin's right buttock with a thunderous CRACK that echoed across the pond. Lin Qiaoxin's entire body shuddered, but she let out only a soft gasp of pleasure-pain.

"Excellent start!" Lin Qiaoxin called out. "But aim slightly lower on the next one. The lower curve can take more punishment."

Lin Yuxin adjusted and struck again, the board landing on the lower swell of her mother's bottom. Another CRACK, and this time Lin Qiaoxin's breath caught in a sharp hiss.

"Yes! Like that! The pain spreads so beautifully through the whole cheek."

Li Yunling began her punishment with a fierce overhead strike that landed dead center on Li Que's left buttock. The impact was so hard that Li Que's whole body jolted forward, but she held her position without a sound.

"Harder," Li Que commanded. "I can barely feel that."

Li Yunling's eyes narrowed. She adjusted her grip and delivered a second strike with even more force, the board landing with a sound like thunder. Li Que's hands clenched into fists on the ground, but she made no sound of complaint.

"Better. But you can still go harder. Put your whole body into it. You are not just swinging your arms—you are a cultivator. Use your qi."

"Yes, Mother."

Shen Xingmian took a different approach. Rather than striking immediately, she raised the board and held it for a moment, letting the anticipation build. Then she brought it down in a smooth, controlled arc that ended with devastating force on Shen Mengyue's right buttock.

The sound was sharp and clean, like a gong being struck. Shen Mengyue's body swayed gracefully with the impact, and she let out a soft moan.

"Beautiful technique, Xingmian," Shen Mengyue said, her voice carrying approval even through the pain. "You held the energy until the moment of impact. That creates a much deeper sting."

"Thank you, Mother. I learned from watching you."

The punishment continued in a rhythm of strikes. CRACK. CRACK. CRACK. The six women fell into a pattern—mothers offering instruction, daughters applying the lesson with growing skill. The mothers' buttocks began to redden, then purple, then darken to the color of bruised plums. The skin split in places, thin lines of blood trickling down their thighs.

But none of them cried out in pain. Instead, their voices carried notes of satisfaction, even pleasure.

"You're doing wonderfully, Yuxin," Lin Qiaoxin said after the fiftieth strike. Her bottom was a ruin of purple and black, swollen to nearly twice its normal size, yet her voice remained cheerful. "I can feel every strike connecting perfectly. The board loves your work."

"Thank you, Mom. I'm trying to make each strike better than the last."

"Focus on your wrist rotation at the moment of impact. A slight twist increases the stinging sensation by thirty percent."

"Like this?" Lin Yuxin delivered the next strike with a subtle wrist motion, and Lin Qiaoxin gasped sharply.

"Yes! Exactly like that! The sting goes all the way to my core!"

Li Que had begun to sweat despite her stoic expression, her body trembling with each impact. But when Li Yunling slowed, she immediately snapped, "Do not slack! I can take much more than this!"

"I'm not slacking, Mother. I'm ensuring my form remains perfect."

"Then strike faster. The punishment should not drag on forever."

"Yes, Mother."

Shen Mengyue had gone quiet, her body moving with each impact, her breath coming in controlled gasps. But when Shen Xingmian paused to adjust her grip, Shen Mengyue spoke.

"Xingmian, you have learned well. But remember—the true purpose of punishment is not just pain. It is surrender. Each st

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# Chapter 10

The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the mountain path leading to Zephon Gate's entrance. A column of sixty-three women in dark armor marched in perfect formation, their footsteps creating a rhythmic thunder that echoed through the valley. At their head strode a woman with sharp features and cold eyes, her hand resting on the hilt of a curved blade. This was A'Zi, commander of the Saintess's personal guard, a cultivator at the mid-stage of Divine Transformation.

Behind her, sixty-two elite guards followed, each at the late stage of Nascent Soul. They moved as a single entity, their qi flowing in perfect synchronization. The formation they had mastered allowed them to face three or four Divine Transformation cultivators without fear. Their armor bore the emblem of the Demon Saintess—a crescent moon wrapped in crimson flames.

As they crested the final rise, the scene before them stopped them in their tracks.

Su Qianyao knelt at the mountain entrance, her body completely bare. Silver chains bound her hands behind her back, the metal biting into her wrists. Her silver hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her crimson eyes were half-lidded with ecstasy. An ebony collar encircled her neck—the mark of a slave.

Behind her floated a slab of heavenwood, its surface gleaming with dark runes. With each motion, it slammed into her upturned buttocks with a resounding crack.

*CRACK!*

"Ah... ahn... yes..." Su Qianyao's voice carried across the distance, sweet and breathless. "More... this slave deserves more..."

A'Zi's face contorted with rage. She raised her hand, and divine energy surged through her voice as she projected it across the mountain.

"ZEH PUN GATE! RELEASE THE SAINTESS IMMEDIATELY! FACE THE WRATH OF THE DEMON SAINTESS'S GUARD!"

Her words echoed through the peaks, shaking leaves from trees. Birds took flight in panicked flocks.

The gates of Zeh Pun Gate remained still for a long moment. Then, two figures emerged from the shadows of the entrance, walking slowly, deliberately, their bare feet padding softly against the stone path.

The guards fell silent.

White Linenfrost emerged first, her body completely nude. Her figure was a sculpture of cold perfection—high, proud breasts that swayed slightly with each step, a waist so narrow it seemed carved by a divine hand, and hips that flared into round, supple curves. Her skin was pale as winter snow, unblemished and luminous. Her black hair cascaded down her back, a waterfall of silk that contrasted sharply with her fair complexion. Her features were carved from ice—fine-boned, aristocratic, with a natural chill that made lesser cultivators shiver. She walked with the grace of a queen, her chin held high, her gaze sweeping over the armored guards as if they were insects beneath her notice.

Beside her walked Hua Qianyu, equally bare. Where White Linenfrost was cold, Hua Qianyu was warmth incarnate. Her body was full and generous—breasts that were soft and inviting, a waist that curved gracefully, and hips that seemed made for bearing children and pleasure alike. Her skin held the faint golden glow of one who spent much time in the sun, tending her gardens. Her cyan hair was loosely pinned at the back of her head, a few strands escaping to frame her gentle face. Her features were soft, maternal, with eyes that held infinite kindness. Yet there was strength beneath that gentleness—the strength of a Divine Transformation cultivator who could crush mountains with a thought.

They walked without shame, without hesitation, their nudity as natural as armor to the guards before them.

The contrast was stark. The guards stood in full battle regalia, metal plates gleaming, weapons drawn. And before them stood two women in nothing but their skin, their collars gleaming on their throats.

"This is..." A'Zi's eyes widened as recognition struck. "White Linenfrost? The Tiansword Sect Leader? And Hua Qianyu? The Hundred Flowers Valley Master?"

Hua Qianyu smiled warmly, inclining her head. "Indeed, we were those people. But no longer."

A'Zi's shock turned to fury. "Have you no shame? Leaders of noble sects, and you parade yourselves like common whores for Zeh Pun Gate! You have sullied the honor of Tiansword Sect and Hundred Flowers Valley!"

White Linenfrost's cold eyes met A'Zi's. "You are mistaken. I am no longer the Tiansword Sect Leader. By the grace of Zeh Pun Venerate, I have been accepted as his slave, given the name Frost Slave. Each day, I receive the punishment of the buttocks as my due."

Hua Qianyu nodded, her voice gentle but firm. "I too am no longer the Hundred Flowers Valley Master. I thank Zeh Pun Venerate for granting me the position of female slave, and the name Language Slave. Each day, I must receive the buttocks punishment."

She paused, her smile deepening. "And your Saintess, Su Qianyao, remains here of her own free will."

The words struck the guards like physical blows. Disbelief warred with anger on their faces.

"Impossible!" A'Zi snarled. "The Saintess would never—"

*CRACK!*

The heavenwood board slammed into Su Qianyao's posterior, and a melodic moan escaped her lips. "Ah... yes... again... please..."

A'Zi's face contorted. "Seize them! Kill them if necessary! We will rescue the Saintess!"

The guards surged forward, weapons drawn. Qi flared as they activated their formation, crimson energy weaving between them.

White Linenfrost's fingers brushed the hilt of her sword—Frost Coagulation, it was called. It sang as it left its sheath, frost spreading across the ground at her feet.

Hua Qianyu raised her hands, and green light coalesced around her fingers—the energy of life and healing, but also of binding, of growth that could tear stone apart.

The two sides clashed.

White Linenfrost moved like winter incarnate, her sword tracing arcs of frozen death. Each strike carried the weight of Divine Transformation cultivation, and the guards' formation buckled under the pressure. They were skilled, disciplined, but they had never faced opponents of this caliber while their hearts were unsettled.

And their hearts were unsettled.

*CRACK!*

"Ahn... oh... yes..."

Su Qianyao's cries cut through the sounds of battle. Each smack of the heavenwood board drew a breathy, sensual moan that made the guards falter. They could see her body trembling, her hips pressing back against the punishment, her fingers curling in the chains.

"How can the Saintess..." a guard whispered, her blade wavering.

*CRACK!*

"NNNGGH... please... this slave is... so close..."

White Linenfrost capitalized on the distraction. Her sword flashed, and three guards fell, their armor shattered, their formation broken.

Hua Qianyu's vines wrapped around a quartet of guards, lifting them into the air and slamming them into the ground.

*CRACK!*

Su Qianyao's body arched, her back bowing as a shudder ran through her. Clear fluid splashed onto the stone beneath her, catching the sunlight.

"AHHH! YES!"

Her body collapsed, trembling, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

One of the guards stared, her face pale. "Impossible... the Saintess... she climaxed from being beaten..."

The morale shattered like glass.

The guards who could still stand looked at each other, their formation in ruins, their leader unconscious, their Saintess lying in a puddle of her own pleasure, openly declaring her submission.

White Linenfrost cleaned her sword with a flick of her wrist. "Leave. Your Saintess stays by her own will."

Hua Qianyu's vines retracted, releasing the captured guards. "There is no shame in acknowledging a greater power. Go in peace."

The remaining guards helped the wounded, gathered the unconscious, and retreated down the mountain path. Their footsteps were no longer the thunder of an invading army, but the shuffling of a defeated force.

Su Qianyao lay on the ground, her buttocks swollen and purple, the marks of the heavenwood board visible in angry welts. She raised her head weakly, her crimson eyes meeting the retreating backs of her former guards.

"Sisters of the guard... Yao Slave truly stays here by her own will..." Her voice was hoarse, broken. "Yao Slave has always wanted... someone to beat Yao Slave's bottom to pieces..."

The guards paused, then continued their retreat.

White Linenfrost and Hua Qianyu watched until the last guard disappeared from view. Then they turned and walked back through the gates of Zeh Pun Gate, their steps measured, their heads high.

They found Zeh Pun waiting in the main hall, seated on a black throne that seemed to drink the light around it. His face was impassive, his dark training robes immaculate. Beside him knelt his other slaves—Shen Mengyue, Lin Qiaoxin, Li Que, and their daughters—all bare, all collared.

White Linenfrost and Hua Qianyu knelt before him, pressing their foreheads to the cold stone.

"This slave returns, Master," White Linenfrost said. "The demon guards have been repelled."

"This slave returns as well, Master," Hua Qianyu added. "They will not trouble Zeh Pun Gate again."

Zeh Pun's gaze swept over them, and a hint of approval flickered in his cold eyes. "You performed adequately. Rise."

They stood, still bare before him, their bodies on display for all to see. They felt no shame, only the warmth of their Master's approval.

"Your first task as my slaves," Zeh Pun said, his voice flat, "is to deliver punishment. The Azure Wave Palace's Palace Master, Yun Qing'er, and the Nine Abyss Valley's Valley Master, Youlan, have allowed their disciples to provoke conflict with Zeh Pun Gate. They have failed to control their subordinates."

He paused, letting the words sink in.

"These small sects without Divine Transformation cultivators require only minor correction. Command them—the Palace Master, the Valley Master, and all disciples who participated in the conflicts—to strip naked, kneel at Zeh Pun Gate's entrance, present their buttocks, and submit to punishment. One hundred strikes of the heavenwood board upon the bottom each day. For three years."

His eyes narrowed. "If they resist, the punishment will be doubled. If they still resist, I will personally raze their sects to the ground."

White Linenfrost bowed. "This slave understands."

Hua Qianyu bowed as well. "This slave will carry out her Master's will."

Without another word, they turned and walked out of the hall.

White Linenfrost descended the mountain path alone, heading toward Azure Wave Palace. The wind swept over her naked body, but she did not shiver. Her skin was like marble, smooth and cold, her breasts swaying with each step, her hips rolling with natural grace. Her black hair streamed behind her, and her collared neck caught the sunlight, the slave ring gleaming.

She reached the gates of Azure Wave Palace and walked through without pause.

The disciples inside looked up, and terror flooded their faces. They saw a Divine Transformation cultivator—a former Sect Leader—walking through their halls completely naked, her body on full display. Her posture was regal, her expression cold as ice, but her nudity spoke of complete submission to a greater power.

"W-Where is the Palace Master?" White Linenfrost asked, her voice carrying through the courtyard.

Disciples scrambled out of her way, pointing toward the main hall.

She walked there, her footsteps echoing in the sudden silence. She reached the hall and found Yun Qing'er sitting on her throne, surrounded by advisors. The Palace Master was beautiful, with delicate features and long black hair, but her face paled when she saw the intruder.

"White... White Linenfrost? What has happened to you? Why are you...?"

"Tell your disciples who attacked my Master's sect to come forward," White Linenfrost interrupted, her voice cold as winter's bite. "You and they are to strip naked, walk to Zeh Pun Gate, kneel at the entrance, present your buttocks, and submit to punishment. One hundred strikes of the heavenwood board upon the bottom each day. For three years."

She p

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The grand hall of Zehuang Gate stood silent and vast, its marble floors polished to a mirror shine that reflected the light of a thousand floating lanterns. Six women knelt naked upon that cold stone, their bodies bare, their necks encircled by black slave collars that gleamed with an oily luster in the dim light.

Before them stood Xuanfa, his black training robes hanging loosely on his tall frame, his face as immobile as carved jade. His eyes swept over the six kneeling forms with the cold assessment of a hawk surveying its domain.

Shen Mengyue knelt at the center of the formation, her black hair spilling down her back and over her shoulders, partially veiling the full curves of her breasts. Her posture was perfect, back straight, hands resting on her thighs, head bowed in submission. The slave collar around her neck seemed almost ornamental against the creamy skin of her throat.

To her right, Lin Qiaoxin knelt with a barely suppressed bounce in her shoulders, her twin ponytails framing her face as she peeked up at Xuanfa with sparkling eyes. Despite her nudity, she seemed completely at ease, as if kneeling naked before her master was the most natural thing in the world.

Li Que knelt with rigid discipline, her fiery red hair falling in a cascade behind her, her athletic body tense with anticipation. Her eyes burned with fierce loyalty, and her full lips were pressed into a thin line of determination.

Bai Zhenshuang's posture was the most elegant among them, her long black hair flowing like silk over her shoulders, her refined features carrying an air of natural aristocracy even in her state of total exposure. Her full breasts rose and fell with steady breaths, and her round, firm buttocks rested against her heels.

Hua Qianyu knelt with gentle grace, her green hair loosely gathered at the nape of her neck, her soft curves radiating warmth and maternal care. Her eyes held a serenity that seemed to transcend the indignity of her position.

Su Qianyao knelt at the far end, her silver hair catching the lantern light, her crimson eyes gleaming with barely suppressed mischief. Her voluptuous figure seemed to invite attention, her full hips and generous breasts drawing the eye despite her bowed head.

"Report," Xuanfa said, his voice flat and cold.

Shen Mengyue spoke first, her voice soft and clear. "Moon Slave reports that the southern regions have been thoroughly pacified, Master. The female cultivators who offended the sect's honor have each received the appropriate number of strokes upon their bottoms. The punishment has been delivered, and the sect's reputation is restored."

"Crane Slave has successfully integrated the battle formations into the junior disciples' training," Li Que added, her voice sharp and precise. "Their combat effectiveness has increased by thirty percent. I have also personally overseen the punishment of twelve female cultivators who dared to speak ill of the sect's name."

"Heart Slave has completed the array defenses around the sect's perimeter," Lin Qiaoxin chirped, unable to keep the excitement from her voice. "And I've taken the liberty of designing three new attack formations that can be deployed by as few as five cultivators. Also, I've been helping with the chastisement duties—there's nothing quite like a well-aimed spanking to improve a cultivator's humility!"

"Frost Slave has taught the disciples sword techniques," Bai Zhenshuang said, her voice cool and measured. "Their sword intent has sharpened considerably. I have also personally administered punishment to several female cultivators who showed insufficient respect to the sect."

"Cloud Slave has overseen the disciples' healing arts and alchemy training," Hua Qianyu added, her voice warm and melodic. "The quality of pill refinement has improved by forty percent. And I have also taken part in the correction of those who required it."

Su Qianyao's red lips curved into a seductive smile. "Demon Slave has been busy as well, Master. I have used my charms to lure a particularly talented female cultivator into the sect's embrace. Her name is Nangong Xue. Such a beautiful thing, with a spirit as fierce as a caged tiger. But she resists. Oh, how she resists."

Li Que snorted. "A waste of effort. Hand her over to Crane Slave. I will spank her bottom a hundred times, and if she still refuses, I will spank it another hundred. By the time I am done, she will sing the praises of Zehuang Gate from morning till night."

"Enough," Xuanfa said, raising a hand. "You six have performed well. Your service to the sect has been noted."

He paused, his eyes traveling over each of them. "From this day forward, when you appear before me, you need not kneel. A simple bow of respect will suffice."

The six women's eyes widened. Shen Mengyue's lips parted in surprise. Lin Qiaoxin bounced slightly, barely containing a squeal of delight. Li Que's fierce expression softened into something approaching gratitude. Bai Zhenshuang's eyebrow rose a fraction of an inch. Hua Qianyu's face melted into a gentle smile. Su Qianyao's crimson eyes gleamed with delight.

"Master is too kind," Shen Mengyue whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

"Heart Slave thanks Master!" Lin Qiaoxin said, her voice bright and happy.

"Crane Slave is undeserving of such honor," Li Que said, her voice rough with feeling.

"Frost Slave gratefully accepts."

"Cloud Slave thanks you, Master."

Su Qianyao pressed a hand to her chest. "Demon Slave's heart flutters with joy. Master truly knows how to reward his devoted servants."

Xuanfa's hand moved, and six black leather belts materialized in his palm. They seemed to writhe with their own life, their surfaces gleaming with an oily sheen. The leather was supple yet tough, marked with the distinctive pattern of demonic python scales.

"These are belts crafted from the hide of the Shadow Python," Xuanfa said, his voice flat. "They are magical artifacts. When infused with spiritual energy, they will follow you relentlessly and strike your buttocks with precision. No matter what movement you make, no matter what position you assume, the Shadow Stripe will find its mark."

He paused, a faint curl at the corner of his lips. "They are not as painful as the Wood of Heaven's Judgment, but they will suffice for supplementary discipline."

Su Qianyao reached forward and took her belt with trembling hands, her crimson eyes burning with excitement. "Master has given Demon Slave a truly precious treasure. This greedy buttocks of mine cannot get enough of four hundred strokes a day. With this, Demon Slave can satisfy its insatiable hunger for punishment."

Lin Qiaoxin grabbed her belt and turned it over in her hands, a grin spreading across her face. "So I can be spanked whenever I want? This is perfect!"

Li Que took her belt with firm, decisive hands. "Crane Slave will use the maximum spiritual energy to drive the Shadow Stripe and beat my buttocks to a pulp. It is the only way to maintain proper discipline."

Shen Mengyue accepted her belt with grace and reverence. "Moon Slave thanks Master for this generous gift. I will use it well to punish this buttocks of mine that has grown too comfortable."

Hua Qianyu held her belt with gentle fingers. "Cloud Slave will make good use of this artifact. I will ensure that my buttocks remember the pain of discipline."

Bai Zhenshuang took her belt with cool dignity. "Frost Slave accepts this gift with gratitude, Master. I will repay your kindness by punishing this buttocks until it is reduced to a bloody pulp."

Xuanfa nodded once. "Rise. Go and perform your duties."

The six women rose to their feet, their bodies naked and unashamed. As one, they each infused their belts with spiritual energy. The Shadow Stripes came to life, writhing and coiling like serpents. In a single synchronized motion, the belts snapped against their owners' buttocks.

Six sharp cracks echoed through the hall.

The women did not flinch. They did not gasp. They simply turned and walked toward the training grounds, their buttocks already beginning to redden.

Outside, the training grounds of Zehuang Gate sprawled across a wide plateau, dotted with practice dummies, meditation circles, and cultivation chambers. Female disciples moved about their tasks, all of them naked as the day they were born. Their bodies glistened with sweat and spiritual essence as they practiced sword forms, trained in martial techniques, and arranged themselves in array formations.

Shen Mengyue and Bai Zhenshuang moved to the sword training area, drawing their disciples into formation. The two women stood before their students, their bodies straight and proud, their buttocks jutting out slightly as they assumed teaching stances.

Behind them, the Shadow Stripes coiled and struck.

The belts snapped against their buttocks with a rhythm as steady as a heartbeat. The leather bit into the soft flesh, sending ripples of red across the pale skin. The impacts were precise, landing at the same spot each time, working in a methodical pattern from the upper slopes to the lower curves.

Shen Mengyue raised her sword, the blade gleaming in the sunlight. "Remember the principles of the Moon's Edge technique. The sword is an extension of your will. You must not fight against your opponent—you must dance with them."

The Shadow Stripe cracked against her left cheek, sending a wave of motion through her flesh.

Her voice did not waver. "Watch my form. The angle of the wrist determines the direction of the cut."

Another crack, this time on her right cheek.

Bai Zhenshuang stood beside her, her body straight and immobile despite the relentless assault on her buttocks. Her face remained cold and composed, as if the belt striking her flesh were no more than a distant breeze.

"Frost Sword technique," she said, her voice like winter wind. "The sword must flow like a river of ice. It must cut through the air without resistance, leaving only the cold of death in its wake."

The Shadow Stripe landed on her left buttock with a sound like a thunderclap.

Bai Zhenshuang did not even blink.

Behind her, the red marks on her buttocks overlapped, creating a pattern of crimson stripes across the pale canvas of her skin. The flesh swelled slightly under the assault, growing fuller and redder with each passing moment.

Across the training grounds, Li Que was leading the combat instruction. Her athletic body moved through the forms with explosive power, each movement precise and deadly. The Shadow Stripe followed her relentlessly, striking her buttocks as she moved.

She threw a punch, and the belt cracked against her right cheek.

She kicked, and the belt struck her left cheek.

She spun, and the belt wrapped around her waist before snapping against her lower back.

Li Que's face remained focused, her eyes locked on her students. "The foundation of combat is the stance. If your stance is weak, your power is weak. You must root yourself to the ground like a mountain, but move with the fluidity of water."

The Shadow Stripe landed three more times in rapid succession, each strike producing a sound like a whip cracking through the air.

Li Que's buttocks bounced with the impacts, the flesh quivering and reddening. A thin layer of sweat formed on her lower back as the exertion of training combined with the heat of punishment.

Lin Qiaoxin was in the array training area, drawing patterns in the air with her fingers. Glowing lines of spiritual energy traced her movements, forming intricate geometric shapes that hummed with power.

"Now, the key to a good array," she said, her voice cheerful despite the Shadow Stripe that was currently taking chunks out of her buttocks, "is that you must make it both deadly and beautiful. There's no point in a Formation that kills your enemy if it doesn't look good doing it!"

The belt cracked against her right buttock, and she let out a small gasp, her body jerking forward slightly. But she recovered almost instantly, her gr

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The morning sun cast long shadows across the gates of the Tianjian Sect, where disciples in pristine white robes bustled about their duties. The mountainous sect grounds stretched behind them, a fortress of swordsmanship that had stood for three thousand years. At the entrance, two guards stood at attention, their hands resting on their sword hilts.

The sound of footsteps on stone drew their attention. A woman approached, and both guards froze in shock.

She was completely naked.

Her black hair cascaded down her back and over her shoulders, framing a face that held an impossible duality—the fresh, supple skin of a young maiden combined with the knowing, alluring curves of a mature woman. Her features were delicate yet commanding: high cheekbones, full lips slightly parted, eyes that shimmered with the wisdom of centuries. Her breasts were full and firm, rising and falling with each unhurried step. Her waist narrowed to a slender curve before flaring into hips that were perfectly proportioned, and between her legs, the most intimate parts of her body were displayed without shame. Around her neck sat a black slave collar, a stark symbol of her status.

In her right hand, she carried a sheathed sword. That was all. No cloak, no robe, not even a scrap of fabric to cover her modesty.

The guards gaped. Their mouths opened and closed like fish gasping for air. One of them dropped his spear.

"W-what—" the younger guard stammered, his face reddening to the roots of his hair. "You cannot—this is the Tianjian Sect! You must clothe yourself!"

The woman did not pause. She continued walking toward the gate with the grace of flowing water, her bare feet stepping lightly on the warm stone. Her demeanor was serene, untroubled, as if walking naked through the world was the most natural thing imaginable.

And it was. For her.

"Inform your Sect Master that Shen Mengyue of the Zefeng Sect has arrived," she said, her voice carrying the calm authority of a woman who had once ruled her own sect. "I have a message from my master, Xuanfa Tianzun."

The name hit the guards like a thunderbolt.

Shen Mengyue. The Moon Slave. One of the legendary female slaves of Xuanfa Tianzun, the most feared cultivator in the mortal world. Former sect master of the Immortal Xia Sect. A cultivator at the late-stage Nascent Soul realm, who had once commanded thousands of disciples.

Now she walked naked through the world, a slave's collar around her throat, and carried herself like an empress.

Word spread through the sect like wildfire. Disciples dropped their training to rush to the main plaza. Elders emerged from their meditation chambers. By the time Shen Mengyue reached the vast courtyard before the main hall, hundreds of disciples had gathered, their eyes wide, their whispers a cacophony of shock and disbelief.

They stared at her. At her bare breasts. At the curve of her hips. At the triangle between her legs where her womanhood was clearly visible. At the black collar that marked her as property.

Shen Mengyue stood before them, utterly at ease. She swept her gaze across the crowd, noting their flushed faces, their averted eyes, their barely contained outrage. She felt no shame. Shame was a garment she had shed long ago, along with her clothes. Her master had taught her that a slave's body was meant to be displayed, that modesty was a luxury for those who had not yet learned true submission.

She raised her head and projected her voice with spiritual power.

"Bai Zhenshuang! Come forth!"

The sound echoed through the mountains, carrying across every peak and valley of the Tianjian Sect. It was not a request. It was a summons.

The crowd parted.

A woman emerged from the main hall, walking with measured steps. She was tall, her posture straight as the sword she carried at her hip. Her face was a masterpiece of cold beauty: sharp jawline, high cheekbones, a straight nose, and eyes that held the chill of winter frost. Her lips were full but pressed into a thin line, and her brow carried an air of natural superiority. Her black hair fell like a waterfall of ink past her shoulders, straight and unbound except for a single silver clasp near her temple.

She wore the white robes of the Tianjian Sect, embroidered with silver thread at the cuffs and collar. At her hip hung a sword sheathed in a scabbard of pale blue, the hilt wrapped in white leather.

Bai Zhenshuang, Sect Master of the Tianjian Sect, the White Frost Sword Immortal. Late-stage Nascent Soul. One of the most powerful sword cultivators in the world.

Her eyes flickered with surprise when she saw Shen Mengyue's nakedness, but the expression vanished in an instant, replaced by icy composure.

"Moon Slave," Bai Zhenshuang said, her voice flat and cold. "You come to my sect in such a state. Do you have no shame?"

Shen Mengyue smiled gently. "Shame is for those who have not yet learned humility, Sect Master Bai. I am a slave. My body belongs to my master, and he has commanded that I display it freely. It is my honor to obey."

"A perverse honor," Bai Zhenshuang said.

"In the eyes of the world, perhaps." Shen Mengyue inclined her head. "But I did not come to debate philosophy. I come bearing my master's message."

She drew herself up and spoke in a clear, carrying voice.

"Hear the words of Xuanfa Tianzun, Lord of the Zefeng Sect, Supreme Arbiter of the Heavenly Punishment! Bai Zhenshuang, Sect Master of the Tianjian Sect, you have spoken words of disrespect against the Zefeng Sect and its master. For this crime, you are sentenced to the following punishment: Each day, at the hour of the setting sun, you will strip yourself of all clothing, proceed to the entrance of the Zefeng Sect, kneel, and present your buttocks for punishment. You will receive one hundred strokes of the Heavenly Dao Spanking Board upon your bare bottom. This punishment shall continue for ten years. Consider this a light discipline, a warning to correct your tongue before greater consequences befall you."

Silence.

Then, chaos.

"How dare you!"

"This is an insult to the Tianjian Sect!"

"Seize this naked whore!"

The disciples surged forward, hands reaching for swords, faces twisted with fury. Shen Mengyue did not move, did not flinch. She simply stood there, naked and calm, watching them with patient eyes.

Bai Zhenshuang raised her hand.

"Stop."

The disciples froze. The Sect Master's voice cut through the rage like a blade through silk.

"You will not lay hands on her," Bai Zhenshuang said calmly. "She is merely a messenger. Killing the messenger changes nothing about the message."

"But Sect Master—" one of the elders protested.

"I said stop." Bai Zhenshuang turned her cold gaze to Shen Mengyue. "You have delivered your message, Moon Slave. You may return to your master and tell him this: I, Bai Zhenshuang, respect only those worthy of my respect. I do not bow to tyranny, and I do not submit to threats. If Xuanfa Tianzun wishes to punish me, let him come himself. I will meet him with my sword."

Shen Mengyue's expression did not change. "Sect Master Bai, I must caution you. My master's patience is not infinite. This punishment is a small matter, barely a slap on the wrist. If you resist, the consequences will be far more severe."

"Everything is settled by strength," Bai Zhenshuang replied. "If your master is stronger than me, he may do as he wishes. If not, then his threats are empty. I will not submit to a bully's demands."

Shen Mengyue sighed softly. "Then I must do this the hard way."

She drew her sword.

The blade emerged from its sheath with a whisper of steel, catching the sunlight in a flash of violet light. The sword was named Zixia—Purple Cloud—and it had been her companion for four hundred years. The blade hummed with spiritual power, resonating with its master's intent.

"Heart Slave," Bai Zhenshuang said, drawing her own sword. The blade gleamed like frozen moonlight, cold and deadly, radiating an aura of absolute zero. "You are a sword cultivator. You understand the weight of this challenge. If you lose, your master's demands become meaningless."

"If I lose, I will accept my defeat with grace," Shen Mengyue said. "But I will not lose."

The disciples backed away, forming a wide circle around the two women. This was a battle between late-stage Nascent Soul cultivators, two of the most powerful sword masters in the world. The shockwaves alone could level buildings.

Bai Zhenshuang attacked first.

Her sword moved like a serpent, fast and unpredictable, trailing frost that crystallized in the air. The temperature dropped sharply as she closed the distance, her blade aimed at Shen Mengyue's throat.

Shen Mengyue met the attack head-on. Her purple sword clashed against white frost, and the impact sent a shockwave rippling through the courtyard. Stone tiles cracked beneath their feet. Disciples staggered back, shielding their faces from the blast of wind.

They separated and attacked again. Sword met sword in a dance of light and shadow, each strike carrying the weight of centuries of training. Bai Zhenshuang's style was aggressive, relentless, each blow meant to overwhelm and dominate. Her frost aura spread across the battlefield, coating the ground in a thin layer of ice.

Shen Mengyue's style was different. She was fluid, adaptive, flowing around Bai Zhenshuang's attacks like water around stone. Her sword moved in arcs and spirals, never meeting force with force but redirecting, turning her opponent's momentum against her.

The battle raged across the courtyard. They clashed on the rooftop of the main hall, sending tiles flying. They descended into the training grounds, their blades carving trenches in the earth. Disciples scrambled to stay out of the way, their faces a mixture of awe and fear.

Thirty rounds. Fifty rounds. Seventy rounds.

Bai Zhenshuang's attacks grew more desperate. She was not used to opponents who could match her. She was the White Frost Sword Immortal, unchallenged in sword technique for three hundred years. Her sword was an extension of her soul, honed to perfection.

Shen Mengyue was still calm, still composed, her breathing steady.

One hundred rounds.

Shen Mengyue saw the opening. A tiny flaw in Bai Zhenshuang's stance, a fraction of a second where her weight shifted improperly. In that moment, Shen Mengyue moved.

Her sword slipped past Bai Zhenshuang's guard. Tip pressed against the Sect Master's throat.

"I yield," Shen Mengyue said quietly.

A heartbeat of silence. Then Shen Mengyue's sword swept around, the flat of the blade striking Bai Zhenshuang's wrist. The white sword clattered to the ground.

Shen Mengyue's sword was at Bai Zhenshuang's throat again. "You have lost, Sect Master Bai."

The disciples stared in disbelief. Their Sect Master, undefeated in open combat for centuries, had been beaten. By a naked woman. A slave.

Bai Zhenshuang's face was pale, but her expression remained cold. "How? I am superior in sword technique. I have trained for five hundred years. How did you surpass me?"

Shen Mengyue lowered her sword but did not sheathe it. "I have been disciplined by my master tens of thousands of times, Sect Master Bai. Each punishment refined my body, tempered my spirit, and improved my cultivation. The Heavenly Dao Spanking Board does more than just cause pain. It corrects flaws. It purifies qi. It strengthens the foundation. My master's punishments have made me stronger than any training ever could."

She pulled a talisman from somewhere—perhaps from between her breasts, the only place she had to store anything—and activated it. Purple light flared and faded.

"I have informed my master of your resistance," Shen Mengyue said. "He has responded."

She read the message, then looked up at Bai Zhenshuang with pity in her eyes.

"Your sentence has been increased. Instead of the original punishment, you are to be taken to the Zefeng Sect for heavy discipline. Your resistance has earned you additional suffering."

She

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The sun hung low over the Hundred Flowers Valley, casting golden light across terraced gardens of spiritual herbs and blooming medicinal plants. The air was thick with the fragrance of a thousand blossoms, the gentle hum of spirit bees, and the soft rustle of leaves stirred by a warm breeze. It was a place of peace, of healing, of cultivation nurtured through centuries of careful stewardship.

That peace shattered the moment Li Que stepped through the valley's outer ward.

She walked barefoot along the main path, her bare feet pressing into the soft earth, her body completely naked save for the black slave collar around her neck. Her figure was tall and athletic, every muscle defined with the lean power of a lifelong warrior. Her skin held a warm golden undertone, kissed by flame and sun alike. Her red hair, the color of burning embers, was pulled back into a high ponytail that swayed with each confident step. Her breasts were firm and high, her waist narrow, her hips curved with the strength of a cultivator who had spent centuries honing her body into a weapon. The branding mark on her inner thigh, a small phoenix sigil, was a permanent symbol of her submission. Her eyes, sharp and piercing, held no shame, only purpose.

The first disciple to see her dropped her watering can. The clay vessel shattered on the stone path, but she barely noticed. Her mouth hung open, her face cycling through shock, confusion, and disbelief.

"W-who are you?!" the disciple stammered, taking a step back.

Li Que did not slow. She walked past the disciple as if she were invisible, her gaze fixed ahead on the main hall of the valley.

More disciples appeared. Some gasped. Some covered their mouths. A few young male disciples turned away, their ears burning red. One older female cultivator, a core formation elder, stepped forward with her hand on her sword hilt.

"Halt! Explain yourself! This is the Hundred Flowers Valley, a place of cultivation and dignity. You will not parade yourself here in such a—"

Li Que stopped. She turned her head slowly, fixing the elder with a cold, dismissive stare. "I am Li Que, the Sparrow Slave beneath the feet of the Heavens' Punishment Lord Xuanfa. Former vice-sect master of the Vermillion Bird Sect. I bear a message for your valley master. Call Hua Qianyu."

The elder's face paled. The name Li Que carried weight. The Vermillion Bird Sect had been a dominant force before its collapse. That its vice-sect master now walked as a naked slave, her neck bound by a simple black collar, was a truth too terrible to accept. And yet, here she stood, unashamed, unyielding.

The disciples murmured. Some wept. Others stared in horror at the former powerhouse who now seemed to glory in her degradation. Li Que caught their expressions and smiled a thin, cruel smile. She had been punished publicly more times than she could count. She had been made to crawl on hands and knees through crowded streets with her master's boot on her back. She had knelt in the main square of the Penal Phoenix Sect while a hundred disciples watched her receive the wooden board to her bare bottom. And she had learned, through every blow and every tear, that a slave's greatest honor was to display her submission. The body was the master's property. To hide it was to insult him.

Let them stare. Let them weep. She was proud to be seen.

A ripple passed through the gathered crowd. Disciples parted like water before a stone. And from the center of the valley, walking with measured grace, came Hua Qianyu.

She moved like spring itself given form. Her long, sea-green hair was loosely pinned at the back of her head, with several strands falling to frame a face of gentle beauty. Her eyes were warm, like sunlight filtering through leaves, yet sharp with the vigilance of a woman who had led this sect for centuries. Her robes were the color of jade, flowing and elegant, embroidered with patterns of flowers and vines. Her figure was full and motherly, curves that spoke of nurturing and life, soft yet strong. She looked upon Li Que without flinching, though the sight of a naked former vice-sect master sent a chill through her heart.

"Li Que," Hua Qianyu said, her voice calm but cautious. "You come uninvited into my valley, in such a state. What message does the Heavens' Punishment Lord send?"

Li Que straightened her back. "The Lord Xuanfa commands that Hua Qianyu and all disciples of the Hundred Flowers Valley who occupied the spirit herb garden of the Penal Phoenix Sect present themselves for judgment."

Hua Qianyu's calm cracked. "Occupied? That garden was abandoned after your sect's expansion. We merely tended what was untended."

"The garden was property of the Penal Phoenix Sect," Li Que replied, her voice flat. "The Lord considers taking what is his without permission to be theft. All disciples who entered that garden shall strip naked, kneel at the mountain entrance of the Penal Phoenix Sect, present their buttocks, and receive one hundred strikes of the Heavenly Wood Board per day for ten years. This is considered a light punishment."

The disciples erupted. Cries of outrage and fear filled the air.

"A hundred strikes a day for ten years?!"

"That would cripple our cultivation!"

"We cannot—"

Hua Qianyu raised her hand, and silence fell. Her face had lost some of its color, but her voice remained steady. "And what of me?"

"You are their master. You failed to instruct them properly. You also must report for punishment—"

"The same punishment?" Hua Qianyu asked, a flicker of hope in her eyes.

"No." Li Que's voice was merciless. "The Lord has not set your punishment yet. But for now, you will accompany your disciples."

Hua Qianyu's jaw tightened. She looked at the terrified faces of her disciples, young men and women who had worked the gardens with joy, who had treated every herb as if it were their own child. They had made a mistake, yes, but was a mistake worthy of a decade of daily lashing? Was it worthy of public nudity and humiliation that would scar them for life?

No. She would not allow it.

"I challenge you, Li Que," Hua Qianyu said, her voice resonating with spiritual power. "Single combat. If I win, you return to the Lord Xuanfa and report that the Hundred Flowers Valley refuses this judgment. If I lose..."

"Then your punishment increases," Li Que finished, a predatory grin spreading across her face. "And the Lord's judgment is carried out. You know the laws of the cultivation world. Resisting punishment is itself a crime. Are you certain you wish to fight?"

Hua Qianyu's hand went to her sword. "I cannot stand by and watch my children suffer. I will fight."

Li Que spread her hands, and flames erupted around her. Her body was wreathed in crimson fire, her aura blazing to the heavens. The disciples stumbled backward, shielding their eyes from the sudden heat. Hua Qianyu drew her blade, a slender sword of emerald light, and assumed a defensive stance.

The battle was short and brutal.

Hua Qianyu was a master of healing and herbal arts. Her sword work was fine, her Qi control impeccable. She wove barriers of wood and water to defend against Li Que's flames. She attempted binding vines, healing mist, and a dozen small advantages. But Li Que was a warrior who had trained for combat alone. Her flames, hardened by centuries of battle and sharpened by the brutal training of the Heavens' Punishment Lord, cut through every defense.

Within thirty exchanges, Li Que's flame whip coiled around Hua Qianyu's sword arm and yanked her off balance. A kick to the chest sent her sprawling. Before she could rise, Li Que pressed a burning hand to her throat, the heat searing but not killing.

"You lose," Li Que said calmly.

Hua Qianyu closed her eyes. Tears slipped from the corners. "Spare my disciples. Please. Punish only me."

Li Que released her and stepped back. She produced a communication talisman from a spatial pouch and crushed it between her fingers. A faint light formed into a shape, the silhouette of a man seated on a throne of black jade. His voice, cold as winter steel and deep as the abyss, echoed across the valley.

"Hua Qianyu of the Hundred Flowers Valley. Your disciples occupied my garden. You resisted lawful punishment and attacked my envoy. Your crimes have multiplied."

Hua Qianyu fell to her knees. "Lord Xuanfa! I beg you! Punish only me! My disciples were following my orders. They are innocent children. Let their punishment fall upon me alone. I will bear any weight, any torment, any lashing. Only spare them!"

A long silence. The disciples watched, trembling, as their proud valley master knelt before a mere projection.

"Any weight?" the voice asked, amused and terrible.

"Anything," Hua Qianyu whispered.

"Then stand and accept judgment."

Hua Qianyu rose on shaking legs. She looked at her disciples, their faces wet with tears, and mustered a gentle smile. "It will be alright. The Lord is just. He punishes only the guilty."

She took hold of her jade robes and slowly, with dignity that broke her disciples' hearts, she let them fall to the ground. Her body was revealed, soft and full, curves of a woman who had spent centuries nurturing life. Her skin was pale, almost luminous, and her breasts hung heavy and full. Her hips were wide, her thighs strong, her buttocks round and prominent. Her green hair fell loose around her shoulders. She looked like a fertility goddess stripped of her garments. Without hesitation, she knelt again and pressed her forehead to the dirt.

"Accept my submission," she said. "Punish only me."

The projection nodded once. "Li Que. She is yours."

The talisman crumbled to ash, and the cold presence vanished.

Li Que produced a length of Immortal Binding Chain, a rope woven from the essence of star-metal and bound with sealing runes. It coiled around Hua Qianyu's neck like a serpent, settling into place. The rope's end was firm in Li Que's hand. She tugged, and Hua Qianyu crawled forward onto her hands and knees, her breasts swinging, her bare bottom raised to the sky.

"We will first announce your crimes to your own disciples," Li Que said. "Then you will receive your punishment."

The walk to the main hall was the longest journey Hua Qianyu had ever made. She crawled on hands and knees across the stone paths she had walked as a sovereign. Her disciples lined the way, some weeping, some too shocked to move. The young male disciples could not bring themselves to look at their naked master. The female disciples covered their mouths, their eyes wide with disbelief. Hua Qianyu kept her gaze fixed on the ground, her hair pooling around her shoulders, her breasts brushing the earth with each movement.

At the foot of the main hall's steps, Li Que turned and spoke, her voice magnified by spiritual power to carry across the entire valley.

"Here stands Hua Qianyu, master of the Hundred Flowers Valley. She is guilty of failing to prevent her disciples from occupying the spirit herb garden of the Penal Phoenix Sect, theft of property belonging to the Heavens' Punishment Lord Xuanfa. She is guilty of resisting lawful punishment and attacking the Lord's envoy. Her sentence: four hundred strikes of the Heavenly Wood Board, to be administered here and now, before her own disciples, in full view of her valley. Afterward, she will be transported to the Penal Phoenix Sect for further judgment."

The crowd was silent. A few disciples sobbed.

Hua Qianyu positioned herself at the base of the steps, her knees on the cold stone, her arms stretched forward, her forehead touching the third step. She arched her back, raising her buttocks as high as she could. The position was deliberately humiliating, presenting the most private part of her body to the hundreds of eyes watching her.

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

Li Que did not immediately summon the boards. Instead, she turned toward the terraced gardens. Her hand raised, and her s

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The ancient forest of the Whispering Woods stretched endlessly beneath a sky the color of tarnished jade. Rare spiritual herbs dotted the undergrowth, their faint luminescence casting shifting shadows across the mossy floor. This was one of the many hidden realms that had surfaced during the recent upheavals in the cultivation world, a place where treasures and dangers lurked in equal measure.

A woman stood at the edge of a clearing, her silver hair cascading down her back like moonlight made solid. Her figure was the stuff of legends—full breasts straining against the thin fabric of her dark purple robe, a waist so slender it seemed almost impossible given the generous curve of her hips. Her eyes, crimson as fresh blood, swept across the terrain with languid amusement. Slightly parted lips revealed perfect white teeth, and her movements carried an unconscious sensuality that had driven countless cultivators to madness.

This was Su Qianyao, the Saintess of the Demon Clan, a woman whose very existence was a weapon of seduction.

Her red eyes narrowed as they caught sight of movement near a cluster of ancient spirit pines. A figure emerged from between the trees, and Su Qianyao's perfectly shaped eyebrows rose in genuine surprise.

"Well, well," she said, her voice a honeyed purr that seemed to caress the air itself. "What a rare sight. A little sister running around with her bottom bare for all the world to see."

The figure that stepped fully into the clearing was naked save for a black slave collar that encircled her slender throat. Her black hair was tied into twin ponytails that bounced with each step, giving her an appearance of eternal youth. Her body was that of a dancer—slim yet toned, with just enough softness in all the right places. Her breasts were firm and round, her waist narrow, her hips curved in a way that complemented her playful demeanor.

Lin Qiaoxin turned to face Su Qianyao with a bright, unguarded smile, as if being completely nude in front of a legendary demon saintess was the most natural thing in the world.

"My, my, Sister Yao," Lin Qiaoxin said, her voice carrying a singsong quality of mischief. "You've been bullying the disciples of our Ze Feng Sect again. That's not very nice."

Su Qianyao's smile widened, but her crimson eyes remained sharp. "Playing with little ones, nothing more. Surely your master can't be so petty as to take offense at a few games."

"Oh, but he did take offense," Lin Qiaoxin replied, still smiling. She turned around slowly, deliberately, and wiggled her bare bottom at the demon saintess. "Say, Sister Yao, what do you think of this? I was twenty years old when Master took me as his slave girl. Now I'm over four hundred, and I've spent more time naked than clothed. Not bad for a millennium genius, wouldn't you say?"

Su Qianyao's lips curved into an appreciative smile. She had heard much of Ze Feng's harem in the years since his sect had risen to prominence. The stories spoke of women of peerless beauty and cultivation who knelt willingly before the Heavenly Punishment Lord. But seeing one of them so utterly unashamed of her nudity, so completely comfortable in her submission, was something else entirely.

Lin Qiaoxin turned back to face her, hands on her hips. "Anyway, Master sent me to bring you back for punishment. Ten years of spanking, he said. So why don't you come quietly, Sister Yao? It'll save us both a fight."

The air between them suddenly grew heavy. Su Qianyao's smile didn't waver, but her aura shifted—a subtle expansion of pressure that made the leaves around them tremble.

"Ten years of spanking?" she repeated, her voice dropping to a husky murmur. "That's a bold claim, little sister. But if the Heavenly Punishment Lord wants to warm this backside of mine, he'll have to earn the privilege."

She raised a hand, and pink light danced between her fingers. "Come, Heart Slave. Show me what a genius of a millennium can do against the Saintess of the Demon Clan."

Lin Qiaoxin sighed dramatically. "Sister Yao, are you sure you want to resist punishment? Those who resist get much harsher treatment, you know. Master might just beat your bottom until it's black and blue."

She reached back and patted her own bottom, which suddenly bore the faint red marks of a recent paddling. "Though between us, that doesn't sound so bad. I'm already thinking about kneeling before Master tonight, feeling his Celestial Judgment Board against my skin..."

Su Qianyao's breath hitched almost imperceptibly. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, and something dark and hungry flickered in her crimson eyes.

"Beat my bottom black and blue, you say?" she murmured, more to herself than to Lin Qiaoxin. "Now that... that sounds like an experience worth having."

From the moment she had reached adulthood, Su Qianyao had discovered a secret she never dared reveal to anyone: her body craved punishment. But in the Demon Clan, where she was the Saintess, the strongest, the most feared, no man would dare raise a hand against her. Those who approached her with lust in their eyes became puppets dancing to her charms. Those who might have suspected her desire were too terrified to act.

For centuries, she had lived with this unfulfilled hunger, her beautiful, treacherous body yearning for something it could never have.

Until now.

"Sister Yao," Lin Qiaoxin said, her playful tone sharpening. "Last chance. Come willingly."

"Make me, little sister."

The battle erupted without warning.

Su Qianyao's hand swept forward, releasing a wave of pink energy that shimmered with hypnotic patterns. The air itself seemed to thicken with seductive intent, the trees around them leaning in as if enchanted by the Saintess's will. It was her signature technique—the Nine Heavens Seduction Art, capable of enslaving even the strongest cultivators with a single breath.

But Lin Qiaoxin was already moving.

Runes erupted from the ground, tracing intricate patterns of light that wove together into a complex formation. It expanded faster than thought, creating a barrier of pure energy that repelled the pink mist. And within that barrier, Lin Qiaoxin's fingers danced, summoning layer upon layer of arrays.

"You call that a formation?" Su Qianyao laughed, her voice laced with mocking affection. "I've seen better from tribulation-level disciples."

"Then watch this!"

Lin Qiaoxin stamped her foot, and the ground beneath them transformed. Chains of golden light burst from the earth, wrapping around Su Qianyao's ankles and wrists before she could react. The demon saintess twisted, breaking free of the first set, but more erupted from every direction, weaving a cage of pure energy around her.

"Impressive," Su Qianyao admitted, her eyes gleaming with grudging respect. "But I'm not done yet."

Her body blurred, splitting into a dozen afterimages, each one launching a different attack. Fire, ice, shadow, and seductive melodies all converged on Lin Qiaoxin's position. The forest around them groaned and shattered under the force of their clash.

Lin Qiaoxin's smile never wavered. Her hands traced impossible patterns, summoning defensive arrays that absorbed the barrage of attacks. And all the while, she was laying a trap.

"You know," she called out over the chaos, "Master says I have the most devious mind for formations he's ever seen. Want to see why?"

The ground beneath Su Qianyao's feet erupted.

A formation exploded upward, a pillar of golden light that caught the demon saintess mid-dodge. It wrapped around her like a cocoon, and suddenly she couldn't move. More chains of light shot from the pillar, stretching her arms and legs into a wide X position, suspending her several feet above the ground.

Su Qianyao's robes had been torn apart in the final explosion of energy, leaving her completely exposed. Her silver hair fell around her shoulders, framing a face of exquisite beauty that now held a hint of surprise. Her body was a masterpiece of curves—full, proud breasts, a waist so narrow it seemed designed to invite embracing hands, and hips that flared into a generous, perfectly rounded bottom.

And what a bottom it was.

Firm, full, plump—every curve seemed designed for one purpose. The pale skin of her buttocks contrasted starkly with her flushed thighs, and when Su Qianyao struggled against her bonds, they jiggled in a way that was almost obscenely tempting.

"Such a beautiful bottom," Lin Qiaoxin said appreciatively, walking in a slow circle around the suspended woman. "It would be a shame to damage it. But Master's orders are Master's orders."

She raised her hand, and the formation around them shifted. Where golden chains had been moments before, now hundreds of spectral whips and paddles materialized out of thin air, arranged in perfect rows like an executioner's arsenal.

"First stop," Lin Qiaoxin announced cheerfully, "punishment for bullying Ze Feng disciples. One hundred strikes."

The first whip lashed forward.

THWACK.

The sound echoed through the forest like thunder. Su Qianyao's body jerked, a sharp cry escaping her lips.

But it wasn't a cry of pain.

"Ah~!"

The sound that came from Su Qianyao's throat was high, sweet, utterly unexpected. Her back arched, pushing her breasts forward, and her eyes fluttered half-closed in an expression that could only be described as pleasure.

THWACK.

Another strike, this one landing directly on the fullest part of her cheek. Her skin reddened immediately, a perfect handprint bloomed across the pale flesh.

"More," Su Qianyao breathed, her voice husky with desire. "Harder."

Lin Qiaoxin blinked. "You... like this?"

"Does it matter?" Su Qianyao managed, though her resolve was crumbling with each stroke. "I was defeated. This is... standard punishment, isn't it? Just... just keep going."

THWACK. THWACK. THWACK.

The spectral instruments descended in a rhythm, striking her bottom from all angles. Her buttocks bounced and trembled with each impact, growing redder and more swollen by the second. And with each strike, Su Qianyao's body responded in ways she could no longer control.

Her thighs glistened with moisture. Between her legs, a clear fluid trickled down, running over her nether lips and dripping to the ground below.

"By the heavens," Lin Qiaoxin muttered, genuinely stunned. "I thought I was the pervert in this sect, but you... Sister Yao, you're something else entirely."

"Don't... stop..." Su Qianyao gasped. "Harder. Please. I need... I need..."

Her voice trailed off into a moan as another volley of strikes landed, each one harder than the last. The skin of her bottom was now a deep, angry red, crisscrossed with darker lines where the spectral weapons had struck.

Thirty strikes. Fifty. Eighty.

By the time the hundredth blow landed, Su Qianyao's bottom was a masterpiece of punishment. Both cheeks were swollen, hot to the touch, and covered in a rainbow of colors from pink to deep purple. Droplets of her pleasure still ran down her legs, and her body trembled with a barely-contained climax that she was struggling to suppress.

But Lin Qiaoxin wasn't finished.

"That was just the appetizer," she said, reaching into a pouch at her side. "Master said ten years, so we're starting with four hundred strikes today. But I thought we might try something special."

She held up a long, slender object. It was a ginger root, carefully peeled and carved into a smooth, tapered cylinder about as thick as two fingers.

Su Qianyao's crimson eyes focused on the object, a flicker of confusion crossing her features.

"What is that?"

"This," Lin Qiaoxin said with a grin, "is a little trick Master taught me. It's called ginger discipline. For special occasions."

She positioned herself behind Su Qianyao's spread bottom, which now hung exposed and trembling in the aftermath of the hundred strikes. With practiced ease, she pressed the tip of the ginger root against the darker, more secret opening nestled between the demon saintess's swollen c

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The morning sun rose over the责凰门广场, casting long shadows across the marble stones. Three thick stone columns stood in the center, their surfaces covered in densely carved runes that pulsed with a dim golden light, suppressing all spiritual energy within a hundred feet. Before these columns knelt three naked women, their hands bound behind their backs with golden Immortal Binding Chains that coiled around the pillars, anchoring them in place.

On the left knelt White Pillow Frost, the Sword Sovereign of Heaven's Sword Sect. Her black hair spilled over her pale shoulders, her exquisite features cold and unyielding as carved jade. Her full breasts pressed against the stone, and her round buttocks were raised high in the air, completely exposed to the morning light. Behind her floated her own sword, Frost Condensation, held in a sheath that had been enchanted by the Heavens' Punishment Tribunal.

The sheath began to move.

It swung back, then forward, slapping against White Pillow Frost's right buttock with a sharp crack that echoed across the square. Her flesh trembled, a faint pink mark blooming on the pale skin. She did not flinch. Her jaw tightened, her eyes fixed on the stone before her. The sheath swung again, striking the left buttock with equal force. Again and again, each blow landing with mechanical precision, wearing down her pride with every impact.

Three hundred seventy-third. Three hundred seventy-fourth.

The sword sheath did not pause, did not tire. White Pillow Frost's breaths came shallow and controlled. She would not cry out. She was the Sword Sovereign. She had faced enemies who could shatter mountains with a single glance. She had cut down demon lords and rogue cultivators. She would not break before a piece of enchanted metal.

Three hundred ninety-eighth. Three hundred ninety-ninth.

On the four hundredth strike, her back arched involuntarily, a tear rolling down her cheek and splashing onto the marble. The sheath paused. Then, it rotated, its flat side turning so that the edge now pointed toward the place where her buttocks met. A thin leather strap extended from the sheath's tip, and with a whistle, it lashed across the most sensitive hidden place between her spread thighs.

White Pillow Frost gasped, her hips jerking forward. The strap came again, striking precisely the same spot, and a low, choked sound escaped her throat. She bit her lip until she tasted copper. The fourth lash cracked across her swollen flesh, and she could not stop the sob that tore free. The humiliation was absolute. To be disciplined by her own sword sheath—her companion, her symbol of power—was worse than any wound from a blade.

Sixty-seventh. Sixty-eighth.

The strap continued its relentless rhythm, each strike digging into the most intimate part of her, the part that no enemy had ever seen, let alone struck. By the ninety-eighth lash, White Pillow Frost was weeping openly, her tears falling freely, her composure shattered. The hundredth lash came, and she collapsed forward, her forehead pressing against the cold stone, her body shaking with silent sobs.

In the center knelt Flower Thousand Words, the Valley Master of Hundred Flowers Valley. Her green hair was loosely tied behind her head, several strands falling across her face. Her expression was one of gentle resignation, her full, soft body trembling slightly. Before her lay a bowl of Scorpion Grass paste, mixed with a special alchemical agent that magnified the itching sensation a hundredfold.

A stone brush, enchanted by celestial law, dipped into the paste and began to apply it to Flower Thousand Words's upturned buttocks. The first stroke sent a wave of sensation through her, not painful, but deeply unsettling. The second stroke brought the beginning of an itch. By the fifth stroke, her entire bottom was coated in the shimmering green paste, and the itch had begun in earnest.

She gasped, her fingers clenching behind her back. The itch grew, not like a mosquito bite, but like a million tiny ants crawling beneath her skin. She shifted her weight, trying to find some relief, but moving only spread the sensation. She pressed her thighs together, hoping friction would ease the torment, but the cursed paste had seeped into every crease, every fold.

"Hahhh... hahhh..." Her breaths became ragged, her body squirming. "Please... please, I can't..."

The itch intensified. It was not on the surface but deep within her flesh, as if her very bones were tickled by demon fingers. She wanted to scream, to thrash, to do anything to stop it. But she could not. She was bound, helpless, her only movement the desperate writhing of her hips.

"Please... please let me have the boards..." she whimpered, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I'll take the boards... four hundred... I'll take it... just... please..."

As if in answer, two wooden planks descended from the heavens. They hovered on either side of her raised buttocks, their surfaces smooth and warm. They began to swing, slapping against her coated flesh with a wet, sharp sound. The first blow sent a spray of green paste into the air, and Flower Thousand Words cried out—not in pain, but in relief.

The itch faded, replaced by the clean, sharp sting of the wood. The planks alternated, one after the other, slapping her flesh with rhythmic precision. She wept openly, her body shaking, but she did not beg them to stop. Each blow was a mercy, a release from the crawling torment. The planks beat her buttocks to a raw red, then to a deep purple, and still she sobbed with gratitude.

"Thank you... thank you..." she whispered between breaths. "I deserve this... I'm sorry... I'm sorry..."

On the right knelt Su Qian Yao, the Demon Saintess of the Fallen Clan. Her silver hair cascaded down her back, a striking contrast against her tanned skin. Her red eyes gleamed with a strange light, her full lips curved into a faint smile. Before her, two wooden planks had already begun their work, slapping her rounded buttocks with resounding cracks.

Each blow made her body jolt, her breasts bouncing with the impacts. She did not cry. She laughed.

"Yes... yes, harder..." she breathed, her voice husky and raw. Her skin had already taken on a rosy flush, and a slick wetness glistened between her thighs. "The planks should strike harder... don't be gentle with this worthless body..."

The planks obeyed, their blows increasing in force. Cracks echoed across the square as her flesh gave way, the skin splitting in several places, blood trickling down the backs of her thighs. She moaned, arching her back, her smile turning into a grimace of pleasure-pain.

"More... more!" she cried out, her hips grinding against the air. "Hit me so hard that I can't sit for a month! Destroy this ass of mine! Burn it! Break it!"

The four hundredth blow landed, and Su Qian Yao slumped forward, breathing heavily. A trickle of blood ran from the corner of her mouth, where she had bitten her lip in ecstasy. Her buttocks were a mass of bruises and cuts, but she was still smiling.

The planks paused. Then, from a golden plate that floated beside her, an object descended: a thick, peeled ginger root, shaped into a long, narrow cylinder. It floated behind her, pointing at the hidden entrance between her spread cheeks.

"Ahhh..." Su Qian Yao's eyes glazed over with anticipation. "Yes... fill me..."

The ginger root slid inside her, thick and cold, its edges rough. She gasped as it entered, her inner walls clenching around it. The burning sensation began immediately, spreading through her core like fire. She cried out, her body convulsing, her toes curling against the stone. The ginger sat inside her, a constant, agonizing presence that made her thighs tremble.

"One hour... starting now," announced a voice from nowhere.

The three women knelt in the morning sun, enduring their judgment. The责凰门 disciples who passed by the square did not look at them directly, but they knew. Everyone knew. The three great powers of the northern continent had knelt, broken and humbled, before the might of Xuan Fa.

After the punishment was complete, a soft golden light emanated from the stone columns. Healing formations hidden beneath the marble activated, their warmth spreading through the bodies of the three women. Wounds closed, bruises faded, internal damage repaired. Their pain did not disappear entirely, but it diminished to a dull ache that served as a reminder of what they had endured.

Within the transcendent realm of Xuan Tian Realm, the air was crisp and cool, the spiritual energy so dense that it formed mist around the immortal peach trees. The palace stood at the center of this realm, its walls carved from white jade, its pillars inlaid with spirit stones that hummed with power.

Lin Qiao Xin, Li Que, and Shen Meng Yue knelt before the throne of Xuan Fa. Their bodies were bare, their slave collars gleaming black around their throats. Their buttocks, still pink from the morning's exertions, rested on their heels as they bowed their heads.

"Master," said Shen Meng Yue, her voice calm and respectful. "We have observed today's punishment as you commanded. White Pillow Frost received four hundred strikes from her own sword sheath, followed by one hundred lashes to her private place. She did not cry out until the very end."

"She cried like a child," added Li Que, a hint of satisfaction in her voice. "The Sword Sovereign's dignity is in tatters."

"We also request something, Master," said Lin Qiao Xin, her tone a mix of playful and sincere. "We have completed the task you set for us. We have successfully managed the affairs of the sect and trained the new disciples. As a reward... we request an increase in our daily punishment."

Xuan Fa, seated on his throne, looked down at the three women before him. His face was as impassive as stone, but a faint gleam entered his eyes. "An increase? How many more strokes?"

"Four hundred," said Li Que, lifting her head to meet his gaze. "We want four hundred strokes of the celestial planks every day. As our due."

A low laugh escaped Xuan Fa's lips. "So you three have grown addicted to the spanking, is that it? You now crave the sting of wood on your bottoms?"

"Yes, Master," the three women said in unison, their voices steady and unashamed.

Shen Meng Yue's cheeks flushed slightly, but she did not lower her head. "This body has been trained to find pleasure in pain, Master. When the planks strike me, I feel alive. I feel yours. I want more of you."

"Then you will have it," Xuan Fa said. He raised his hand, and three figures stepped out from the inner chambers. They were young, beautiful, their faces bearing a striking resemblance to the women who knelt before them. Lin Yu Xin, Li Yun Lin, and Shen Xing Mian—the daughters of the three kneeling women—approached the throne, their heads bowed respectfully.

"Lin Yu Xin, Li Yun Lin, Shen Xing Mian," Xuan Fa said, his voice cold and commanding. "Your mothers' bottoms are itching again. Take the celestial planks and punish them. Four hundred strokes each."

"By your command, Master," the three young women said in unison. They knelt before him, touching their foreheads to the floor. "We live to serve you."

They rose and approached their mothers, each picking up a heavy wooden plank that materialized from the air. The planks were smooth but thick, their edges designed not to cut but to deliver maximum sting and bruising.

"Mother," Shen Xing Mian said softly, her voice carrying a hint of reluctance, "please position yourself."

Shen Meng Yue smiled gently and turned around, raising her buttocks high into the air. She looked over her shoulder at her daughter and said, "Hit me as hard as you can, my child. Aim for the spot where the left cheek meets the thigh. That is the most sensitive place. And do not stop until the four hundred are done."

"Yes, Mother," Shen Xing Mian said, raising the plank.

Beside her, Lin Yu Xin had positioned Lin Qiao Xin in the same posture

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The rows of white buttocks rose in perfect lines across the vast hall of the Xuantian Realm. Eighty female cultivators knelt on the cold stone floor, their upper bodies pressed flat against the ground, their arms stretched forward, presenting their bare bottoms to the heavens. Behind each woman floated two slabs of dark wood, each carved with ancient runes that pulsed with faint golden light—the Heavenly Punishment Boards. They swung in unison, striking left and right with mechanical precision, filling the hall with a steady rhythm of sharp cracks and muffled cries.

Some of the women were relative newcomers. Their bodies jerked with each impact, their hands clenched into fists, and their faces twisted with the effort of holding back screams. Tears streaked down cheeks, and some whimpered between sobs. But the majority of the eighty women remained still and composed, their buttocks bouncing and reddening under the relentless assault, yet their expressions held a strange peace. They had learned long ago that struggling only made it worse. The boards would not stop until the count was met, and the only way to endure was to accept.

At the very front of the formation, three women knelt separately from the others. Their positions were elevated on a low platform, a mark of their status as the most powerful slaves in Xuan Fa's possession. Their buttocks were raised higher than the rest, fully exposed under the pale light of the hall's enchanted ceiling. Behind each of them, two Heavenly Punishment Boards hovered at the ready, larger and thicker than those used on the others.

Lin Qiaoxin knelt on the left. Her twin ponytails hung forward, brushing the stone floor as she kept her head down. This was her favorite position—the one where she could feel every single stroke land exactly where the master intended. The boards had not yet begun their work for the day, but she was already smiling. The waiting was part of the pleasure.

Li Que knelt in the center. Her proud posture had long since given way to perfect submission, though a hint of her former arrogance lingered in the way she held her shoulders. She had once thought herself unbeatable. Now she knew better. Behind her, the twin boards hummed with power, and she could feel the faint vibration in the air. She took a slow breath, centering herself.

Shen Mengyue knelt on the right. Her long black hair cascaded over her shoulders, pooling on the floor beside her delicate hands. Of the three, she was the most serene. Her time as a sect leader had taught her discipline, and her years as a slave had taught her humility. The boards behind her were mere tools of her master's will, and she welcomed them as she welcomed everything he chose to give.

The hall fell silent. The other eighty women paused in their own punishments, their boards hanging motionless. A single figure stepped forward from the shadows at the back of the hall. Xuan Fa walked with measured steps, his black training robes flowing around his lean frame, his face an unreadable mask of cold perfection. He stopped before the platform, looking down at the three women.

"Today's count is four hundred," he said. His voice carried no emotion, but every woman in the hall shivered at the sound. "Begin for Lin Qiaoxin."

The two boards behind Lin Qiaoxin snapped into motion. One struck her left cheek with a resounding crack, then the right, then left again, each blow landing a fraction of a second apart. The rhythm was fast—faster than what the other women endured. Lin Qiaoxin let out a soft gasp, arching her back slightly as heat bloomed across her skin.

"Oh, that's good," she breathed. "Master's timing is perfect today. The left one is just a little harder than the right. He knows my left cheek is more sensitive."

The boards continued without mercy. Forty strokes in, her buttocks had turned a deep rose color. One hundred strokes in, and she was biting her lower lip, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. Two hundred strokes in, and the flesh jiggled with every impact, the skin taking on a darker hue. But through it all, Lin Qiaoxin never stopped smiling.

"More," she whispered. "Please, master, more."

The boards obeyed, increasing their tempo. Three hundred strokes. Four hundred. On the final blow, Lin Qiaoxin's entire body went limp, her forehead touching the ground. A single tear rolled down her nose and dripped onto the stone. She lay still for a moment, panting, then slowly pushed herself up onto her palms.

"Done for Lin Qiaoxin," she said, her voice hoarse. "Thank you, master."

Xuan Fa's gaze shifted to Li Que. "Begin."

Li Que braced herself. She knew what was coming. She had faced these boards countless times, and still, the first stroke sent a shock of pure fire through her nerves. She clenched her teeth, refusing to cry out. The second stroke landed on the same spot, and she grunted. By the fiftieth stroke, she was breathing hard, her knuckles white where she gripped the floor. By the hundredth, her hips were trembling, the muscles in her thighs straining.

"Master's punishment is a slave's honor," she said through gritted teeth. "Please strike harder. Your slave's bottom deserves no mercy."

The boards obliged. The sound of wood on flesh echoed through the hall, each report sharper than the last. Li Que's buttocks bounced violently, the skin turning from pink to red to a deep crimson. Sweat beaded on her forehead and ran down her temples. At two hundred strokes, her eyes were red-rimmed. At three hundred, a few tears escaped, trailing down her cheeks. At four hundred, she collapsed forward, her chest heaving, her entire lower body burning.

She lay there for a long count, then forced herself up to her knees. "Your slave thanks you, master," she said, her voice thick.

Shen Mengyue's turn came last. She had watched both of her companions endure their punishments, and now she bowed her head lower, waiting for the first blow. When it came, she accepted it without flinching. The second fell, and she exhaled slowly. She had learned long ago not to resist, not to fear, not to question. Each stroke was a reminder of her place, and she treasured every single one.

"Your slave's bottom is in need of punishment," she said quietly. "Please do not hold back."

The boards fell with unrelenting force. Shen Mengyue's pale skin darkened with each impact, the crimson spreading evenly across both cheeks. Her body swayed with the blows, but she held her position, her hands spread flat on the floor. By the hundredth stroke, her lower lip trembled. By the two hundredth, tears pooled in her eyes but did not fall. By the three hundredth, the tears spilled over, running down her cheeks in silent streams. When the four hundredth stroke landed, she let out a long, shaky breath and lowered her head fully to the ground.

"Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you, master."

For a moment, the three women lay sprawled on the platform, their backs heaving with each breath, their buttocks a vivid patchwork of red and purple welts. Tears streaked their faces, but each of them wore a small, satisfied smile. The pain was proof of their devotion, and they wore it like a badge of honor.

The hall's enchantments activated. Soft blue light began to emanate from the floor, rising around the three women and bathing their wounds in gentle warmth. The healing array worked slowly, repairing damaged tissue and soothing inflamed nerves, but it could not erase the memory of the pain. That was a gift only the master could give.

After a few minutes, Xuan Fa stepped closer. The three women stirred, then slowly pushed themselves upright, moving with careful stiffness. They turned and knelt before him, their heads bowed, their hands resting on their thighs.

"Thank you for the punishment, master," they said in unison. "Only the Heavenly Punishment Boards under your control can deliver such exquisite pain."

Xuan Fa's expression did not change. He looked down at them, then turned his head slightly toward the other side of the hall. "The daughters may approach," he said.

From the shadows, three young women stepped forward. Lin Yuxin had her mother's bright eyes and twin ponytails, though she wore her hair in a servant's bun. Li Yunling walked with the same proud set of her mother's shoulders, her red hair pulled back in a high ponytail. Shen Xingmian moved with her mother's grace, her face an almost mirror image of Shen Mengyue's, her black hair flowing behind her.

They knelt in a row before Xuan Fa, their bare bodies gleaming in the soft light. Each wore the black collar of a slave, and each kept her eyes cast downward.

"Master," Lin Yuxin said, her voice light and playful, "this humble slave requests that her mother personally punish her bottom. Please grant us your permission."

Li Yunling spoke next. "This slave also requests the same. And I ask that mother show no mercy. My bottom has grown accustomed to the boards and needs a reminder of its place."

Shen Xingmian bowed lower. "I join my sisters in this request. Master, please allow our mothers to teach us."

Xuan Fa looked at the three kneeling women behind him. "You heard your daughters. Take the wooden boards and give them each two hundred strokes. Do not hold back."

Lin Qiaoxin rose first, moving past the pain in her own bottom. She took a wooden board from the rack beside the platform—a simpler implement than the Heavenly Punishment Boards, but still potent. She walked around to stand behind Lin Yuxin, who had already bent over, pressing her forehead to the floor and raising her bottom high.

"Mother," Lin Yuxin said, "please be strict with me. I want to feel every lesson you learned."

Lin Qiaoxin smiled, a genuine warmth in her eyes despite the cold nature of the act. "You have your mother's stubbornness, girl. You also have your mother's need for discipline." She raised the board and brought it down with a sharp crack.

Lin Yuxin gasped, her body jerking forward. The sound echoed through the hall, drawing the attention of the other women. Lin Qiaoxin struck again, landing the second blow in the same spot, and Lin Yuxin let out a small cry.

"Good," Lin Qiaoxin said. "That's how you learn. Remember, as a slave, you have no pride that your master does not allow. Your body belongs to him, and every mark on your skin is a promise to serve better."

She continued, counting out the strokes. At fifty, Lin Yuxin's bottom was a bright pink. At one hundred, tears streamed down her face, though she made no sound except for occasional whimpers. At one hundred fifty, she was sobbing openly, but she held her position, her hands gripping the edges of the stone floor.

"Hold still," Lin Qiaoxin said firmly, striking again. "Your mother endured worse. Your master will demand even more from you."

By two hundred, Lin Yuxin was a trembling mess, her bottom a mess of red and purple welts. Lin Qiaoxin set down the board and helped her daughter kneel upright, then knelt beside her, facing Xuan Fa.

"Your slave has completed her duty," Lin Qiaoxin said.

Li Que took her turn next. She picked up another wooden board and positioned herself behind Li Yunling, who had already bent over without being told. Her red hair fell forward, and she rested her cheek on the cool stone, waiting.

"Mother," Li Yunling said, "I want to hear the number of each stroke. I want to count them."

Li Que nodded. "As you wish." She raised the board and brought it down.

"One," Li Yunling said, her voice steady.

"Two."

"Three."

Each stroke landed with precision, and Li Yunling counted without faltering. By the fiftieth stroke, the numbers came out in breathy gasps. By the hundredth, they were punctuated by small moans of pain. Li Que did not slow. She remembered her own first days, her own stubborn pride, and she poured all of that memory into each swing.

"You were once as proud as I was," Li Que said between strokes. "You thought your talent would protect you. But there is no protection from

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