玄罚天尊的惩罚第二部

The morning sun cast long shadows across the stone pathways of Zephyr Gate, illuminating the figures that moved through the sect’s outer courtyard. Cultivators in various states of training paused to bow their heads as a familiar presence approached, though none dared look directly at him.

Xuan Fa walked with measured steps, his black training robes flowing around his tall frame. His face remained an unreadable mask of cold indifference, dark eyes scanning the surroundings as if assessing everything and finding it all wanting. In his left hand, he held three leather leashes that branched from a single ring at his fist, each one connected to a black slave collar.

Behind him, three women crawled on hands and knees.

Lin Qiaoxin moved on Xuan Fa’s left, her black twin-tails bouncing with each crawling step she took. Her naked body gleamed with a light sheen of sweat from the morning’s exertions, her breasts swaying beneath her as she kept her head low and her movements precise. Despite the dirt and stone pressing into her palms and knees, a small smile played at the corners of her lips.

Li Que crawled on the right, her fiery red hair tied in a high ponytail that trailed down her back. Her athletic body moved with controlled strength, each placement of hand and knee deliberate and practiced. Her eyes, sharp and focused, watched the ground ahead of her with the vigilance of a predator who had long since accepted her place in the pack.

Between them, Shen Mengyue moved with elegant grace, her long black hair pooling on the ground around her as she crawled. Her mature figure, a blend of maidenly softness and womanly curves, drew the eyes of every disciple they passed. But her expression remained serene, accepting, even grateful.

The three of them moved in perfect synchrony, their crawling so practiced that it seemed as natural as walking. The leather leashes hung slack, none of them pulling against the restraint. They had long since learned that obedience was not just expected—it was desired.

Xuan Fa stopped at the edge of a training platform where several dozen naked female disciples were practicing sword forms under the watchful eye of an outer disciple instructor. The disciples immediately dropped to their knees, pressing their foreheads to the ground.

“Rise and continue,” Xuan Fa said, his voice flat and commanding. The disciples scrambled back to their feet, resuming their practice with renewed vigor.

Xuan Fa turned his head slightly, addressing the three women behind him without looking at them. “You have all broken through to the mid-stage of Divine Transformation, correct?”

Lin Qiaoxin immediately pressed her forehead to the ground. “Yes, Master. This humble slave has been blessed by your discipline.”

Li Que did the same. “Your beatings have tempered this slave’s body and spirit.”

Shen Mengyue’s voice followed, soft and reverent. “This slave owes everything to Master’s firm hand and the Xuantian Realm’s abundant qi.”

Xuan Fa allowed a thin smile to cross his lips. “Three hundred years to reach mid-stage Divine Transformation. That is acceptable.”

“We are unworthy of Master’s praise,” Shen Mengyue said quickly, her voice earnest. “It is only because Master beats our bottoms and provides us with the Xuantian Realm’s spiritual energy that we could advance so quickly.”

Xuan Fa tugged lightly on the leashes, and the three women crawled forward to circle around him, forming a semi-circle at his feet. He looked down at them, his cold eyes narrowing.

“Since you have all reached mid-stage Divine Transformation, I have a task for you.”

Lin Qiaoxin’s ears perked up, though she kept her head down. “This slave lives to serve Master’s will.”

“The Sword Sect Master, Bai Zhenshuang,” Xuan Fa began, his voice carrying a trace of irritation, “has spoken disrespectfully of Zephyr Gate. The Valley Master of Hundred Flowers Valley, Hua Qianyu, allowed her disciples to occupy our medicinal gardens. And the Demon Saintess, Su Qianyao, has used her charm techniques to ensnare the minds of our disciples.”

He paused, letting the weight of his words settle. “You three will go to each of them. Deliver my message: they are to strip themselves naked, crawl to the mountain entrance of Zephyr Gate, present their buttocks, and receive one hundred strokes of the Celestial Wood Board every day for ten years. This is a minor punishment for their transgressions.”

Lin Qiaoxin felt a thrill run through her at the words. Ten years of daily discipline. She knew what that would do to a woman’s spirit.

“If they resist,” Xuan Fa continued, reaching into his robe and producing three sets of golden chains that gleamed with faint runic light, “subdue them and bind them with these Immortal Binding Locks. Bring them back here, and I will personally ensure their compliance.”

He tossed the chains onto the ground before them. Lin Qiaoxin reached forward and gathered her set, pressing it to her forehead. “This slave will not fail Master.”

Li Que took her chains with equal reverence. “If they resist, they will learn why this slave is called the Sparrow Slave.”

Shen Mengyue picked up her set and tucked it beside her as she crawled. “This humble slave will ensure your will is done, Master.”

Xuan Fa nodded slowly. “Go after today’s discipline. Prepare yourselves.”

Lin Qiaoxin hesitated for a moment, then pressed her forehead to the ground again. “Master… this humble slave has a request.”

Xuan Fa raised an eyebrow. “Speak.”

“We have all broken through to mid-stage Divine Transformation,” Lin Qiaoxin said, her voice careful but eager. “This slave humbly requests that Master increase our daily discipline from two hundred strokes to four hundred.”

Li Que nodded beside her. “This slave agrees with Heart Slave. Our bodies have grown accustomed to the current punishment. We require more… refinement.”

Shen Mengyue added softly, “This slave also makes the same request, Master. Your discipline is what strengthens us.”

Xuan Fa let out a quiet laugh. It was a rare sound, and the three women felt a warmth spread through them at hearing it. “You have fallen in love with the feeling of being beaten, haven’t you?”

“Yes, Master,” the three of them said in unison, their voices carrying no shame.

“Very well,” Xuan Fa said. “Complete this task successfully, and I will increase your daily strokes to four hundred.”

“This slave thanks Master!” they chorused, pressing their foreheads to the ground.

“But first,” Xuan Fa said, turning his gaze toward the inner courtyard, “we must complete today’s punishment.”

He raised his free hand and snapped his fingers. The sound echoed through the training ground, and moments later, three figures emerged from a nearby pavilion.

They walked with the confidence of those who had been raised in absolute obedience, their naked bodies glistening in the morning light. Lin Yuxin moved first, her youthful face bearing an eightfold resemblance to Lin Qiaoxin, her hair arranged in a servant’s bun at the top of her head. She was followed by Li Yunling, whose athletic frame and calm expression mirrored Li Que’s, and Shen Xingmian, whose gentle features and flowing black hair could have been Shen Mengyue’s reflection in a younger mirror.

All three wore black slave collars around their necks.

They approached Xuan Fa and knelt in unison, pressing their foreheads to the ground. “This slave greets Master.”

Xuan Fa looked down at them, his cold expression softening almost imperceptibly. “Rise, my children.”

The three daughters rose to their feet, their eyes downcast but attentive.

“Your mothers have requested an increase in their daily discipline,” Xuan Fa said, a hint of amusement creeping into his voice. “Their bottoms are feeling neglected. You will take the Celestial Wood Boards and give each of them two hundred strokes.”

Lin Yuxin’s lips twitched into a small smile. “This slave understands, Master.”

“After that,” Xuan Fa continued, “you will take the whip and strike each of them one hundred times in the cleft between their legs. Cover their flowers and their tight rings thoroughly.”

“Yes, Master,” Li Yunling said, her voice cool and professional.

“Then,” Xuan Fa said, turning to the three mothers who were still kneeling, “it will be your turn, children. One hundred strokes of the Profound Wood Board each, delivered by the floating boards.”

“We are honored to receive Master’s discipline,” Shen Xingmian said softly.

Xuan Fa gestured toward the punishment platform at the center of the training ground. The stone surface was elevated, with wooden frames at each corner designed to hold a woman in position. “Proceed.”

The three mothers crawled toward the platform without hesitation, their bodies moving with practiced ease. They positioned themselves at the center, then lowered their upper bodies until their chests pressed against the cool stone, their buttocks raised high in the air.

Lin Qiaoxin turned her head to look back at her daughter, a knowing smile on her face. “Yuxin, remember—use the full arc of your swing. Don’t just let the board drop. Put your shoulder into it. The louder the crack, the deeper the lesson.”

“I remember, Mother,” Lin Yuxin said, picking up a Celestial Wood Board from the rack beside the platform. The board was dark, almost black, and hummed with faint spiritual energy. She traced her fingers along its surface, testing its weight.

Li Que positioned herself beside Lin Qiaoxin, her buttocks raised and spread slightly. “Yunling,” she said, her voice carrying a note of pride, “aim for the fullest part of my cheeks. That’s where the impact will spread the most. And don’t be gentle. I have endured far worse than anything you can deliver.”

“This slave will do her best, Mother,” Li Yunling said, selecting her own board.

Shen Mengyue settled into position last, her body graceful even in submission. “Xingmian,” she said softly, “remember to breathe with each stroke. It will help you maintain your rhythm. And when you reach the cleft, use the tip of the whip. Let it bite deeply.”

“This slave will honor your teachings, Mother,” Shen Xingmian said, her voice warm.

Xuan Fa stood at the edge of the platform, arms crossed, watching with keen interest. “Begin.”

Lin Yuxin was the first to swing. She raised the Celestial Wood Board high above her head, then brought it down in a smooth, powerful arc. The board connected with Lin Qiaoxin’s right buttock with a sharp crack that echoed across the training ground.

Lin Qiaoxin let out a soft gasp, but her body remained steady. “Good,” she said, her voice slightly strained. “But you can hit harder. Put your weight into the follow-through.”

Lin Yuxin adjusted her stance, bent her knees slightly, and swung again. This time, the crack was deeper, more resonant. A red mark bloomed across Lin Qiaoxin’s skin.

“Better,” Lin Qiaoxin breathed.

Li Yunling took her turn, raising her board and bringing it down across Li Que’s left cheek with brutal efficiency. The sound was like a thunderclap, and Li Que’s body jerked forward, but she held her position.

“Harder,” Li Que commanded, her voice steady. “You’re holding back. Don’t treat me like glass. Treat me like stone that needs breaking.”

Li Yunling’s jaw tightened, and she swung again, putting all her strength into the stroke. The board connected with a sound that made several nearby disciples wince.

“That’s more like it,” Li Que said, a hint of satisfaction in her voice.

Shen Xingmian approached her mother with quiet reverence. She raised the board, hesitated for just a moment, then brought it down in a precise, controlled arc. The impact was solid, but not as forceful as the others.

Shen Mengyue let out a soft sigh, then said gently, “Xingmian, you strike like you’re afraid of hurting me. Don’t be. This is discipline. This is love. Strike me as if you mean to teach me a lesson I will never forget.”

Tears welled in Shen Xingmian’s eyes, but she nodded and raised the board again.

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The魔族圣女亲卫队 arrived at the foot of责凰门 mountain pass with swift precision, sixty-three strong and fully armed. Their leader, a mid-stage Deity Transformation cultivator named A Zi, stood at the front with her hand resting on the hilt of her blade. Behind her, the elite guards formed a disciplined formation, their cultivation base unified at late-stage Nascent Soul. They had trained for decades in coordinated combat techniques, capable of holding their own against three or four Deity Transformation masters even without their leader.

A Zi's eyes narrowed as she looked up the mountain path. The责凰门 gates stood open, unguarded, and the silence that hung over the sect was unnerving. She raised her hand, signaling the formation to halt.

"Sovereign Su Qian Yao," A Zi called out, her voice carrying through the still air. "We have come to escort you home. Please show yourself."

A moment of silence passed. Then, from beyond the gates, a figure emerged—but it was not the seductive silver-haired saintess they had come to rescue. It was Su Qian Yao, yes, but not as they had ever seen her.

The silver-haired saintess was on her knees, her hands bound behind her back with gleaming chains. Her voluptuous body was completely naked, her pale skin bared to the world. A black slave collar encircled her elegant neck, and her crimson eyes—those eyes that had once driven countless cultivators to madness with their魅惑—were now downcast, submissive. She was bent forward, her generous rear presented upward, and as the亲卫队 watched in disbelief, she did not move to rise.

"Sovereign!" one of the guards cried out.

A Zi's face twisted with fury. She stepped forward, her hand leaving her blade and instead forming a transmission talisman. Her voice thundered across the mountain: "责凰门! Release our Sovereign immediately! We will not ask a second time!"

The talisman shot into the air like a shooting star, carrying her demand to the heavens. But before it could fade, two figures emerged from the shadow of the gates.

They walked slowly, deliberately, their bare feet padding against the stone path with an unhurried rhythm. They were completely naked.

The first was Bai Zhen Shuang, once the Sovereign of the Heaven Sword Sect, now—it seemed—something else entirely. Her body was a masterpiece of martial perfection, every muscle defined yet flowing into curves that spoke of a woman in her prime. Her breasts were full and firm, standing proudly without the constraint of fabric, and her waist was so narrow it seemed almost impossible that it supported her frame. Below that, her hips flared into a shape that was both powerful and inviting, and her buttocks—round, plump, and perfectly proportioned—swayed with each step. Her long black hair cascaded down her back, brushing against the small of her spine, and her face—those cold, noble features—bore no trace of shame. She carried herself as if she were still the sovereign of a great sect, as if being naked before an army were the most natural thing in the world.

Beside her walked Hua Qian Yu, the former leader of the Hundred Flowers Valley, known throughout the realm as the药仙 for her unparalleled skill in healing and alchemy. Her body was softer than Bai Zhen Shuang's, with a layer of healthy fullness that spoke of vitality and life. Her skin was flawless, glowing with an inner radiance that made it seem almost luminous. Her breasts were generous, their weight pulling them slightly downward, and her waist, though not as narrow as Bai Zhen Shuang's, curved into hips that were wide and maternal. Her buttocks were full and plush, jiggling slightly with each step, and her legs were strong and shapely. Her green hair was loosely pinned at the back of her head, a few stray strands brushing against her neck and shoulders. Her face was the picture of gentle warmth, her eyes soft and kind, yet there was no hesitation in her stride.

Together, they were a study in contrasts—cold nobility and warm compassion, martial perfection and nurturing softness—and yet they shared one thing in common. They were completely, unashamedly naked, their bare forms on full display for the亲卫队 and anyone else who might be watching.

The亲卫队 stared, mouths agape. These were not common women. These were two of the most powerful female cultivators in the realm, sovereigns of their own sects, women who commanded thousands of disciples and were respected across the land. And here they stood, their bodies bare, their collars black, their eyes holding the calm of those who had accepted their fate.

"You..." A Zi's voice trembled with rage. "You have fallen so low. The Heaven Sword Sect and the Hundred Flowers Valley have become concubines of this... this demon sect."

Bai Zhen Shuang's voice cut through the air like a blade of ice. "You are mistaken." She reached up and touched the collar at her throat. "I am no longer the Sovereign of the Heaven Sword Sect. By the grace of Xuan Fa Heavenly Sovereign, I have been accepted as his slave, given the name Shuang Nu. Every day, I receive the discipline of the buttocks punishment, and I am grateful for it."

Hua Qian Yu's voice was gentle, almost motherly. "Nor am I the leader of the Hundred Flowers Valley. I thank Xuan Fa Heavenly Sovereign for granting me the position of his slave, given the name Yu Nu. Every day, I must receive the punishment of the buttocks, and I accept it willingly."

She paused, her soft eyes meeting A Zi's furious gaze. "And your Sovereign Su Qian Yao? She is here by her own will. She chooses to stay."

"Impossible!" one of the亲卫队 members shouted. "You have enslaved our Sovereign through dark arts! We will not believe a word you say!"

A Zi drew her blade, the edge gleaming with killing intent. "Enough talk. We will take our Sovereign by force if necessary."

She lunged forward, and the entire亲卫队 surged behind her like a tide of steel and fury.

Bai Zhen Shuang's hand moved to the hilt of her sword,凝霜, which hung at her side despite her nakedness. "They are immune to reason," she said, her tone flat. "We have no choice but to show them proof."

Hua Qian Yu sighed, a gentle sound that held no anger. "Then let us teach them gently."

The battle erupted.

Bai Zhen Shuang's sword,凝霜, was a blur of silver light, each strike precise and devastating. Her naked body moved with the fluid grace of a dancer, her breasts bouncing with each parry and thrust, her buttocks clenching and relaxing as she shifted her stance. She was a weapon incarnate, and despite her lack of armor, she moved with such speed and precision that the亲卫队的 attacks never touched her.

Hua Qian Yu, though less martially inclined, was no less deadly. Her hands wove complex formations, and golden light blossomed around her. Healing energies mingled with attacking talismans, and her gentle appearance belied the ferocity of her offensive spells. She did not kill—that was not her way—but she disabled, binding the亲卫队 members in vines of pure energy that grew from the earth itself.

Yet what truly unsettled the亲卫队 was the sound that echoed across the battlefield.

*SMACK!*

Every time Bai Zhen Shuang or Hua Qian Yu struck a blow, a sound rang out from behind them. It was the sound of a palm meeting flesh, and it came from Su Qian Yao, who remained on her knees before the gates.

A Zi's face twisted as she parried Bai Zhen Shuang's blade. "What is that sound?"

The answer came a moment later. The亲卫队成员 s fighting at the rear turned to look, and what they saw made their blood run cold.

Su Qian Yao was being punished. As the battle raged, a figure—none other than Xuan Fa himself—stood behind her, his hand rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Each time his palm descended, it landed squarely on her bare buttocks with a sound that carried across the mountain. And each time it landed, Su Qian Yao let out a sound that was not a cry of pain, but something else entirely.

"Ah~nn~"

It was a moan. A sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure.

*SMACK!*

"Oohh~ yes~ harder~"

The亲卫队成员 stared in disbelief. Their Sovereign, the fearsome魅魔 who had driven entire sects to ruin with her seductive arts, the woman who had never been conquered by any man, was on her knees, her round, silver-haired head bowed, her body trembling with each blow. And she was enjoying it.

A Zi's face went white. "What... what sorcery is this?"

Bai Zhen Shuang's sword pressed against hers, and she leaned in, her cold eyes inches from A Zi's face. "No sorcery. Only truth. Your Sovereign has found what she has always sought."

*SMACK!*

"Aaahh~ yes~ please don't stop~"

The亲卫队成员 faltered. Their formation wavered. And in that moment of hesitation, Bai Zhen Shuang and Hua Qian Yu struck with full force.

The battle ended swiftly after that. One by one, the亲卫队成员 were disarmed and bound, their weapons taken, their formation shattered. They knelt on the ground, their eyes fixed on the scene before them.

Su Qian Yao's punishment had reached its climax. Her body arched, and a shudder ran through her frame. A spray of liquid shot from between her legs, staining the ground beneath her. Her head fell forward, and she gasped for breath, her silver hair clinging to her face.

"By the heavens..." one of the亲卫队成员 whispered, her voice hollow. "The Sovereign... she climaxed from being spanked."

Su Qian Yao's body went limp, her buttocks red and swollen, marked with the clear imprint of repeated strikes. She lay on the ground, breathing heavily, but there was a smile on her face. It was not the seductive, mocking smile she had worn as the Saintess of the Demon Clan. It was something softer. Something more genuine.

"My sisters of the亲卫队," she said, her voice weak but sincere. "Yao Nu is truly here by her own will. Yao Nu has always wanted someone... someone who could beat Yao Nu's buttocks until they were bruised and raw. And I have found him."

The亲卫队 members exchanged glances. They had lost. Their Sovereign had no desire to leave. There was nothing more they could do.

A Zi gritted her teeth, then slowly lowered her head. "We... withdraw."

The亲卫队 rose, gathered their wounded, and retreated down the mountain. They did not look back.

Bai Zhen Shuang and Hua Qian Yu sheathed their weapons and turned, walking back through the gates of责凰门. Their naked bodies were slick with sweat from the battle, their hair slightly disheveled, but their steps were steady. They found Xuan Fa standing in the courtyard, his hands clasped behind his back, his face as expressionless as stone.

"The亲卫队 has been repelled, Master," Bai Zhen Shuang said, bowing her head. "Su Qian Yao remains."

"Well done," Xuan Fa said. His voice was flat, but there was a hint of approval in it. "You have proven yourselves capable."

Bai Zhen Shuang and Hua Qian Yu knelt, their heads bowed in submission. They did not ask for praise. They did not expect comfort. They were slaves, and they knew their place.

Xuan Fa's eyes swept over them, then he spoke again. "I have your first task as my slaves. The碧落宫's leader, Yun Qing Er, and the Nine Nether Valley's leader, You Lan, have allowed their disciples to clash with责凰门 without restraint. They have failed to control their own sects. These are minor sects without Deity Transformation cultivators, so a light punishment will suffice."

He paused, his gaze turning cold. "Those two leaders, and any disciples who have come into conflict with责凰门, are to strip themselves completely naked, kneel at the mountain pass of责凰门, and present their buttocks for punishment. They are to receive one hundred strikes of the Heavenly Dao Board each day for three consecutive years. If they resist, the punishment will be severe."

Bai Zhen Shuang and Hua Qian Yu bowed. "As you command, Master."

Bai Zhen Shuang rose and walked out of the courtyard. She did not bother to dress. Why would she? She was a slave, and slaves did not need clothing. The cold air brushed against her skin, and she felt a strange sense of freedom in her nakedness. Her body was no longer her

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The grand hall of Zehuang Sect was silent save for the soft rustle of six bodies lowering themselves to the polished jade floor. Six naked women knelt in perfect alignment before Xuanfa, their heads bowed, their hands resting on their thighs. The black slave collars around their necks caught the dim light, gleaming like dark promises.

Lin Qiaoxin spoke first, her voice carrying its usual playful lilt despite her submissive posture. "Master, the realm is buzzing with news of your six slaves. Every day we find some arrogant female cultivator who needs her bottom thoroughly reminded of proper respect."

Li Que's crimson hair swayed as she nodded. "The rumors spread faster than fire through dry grass. They call us the Six Punishers now. I've lost count of how many insolent backsides I've turned crimson these past months."

Shen Mengyue's voice flowed like cool water. "The sect's progress is remarkable. Our disciples' swordsmanship has sharpened considerably under disciplined guidance."

"Formations are tighter too," Lin Qiaoxin added with a grin. "I've been drilling them until their pretty heads spin."

"The healing arts flourish," Hua Qianyu said softly. "My students can now mend bone and sinew in half the time it once took."

Bai Zhenshuang's voice cut through, cool and precise. "Their combat instincts have improved. They no longer hesitate when steel meets steel."

Su Qianyao's sensual laugh echoed through the hall. "And I've been training their spiritual perception. But you know, Master, I found something else during my travels." She looked up, her crimson eyes gleaming with mischief. "A little genius named Nangong Xue. Such talent, such potential. I convinced her to join our lovely sect."

"Convinced?" Li Que raised an eyebrow.

"Well, I may have applied some... persuasive techniques." Su Qianyao's smile widened. "Though the Xue妹妹 is still quite rebellious. She resists our teachings most passionately."

Li Que snorted. "Give her to me. Thirty rounds on my knee and she'll be singing a different tune. Forty if she's particularly stubborn."

Xuanfa's expression remained unchanged as he regarded his six slaves. "You have all performed adequately."

The words hung in the air, simple yet carrying the weight of supreme approval. Six pairs of eyes widened slightly.

"From this day forward, you need not kneel in my presence. A simple bow of respect will suffice."

Lin Qiaoxin's head snapped up, her eyes sparkling. "Master, do you mean—"

"You heard me." Xuanfa's hand moved, and six strips of black leather materialized in his palm. They seemed to writhe with their own dark life, scales rippling along their surface. "This is the Shadowchaser Belt, forged from the hide of a Demonic Flood Dragon. Imbue it with spiritual power, and it will pursue its target relentlessly. No matter the movement, no matter the position, it will find its mark."

He paused, a flicker of dark amusement crossing his features. "It lacks the bite of the Heavenly Wood Board, but it will suffice for supplementary discipline."

Su Qianyao reached forward with trembling hands, accepting her belt with obvious delight. "Master gifts us such a treasure! This slave's greedy bottom has been craving four hundred strokes daily, and even that barely satisfies." She pressed the leather against her cheek, sighing dreamily. "Now I can beat this insatiable backside whenever it grows too demanding."

Lin Qiaoxin giggled, wrapping her belt around her wrist. "So we can be punished anytime, anywhere? Wonderful! My bottom will never know peace."

Li Que's eyes burned with fierce determination. "I shall channel maximum spiritual energy into mine. This worthless seat of mine needs thorough, brutal correction."

Shen Mengyue inclined her head gracefully. "This slave thanks Master for his generosity. I shall use this gift well to discipline my errant flesh."

Hua Qianyu's voice was warm as spring rain. "I will ensure my bottom receives proper chastisement daily. Master's gifts must never be wasted."

Bai Zhenshuang's cool gaze met Xuanfa's. "I shall repay this gift with the thorough punishment of my backside. I will beat it until it splits open."

---

The training grounds of Zehuang Sect stretched across three mountain peaks, connected by bridges of woven cloud. Naked disciples moved everywhere, their bare bodies gleaming with sweat as they practiced forms, studied arrays, or tended spiritual herbs. None wore a stitch of clothing, as was the sect's sacred law.

Shen Mengyue stood at the center of the sword training yard, her black hair cascading down her back, her naked form utterly composed despite the leather strap that hovered behind her like a hunting snake.

"Extend the wrist upon the sixth form," she instructed a young disciple. "The energy must flow through the blade, not—"

*CRACK.*

The Shadowchaser Belt lashed across her bare buttocks, leaving a red line that slowly darkened. Her flesh rippled from the impact, but her voice did not waver.

"—not against it. Watch my demonstration."

She drew her sword, purple light blooming along its edge. The belt struck again as she moved into the first form.

*CRACK. CRACK. CRACK.*

Each blow landed with metronomic precision as she flowed through the sword dance. Her bottom bounced and jiggled, red marks accumulating into a warm glow that spread across her cheeks. A disciple gasped. Another whispered behind her hand.

Shen Mengyue completed the form and sheathed her sword. "Did everyone observe the wrist position? The belt should not distract you from your training."

Across the compound, Bai Zhenshuang taught a different group. Her blade was ice, her form was frost, and the belt pursued her like a vengeful spirit.

*WHAP. WHAP. WHAP.*

She did not flinch. She did not pause. The belt carved parallel lines across her full, round cheeks, each stroke drawing a sharper contrast between white skin and red marks. Her students watched, wide-eyed, as their teacher's buttocks slowly transformed from pale jade to angry crimson.

"Your footwork lacks precision," Bai Zhenshuang said coldly, deflecting a student's strike. "The weight should settle in the heel, not the ball of the foot."

*WHAP. WHAP. WHAP.*

Her bottom bounced with each impact, the flesh quivering as if alive. She continued her instruction without a tremor in her voice.

In the combat yard, Li Que wrestled with a disciple twice her size, her red ponytail whipping through the air. The belt chased her relentlessly.

*THWACK. THWACK. THWACK.*

It caught her mid-roll, mid-pivot, mid-strike. Her buttocks absorbed blow after blow, the skin darkening from pale to pink to deep rose. She threw the disciple over her shoulder and pinned her to the ground.

"You're telegraphing your throws. Your hips give away the direction." She rose, and the belt caught her three times in rapid succession.

*THWACK THWACK THWACK.*

Her bottom cheeks jiggled violently, but her expression never changed. "Again. And this time, hide your intention."

Nearby, Lin Qiaoxin arranged formation flags across a stone platform, her twin ponytails bobbing as she worked. The belt followed her like a loyal pet.

*SMACK. SMACK. SMACK.*

She giggled as it struck. "Oh, you persistent little thing. Master really knows how to make a girl feel special."

*SMACK. SMACK. SMACK.*

She adjusted a flag, and the belt connected with her sit-spot. She squeaked but kept working, her bottom bouncing merrily with each blow. Soon her entire backside glowed like a sunset, warm and inviting.

"Now, class," she said cheerfully, "the Waterfall Formation relies on layered spiritual pressure. You must compress each layer—"

*SMACK.*

"—exactly so—"

*SMACK.*

"—or the entire structure collapses."

In the herb garden, Hua Qianyu knelt among rows of purple sage, her elegant fingers coaxing a wilting plant back to health. The belt found her without mercy.

*THWIP. THWIP. THWIP.*

Each stroke painted another line of pink across her generous bottom. She continued nurturing the plant, her voice a soft hum of encouragement.

"There now, little one. Drink deeply of the spiritual spring."

*THWIP. THWIP. THWIP.*

Her flesh trembled, her knees shifted in the dirt, but her hands remained steady. The plant's leaves perked up, drinking in the healing energy she poured into it.

And in the meditation hall, Su Qianyao sat cross-legged, her silver hair spreading around her like a pool of moonlight. Her eyes were closed, her breathing steady.

*WHACK. WHACK. WHACK.*

The belt painted her buttocks in shades of crimson and scarlet. She smiled.

"Yes, yes, discipline this greedy bottom. It deserves every stroke for daring to tempt Master's gaze so shamelessly."

*WHACK. WHACK. WHACK.*

Her body swayed with each impact, her full breasts swaying, her silver hair catching the light. She did not open her eyes. She simply accepted the punishment as a flower accepts rain.

---

Later, in the private meditation chamber, Xuanfa regarded his six slaves with something approaching amusement.

"Bai Zhenshuang, Hua Qianyu, Su Qianyao." He said their names slowly, tasting each syllable. "You three were captured by Shen Mengyue, Li Que, and Lin Qiaoxin respectively. Have you ever considered returning the favor?"

Bai Zhenshuang's cool mask cracked slightly, surprise flickering across her features. "Master, this slave has never entertained such thoughts. It was through Sister Mengyue's capture that I came to know Master's discipline. My backside is eternally grateful for the correction it received."

Hua Qianyu bowed her head. "I share Sister Shuang's sentiment. Sister Li Que's capture was the greatest kindness ever shown to me. My bottom would still be unduly proud had she not brought me here."

Su Qianyao's tongue traced her lower lip. "I, however, have long wished to warm Sister Xin's lovely bottom. It is so round and perky. I imagine it would look beautiful turning crimson beneath my palm."

Lin Qiaoxin's eyes lit up. Without hesitation, she dropped to her hands and knees, presenting her well-punished bottom to the air. "Come then, Sister Yao! Show me if your hand stings as sweetly as Master's."

Li Que followed suit, her movement sharp and precise. "Beat me without mercy, Sister Yu. I would know the full measure of your strength."

Shen Mengyue's descent was graceful, her bottom lifting invitingly. "Please, Sister Shuang. Punish this worthless flesh however you see fit."

Bai Zhenshuang's hand found the Heavenly Wood Board, its dark surface gleaming. Hua Qianyu's fingers closed around another. Su Qianyao's grip was already tight on hers.

*CRACK.*

Su Qianyao struck first, the board connecting with Lin Qiaoxin's right cheek. The sound echoed through the chamber.

"Ooh, yes!" Lin Qiaoxin's voice was breathless. "Again, Sister Yao! Harder!"

*CRACK. CRACK. CRACK.*

Su Qianyao settled into a rhythm, her silver hair swaying as she worked. Each stroke painted a new layer of red across Lin Qiaoxin's bouncing bottom. The younger woman's flesh rippled and jiggled, the cheeks dancing with every impact.

"You have such a wonderful bottom, Sister Xin," Su Qianyao purred. "It takes the board so beautifully."

"And you—" *CRACK.* "--give it so—" *CRACK.* "--wonderfully!" Lin Qiaoxin laughed, her voice breaking slightly as the board found a particularly sensitive spot.

*CRACK. CRACK. CRACK. CRACK. CRACK.*

The rhythm increased. Lin Qiaoxin's bottom darkened from pink to rose to deep, angry red. Her legs trembled. Her fingers clawed at the floor. But her voice remained cheerful.

"Is that all, Sister Yao? I thought you wanted to make me squeal!"

Su Qianyao's eyes narrowed. She channeled more power into her arm.

*CRAAAACK.*

Across the room, Bai Zhenshuang brought the board down with mechanical precision. Shen Mengyue's bottom absorbed each stroke with quiet dignity. The pale skin reddened slowly, evenly, like dawn spreading across a winter sky.

"You captured me with grace," Bai Zhenshuang said, her voice flat. "I will repay that grace w

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# Chapter 2

The morning mist clung to the peaks of Tian Jian Mountain as Shen Mengyue approached the grand entrance of the Heavenly Sword Sect. Her bare feet pressed against the cool stone path, each step deliberate and unhurried. The twin jade gates stood thirty feet tall, carved with intricate depictions of swordsmen in battle, their blades gleaming even in the soft morning light.

Two disciples standing guard at the entrance noticed her approach first. Their eyes widened, jaws dropping in disbelief. A woman—completely naked—was walking toward them with the confidence of a sovereign. She carried only a single sword, its purple scabbard gleaming with an inner light that spoke of countless battles.

Shen Mengyue's black hair cascaded down her back, reaching her waist, silken strands swaying with each movement. Her skin was flawless porcelain, pale and luminous, untouched by the passage of time. Despite her nudity, she held herself with an innate grace that transformed what should have been vulnerability into something approaching majesty. Her figure was the perfect fusion of youth and maturity—slender yet curved, her waist narrow, her hips rounded and full, her breasts firm and proud. The black slave collar around her neck, simple and unadorned, marked her as owned property, yet she wore it like the most precious jewel.

One of the guards finally found his voice. "You! What do you think you're doing? This is the Heavenly Sword Sect! No one enters without—"

His words died in his throat as recognition dawned. The sword. The collar. The unearthly beauty. He had heard the descriptions from traveling cultivators, those who had witnessed the legendary slaves of the Xuanfa Heavenly Venerate.

"Y-you're... Moon Slave," he whispered, his face paling.

Shen Mengyue's expression remained serene, almost gentle. She had long since ceased to feel shame in her nakedness. A slave of the Xuanfa Heavenly Venerate had no need for clothing—her body existed to be displayed, to remind all who saw her of her master's absolute ownership. This was her purpose, her pride, her identity.

"I am," she replied, her voice soft as silk yet carrying an undeniable weight. "I have come to deliver a message from my master. Summon your Sect Master, Bai Zhenshuang, immediately."

More disciples had gathered now, drawn by the commotion. Men and women alike stared at the naked woman before them, some with shock, others with poorly concealed lust, a few with barely suppressed fury. The Heavenly Sword Sect prided itself on discipline and dignity. To have an unclothed woman walk through their gates was an affront to everything they stood for.

Yet none dared act. The name "Moon Slave" was known throughout the cultivation world. She was a former Sect Master herself, the leader of the Immortal Cloud Sect, a woman who had achieved the late-stage Nascent Soul realm before falling under Xuanfa's control. Her sword technique was said to rival the finest swordsmen in existence. More importantly, she was property of the Xuanfa Heavenly Venerate, a being whose power bordered on the divine.

A senior disciple stepped forward, a middle-aged man with a scar running down his left cheek. "Moon Slave," he said, his voice tight with controlled anger, "while we respect your... position, you cannot simply barge into our sect and demand an audience with our Sect Master. If you wish to speak with her, you will follow proper protocol. Dress yourself appropriately and—"

Shen Mengyue's eyes, dark and bottomless, turned to him. There was no anger in her gaze, only a calm amusement. "Proper protocol? You wish to discuss propriety with a bondmaid of the Xuanfa Heavenly Venerate?" She took a step forward, and the senior disciple instinctively stepped back. "I was once a Sect Master, as you know. I understand the rules of courtship between sects. But understand this: I come not as a diplomat, but as a messenger. And the message I carry is not open to negotiation."

She raised her voice, infusing it with spiritual power. "Bai Zhenshuang! I, Moon Slave Shen Mengyue, come bearing a decree from the Xuanfa Heavenly Venerate! Show yourself!"

The words echoed across the mountain peaks, reverberating through every building, every training ground, every meditation chamber. Disciples winced at the volume, their ears ringing. Elders emerged from their quarters, faces dark with concern. The entire sect had been shaken by a single woman's voice.

A few moments passed in tense silence. Then, from the highest peak, a figure descended, riding a beam of sword light. She landed before the gathered crowd with practiced grace, her movements fluid and economical, wasting no energy on spectacle.

Bai Zhenshuang was everything her reputation suggested. Her features were carved with cold precision—high cheekbones, a straight nose, lips set in a permanent line of quiet authority. Her black hair was bound in an elaborate topknot, held in place by a simple jade pin. Her robes were white and silver, the colors of the Heavenly Sword Sect, and they flowed around her tall, athletic frame like frozen moonlight.

Her eyes were the most striking feature: pale grey, almost silver, cold as winter frost. They assessed Shen Mengyue with calm detachment, showing no surprise at her nudity, no shock at her presence. Bai Zhenshuang was a woman who had cultivated composure as surely as she had cultivated her sword technique.

"Moon Slave," she said, her voice low and even. "I did not expect a visit from one of Xuanfa's... concubines."

"Nor did I expect to visit," Shen Mengyue replied with equal calm. "But my master's will is absolute, and I serve it without question."

Bai Zhenshuang's eyebrow arched a fraction. "And what will does your master impose upon my sect?"

Shen Mengyue let the silence stretch, allowing the gathered disciples to lean in, to grow anxious. "Three days ago, you made certain comments regarding the Punishment Phoenix Sect. You questioned my master's methods. You called his discipline of wayward cultivators 'barbaric' and 'unworthy of a true master.' You suggested that the Heavenly Sword Sect would never submit to such degradation."

A murmur rippled through the crowd. Bai Zhenshuang's expression remained unchanged, but her eyes narrowed slightly.

"My master heard of your words," Shen Mengyue continued. "He was... displeased. As such, he has issued a decree: Bai Zhenshuang, Sect Master of the Heavenly Sword Sect, is to strip herself of all garments, kneel at the entrance of the Punishment Phoenix Sect, present her buttocks, and receive punishment. Each day, one hundred strikes of the Heavenly Dao plank upon her bottom. This sentence shall continue for ten years."

Gasps erupted from the crowd. Disciples shouted in outrage, their hands moving to their swords. Elders' faces contorted with fury. To treat their Sect Master like a common criminal, like a misbehaving child—it was the ultimate humiliation.

"Silence!" Bai Zhenshuang's voice cut through the noise like a blade. Her disciples fell quiet, though their anger still simmered beneath the surface. She turned her grey eyes back to Shen Mengyue. "You come to my sect, naked, and demand that I debase myself before your master? You expect me to kneel and accept such humiliation?"

"I expect you to accept the consequences of your words," Shen Mengyue said softly. "My master is merciful. This is a small punishment. If you submit now, the matter ends here. If you resist..."

"What? He'll send his other whores to 'persuade' me?" Bai Zhenshuang's voice dripped with disdain. "I have heard of your master's 'discipline.' He breaks women by beating their backsides until their spirits shatter. He turns proud cultivators into mewling slaves who crawl at his feet." She drew her sword, the blade gleaming like a shard of ice. "I am Bai Zhenshuang of the Heavenly Sword Sect. I do not kneel. I do not submit. If your master wants to punish me, let him face me himself. Or are the mighty Xuanfa's slaves the extent of his power?"

Shen Mengyue sighed, a soft, almost sad sound. "I had hoped it would not come to this. You are a talented swordsman, Bai Zhenshuang. It would be a shame to see your pride cost you everything."

"Spare me your concern," Bai Zhenshuang said, raising her sword. "If you wish to deliver your master's punishment, you will have to earn it."

Shen Mengyue's hand drifted to the hilt of her own sword—the Purple Cloud Sword, her companion through countless battles. "Very well. I will not hold back. My master expects results, and I do not disappoint him."

The two women faced each other, and the gathered disciples scrambled backward, giving them space. The air grew thick with spiritual pressure as both Nascent Soul cultivators released their auras. Wind howled through the courtyard, kicking up dust and debris. The sword energy alone was enough to make lesser cultivators tremble.

Bai Zhenshuang struck first, her movement faster than the eye could track. Her sword—the Frost Condensation Sword—arced through the air, leaving trails of frozen mist in its wake. The strike was aimed at Shen Mengyue's throat, a killing blow delivered without hesitation.

Shen Mengyue's Purple Cloud Sword rose to meet it. The clang of metal echoed across the mountain, and sparks flew from the impact. Bai Zhenshuang pressed her advantage, her blade flowing into a series of rapid strikes, each designed to find gaps in Shen Mengyue's defense.

But Shen Mengyue was no ordinary opponent. Her time as Xuanfa's slave had honed her combat instincts to razor sharpness. She had been beaten thousands of times, forced to endure pain that would break lesser cultivators. Those experiences had taught her to read her opponent's intent, to see the gaps in their technique, to find the weakness in their stance.

She parried Bai Zhenshuang's assault with mechanical precision, her blade moving in perfect harmony with her body. The two danced across the courtyard, their swords singing, their spiritual power clashing. Bai Zhenshuang's sword style was cold and precise, each strike calculated to maximize damage. Shen Mengyue's style was more fluid, more adaptable, shifting between offense and defense with practiced ease.

Fifty passes. Then seventy. Then one hundred.

The battle raged, and the disciples watched in stunned silence. Their Sect Master was one of the most powerful swordsmen in the cultivation world, a woman who had never been defeated in single combat. Yet here she was, meeting her match in a naked slave who wore a collar around her neck.

Sweat beaded on Bai Zhenshuang's brow. Her breathing grew heavier, her movements slightly slower. Shen Mengyue, by contrast, seemed unaffected. Her expression remained serene, her movements smooth and unhurried. It was as if she was toying with Bai Zhenshuang, waiting for the right moment to end the fight.

That moment came on the hundred and twenty-third exchange. Bai Zhenshuang committed too heavily to an overhead strike, her weight shifting forward a fraction of a second too early. Shen Mengyue's sword came up, not to block, but to guide. She redirected Bai Zhenshuang's blade, sending it wide, and in the same motion, she stepped inside her opponent's guard.

Her palm struck Bai Zhenshuang's chest, a gentle push that carried the weight of a mountain. The Sect Master flew backward, crashing into the stone wall of the main hall. The impact cracked the stone, and Bai Zhenshuang slumped to the ground, her sword clattering from her grip.

Before she could recover, Shen Mengyue was there, the point of the Purple Cloud Sword resting against her throat. "Yield," she said softly.

Bai Zhenshuang stared up at her, disbelief written across her cold features. "How... How did you..."

"Defeat you?" Shen Mengyue's lips curved into a faint smile. "You are skilled, Bai Zhenshuang. One of the finest swordsmen I have ever faced. But skill alone is not enough. My master has punished me ten thousand times. Each lash, each strike, each

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The morning sun cast long shadows across the rolling hills of the Hundred Flowers Valley, where countless medicinal gardens sprawled in terraced splendor. The air was thick with the mingled scents of spiritual herbs, blooming flowers, and the gentle hum of bees tending to their work. It was a place of peace, of healing, of life.

The peace shattered like glass when a figure appeared at the valley's entrance.

Every disciple who saw her froze mid-motion. Some dropped their baskets of herbs. Others clutched their chests, gasping. A few younger disciples blushed furiously and turned away, only to be rooted to the spot by morbid curiosity.

Li Que walked through the valley with the casual confidence of a predator entering its own territory. Her body was a masterpiece of athletic perfection—tall and lean, every muscle defined and ready for action, her skin flushed with the warmth of inner fire. Flames seemed to dance beneath her flesh. Her red hair, the color of molten lava, was pulled into a high ponytail that swung behind her as she moved. Her face was sharp, beautiful, and utterly unapproachable.

She was completely naked.

The contrast was jarring. Here stood a woman who radiated power, who had once been the vice-sect master of the Vermilion Bird Gate, feared across the cultivation world for her flame techniques. And yet she wore nothing but a black slave collar around her neck, the symbol of her submission to Xuan Fa.

But Li Que did not cower. She did not try to cover herself. Her head was held high, her shoulders squared, her stride unhurried. She had been stripped bare and beaten before thousands. She had crawled on her hands and knees through the streets like a dog. Master had taught her the true meaning of being a slave. Shame was for those who still had pride. She had none. Only loyalty. Only devotion.

If Master commanded her to stand naked before the world, then she would do so with glory. Let them stare. Let them judge. They were not worthy to lick the dirt from her Master's boots.

"W-who are you?!" a trembling disciple finally managed to shout. "What is the meaning of this?!"

Li Que did not even glance at the speaker. Her voice rang out like a bell, cold and clear, carrying across the entire valley through spiritual transmission. "Hua Qianyu, Valley Lord of the Hundred Flowers. Your disciples have committed crimes against the Ze Feng Sect. You will present yourself to me immediately, or I will burn every herb in this valley to ash."

Before the echoes of her voice faded, a figure descended from the central peak.

Hua Qianyu was everything her reputation suggested. Her face was soft and gentle, with features that seemed carved from warm jade. A perpetual kindness lingered in her eyes, yet a strength lay beneath that softness. Her hair was the color of green bamboo, long and flowing, loosely tied in a bun at the nape of her neck with a few strands falling free to frame her face. She wore flowing robes of white and green, elegant yet practical, befitting a valley lord. Her figure was full and mature, the curves of a woman who had lived long and nurtured many.

She alighted gracefully, her feet barely brushing the ground. When she saw Li Que, her eyes widened.

"Li Que?" Hua Qianyu's voice was measured, but shock crept through the edges. "Former vice-sect master of the Vermilion Bird Gate... You are Xuan Fa's slave now."

"I am the concubine and slave of Master Xuan Fa, known as Sparrow Slave." Li Que's lips curled. "And I bring his judgment."

The assembled disciples murmured among themselves, their fear growing.

Hua Qianyu's expression hardened. "What judgment?"

"Your disciples occupied the medicine garden of the Ze Feng Sect without permission. They took what was not theirs. Master has decreed: every disciple who participated in the occupation shall strip naked, kneel at the entrance of the Ze Feng Sect, and present their buttocks for punishment. One hundred strikes of the Heavenly Wood Plank per day, for ten years. This is a light punishment, meant as a lesson."

The disciples gasped. A light punishment? One hundred strikes of the Heavenly Wood Plank would break even a cultivator's bones. And every day for ten years?

"And you, Hua Qianyu." Li Que's eyes were flat. "You failed to control your disciples. You will share their punishment."

Hua Qianyu's face went pale, then red with anger and disbelief. "You cannot be serious! My disciples are healers and herbalists! They do not deserve such humiliation!"

"They committed the crime. They must pay the price." Li Que's voice brooked no argument.

Hua Qianyu stepped forward, her hand going to the hilt of her sword. "I cannot allow this. If you wish to punish my disciples, you will have to go through me first."

Li Que smiled. It was not a pleasant smile. "Master predicted you would say that. Then I shall defeat you and take you to the Ze Feng Sect personally."

The fight was brief but intense.

Li Que moved like living flame, her body wreathed in crimson fire. She did not use weapons—her hands and feet were enough condensed spiritual energy into claws of inferno that could tear through steel. Hua Qianyu was no weakling; she had reached the late stage of Nascent Soul, and her healing arts made her incredibly difficult to kill. She could regenerate wounds in the blink of an eye, her water-based techniques countering Li Que's flames.

But Li Que had been trained by Xuan Fa. She had been broken and rebuilt, humiliated and forged into a blade of pure martial will. She fought without hesitation, without mercy, and without pride. She fought only to serve her Master's will.

With a howl of flame, Li Que's palm struck Hua Qianyu's chest, sending her crashing through three stone pillars. The valley lord coughed blood, her regeneration already knitting the wound, but the attack had drained her. Li Que descended upon her like a meteor, pinning her to the ground with a knee on her back.

"You are strong, Hua Qianyu. But not strong enough to defy my Master's commands."

Hua Qianyu struggled, but Li Que's weight was relentless. Tears of frustration and pain streaked down the valley lord's face.

Li Que produced a transmission talisman from thin air. She crushed it, and Xuan Fa's cold, flat voice echoed across the valley.

"Hua Qianyu and the Hundred Flowers disciples resisted the punishment. This is a grave offense. Their crime has doubled. Hua Qianyu is to be taken to the Ze Feng Sect for severe punishment. All disciples who participated in the resistance shall receive double the original sentence."

The disciples wept openly now. Some fell to their knees, sobbing. Others stared in horror at their defeated valley lord.

Hua Qianyu's heart twisted. She could not bear the thought of her disciples suffering such a fate. Many of them were young, barely past the Qi Condensation stage. They would not survive.

"Please!" Hua Qianyu cried out, her voice cracking. She pushed herself to her knees, then lowered her forehead to the ground. "I take full responsibility! My disciples only followed my orders! Please, Master Xuan Fa, punish only me! Double it, triple it, I do not care! But spare my disciples!"

Silence descended. The transmission talisman still hummed with Xuan Fa's presence.

"Only you?" Xuan Fa's voice was cold amusement. "Very well. But if only you are punished, the punishment must be severe. You will accept any punishment I deem fit, without complaint, without resistance."

"I will!" Hua Qianyu pressed her forehead deeper into the dirt. "I swear it!"

"Then strip."

Hua Qianyu hesitated for only a breath. Then, with trembling hands, she untied her robes. The white and green silk fell away, revealing her full, pale body. Her breasts were heavy and full, her waist narrow, her hips wide and womanly. She knelt there, naked before her disciples, her face burning with shame but her spirit firm.

"Show them what happens to those who defy me."

Li Que stepped forward and wrapped a Spirit Binding Chain around Hua Qianyu's neck. The metal was cold, a reminder of her new status. Hua Qianyu felt the collar click shut, and a shudder ran through her.

"Now crawl, valley lord. Crawl to your own grand hall. Your disciples need to see their lord humbled."

Hua Qianyu's hands hit the ground. Her knees scraped against the stone. She began to crawl, the chain leading her forward, Li Que walking behind her like a handler leading a beast.

The disciples watched in horror. Their gentle, kind valley lord, the woman who had healed them, taught them, nurtured them—she was crawling naked on the ground, a collar around her neck, being led to her own judgment.

They reached the grand hall, a beautiful structure of white jade and green marble, surrounded by blooming flowers. Now those flowers seemed to mock them.

Li Que stopped in front of the hall's entrance. She turned to face the gathered disciples, who had followed in a shocked, weeping crowd.

"Hear me, disciples of the Hundred Flowers Valley! Your valley lord has admitted her guilt: failure to control her subordinates, theft of property belonging to the Ze Feng Sect, and violent resistance to lawful punishment. As such, she will now receive four hundred strikes of the Heavenly Wood Plank on her bare buttocks, here in this hall, for all to witness. Afterward, she will be taken to the Ze Feng Sect for further punishment."

Hua Qianyu forced herself to her knees, then leaned forward until her chest touched the cool floor. She raised her hips, presenting her round, full buttocks to the air. Her face was buried in her arms, tears streaming silently.

She had never been so humiliated in her long life. To be displayed like this, naked and vulnerable, before the disciples she had sworn to protect—it was worse than death. But she had chosen this. She had chosen to bear their punishment.

"Please," she whispered, so loud everyone heard. "Punish only me."

Li Que smiled coldly.

With a casual gesture, she sent her spiritual sense sweeping across the medicinal gardens. She plucked a cluster of plants from a distant patch, drawing them through the air with telekinesis. The plants had deep green leaves covered in fine, almost invisible hairs—stinging hairs that would cause unimaginable itching upon skin contact.

Hua Qianyu, with her extensive herbal knowledge, recognized them immediately. "Scorpion Grass," she breathed, her eyes widening with dread.

"You are well-versed in herbs, valley lord. That is good." Li Que crushed the plants with her spiritual energy, grinding them into a thick, greenish paste. Then she smeared the paste across Hua Qianyu's upturned buttocks, covering every inch of the pale, pliant flesh.

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

It started as a tickle, then grew into a burning, crawling sensation that spread like wildfire across Hua Qianyu's skin. She bit her lip, trying to suppress the urge to scratch. But the itching intensified, burrowing into her flesh, making her nerves scream. It was as if a thousand tiny insects were wriggling just beneath her skin, each one biting and clawing.

"Nnngh..." Hua Qianyu's composure cracked. Her hand twitched, and then she was scratching, her nails digging into her own flesh. But scratching only made it worse. The itch spread, deepened, became unbearable.

"Please," she gasped, her voice ragged. "Please, just hit me. Hit me, I beg you! The pain will help!"

Li Que watched with detached interest, letting the valley lord suffer. A full quarter-hour passed. Hua Qianyu writhed on the floor, her nails raking across her buttocks, leaving red marks that did nothing to alleviate the torture. Her disciples watched, horrified, some covering their mouths, others crying openly.

Finally, when Hua Qianyu was nearly out of her mind with the itching, Li Que raised her hand.

Two massive planks of dark wood materialized from the air. The Heavenly Wood Plank—a punishment tool blessed by heaven itself, enchanted to cause maximum pain without caus

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The ancient forest of the Forgotten Vale stretched endlessly under a canopy of emerald leaves, where beams of golden light pierced through the gaps like divine spears. In a clearing carpeted with moss and luminescent fungi, a figure lounged against an ancient oak, her silver hair cascading over her shoulders like moonlight given form.

Su Qianyao was a vision that could stop hearts and steal reason. Her body was a masterpiece of seductive curves—full breasts that strained against the thin fabric of her black silk robe, a waist so slender it seemed designed to be gripped, and hips that flared into an impossibly round, plump backside. Her face was delicate yet devastating, with high cheekbones, full crimson lips, and eyes like pools of blood that sparkled with mischief and danger. She exuded an aura of intoxicating charm, the natural scent of jasmine and nightshade clinging to her skin.

She stretched languidly, her robe slipping off one shoulder to reveal creamy skin, and then she froze. Her red eyes sharpened. She blinked, then burst into a silvery laugh.

"Well, well, well," she purred, her voice like honey laced with venom. "What a rare treasure—I never thought I'd see a bare-bottomed little sister in this desolate place."

Standing twenty paces away, completely naked, was a young woman with black hair tied into twin ponytails that bounced with each subtle movement. Her body was youthful and slender, perfectly proportioned, with pert breasts and a flat stomach. She had an impish face, bright eyes full of mirth, and a grin that could charm the stars from the sky.

Lin Qiaoxin—the Heart Slave of Xuanfa, the formation prodigy, the millennium genius.

She was stark naked, her flawless skin gleaming under the dappled light. Around her neck sat a black slave collar, sleek and unadorned, marking her belonging. She twirled a strand of her ponytail around her finger and laughed, the sound like wind chimes.

"Of course you'd see me like this, Sister Yao," Lin Qiaoxin chirped, completely unashamed. In fact, she turned around and wiggled her perfectly round bottom in Su Qianyao's direction. "Isn't it pretty? The Heart Slave's butt is one of the finest treasures under heaven, you know. The Master says so himself."

Su Qianyao raised an elegant eyebrow, her smile widening with amusement. "You certainly flaunt it well."

"Why wouldn't I?" Lin Qiaoxin spun back around, hands on her hips. "I was twenty years old when the Master took me as his slave. Now I'm over four hundred. Do you know how long I've gone without clothes?" She tapped her chin thoughtfully. "I've been naked far more than I've been dressed. It's my natural state. Why hide what the Master adores?"

She sauntered closer, her bare feet making no sound on the moss. Her tone turned playful but pointed. "But Sister Yao, you've been naughty. Using your charm arts to toy with the disciples of the Zefa Gate isn't playing nice."

Su Qianyao's eyes narrowed just a fraction, though her smile remained fixed.

Lin Qiaixin's grin turned wicked. "The Master has commanded me to bring you back. For a spanking. Only ten years."

"A spanking?" Su Qianyao's laugh was sultry, a sound that could weaken knees. "Ten years of punishment? Oh my, how dreadful."

"Come quietly, and it'll be easier on that pretty rump of yours," Lin Qiaoxin said cheerfully. "No need for a fight."

Su Qianyao rose to her full height, her silken robe flowing around her like water. She stretched, intentionally emphasizing her voluptuous curves, and gave Lin Qiaoxin a slow, measuring look. "I can't say I mind the idea of a firm hand, little sister." She licked her lips in a gesture that was equal parts hunger and dare. "But you'll have to prove you can deliver. If you want to spank this bottom, you'll need real skill."

She stepped forward, the air around her shimmering with barely restrained power. Her voice dropped to a sultry whisper. "Let's have a little match, shall we?"

Lin Qiaoxin sighed dramatically, shaking her head. "Sister Yao, Sister Yao, you're resisting punishment. That's grave. The Master punishes defiance the harshest." Her smile didn't waver, but her eyes sparkled with mischief. "He might beat your bottom until it's black and blue. But honestly?" She patted her own backside with a dreamy sigh. "That sounds wonderful."

She looked up, a faraway glint in her eyes. "I can almost feel the Master's Heavenly Dao Spanking Board right now. Every day, without fail, he makes us kneel before him and beats us until we're sore. Ah, I want to kneel before him right now and feel that blessed wood again."

Su Qianyao shivered. Not from fear.

Her voice was a husky murmur. "Black and blue, you say? What a delicious promise."

In the魔族, she had been supreme. Men had trembled before her, too terrified to touch her, let alone discipline her. But she—silk-clad seductress with a body built for sin—had a secret hunger. Her round, greedy buttocks craved pain. They craved discipline. They craved the brutal kiss of a master's hand.

This was going to be glorious.

"Enough talk, little sister." Su Qianyao's eyes flared red. "Show me what you've got."

The air exploded with power.

Su Qianyao lunged forward, her hands weaving intricate seals. Crimson energy spiraled around her fingers, forming whips of intoxicating charm that sought to ensnare the mind. Her魅惑 arts were legendary—they could bend even the strongest cultivator's will to butter.

But Lin Qiaoxin simply clapped her hands.

Runes erupted from the ground in a perfect circle. Golden light wove into an intricate lattice, forming a barrier that shattered Su Qianyao's charm whips into harmless motes of light. Lin Qiaoxin danced backward, her fingers tracing patterns in the air.

"Sister Yao, your arts are beautiful," she called, a formation springing up beneath her feet. "But the Heart Slave's arrays are chosen by the Master himself. Do you think I've spent centuries being spanked for nothing?"

A ring of fire burst from the ground, encircling Su Qianyao. Then another ring of lightning. Then a third of ice. Su Qianyao's eyes widened as she realized she was trapped in a multi-layered formation—a cage of pure elemental energy that pulsed with terrifying precision.

"Not bad," Su Qianyao hissed, summoning a blade of dark energy. "But I'm not some green disciple!"

She struck, her blade cleaving through the first ring of fire. But the formation regenerated instantly, and Lin Qiaoxin's laughter echoed from all directions.

"You're fighting a formation master in her domain, Sister Yao. Every step you take, I control the field."

The battle raged—a blur of crimson charm arts and golden formations. Trees shattered. The ground was gouged into craters. Su Qianyao was fast, her offense ferocious, but Lin Qiaoxin was a spider in a web. Every attack was anticipated, every dodge cut off, until Su Qianyao found herself backed into a corner with no escape.

Lin Qiaoxin's fingers snapped.

The formation contracted. Chains of pure light burst from the ground, wrapping around Su Qianyao's wrists and ankles, hoisting her into the air. She was spread-eagled, her robe falling away, her gorgeous body now fully exposed—full breasts, a flat stomach, and that truly magnificent bottom, round and plump like twin moons.

Lin Qiaoxin circled her like a predator inspecting prey, her grin wide. "All tied up. Now, about that punishment."

She flicked her wrist.

The formation transformed. Countless whips of light materialized out of thin air, each one tipped with a sharp crackle of energy. Then came the boards—flat, solid constructs of golden light, each one the size of a paddle. They hovered in a circle around Su Qianyao's upturned bottom.

"First," Lin Qiaoxin chirped, "let me admire the view."

She waved her hand, and the formation ripped away the last scraps of Su Qianyao's robe. The demoness hung naked, her silver hair spilling down her back, her crimson eyes half-lidded with anticipation. Her skin flushed with a rosy warmth, her nipples hardening in the cool air.

But her bottom—oh, her bottom was a work of art. Two perfect globes, full and round, with a crease where they met that invited the harshest of attentions. Her skin was pale, unblemished, never touched by discipline.

Lin Qiaoxin's fingers twitched. "Time to paint."

The first whip cracked.

THWACK!

It struck the left cheek, leaving a vivid red line. Su Qianyao gasped—not in pain, but in a pleasure so sharp it stole her breath. The sensation! The sting! It ignites her like fire.

"Ohhhh~" The moan that escaped her lips was pure sin.

Lin Qiaoxin blinked. "That sounded like you enjoyed that."

THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!

More whips landed in rapid succession, each one laying a fresh red stripe across Su Qianyao's tender flesh. Her body jerked with every strike, but her sounds—they were not sobs or screams. They were gasps of delight, purrs of satisfaction, and that wet, slick sound coming from between her legs...

Lin Qiaoxin's eyes widened. "Sister Yao, are you—already dripping?"

Su Qianyao threw her head back, her silver hair cascading, her face flushed with ecstasy. Her entire being burned with a hunger she had never been able to satisfy. Every strike of the whip was a kiss from a deity. Every welt was a prayer answered.

"Yes!" she cried, her voice husky and raw. "More! Harder! That—that's what I've been craving!"

Lin Qiaoxin gaped. She had been beaten more times than she could count. She loved the Master's board with all her heart. But Su Qianyao—this woman was a beast of pure masochism. Ten blows in and her pussy was a river.

"Alright," Lin Qiaoxin said, recovering her grin. "Let's see how much you can take."

She brought the boards into play.

WHAM!

A flat, golden board slapped down across both cheeks, flattening the plump flesh. The sound was obscene—a wet, meaty THWACK that made Su Qianyao scream with pleasure. Her entire bottom jiggled from the impact, already turning pink.

WHAM! WHAM! WHAM!

Each blow was relentless, methodical. The boards fell like rain. Su Qianyao's backside bloomed from pink to crimson, the skin beginning to swell as welts rose. Her moans filled the clearing, intermingled with helpless little gasps.

"I love it!" she wailed, her hips bucking against her bonds. "More! Please! Beat my worthless bottom!"

Lin Qiaoxin smirked and made the boards strike even faster. A rhythmic barrage—left, right, left, center, then an overhead smash that made Su Qianyao's eyes roll back. The demoness's bottom was now a bright, angry red, the skin hot to the touch, each cheek trembling under the assault.

And through it all, Su Qianyao's voice was a chorus of sensual delight. Every blow was a treat. Every sting a gift.

Twenty strikes. Fifty. One hundred.

By two hundred, Su Qianyao's bottom was darkening to a deep wine color. Her breathing was ragged, her silver hair plastered to her sweaty back, and her entire body shuddered with a pleasure so intense it bordered on madness.

"Is that all you have?" she gasped, her voice broken but defiant. "I could take this all day!"

Lin Qiaoxin grinned, her twin ponies bobbing. "You asked for it."

The final volley struck with remorseless precision—two hundred more blows, delivered without pause. The air was filled with the sound of smacking flesh, the sight of a bottom turning violet, purple, and nearly black. By the time the last board landed, Su Qianyao was limp in her bonds, her bottom a swollen, discolored mess—a tapestry of abuse and devotion.

Four hundred strikes.

Su Qianyao panted, her chest heaving, her mind floating in a blissful haze. Every nerve ending in her backside was alive with agony and ecstasy. She had never felt so complete. So satisfied. And yet...

She wanted more.

As she hung there, dazed, Lin Qiaoxin clapped her hands. "Now, for the grand finale."

She produced a slim, peeled ginger root. It was cool, firm, and sharp-smelling.

Su Qianyao's red eyes focused on it. "What... is that?"

"Something special," Lin Qiaox

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The morning sun cast long shadows across the责凰门广场 as three thick stone pillars stood imposingly at its center. Each pillar was etched with intricate runes that pulsed with a faint, suppressant glow, designed to lock away the spiritual energy of anyone bound to them. Before the pillars, three figures knelt on the cold stone, their bodies completely bare, their hands bound behind their backs with shimmering golden chains that coiled around the pillars and anchored them in place.

The first figure was Bai Zhenshuang, the Swordmaster of the Heavenly Sword Sect, her black hair cascading down her back. Her spine was straight despite her predicament, her expression as cold and unyielding as the glacial peaks she hailed from. Next to her knelt Hua Qianyu, the gentle lady of the Hundred Flowers Valley, her green hair loose and tangled, her face pale with a faint sheen of sweat. On the far side was Su Qianyao, the demoness of the void, her silver hair wild and her red eyes gleaming with an unsettling light.

All three were peak Nascent Soul cultivators, but here they were reduced to the lowest of slaves—punished for defying the man whose domain they now occupied: Xuanfa.

On the sidelines, three figures stood watching. Lin Qiaoxin, Li Que, and Shen Mengyue stood shoulder to shoulder, their bare bodies marked only by black slave collars at their throats. They had been given the task of observing today’s punishment and reporting back to their master.

The morning ritual began.

Bai Zhenshuang’s eyes remained fixed on the ground before her, her jaw set tight. From behind her, her own sword, Ning Shuang, floated in the air, its blade sheathed in a polished white scabbard. The sword trembled, then twisted in midair, bringing the scabbard down across her bare buttocks with a sharp crack.

The sound echoed across the square.

Bai Zhenshuang gasped, a faint tremor running through her body. The sword rose again, then struck once more. And again. Each impact sent a jolt of fire through her skin, the wood of the scabbard biting deep into her flesh. She counted silently, her lips pressed into a thin line. Four hundred strikes. Every day. And then, the worst part—the hundred strokes between the thighs, where the tenderest flesh was exposed.

The sword continued its relentless rhythm. The thud of wood meeting skin was punctuated by Bai Zhenshuang’s sharp, controlled breaths. She refused to scream. She was a sword cultivator, a woman who had carved her name into the heavens through sheer will and iron discipline. But as the scabbard landed across her cheeks, she felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes. It was agony, not just to her body, but to her pride. To be punished by her own weapon—the symbol of her strength—was the deepest humiliation she could imagine.

“I will endure,” she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible. “I will endure because I lost. That is the way of the strong.”

Beside her, Hua Qianyu trembled as a small, green-glowing plant crept across the ground toward her. The scorpion grass, as it was called, had leaves lined with fine, hair-thin barbs that secreted a venomous sap. A single brush of those leaves against her skin sent Hua Qianyu’s breath hitching, her body arching forward as a wave of burning, itching agony consumed her.

The grass snaked up her thighs, winding around her waist, and then settled across her buttocks. The moment the sap made contact, Hua Qianyu gasped, a muffled sob escaping her lips. It started as a tingling warmth, then built into a maddening, relentless itch that felt like a thousand ants crawling under her skin. She twisted, trying to escape, but the chains held her firm.

“Ah... ah... please... please, make it stop,” she whimpered, tears streaming down her face.

But there was no mercy. Two flat planks of wood, carved from the same heavenly timber as the pillars, hovered above her. They descended, one after the other, striking the inflamed skin where the grass had done its work. Each slap sent a fresh wave of pain through Hua Qianyu, and she screamed, her body convulsing with every blow. The itching became unbearable, but the slaps broke through the haze, providing a strange, brutal relief that only made her weep harder.

“I deserve this,” she sobbed between gasps. “I deserve this for defying the lord. Please... please make sure my sect is safe. Don’t let them suffer for my mistakes.”

The planks continued their work, four hundred strikes in total, each one landing with deliberate force.

Su Qianyao watched the other two with a peculiar smile. She was different. Her punishment began with the same two heavenly planks descending upon her bare bottom. The first strike made her gasp, but it was not a gasp of pain. It was one of pleasure. Her body arched, and a low, throaty moan escaped her lips.

“Yes... ah... more,” she purred, her voice dripping with honey and fire.

The planks obeyed. They rained down across her buttocks, leaving deep red marks that soon bloomed into dark bruises. But Su Qianyao did not wince. Instead, she writhed, her hips rolling with each impact. Her skin flushed, and a trail of moisture gleamed between her thighs. The pleasure of the pain was an intoxicating drug, and she drank deeply.

After the four hundred strikes, she did not slump. Instead, she knelt with her head high as a servant approached holding a long, peeled ginger root. The servant did not hesitate, pressing the root between Su Qianyao’s legs, pushing it deep into her most private entrance.

Su Qianyao let out a sharp gasp, but then she laughed, a low, husky sound. Her whole body shuddered, and a thin line of clear fluid dripped down her thighs.

“More,” she breathed, her eyes flashing. “Harder, please. Make me feel it.”

The servant stepped back, and the hour began. Su Qianyao knelt still, the ginger root working its burning heat inside her, and she squirmed with every passing minute, but her smile never faded.

The punishments ran their course. At the end of the hour, the pillars pulsed once more, and a wave of healing energy washed over the three women. Their bruises faded, their torn skin knitted closed, and the itching vanished from Hua Qianyu’s body. The ginger root was removed, and Su Qianyao let out a soft sigh of satisfaction.

They were left kneeling, their bodies intact but their spirits broken just a little more.

In the Xuantian Realm, the air was warm and still. Lin Qiaoxin, Li Que, and Shen Mengyue knelt before a raised dais where Xuanfa sat, his black training robes immaculate, his expression unreadable. The evening light filtered through the ornate windows of the palace hall.

“Report,” he said, his voice flat.

Lin Qiaoxin spoke first. “Bai Zhenshuang took her four hundred strokes and the hundred between the thighs. She wept, but she did not scream. She is proud, Master, but her pride is cracking.”

Li Que added, “Hua Qianyu was... broken. She begged for mercy for her sect. She will not defy you again.”

Shen Mengyue said, “Su Qianyao enjoyed it. She asked for more. The ginger root made her moan.”

Xuanfa’s lips twitched, almost a smile. “Good.”

The three women exchanged glances. Then Lin Qiaoxin pressed her forehead to the floor. “Master, we have completed the task you set for us. We have watched them suffer as you commanded. And now... we wish to request a favor.”

Xuanfa raised an eyebrow. “Speak.”

Shen Mengyue spoke, her voice clear and steady despite a hint of eagerness. “We wish to be punished. Four hundred strokes of the heavenly plank. Every day.”

A silence fell over the hall. Xuanfa looked at them, his eyes narrowing. Then he laughed—a low, dry sound. “You are addicted to the pain, aren’t you?”

Lin Qiaoxin lifted her head, a timid smile on her lips. “Yes, Master. We have learned to love your punishments. They remind us of who we belong to.”

Li Que nodded. “I can no longer feel right without the pain.”

Shen Mengyue’s cheeks flushed, but she did not deny it. “We have become your slaves in body and mind. Please, Master.”

Xuanfa studied them for a long moment. Then he clapped his hands twice. From the shadows stepped three more figures: Lin Yuxin, Li Yunling, and Shen Xingmian. They were younger, their bodies still bearing the fresh bloom of youth, but their slave collars gleamed just as brightly as their mothers’. They walked to Xuanfa and knelt before him, pressing their foreheads to the ground.

“We greet the Master,” they said in unison.

Xuanfa gestured at the kneeling mothers. “Your mothers say they want their bottoms beaten. Four hundred strokes, with the heavenly planks. You will do it.”

The three daughters did not hesitate. They rose, each taking a wooden plank from the wall. Lin Yuxin approached her mother, Lin Qiaoxin, who had already turned and dropped to her hands and knees, her bare bottom raised in the air.

“Make it hurt, my little flame,” Lin Qiaoxin said, her voice teasing despite the position. “Aim for the softest part, right where my thighs meet. That will make me scream the loudest.”

Lin Yuxin’s face was set in concentration. She raised the plank and brought it down with a sharp thwack. Lin Qiaoxin jerked, but she let out a laugh.

“Good! Again! Harder!”

Li Yunling stood before her mother, Li Que, who knelt with her body braced. “Don’t go easy on me,” Li Que said, her voice flat. “If you hit me light, I’ll make you run laps around the palace until dawn.”

Li Yunling swallowed, then swung the plank. The wood cracked against Li Que’s skin, and she grunted, but she did not flinch. “Better. But put your back into it.”

Shen Xingmian approached Shen Mengyue, her mother’s eyes warm but fierce. “Make me remember this,” Shen Mengyue whispered. “I want to feel it for days.”

Shen Xingmian nodded, then brought the plank down. The sound echoed through the hall, followed by a sharp hiss of breath from Shen Mengyue.

The three daughters worked in rhythm, four hundred strokes each, their planks rising and falling with mechanical precision. The mothers encouraged them, instructing them on where to aim, how hard to swing, and how to make the pain linger. By the end, the mothers’ buttocks were a mess of deep red and purple bruises, raw and bleeding in places.

The daughters knelt again, the planks laid before them.

Lin Qiaoxin winced as she knelt, but she smiled. “Thank you, my little star. That felt wonderful.”

Li Que nodded, her expression softening. “You did well.”

Shen Mengyue reached out and touched her daughter’s cheek. “You are learning the art of discipline.”

But then Lin Qiaoxin turned to Xuanfa, her voice pleading. “Master, though my daughter’s hands are strong, they are not as skilled as your own. Please... call the heavenly planks to your will. Punish us yourself.”

Li Que and Shen Mengyue nodded in agreement. Xuanfa rose from his seat, his boots clicking against the stone floor. He walked to stand before them, looking down at the three kneeling women.

“Very well,” he said. “I will summon the planks myself next time. And you three,” he gestured at the daughters, “your cultivation has improved. Your mothers will punish you next time.”

The three daughters knelt before him immediately, their heads bowed. “We welcome it,” Lin Yuxin said. “Our bottoms are strong now. We can take our mothers’ hardest strokes.”

Shen Xingmian added, “Do not go easy on us, Mother.”

Li Yunling simply nodded.

Xuanfa looked at the six kneeling women before him—his slaves, his toys, his obedient little pets. A faint, almost imperceptible smile crossed his lips.

“Good,” he said. “I will watch closely.”

The evening settled over the hall, the sound of planks and cries still echoing in the air, a symphony of submission that would continue tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that.

The vast cultivation world of Xuantian stretched beneath an endless crimson sky, but within the hidden realm of the Zehumen Sect, the atmosphere was far from serene. Row upon row of bare, white buttocks were thrust high into the air, each pair belonging to a woman who had once commanded respect and fear across the continent. Behind each female cultivator, two floating slabs of heavenly wood hovered, moving in a relentless rhythm as they smacked down upon the soft, yielding flesh.

There were nearly eighty women in total. Some had been sect leaders or elders of great powers, others were prodigious rogue cultivators, and a few were daughters of noble families who had thought their status would protect them. Still others had come willingly, drawn by the strange and absolute authority of the man they now served. All of them now knelt here, their dignity stripped away along with their clothing, receiving the punishment that had been decreed for them.

The heavenly wooden boards descended one after another, delivering waves of excruciating pain that radiated through every nerve. For the newer slaves, fresh tears streamed down their faces, and their bodies twitched and squirmed despite their efforts to remain still. But the veterans of these sessions—those who had endured months or even years of discipline—held themselves motionless. Not a single one resisted or struggled. Their obedience had been forged one strike at a time, until their wills had bent completely to the master's design.

At the very front of the assembly, three figures knelt in perfect alignment. Lin Qiaoxin, Li Que, and Shen Mengyue—the most powerful among the female slaves—bore the heaviest punishment. Four hundred strikes each day, delivered by the heavenly wood with unerring precision. Two boards worked in tandem, one on each side, striking the left and right buttock in alternating sequence.

The first board came down on Lin Qiaoxin's left cheek, and a sharp crack echoed through the training ground. Her body swayed slightly, but she held her position, her twin ponytails bouncing with the impact. The second board struck her right cheek an instant later, and a deep pink imprint bloomed across the skin.

"Ahhh," Lin Qiaoxin let out a breathy moan, her voice carrying a hint of that familiar playful tone despite the obvious pain. "Still, it's the master's control of the heavenly wood that makes this feel so satisfying. Xinnu's bottom is going to be completely wrecked by the time this is over."

Behind her, the boards continued their relentless work, each strike landing with surgical precision. The flesh of her buttocks rippled and bounced with every impact, turning from pink to deep red as the punishment progressed. Sweat beaded on her forehead, and her fingers curled into fists against her thighs, but she did not flinch away.

Next to her, Li Que received her own punishment with a stoic expression, though the slight tremor in her shoulders betrayed the intensity of the pain. Her fiery red hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, and her athletic body was taut with tension. The boards slammed into her flesh with brutal force, raising welts that would take hours to fade.

"A master's punishment is a slave's honor," Li Que declared through gritted teeth, her voice strained but proud. "Quesi begs the master to strike harder. Her bottom deserves every blow."

A particularly vicious strike caught her right cheek, and she let out a sharp gasp, her body arching slightly before she forced herself back into position. The skin of her buttocks had taken on a deep, angry red, the marks of the heavenly wood clearly visible across both cheeks. Still, she held herself steady, her eyes fixed on the ground before her.

Shen Mengyue knelt with perfect grace, her long black hair cascading down her back and over her shoulders, partially obscuring the marks that were forming on her pale skin. The boards struck her with methodical precision, and each impact sent a wave of pain through her core, but she received it with the calm dignity that had once defined her as a sect leader.

"Yuenu's bottom is in debt to the master's discipline," she said, her voice soft yet steady. "Please, master, do not hold back. This slave requires every single strike to be properly punished."

The boards continued their assault, one after another, building a rhythm that filled the air with the sound of wood meeting flesh. Lin Qiaoxin's breath came in short, sharp gasps between her playful comments, while Li Que's stoicism slowly began to crack, a sheen of sweat coating her forehead. Shen Mengyue closed her eyes, her lips pressed into a thin line, each strike registering as a subtle flinch across her features.

As the count approached three hundred, the flesh of all three women had turned a deep, mottled red, with dark bruises forming in the most heavily struck areas. Lin Qiaoxin's playful demeanor had softened into something more subdued, her body trembling with each new blow. Li Que had stopped speaking entirely, her jaw clenched so tightly that her teeth ached. Shen Mengyue's serene expression had given way to a look of quiet suffering, tears pooling at the corners of her eyes.

The final strikes fell upon them with a resounding crack, and then the boards stilled. All three women collapsed forward, their arms giving out as they pressed their foreheads to the cool ground. Their backs heaved with ragged breaths, and their bodies trembled from the accumulated agony. Tears streamed freely from their eyes, carving tracks through the dust on their cheeks.

But on their faces, beneath the pain and exhaustion, there was something else. A soft, satisfied smile curved Lin Qiaoxin's lips. Li Que's expression held a quiet pride. And Shen Mengyue's features radiated a profound sense of peace.

The formation carved into the ground beneath them began to glow with a soft golden light, the healing energy seeping into their battered flesh. The bruises slowly faded, the swelling reduced, and the deep red marks gave way to paler skin. But the memory of the pain remained, etched into their minds as surely as the marks had been etched into their bodies.

After a long moment, the three women stirred. They pushed themselves up onto their knees, then into a kneeling position, their heads bowed low. Their voices rose together, soft and unified.

"Thank you, master, for punishing this slave's bottom. Only the master's control of the heavenly wood can deliver such exquisite pain."

Xuanfa stood before them, his dark training robes immaculate, his face as impassive as ever. He looked down at the three women with cold approval, his eyes sweeping over their submissive forms. Then he turned, gesturing with a single finger.

Three younger women stepped forward. Lin Yuxin, Li Yunling, and Shen Xingmian knelt before their mothers, their heads bowed, their bodies bare and marked with the same slave collars that adorned the necks of their mothers. They pressed their foreheads to the ground in a deep bow.

"Master," Lin Yuxin spoke first, her voice carrying a playful lilt that mirrored her mother's. "This slave requests permission. Please allow her mother to be the one to punish her bottom today. And please, mother, do not go easy on Yuxin. Her bottom has become quite resilient after all the training."

Li Yunling spoke next, her tone cool and composed. "Yunling makes the same request. Mother's hand is the sternest, and this slave wishes to feel the full weight of her discipline."

Shen Xingmian's voice was soft and gentle, so like her mother's. "Xingmian also begs to be punished by her mother's hand. This slave's bottom is ready for whatever punishment mother deems fit."

Xuanfa gave a slight nod, and the three older women rose, retrieving wooden paddles from a nearby rack. They positioned themselves behind their daughters, and without hesitation, they began to administer the punishment.

Lin Qiaoxin's paddle came down with a sharp crack against Lin Yuxin's youthful flesh. The younger woman let out a small yelp, but held her position, her body trembling slightly.

"Remember, Yuxin," Lin Qiaoxin said as she brought the paddle down again, her voice carrying an undertone of maternal sternness mixed with the harshness of a disciplinarian. "As a slave of the master, you must accept every punishment with grace. There is no shame in being disciplined. The shame lies in resisting the lesson."

"Yes, mother," Lin Yuxin gasped, tears already forming in her eyes. "Yuxin understands."

The paddle continued its work, each strike leaving a fresh red mark on skin that was rapidly turning crimson. Lin Yuxin's playful demeanor faded, replaced by the focused endurance of one who had learned to accept pain as part of her existence.

Beside her, Li Yunling received her own punishment with stoic silence, her body rigid and unmoving despite the force of each blow. Li Que's expression was severe, her paddle landing with precision and power that spoke of years of experience.

"A Quesi's daughter must be strong," Li Que said, her voice cold. "You bear the blood of one who once thought herself invincible. Do not disgrace that legacy by flinching."

"Yunling will not disgrace you, mother," the younger woman replied through clenched teeth. "This slave accepts every strike with gratitude."

Shen Mengyue's approach was gentler, but no less firm. She struck her daughter's bottom with methodical precision, each blow accompanied by words of guidance rather than harsh reprimand.

"Xingmian, being a slave is not about suffering," Shen Mengyue said softly, her paddle rising and falling in a steady rhythm. "It is about surrendering. Let go of your pride, of your will, of everything that makes you separate from the master. Only then will you find peace."

"Yes, mother," Shen Xingmian whispered, her voice thick with tears. "Xingmian will let go. She will surrender completely."

The two hundred strikes for each daughter were delivered with unwavering consistency, and by the time they were finished, the three younger women lay sprawled on the ground, their buttocks a brilliant shade of red, their bodies limp with exhaustion. But like their mothers before them, they wore expressions of serene acceptance.

The older women knelt beside their daughters, gently stroking their hair as the healing formation began to work on them as well. A moment of quiet settled over the group.

Xuanfa stepped forward, his gaze sweeping over the scene before he addressed the three senior slaves. "Report on the progress of the others. Bai Zhenshuang, Hua Qianyu, and Su Qianyao. How do they fare?"

Shen Mengyue rose to her knees, her head bowed. "Bai Zhenshuang still resists, master. She endures the punishment with tears and loud cries, but she has not yet begged for mercy. Her pride remains intact, though it is worn thin."

Li Que snorted. "Quesi was the same way. Stubborn as a mountain, refusing to bend even when the pain was unbearable. But the ginger punishment and the anal hook broke me. And when the master defeated me in personal combat, I knew there was no point in resisting. Bai Zhenshuang will learn the same lesson."

Lin Qiaoxin grinned, a hint of her usual mischief returning despite her exhaustion. "Hua Qianyu is a different story. Every time she's dosed with the scorpion grass extract, she starts begging to have her bottom beaten. It's the only thing that relieves the burning. I think she's close to breaking. Another few sessions, and she'll submit completely."

"And Su Qianyao?" Xuanfa asked, his tone flat.

Lin Qiaoxin's grin widened. "Ah, Sister Su Qianyao. She's a special case, master. Xinnu thinks she's an even bigger pervert than I am. She actually enjoys the paddle and the ginger punishment. To her, it's pleasure, not pain. But I've heard rumors. The Saintess Guard of the demon race is planning to come and rescue her. They think she's being tortured."

Xuanfa's eyes narrowed, a cold gleam appearing in their depths. "The Saintess Guar

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