Xuanfa Heavenly Lord's Punishment Part 2

Xuanfa held the three leather leashes loosely in his hand as he strolled through the main courtyard of Zefeng Sect. Behind him, crawling on all fours, came Lin Qiaoxin, Li Que, and Shen Mengyue. Their naked bodies glistened faintly under the morning light, black slave collars snug around their necks. Each moved with practiced grace, their breasts swaying with each crawl, their thighs pressing together and apart in a steady rhythm. Their faces bore no shame—only serene obedience, like well-trained pets following their master.

Disciples of Zefeng Sect, all naked as well, paused their tasks to bow respectfully as Xuanfa passed. Some whispered among themselves, pointing at the three infamous women who now crawled like common beasts. The names Xin Nu, Que Nu, and Yue Nu had become legends across the cultivation world—once proud sect leaders and geniuses, now the most loyal slaves beneath Xuanfa's heel.

Xuanfa stopped at the center of the courtyard, where a stone pavilion stood. He released the leashes and sat down on a carved bench, crossing one leg over the other. The three women immediately gathered before him, kneeling upright with hands placed neatly on their thighs.

"You three have broken through to the late stage of Divinity Transformation, correct?" Xuanfa's voice was flat, devoid of warmth or praise.

Lin Qiaoxin spoke first, her twin ponytails bouncing as she kowtowed. "Thanks to our master's fierce spanking of our buttocks and the spiritual energy of the Xuantian Realm, we were able to break through to late Divinity Transformation in three hundred years."

Li Que followed, her fiery red high ponytail swaying as she pressed her forehead to the ground. "Every strike of the Heavenly Dao Wooden Board tempered our bodies and refined our qi. We are grateful for our master's discipline."

Shen Mengyue completed the trio's response, her waist-length black hair spilling over her shoulders as she bowed. "Without our master's relentless punishment, we would still be stagnant at the middle stage. Your harshness is our greatest blessing."

Xuanfa's lips curled slightly—not quite a smile, but close. "Since you have broken through to late Divinity Transformation, I have a task for you three."

They raised their heads, eyes bright with anticipation.

"Bai Zhenshuang, the sect master of the Heaven Sword Sect, has spoken disrespectfully of my Zefeng Sect," Xuanfa said, his tone hardening. "Hua Qianyu, the valley master of the Hundred Blossom Valley, allowed her disciples to occupy the Zefeng Sect's herb garden. Su Qianyao, the saintess of the Demon Clan, used bewitching techniques to confuse the minds of Zefeng Sect disciples."

He paused, letting the weight of the offenses sink in.

"You three will go inform Bai Zhenshuang, Hua Qianyu, and Su Qianyao of their crimes. They must voluntarily strip off all their clothes, kneel at the mountain entrance of Zefeng Sect, raise their buttocks, and receive their spanking. One hundred strikes of the Heavenly Dao Wooden Board on the buttocks daily for ten years—as a slight punishment. If they resist, defeat all three of them and bind them back with the Immortal Binding Locks."

Xuanfa waved his hand, and three golden chains materialized in his palm. They shimmered with runic power, humming faintly. He tossed them to the ground before the women.

Lin Qiaoxin, Li Que, and Shen Mengyue each picked up a lock, their fingers brushing the cool metal with reverence.

"Master," Lin Qiaoxin said, a mischievous grin spreading across her face, "now that we have broken through to late Divinity Transformation, we humbly request an increase in our daily buttock strikes. From two hundred to four hundred."

Li Que nodded firmly. "Our bodies crave your discipline. The sting of the board has become our lifeline."

Shen Mengyue added softly, "We have grown accustomed to the pain, Master. It reminds us of our place."

Xuanfa let out a low chuckle, the sound rare and unsettling. "So now you've fallen in love with the feeling of being spanked, haven't you?"

The three women answered in unison, their voices clear and unashamed: "Yes, Master. We have."

Xuanfa's eyes narrowed with amusement. "After this mission is completed, I will increase your punishment. For now, let us finish today's session."

He raised his hand and snapped his fingers. Three figures emerged from the shadows of the pavilion, walking with quiet steps. They were young women who appeared about eighteen years old, each bearing an eighty percent resemblance to Lin Qiaoxin, Li Que, and Shen Mengyue respectively.

Lin Yuxin had her mother's twin ponytails and playful eyes, though her face was softer. Li Yunling carried Li Que's athletic build and calm pride, her fiery red hair tied in a high ponytail. Shen Xingmian was the spitting image of Shen Mengyue—ethereally beautiful, with long black hair cascading down her back.

All three wore black slave collars and nothing else. Their bodies were slender but firm, their breasts modest yet shapely. They knelt before Xuanfa in perfect synchronization.

"Greetings, Master," they said in unison.

Xuanfa gestured to the three older women. "Your mothers' buttocks are itching. Take the Heavenly Dao Wooden Boards and spank their buttocks, two hundred strikes each. After that, make them spread their legs and whip the crease between their buttocks one hundred times each."

Lin Yuxin, Li Yunling, and Shen Xingmian bowed. "As Master commands."

Without hesitation, the three daughters retrieved the Heavenly Dao Wooden Boards from a rack beside the pavilion. The boards were dark and heavy, carved with ancient runes that pulsed with faint light. Each board weighed as much as a small boulder but felt featherlight in the hands of those accustomed to such tools.

Lin Qiaoxin, Li Que, and Shen Mengyue turned around and knelt on all fours, raising their buttocks high in the air. Their thighs were spread wide, exposing their wet cunts and tight anuses to the open air. The morning breeze brushed against their sensitive flesh, making them shiver.

Lin Qiaoxin looked back at her daughter, grinning. "Yuxin, make sure you hit the same spot twice in a row. That's the way to really make it sting. And don't go easy on the crease—whip it so hard the skin splits. I want to feel it for days."

Lin Yuxin nodded, raising the board. "As Mother commands."

Li Que spoke to her daughter, her voice calm and authoritative. "Yunling, focus on the lower curve of the buttocks. That's where the pain lingers longest. And when you whip the crease, angle the lash so it covers both my cunt and anus equally."

Li Yunling's eyes were steady. "I understand, Mother."

Shen Mengyue's tone was gentle but firm. "Xingmian, beat my buttocks until they are a pulp. Do not stop until the flesh is soft and purple. And whip the crease hard enough to leave welts on both holes. I want to feel the pleasure of punishment deep in my bones."

Shen Xingmian's voice was soft. "Yes, Mother."

The three daughters raised their boards and brought them down simultaneously.

*Crack!*

The sound echoed across the courtyard. Lin Qiaoxin's buttocks jiggled violently, a red mark blooming across her left cheek. She gasped, her body trembling, but her smile only widened.

*Crack!*

Li Que's right cheek turned crimson. She grunted but remained still, her hands clenched into fists.

*Crack!*

Shen Mengyue's entire body jolted forward. She bit her lower lip, her eyes closing as she absorbed the pain.

The boards rose and fell in a steady rhythm. Left cheek, right cheek, alternating with precision. After fifty strikes, the three women's buttocks were a uniform deep red. After one hundred, they had turned purple, with dark bruises forming along the curves. After one hundred fifty, the skin began to split in places, thin lines of blood trickling down their thighs.

Lin Qiaoxin's playful demeanor faded as the pain intensified. She began to moan, her voice a mix of agony and pleasure. "Yes... yes... harder, Yuxin... don't stop..."

Li Que remained stoic, but her breathing became ragged. Sweat beaded on her forehead and ran down her spine. "Good... Yunling... good..."

Shen Mengyue cried out softly with each strike, her body shaking. "Xingmian... thank you... thank you for punishing me..."

At two hundred strikes, the three daughters stopped. The boards were slick with blood. The buttocks of Lin Qiaoxin, Li Que, and Shen Mengyue were utterly destroyed—a mess of purple, black, and red, with broken skin and deep bruises. Yet they remained in position, their cunts dripping wet, their anuses clenching with anticipation.

The daughters set down the boards and picked up whips. These whips were made of black leather, braided with silver threads that glowed faintly. They cracked the whips in the air to test their reach.

"Spread your legs wider," Lin Yuxin commanded.

Lin Qiaoxin obeyed immediately, her knees sliding apart until her thighs were nearly flat on the ground. Her wet cunt and tight anus were fully exposed, the crease between them glistening with moisture.

Li Yunling gave the same order, and Li Que complied without hesitation, her athletic body folding into the position with practiced ease.

Shen Xingmian simply whispered, "Mother, please," and Shen Mengyue spread her legs wide, her pale thighs trembling.

The whips whistled through the air.

*Crack!*

Lin Yuxin's whip lashed across the crease of Lin Qiaoxin's buttocks, the leather biting into both her cunt and anus. Lin Qiaoxin screamed—a sound of pure ecstasy mixed with pain. A red welt rose across the sensitive skin.

*Crack!*

Li Yunling's strike hit Li Que's crease perfectly, covering both holes. Li Que grunted, her body jerking, but she held her position.

*Crack!*

Shen Xingmian's whip landed with precision, and Shen Mengyue let out a broken cry, tears streaming down her face.

The whipping continued, strike after strike. The leather carved welts into the tender creases, the flesh splitting in some places. Lin Qiaoxin's cunt lips were swollen and red, her anus puffy and bruised. Li Que's athletic body showed the marks clearly, the welts crossing her perineum like a brutal grid. Shen Mengyue's delicate skin turned raw, the whipping leaving her entire crease a mess of red and purple.

After one hundred strikes, the daughters stepped back. The three older women collapsed forward, their arms giving out, their faces pressed against the cool stone of the courtyard. They panted heavily, their bodies slick with sweat and blood.

Xuanfa observed silently, his eyes cold and appraising. "Good. Now it is your turn."

Lin Yuxin, Li Yunling, and Shen Xingmian immediately turned around and knelt on all fours, raising their buttocks in the same position. Their buttocks were still pale and unmarked, smooth as jade.

"Since you are still at the Golden Core stage, you will use the Mysterious Wood Board for one hundred strikes," Xuanfa said. He waved his hand, and six Mysterious Wood Boards materialized in the air. They were slightly smaller than the Heavenly Dao Wooden Boards, carved with simpler runes.

The boards arranged themselves into two rows flanking each daughter—three on the left, three on the right.

"Begin," Xuanfa commanded.

The boards swung simultaneously. The first strike hit Lin Yuxin's left cheek with a sharp *thwack*. She gasped, her eyes widening. The second strike hit her right cheek. Then left again. Right again. The boards alternated in perfect rhythm, delivering strike after strike without pause.

Lin Yuxin's playful nature faded quickly under the relentless assault. "Ah! Master! It hurts!" she cried out, her voice cracking.

Lin Qiaoxin crawled over to her daughter, her own battered buttocks still raised. "Yuxin, listen to me," she said, her voice strained but firm. "A female slave should accept all of the master's punishment and humiliation and take pride in it. Every strike is a gift. Every bruise is a mark of our devotion. Do not fight it. Embrace it."

Lin Yuxin sobbed but no

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The mountain pass of Zehuang Gate was silent under the pale sun, the wind carrying the faint scent of blood and bruised spirit. A line of over sixty fully armed cultivators marched through the forest path, their formation tight, their auras linked like a single beast. At their head strode a mid-stage Nascent Soul cultivator named Azi, her eyes sharp and her hand resting on the hilt of a curved blade. Behind her, sixty late-stage Core Formation disciples moved in perfect sync, their joint attack technique honed through years of training. They could crush three or four ordinary Nascent Soul cultivators in open battle.

They emerged from the treeline and halted at the edge of the mountain pass. What they saw made them stop cold.

On the bare stone ground, kneeling in the shadow of the mountain gate, was their Holy Maiden. Su Qianyao’s silver hair tumbled over her shoulders, her bright red pupils fixed on the ground. Her arms were bound behind her back with black chains, forcing her chest forward and her hips high. Her naked body gleamed with a thin sheen of sweat, and her full, round buttocks were already flushed a deep crimson. Above her, a wooden paddle—the Heavenly Dao Board—rose and fell with mechanical precision, each strike landing with a sharp crack that echoed through the pass.

Su Qianyao’s body jerked with every blow, and from her lips came a low, shuddering moan—not of pain, but of pleasure.

Azi’s face twisted with fury. She raised a hand, and the formation behind her halted. “Release the Holy Maiden!” she shouted, her voice laced with spiritual power that rolled across the pass like thunder. “Zehuang Gate! If you do not release her immediately, I will raze this mountain to the ground!”

The paddle continued its rhythm. *Crack. Crack. Crack.*

Two figures stepped out from the shadow of the gate. They walked slowly, deliberately, their bare feet soundless on the stone. They were naked.

The guards gasped.

The first woman was tall and poised, her black hair flowing down her back like a river of ink. Her face was delicate and stern, her brows etched with an innate nobility that seemed to glow even in her nudity. Her chest was full and firm, her waist slender, and her hips round and full—the body of a sword immortal honed to perfection. This was Bai Zhenshuang, once the sect leader of Tianjian Sect, a name that had made lesser cultivators tremble. Now she stood naked before them, unashamed, her eyes cold and calm.

Beside her walked Hua Qianyu. Her long green hair was loosely tied at the back, with a few strands hanging by her ears. Her features were gentle, soft as water, with a natural affability in her brows and eyes that could soothe any heart. Her body was plump and well-proportioned, every curve flowing into the next like a mountain stream. She was the Valley Master of Baihua Valley, a healer beyond compare. Now she too was naked, her skin luminous in the daylight.

The contrast was jarring. These were women who had commanded respect—leaders of great sects—now exposed to the open air, their most private forms displayed without a trace of shame. And the guards saw, at their throats, black slave collars.

Azi’s shock turned to cold fury. “Bai Zhenshuang! Hua Qianyu! So your sects have colluded with Zehuang Gate? You have betrayed the cultivation world!”

Bai Zhenshuang’s voice came flat and clear, like a blade drawn from ice. “You are mistaken. I am no longer the sect leader of Tianjian Sect. Thanks to the favor of Xuan Fa, I was accepted as a female slave, given the name Shuang Nu. Every day I receive the punishment of spanking.”

Hua Qianyu added gently, her tone soft as a lullaby, “I am no longer the valley lord of Baihua Valley either. I thank Xuan Fa for the position of female slave, given the name Yu Nu. Every day I must receive spanking punishment. Moreover, your Holy Maiden Su Qianyao is here voluntarily. She came of her own will to be punished.”

Azi’s face contorted. “Lies! You have been corrupted by that monster!” She drew her blade, and the sixty guards behind her raised their weapons in perfect unison. “Then we will free you by force!”

The formation surged forward, spiritual energy coiling into a net of killing intent. Bai Zhenshuang did not flinch. She drew Ningshuang, her sword, and the blade hummed with frost. Hua Qianyu raised her hand, and a hundred green vines erupted from the earth.

But as they clashed, a sound drifted from the pass.

*Crack.*

Su Qianyao’s moan pierced the air. “Ahhh… harder… yes…”

The guards faltered. Some turned to look. The Holy Maiden’s body was shuddering, her hips grinding against the air as the paddle struck again and again. Each blow drew a long, drawn-out groan that was unmistakably ecstatic. Her face was flushed, her red pupils hazy with pleasure.

“Impossible!” one guard cried. “She’s—she’s being spanked and she’s—”

“She’s climaxing,” another whispered in horror.

Su Qianyao’s back arched. Her mouth opened in a silent scream, and a flood of wetness trickled down her inner thighs. She collapsed forward, her bound arms straining, her breath ragged. “Yao Nu… wants more…”

The guards’ morale shattered. Their formation loosened. Bai Zhenshuang’s sword swept through them like a winter gale, and Hua Qianyu’s vines bound them in seconds. The battle was over before it truly began.

Azi lay on the ground, her blade broken. Bai Zhenshuang stood over her, naked, impassive. Su Qianyao lifted her head from the stone, her buttocks swollen and purple, her voice a breathless whisper. “Guard sisters… Yao Nu really is staying here voluntarily. Yao Nu has always wanted someone to beat her buttocks to pieces. This is my home now. Leave.”

The demon clan guards exchanged glances. Azi gritted her teeth. “Retreat.”

They gathered their wounded and fled, vanishing into the forest.

---

Two hours later, Bai Zhenshuang and Hua Qianyu knelt before Xuanfa in the main hall of Zehuang Gate. He sat on a high seat, black robes flowing, his face cold and unreadable.

“You did well,” he said. “The first task of your new service is before you.”

He told them of two small sects—Azure Palace, led by Yun Qing’er, and Nine Abyss Valley, led by Youlan. Their disciples had clashed with Zehuang Gate disciples, a minor offense, but discipline must be taught. “No Nascent Soul cultivators in either sect. A light punishment. The two sect leaders and the offending disciples must strip naked, kneel at the mountain pass of Zehuang Gate, raise their buttocks, and receive one hundred strokes of the Heavenly Dao Board per day for three years. If they resist, they will be severely punished. Go.”

Bai Zhenshuang bowed her head. “As the master commands.”

---

She walked alone to Azure Palace.

The gate stood open, disciples milling about in the courtyard. When they saw a naked woman approaching, they froze. Then they recognized her face—Bai Zhenshuang, the Sword Immortal of Tianjian Sect. The news had not yet reached them. They stood dumbfounded as she walked past them, step by step, her bare feet leaving prints on the stone path. Her body was on full display—her full chest, her slender waist, her round hips swaying with each stride. Her face remained cold and aloof, but inside her heart sang with obedience. This was her master’s will. She would show herself without shame.

She entered the main hall. Yun Qing’er, a Core Formation cultivator, stared at her in terror. Her disciples clustered behind her.

“Yun Qing’er,” Bai Zhenshuang said, her voice flat. “You and the disciples who clashed with Zehuang Gate must strip naked and go to Zehuang Gate’s mountain pass to receive punishment. One hundred strokes of the Heavenly Dao Board per day for three years. If you resist, you will be severely punished.”

Yun Qing’er fell to her knees. “But—you were a sect leader! How can you be—”

“I am a female slave of Xuan Fa,” Bai Zhenshuang said. “My master’s word is law. Obey, or face annihilation.”

There was no resistance. Yun Qing’er and her disciples stripped, their hands trembling, and set out for Zehuang Gate.

---

Hua Qianyu went to Nine Abyss Valley.

She walked through the gate with the same quiet dignity, her green hair swaying. Her gentle face held no shame. Her plump, well-proportioned body was on display, her full breasts and rounded hips moving with natural grace. The disciples of Nine Abyss Valley stared, some in shock, some in awe. She was Hua Qianyu—the healer who had saved countless lives. Now she walked naked among them, and her eyes held only peace.

In the main hall, Youlan knelt immediately. “I accept the punishment.” She and her offending disciples stripped and set out.

---

Bai Zhenshuang and Hua Qianyu returned to Zehuang Gate. They knelt before Xuanfa again.

“The task is done, master,” Bai Zhenshuang said.

“No resistance,” Hua Qianyu added softly.

Xuanfa looked down at them. “You have served well. What reward do you wish?”

The two women exchanged a glance. Then Bai Zhenshuang spoke, her voice steady. “This slave wishes to be publicly spanked hard by the master at the mountain pass of Zehuang Gate. Four hundred strokes. This slave’s buttocks should be split open in public. The master’s punishment and humiliation are the reward for a female slave.”

Hua Qianyu nodded. “Yu Nu wishes for the same. Four hundred strokes. May the master beat this slave’s bottom until it is a pulp, in front of all.”

Xuanfa’s lips curved—the faintest hint of approval. “So be it.”

---

The mountain pass was empty now, save for the two kneeling figures. Bai Zhenshuang and Hua Qianyu knelt side by side, their foreheads touching the ground, their buttocks raised high. The rock was cold beneath their knees. The afternoon sun cast long shadows.

Above each of them, two Heavenly Dao Boards materialized—thick wooden paddles, polished smooth, glowing with spiritual power. They hovered, waiting.

A small crowd gathered at the edges of the pass—disciples of Zehuang Gate, servants, and a few wandering cultivators who had heard rumors. They watched in silence as the two most beautiful women of the cultivation world presented their bottoms for punishment.

The first stroke fell.

*Crack!*

Bai Zhenshuang’s body jerked. A red handprint bloomed across her pale flesh. She did not cry out. Her jaw tightened, and she forced herself to stay still.

*Crack!* *Crack!*

The boards fell in a steady rhythm. Each strike sent a shockwave through her hips. The pain was immense—sharp and spreading, a fire that consumed her entire backside. But beneath the pain, a deeper warmth bloomed. This was her master’s attention. This was her submission accepted.

By the fiftieth stroke, her buttocks were a deep, angry red, covered in overlapping welts. Hua Qianyu whimpered beside her, her gentle face scrunched in pain, but she did not beg for mercy.

*Crack!* *Crack!* *Crack!*

By the hundredth, the skin began to split. Thin lines of blood trickled down Bai Zhenshuang’s thighs. She bit her lip, tasting copper. The boards did not relent.

*Crack!* *Crack!* *Crack!*

At two hundred strokes, both women were trembling violently. Their buttocks were unrecognizable—a mess of purple, black, and red, the flesh torn and swollen. Blood pooled on the stone beneath them.

*Crack!* *Crack!* *Crack!*

Three hundred. Bai Zhenshuang let out a low groan, her fists clenched. Hua Qianyu was crying silently, tears streaming down her cheeks, but she did not move.

*Crack!* *Crack!* *Crack!*

Four hundred.

The boards stopped.

The two women collapsed forward, their foreheads resting on the bloodstained stone. Their buttocks were split open, raw and bleeding, flesh hanging in ribbons. They lay there, panting, their bodies twitching.

And in their hearts, there was only gratitude.

“Thank you, master,” Bai Zhenshuang whispered.

“Thank you,” Hua Qianyu breathed.

The crowd dispersed in silence.

---

Within days, word spread across the cultivation world. Bai Zhenshuang, the Sword Immortal of Tianjian Sect, was now a female slave o

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The air inside the Xuan Heaven Realm pulsed with a faint, oppressive energy as six naked female figures knelt in a perfect row before the black-clad man seated upon the obsidian throne. Their heads were bowed, slave collars gleaming darkly around slender necks, and their bare bottoms rested against their heels in submission. Lin Qiaoxin, her twin ponytails brushing her shoulders, could not suppress the mischievous glint in her eyes even as she knelt. Li Que, fiery hair tied high, held herself rigid with pride tempered only by prolonged discipline. Shen Mengyue, serene as still water, waited with quiet patience. Bai Zhenshuang’s cool gaze remained fixed on the floor, her sharp features betraying nothing. Hua Qianyu’s gentle face held a soft smile, while Su Qianyao, silver hair cascading over her bare shoulders, let her red lips curve into a seductive pout.

Xuanfa regarded them with cold, impassive eyes. His black training clothes fit him perfectly, accentuating his powerful frame, and his fingers rested casually on the armrest of his throne. “Report,” he said, his voice flat and commanding.

Lin Qiaoxin spoke first, her tone light and playful. “Xin Nu reports that the cultivation world has been buzzing lately. Everywhere we go, we spank those who offended the master. The news spreads fast—six naked female slaves with high cultivation, traveling across the land to deliver punishment. Zehuang Gate’s disciples have also improved greatly. Their combat skills, formations, sword techniques, alchemy, and divine sense have all advanced.”

Li Que added with a sharp nod. “Que Nu has personally disciplined dozens of female cultivators this month. Each one left with a thoroughly beaten bottom, and not a single one dared to resist after the first few strokes.”

Shen Mengyue spoke softly. “Yue Nu has overseen the sword training. The disciples’ forms are sharper, their strikes quicker. They now understand that discipline comes not only from the blade but from the body’s submission.”

Bai Zhenshuang’s voice cut through, cool as frost. “Shuang Nu has ensured that those who tested the master’s patience received proper correction. Their buttocks bear the marks of their folly.”

Hua Qianyu smiled gently. “Yu Nu has healed many wounds, both physical and spiritual. The valley’s herbs have flourished, and the alchemy lessons have borne fruit.”

Su Qianyao licked her lips, her bright red eyes gleaming with mischief. “Yao Nu also took time to seduce a talented female cultivator named Nangong Xue. Her sister is Nangong Wan, the late-stage Nascent Soul sect master of the Crimson Flower Spirit Realm. But Xue Mei has been resisting fiercely lately. She thinks her pride can shield her bottom from punishment.”

Li Que snorted. “Hand her over to Que Nu. I’ll beat her butt to pieces dozens of times and see if she still dares to be stubborn.”

Xuanfa’s lips curved slightly, the barest hint of approval. “You six have performed well. From now on, you don’t need to kneel when you meet me; just bow.”

The six women exchanged glances of surprise and delight. Lin Qiaoxin beamed. “Thank you, master!” The others murmured their gratitude, their voices mingling in a chorus of reverence.

Xuanfa raised his hand, and from his palm emerged six black belts, each coiled and gleaming with a faint, dark sheen. They seemed to pulse with life, their surfaces etched with fine runes. “This is a magical artifact made from the hide of the demon beast Ink Flood Dragon,” he explained. “I call it the Shadow Chasing Belt. When infused with spiritual power, it will automatically chase and spank your buttocks, no matter what movement or posture you make. Although not as painful as the Heavenly Dao Board, it should suffice as additional punishment.”

Su Qianyao’s eyes lit up, and she reached out eagerly to take her belt. She held it up, running her fingers along its smooth surface. “The master has given a wonderful treasure. Yao Nu’s fat buttocks aren’t satisfied with four hundred board strokes a day; Yao Nu will use the Shadow Chasing Belt to spank this greedy butt hard.”

Lin Qiaoxin giggled as she fastened her belt around her waist. “So we can be spanked anytime? Great!”

Li Que took hers with a firm grip, her jaw set. “Que Nu will drive the Shadow Chasing Belt with maximum spiritual power to beat her own butt to pieces.”

Shen Mengyue bowed her head gracefully. “Thank you, master, for the generous gift. Yue Nu will use it well to punish her own butt.”

Hua Qianyu smiled and secured her belt. “Yu Nu will use the artifact properly to ensure her butt is in pain.”

Bai Zhenshuang’s cool voice rang out. “For the gift, I will repay it by punishing my butt and will beat it to pulp.”

Xuanfa waved his hand. “Go now. Teach at Zehuang Gate.”

The six women rose, their bodies bare and unashamed, and exited the Xuan Heaven Realm. They descended upon Zehuang Gate, where female disciples moved about naked, tending to their duties with practiced ease. The disciples bowed as the six elders passed, their eyes respectful and knowing.

Shen Mengyue and Bai Zhenshuang took their positions in the sword training yard. Disciples lined up, wooden swords in hand, eyes fixed on the two naked elders. Behind Shen Mengyue and Bai Zhenshuang, the Shadow Chasing Belts stirred to life. With a faint hum, they rose into the air, coiling like serpents, then snapped forward with sharp cracks against the elders’ bare buttocks.

Shen Mengyue’s bottom jiggled from the impact, red marks appearing instantly. She did not flinch. Her voice remained calm as she corrected a disciple’s stance. “Keep your wrist firm. Your shoulder is too loose.”

Crack. The belt struck again, this time on her right cheek, sending a ripple through the flesh. Shen Mengyue continued speaking without pause. “Your footwork must be lighter. Watch my example.”

Beside her, Bai Zhenshuang demonstrated a thrust. Her bottom, full and round, bounced as the belt lashed against it. Slap. The sound echoed across the yard. Bai Zhenshuang’s expression remained cool, her eyes tracking every disciple’s movement. “Your grip is weak. You would lose your sword in battle.”

Slap. Her buttocks shook, deep red blooming across the pale skin. Bai Zhenshuang did not even blink.

In the combat grounds, Li Que shouted commands as disciples sparred. Her athletic body moved with explosive power, but the Shadow Chasing Belt behind her gave her no respite. It struck with relentless precision—crack, crack, crack—painting her bottom a vivid crimson. She did not slow down. “Faster! You call that a punch? Put your whole body into it!”

Crack. The belt caught her left cheek just as she turned, and the impact made her grunt slightly, but she ignored it. Her eyes blazed with intensity as she grappled a disciple, flipping her onto the mat.

Nearby, Lin Qiaoxin taught formations. She had circles of light drawn on the ground, and she gestured with her fingers as the lines glowed. Behind her, the belt struck her slim yet rounded buttocks with rhythmic force. Slap. Slap. Slap. Lin Qiaoxin giggled even as her bottom reddened. “Now, this formation must be perfectly symmetrical. Xin Nu tried to skimp on the left side once, and master spanked her so hard she couldn’t sit for a week!”

Slap. Her buttocks bounced merrily, and she continued her lecture as if the punishment were nothing more than a gentle breeze.

In the alchemy hall, Hua Qianyu stirred a cauldron, her gentle face serene. The belt whipped against her generous bottom, leaving deep pink marks. She did not pause her work. “Three more minutes on low heat, then add the moonflower petals. Stir clockwise.”

Slap. Her flesh wobbled. Hua Qianyu smiled at a disciple. “Don’t be distracted. The belt is just a reminder to stay humble.”

In the divine sense chamber, Su Qianyao sat cross-legged, her silver hair fanned around her. The belt struck her full, curved buttocks with loud smacks. Slap. Slap. Slap. Her bottom jiggled with each hit, and she let out a soft moan of pleasure. “Yao Nu loves this new toy,” she purred. “Now, close your eyes and expand your awareness outward. Feel the life energy in every blade of grass.”

Slap. Her cheeks bounced, reddening beautifully. Su Qianyao’s voice did not waver, laced with a sultry edge as she guided the disciples.

Hours passed. The belts continued their unending assault, but the six women moved and taught as if the punishment were part of the air they breathed. Their buttocks bore the marks of dozens, then hundreds of strikes, but they did not pause, did not complain, did not show anything but calm focus.

When the day ended, they returned to the Xuan Heaven Realm, still naked, still bearing the fresh welts and bruises on their battered bottoms. They bowed before Xuanfa, their bodies glistening with a thin sheen of sweat.

Xuanfa’s eyes swept over them, lingering on their punished flesh. A hint of amusement flickered in his gaze. “Bai Zhenshuang, Hua Qianyu, Su Qianyao. You were captured back by Shen Mengyue, Li Que, and Lin Qiaoxin respectively and became my female slaves. Have you ever thought of paying them back?”

Bai Zhenshuang’s cool expression did not change. “No, master. I am grateful that Shen Mengyue captured me. Otherwise, I would never have been spanked hard by you and become your female slave. There is no debt to repay.”

Hua Qianyu nodded, her gentle smile unwavering. “Yu Nu feels the same. Li Que gave me this path. I would only thank her, not seek revenge.”

Su Qianyao, however, licked her lips slowly, her bright red eyes glinting. “Yao Nu has long wanted to spank Xin Mei’s butt personally. Xin Mei’s butt is round and perky; it must look good when spanked.”

Lin Qiaoxin laughed, then dropped to her knees without hesitation. She bent forward, raising her buttocks high. “Come on, Yao Jie, spank Xin Nu’s butt hard. See if your spanking hurts as much as the master’s.”

Li Que knelt beside her, her back straight, bottom lifted. “Please, Yu Jie, spank me hard, don’t hold back.”

Shen Mengyue knelt gracefully, her bottom raised in perfect submission. “Please, Shuang Jie, punish Yue Nu’s butt as much as you like.”

Bai Zhenshuang and Hua Qianyu exchanged a glance, then moved to take up the Heavenly Dao Boards. Their expressions were calm but their hands firm. Su Qianyao picked up a board of her own, a wicked grin spreading across her face.

Bai Zhenshuang stood behind Shen Mengyue, raising the board high. She brought it down with a thunderous crack. The wood bit deep into Shen Mengyue’s flesh, and the sound echoed through the hall. Shen Mengyue’s body jolted, but she did not cry out. Her hands pressed into the floor, steady.

Hua Qianyu swung at Li Que’s exposed bottom. The board landed with a wet slap, splitting the skin. Li Que grunted, her muscles tensing. Her fiery hair swung as she braced for the next blow.

Su Qianyao laughed as she struck Lin Qiaoxin’s cheeks. Crack. Crack. Crack. The rhythm was fast, savage. Lin Qiaoxin whimpered, but she held her position. Her bottom bounced violently with each impact, turning from red to purple.

Stroke after stroke rained down. Bai Zhenshuang did not hold back. She swung with the precision of a sword technique, landing each blow exactly on the same spot, building up the damage. Shen Mengyue’s skin split open, blood seeping down her thighs. She still did not cry.

Hua Qianyu’s strokes were steady, methodical. Li Que’s buttocks turned black and blue, welts rising in thick ridges. The board cut into her flesh, and she bit her lip to keep from screaming.

Su Qianyao was relentless. She swung with wild joy, each stroke harder than the last. Lin Qiaoxin’s bottom was a mess of torn skin and deep purple bruises. She sobbed softly but kept her bottom raised high.

Four hundred strokes each. When it was over, the three victims lay panting, their buttocks utterly destroyed—swollen, purpled, split open. They could barely move.

Xuanfa looked down at them from his throne. “All six of you, go cultivate well. T

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The Wuling City Questing Meeting was a grand gathering that drew cultivators from across the entire continent. Any cultivator who had reached the Nascent Soul stage or above was welcome to compete, and the venue was a vast arena carved into the mountainside, surrounded by towering stone pillars inscribed with ancient runes. The air thrummed with spiritual energy as thousands of cultivators filled the stands and the competition grounds, eager to test their skills in combat, alchemy, divine sense, and formations. Winners would gain fame, resources, and prestige, and many sects sent their finest representatives.

From Zehuang Gate came six female slaves, walking through the crowd without a trace of shame. They were naked, their bodies fully exposed to the gaze of every cultivator present. Around each of their necks was a black slave collar, gleaming faintly under the sun. They moved with calm confidence, as if the stares meant nothing to them.

Lin Qiaoxin led the group with a light, skipping step. Her black twin ponytails bounced with each movement, and her youthful, cute face held a perpetual mischievous grin. Her figure was slim and well-proportioned, her skin fair and smooth. The black collar contrasted sharply with her pale throat. She wore nothing else, not a scrap of cloth, and she seemed utterly at ease.

Beside her walked Li Que, tall and athletic, her fiery red hair tied in a high ponytail that swayed with her stride. Her body was lean and muscular, every line suggesting explosive power. Her high, firm breasts and rounded hips spoke of a warrior’s physique, and her proud expression dared anyone to look down on her. The black collar sat snugly around her neck, and she held her head high, chin lifted.

Shen Mengyue followed with measured, graceful steps. Her waist-length black hair cascaded down her back, framing a face that held both ethereal purity and mature allure. Her skin was like white jade, flawless and luminous. Her figure was full and womanly, with curves that drew involuntary glances. She walked with quiet dignity, her eyes calm and distant, as if the nudity was merely another form of attire she had chosen.

Bai Zhenshuang came next, her delicate and stern features exuding an innate nobility. Her long black hair flowed behind her, and her body was perfectly proportioned: full, firm chest, slender waist, round and full hips. She moved with the grace of a sword dancer, each step precise and controlled. Her cold gaze swept over the crowd, and the black collar around her neck seemed a badge of honor rather than a mark of servitude.

Hua Qianyu walked softly, her gentle face like still water, eyes warm and affable. Her long green hair was loosely tied at the back, with a few strands hanging by her ears. Her figure was plump and well-proportioned, soft and inviting. She seemed the most approachable of the six, yet her calm demeanor held a quiet strength.

Su Qianyao brought up the rear, and her presence drew the most fire. Her long silver hair shimmered like moonlight, and her bright red pupils held a captivating charm. Her features were delicate and alluring, the epitome of seduction. Her body was curvaceous, with large breasts and full hips, a slender and soft waist that swayed hypnotically. She smiled lazily, enjoying the attention, her feline eyes half-lidded.

Around them, the crowd of cultivators fell silent, then erupted in murmurs. Faces flushed red with embarrassment or anger. Some young male cultivators stared openly, while others averted their eyes. Female cultivators looked on with expressions ranging from shock to contempt.

One male cultivator in blue robes stepped forward, his face red. "The Questing Meeting is a cultivation gathering. What is the meaning of coming naked? Have you no decency?"

Lin Qiaoxin giggled, tilting her head. "So what does Xin Nu need to do? Crawl on the ground? I don't mind, but that wouldn't be convenient for the competition." She laughed lightly, the sound like bells.

Shen Mengyue spoke calmly, her voice cool and clear. "We are all female slaves of Xuan Fa. A female slave must always remain naked. It is our master's will."

Another cultivator scoffed, a thin man with a goatee. "I didn't know naked female slaves could participate in the Questing Meeting. This is supposed to be a contest of skill, not a brothel display."

Li Que's eyes flashed with disdain. "I remember the qualification to participate is being at least Nascent Soul stage. Nowhere does it say female slaves cannot participate. If you have a problem, take it up with the organizers, not with us."

Bai Zhenshuang added coldly, her voice like a blade of frost, "Could it be that you don't even have the confidence to defeat a naked female slave? If so, perhaps you should withdraw now and save yourself the embarrassment."

A female cultivator in a white robe pushed through the crowd, her face twisted with indignation. "You female slaves are a disgrace to all female cultivators! You debase yourselves willingly, and you drag the name of every woman in the cultivation world through the mud."

Hua Qianyu replied calmly, her voice gentle as a breeze. "We female slaves have no dignity; everything is for our master. Bearing the master's punishment and humiliation is the duty of a female slave. It is not a matter of disgrace, but of devotion."

Su Qianyao stepped forward, her red pupils glittering with mischief. She ran a hand over her own hip, her voice syrupy sweet. "Sister, how about trying being spanked? Yao Nu's buttocks are spanked to ecstasy every day by the board. You might find you enjoy it more than you think." She winked, and the female cultivator recoiled as if struck.

The female cultivator's face turned crimson. "You're all mad!" She turned and stormed away.

The six female slaves exchanged amused glances and continued toward the registration area.

The Questing Meeting began with the blare of a horn. Competitors spread out across the various arenas and halls designated for each category. The six female slaves took their positions, but before the competitions started, each of them activated the Shadow Chasing Belts bound around their waists.

The belts were slender and black, like serpents of shadow. At a pulse of spiritual power, they came alive. Like bloodthirsty beasts, they writhed and lunged, chasing the female slaves’ buttocks and striking them with resounding cracks. The belts delivered continuous, rhythmic spanks, each impact sending a wave of flesh rippling over the women’s posteriors. The sounds echoed across the arena: crack, crack, crack, a steady percussion that drew every eye.

But the six women acted as if nothing was happening. They stood calmly, their expressions serene, as if the belts were merely an annoyance, not a punishment. The message was clear: even while being spanked and competing, we will still beat you.

Shen Mengyue and Bai Zhenshuang formed a team for the sword competition. They stood on a raised stone platform, facing a pair of female cultivators from the Azure Lotus Sect. As the belts continued to punish their buttocks, Shen Mengyue drew her sword, Zixia, its blade glowing with violet light. Bai Zhenshuang’s Ningshuang sword hummed with frost. Their faces were composed, showing no sign of pain or distraction.

The match began. Shen Mengyue moved like flowing water, her sword tracing arcs of light. With each strike, the Shadow Chasing Belt cracked against her left buttock, leaving a red mark that quickly faded as spiritual energy soothed the flesh. She didn’t flinch. Bai Zhenshuang fought with cold precision, her blade leaving trails of frost. The belt snapped against her full buttocks, loud and sharp, but her expression remained ice-calm. She parried an incoming strike and countered with a thrust that forced her opponent to retreat.

The Azure Lotus cultivators were skilled, but they were overwhelmed by the sheer discipline of the two female slaves. The belts never stopped, spanking them through every motion, but Shen Mengyue and Bai Zhenshuang fought as if the pain was nothing. In under a hundred exchanges, they had disarmed their opponents and won the match.

Li Que teamed with Hua Qianyu for the alchemy competition. They stood before a row of cauldrons in a large hall filled with aromatic smoke. Li Que conjured flames with a wave of her hand, her fire attribute spiritual power roaring to life. The Shadow Chasing Belt spanked her relentlessly, its lash landing on her athletic buttocks with each breath. The impact made her muscles clench, but she maintained perfect control over the flames, adjusting the heat with surgical precision.

Hua Qianyu mixed herbs with steady hands, her healing expertise guiding the blend. The belt cracked against her plump behind, and she swayed slightly with each blow, but her movements remained fluid. She added a pinch of moonflower essence, then a drop of phoenix tear, her concentration unbroken.

Their opponents were a pair of male alchemists from the Golden Pill Sect, respected masters. But they watched in disbelief as the two naked women, being spanked continuously, produced a batch of pills with perfect color, aroma, and potency. The judges declared Zehuang Gate the winner.

Lin Qiaoxin participated in the formation competition alone. She stood in a designated square, her fingers tracing complex patterns in the air. The Shadow Chasing Belt punished her without mercy, spanking her slim buttocks in rapid succession, turning her pale skin pink. She giggled through it, her eyes bright. "A little harder, darling! Xin Nu needs the motivation!"

She assembled a formation of bewildering complexity in seconds, then dismantled it and built another even more intricate. Her opponents, three formation masters from the Array Tower, stood frozen, unable to even comprehend what she was doing. The judges awarded Zehuang Gate the victory without contest.

Su Qianyao participated in the divine sense competition. She sat cross-legged in a meditation room, her silver hair spilling around her. Cultivators nearby projected their spiritual perceptions, trying to probe her thoughts, but she erected a wall of seductive illusion. The Shadow Chasing Belt slapped her full buttocks repeatedly, the sound echoing in the silent room. She smiled, her red pupils glowing. "Yao Nu likes this rhythm. Don't stop."

Her opponents, two divine sense experts from the Mind's Eye Sect, found themselves trapped in fantasies of pleasure and submission. They broke focus first, red-faced and shaken. Su Qianyao won without lifting a finger.

All six female slaves finished their competitions with flawless victories. The cultivators watching were shocked into silence. If Xuan Fa's female slaves were this powerful while being spanked, what about Xuan Fa himself? The name Zehuang Gate became the talk of the meeting. The sect was already famous, but now its reputation soared. It was one of the most renowned sects in the cultivation world, and no one dared to challenge its supremacy lightly.

After the Questing Meeting, word of the six female slaves’ exploits spread like wildfire. Many female cultivators were furious. They gathered in a hidden hall deep in the Crimson Flower Spirit Realm, a place warded against eavesdropping. The leaders were Nangong Wan, the sect master of Crimson Flower Spirit Realm, a woman at late-stage Nascent Soul skilled in divine sense, and Zhiyun, the valley lord of Purple Heart Valley, also at late-stage Nascent Soul, a master of formations. Both were as famous as Shen Mengyue, Bai Zhenshuang, and Hua Qianyu before they fell.

Nangong Wan stood at the head of the hall, her face pale with anger. She was a tall woman with sharp eyes, dressed in crimson robes. "Zehuang Gate has overstepped. They capture female cultivators at will, strip them, spank them into submission, and call it discipline. My younger sister was taken by that Su Qianyao. Now she wears a collar and is spanked every day. I have seen her spirit broken fr

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The morning sun cast long shadows across the Zefeng Gate's outer plaza, where a sea of female cultivators stretched from the horizon to the sect's imposing walls. Tens of thousands had answered the call, their numbers swelling to an army of one hundred thousand, their auras intertwining like a storm of righteous fury. At their forefront stood two women—Nangong Wan and Zhiyun, both in the late stage of Deity Transformation, their faces set with unwavering determination.

"Zefeng Gate!" Nangong Wan's voice rang out, amplified by her spiritual power, carrying across the entire assembly. "Your tyranny ends today. Release the innocent female cultivators you have enslaved, and submit to justice!"

The gates groaned slowly open, and six figures emerged with unhurried steps. They walked with a calm that bordered on indifference, their bodies completely bare under the morning light, black slave collars gleaming around their necks. Not a trace of shame colored their features.

Lin Qiaoxin came first, her twin black ponytails bouncing with each step, her youthful face split by a playful grin. Her slim, well-proportioned form moved with an easy grace, the curves of her hips swaying slightly as she approached the assembled army.

Li Que followed, tall and athletic, her fiery red hair tied in a high ponytail that matched the proud set of her shoulders. Her body was that of a warrior—lean muscle beneath smooth skin, firm breasts, and a tightly sculpted rear that spoke of countless hours of training.

Shen Mengyue walked with a cool elegance, her waist-length black hair cascading down her back, partially veiling the smooth expanse of her spine. Her skin gleamed like polished jade, and the curves of her body held both the purity of a maiden and the allure of a mature woman. The black collar around her neck seemed almost ornamental against her fair throat.

Bai Zhenshuang came behind her, her delicate features set in a mask of cold composure. Her long black hair fell straight to her waist, contrasting sharply with the generous swell of her chest and the full, round curve of her hips. Her slender waist tapered to a rear that was both firm and voluptuous.

Hua Qianyu walked with gentle, unhurried steps, her long green hair loosely tied at the back, a few strands hanging by her ears. Her face was soft and benevolent, but her body was plump and well-proportioned, with heavy breasts and a wide, soft bottom that moved with a maternal languor.

Su Qianyao was last, her silver hair flowing like liquid moonlight, her bright red pupils glinting with mischief. Her figure was a study in curves—large breasts, a slender waist, and hips that flared wide, her rear full and round, almost begging for attention. Her steps were deliberately sensual, a sway in her hips that drew every eye.

The one hundred thousand female cultivators stared, some with shock, some with disgust, some with a flicker of reluctant fascination. These were not broken women—they moved with the confidence of those who had chosen their path.

Zhiyun stepped forward, her finger pointing at Shen Mengyue, Bai Zhenshuang, and Hua Qianyu. "You three were sect leaders once! Pillars of the cultivation world! And now you bare your bodies for a tyrant's pleasure? Have you no shame?"

Hua Qianyu's gentle smile never wavered. "Becoming the master's slave was the luckiest thing in my life. I have found purpose. I have found peace. And my bottom—" she reached back and patted the soft curve of her own rump, "—has never been healthier."

Shen Mengyue spoke in a calm, measured tone. "Under my master's spanking punishment, I have improved a great deal. My cultivation is purer, my will stronger. The pain taught me where I was weak."

Bai Zhenshuang's cold voice cut through the murmurs. "I once disrespected the master. I thought myself invincible, untouchable. After he bent me over and spanked me until I could not sit for a week, I realized my mistakes. Now I am grateful for every stroke of his paddle."

Nangong Wan's face twisted with anger. "Release my younger sister Nangong Xue at once! You kidnapped her from her sect—"

Su Qianyao let out a musical laugh. "It took so much effort to lure Sister Xue here. We promised her a grand formation lecture, you see. She was so easy to charm. How could we just hand her back?"

Lin Qiaoxin giggled, cupping her hands under her small breasts. "Maybe Sister Wan should wait a bit longer. Give it a few months. Perhaps Nangong Xue will grow to enjoy being spanked. She has a lovely bottom for it—round and soft, perfect for the paddle."

Li Que snorted, crossing her arms under her firm chest. "Nangong Xue was quite stubborn when she first arrived. Cursed, struggled, threatened. But I personally took her over my knee and spanked her bottom rotten. Three, four times. Now she begs for mercy at the mere sight of a wooden paddle. Her will broke beautifully."

"You monsters!" Zhiyun shouted. "You have perverted the way of cultivation!"

Shen Mengyue shook her head slowly. "No. We have understood it. A female cultivator's bottom exists to be spanked—spanked hard and thoroughly. We ourselves kneel before the master every day to receive our punishment. Every day, our rears are beaten until we cry. And every day, we rise better for it."

Hua Qianyu nodded. "The master's spanking is a discipline that purifies. I have healed many wounds, but none so profound as the ones my own bottom has received."

Bai Zhenshuang added coldly, "And now you come, a hundred thousand arrogant women, making threats before the Zefeng Gate. You defy the sect's dignity. You defy the master. This will not be settled easily."

Lin Qiaoxin's grin widened. "The master himself will come to personally deliver punishment. He will spank your bottoms countless times—until they are black and blue, swollen like ripe melons. You will scream, you will cry, you will beg. But he will not stop until you understand your place."

"Enough talk," Li Que growled, flames flickering at her fingertips. "Let us show them what a spanked slave can do."

The six slaves moved as one.

The battle erupted. One hundred thousand female cultivators surged forward, swords and spells flashing. But the six slaves were a whirlwind of destruction. Lin Qiaoxin weaved formations in the air, binding groups of attackers. Li Que's flames swept through ranks like a prairie fire. Shen Mengyue's sword danced with lethal grace. Bai Zhenshuang's frozen aura slowed her opponents to a crawl. Hua Qianyu's healing petals turned to poisons that paralyzed. Su Qianyao's enchantment magic confused and disoriented.

And they had been spanked. Every day for decades, Xuanfa had bent them over and beaten their bottoms raw. The pain had honed them, hardened their bodies and souls. Their cultivations had surged beyond normal limits. They moved with a speed and power that belied their realm.

Within fifty rounds, the coalition lay broken. Those who could still stand were disarmed. The six slaves cast a coordinated spell—a wave of spiritual energy that tore through the fabric of every female cultivator's robes. One hundred thousand bodies were suddenly bared, breasts and bottoms exposed to the air. Shrieks of shock and shame rang out.

The slaves stepped back, forming a line. They bowed as one.

The air grew heavy, oppressive. A pressure descended like a mountain.

Xuanfa appeared, stepping out of nothingness. His black training clothes were immaculate. His face was cold, handsome, carved from ice. He surveyed the naked, defeated army with eyes that held no mercy.

"Arrogant female cultivators," he said, his voice low and terrible. "You dare to unite and attack my sect. You dare to defy me. I will make you all experience the punishment of having your bottoms beaten to a pulp."

He raised a finger. Spiritual power lashed out.

Nangong Wan and Zhiyun were ripped from the crowd. They crashed to their knees before Xuanfa, their bodies forced forward until their bottoms were raised high in the air. They struggled, but the pressure was absolute. They could not move, could not even speak.

Behind each of them, a heavenly wooden plank materialized—five feet long, two inches thick, gleaming with a dark luster. They hovered, poised.

"Beg," Xuanfa said coldly.

"Never!" Nangong Wan spat, her buttocks clenching.

Zhiyun remained silent, her teeth gritted.

The planks struck.

*WHACK!*

The sound echoed across the plaza. Nangong Wan's bottom jolted, a red mark blooming across her pale cheek. She gasped but did not cry out.

*WHACK!* *WHACK!*

Zhiyun's rear received two strokes in quick succession. Her breath hissed through her teeth.

"Five hundred strokes each," Xuanfa announced. "And then five hundred every day after. Let us see how long your pride lasts."

The planks worked in relentless rhythm. Left cheek, right cheek, the blows falling with mechanical precision. Twenty strokes in, Nangong Wan's composure cracked—a low moan escaped her lips. Thirty strokes in, Zhiyun's bottom was a patchwork of red and purple. Fifty strokes in, tears streamed down both their faces.

"Still proud?" Xuanfa asked.

Nangong Wan forced out words through gritted teeth. "You—will—pay—for—this—"

*WHACK!* *WHACK!* *WHACK!*

The planks found new spots, landing on the soft crease where thigh met buttock. Zhiyun screamed—a short, sharp cry that she immediately tried to swallow. Her bottom was swelling now, the skin growing taut and shiny, stretching over the forming bruises.

One hundred strokes. Two hundred.

Their bottoms were no longer recognizable. The flesh was blackish-purple, mottled with deep red and angry welts. Every blow sent shockwaves of agony through their bodies. They were sobbing openly now, their words broken and incoherent.

"Please—please stop—"

"I—I can't—it hurts—it hurts—"

Three hundred strokes. Four hundred.

Nangong Wan's voice had turned to wailing. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'll do anything! Just stop the pain!"

Zhiyun had collapsed forward, her face pressed to the ground, her cries muffled by dirt. Her raised bottom trembled with each fresh blow, the flesh quivering like jelly, purple-black and grotesquely swollen.

Five hundred strokes.

The planks stopped.

The two women remained kneeling, their bodies heaving with sobs. Their bottoms were twin spheres of blackish-purple ruin, glistening with fresh blood where the skin had split open. They did not move. They could not.

Xuanfa turned his cold gaze to the one hundred thousand naked, immobilized female cultivators. "You allied with these two to rebel against me. A grave crime. The primary offenders, Nangong Wan and Zhiyun, will receive five hundred spanks daily. The rest of you—two hundred each. Every day."

A wave of terror rippled through the crowd. Many began to cry, tears streaming down their faces. Hundreds knelt, kowtowing, their bare bottoms raised in supplication.

"Please! We were misled!"

"Mercy! We beg for mercy!"

"We regret it! We never should have come!"

Xuanfa showed no leniency. He waved his hand, and the space beside the Zefeng Gate transformed. A vast area opened up, flat and featureless, illuminated by an eerie light. With another gesture, he forced all one hundred thousand female cultivators into that space, forcing them to kneel, their bare bottoms raised high.

Behind each cultivator, two heavenly wooden planks materialized.

"Begin."

The sound was indescribable. A hundred thousand planks striking a hundred thousand bottoms simultaneously—a thunderous crack that shook the air. Then screams. A chorus of agony and terror rose from the space, a cacophony of wails, pleas, and desperate curses.

The spanking continued.

Each cultivator received two hundred strokes. Their bottoms were beaten to pulpy, blackish-purple masses. But Xuanfa had set a healing formation—a slow, gradual restoration that would knit flesh and reduce swelling over hours. The pain would not kill them. It would only prolong their suffering.

When the first round ended, the wailing continu

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Ten years had passed since Xuanfa's seclusion. The world of cultivation had awaited his emergence with a mixture of awe and dread, for none knew what he had wrought in the solitude of his ascension. But on the dawn of the tenth spring, the heavens trembled. A new Dao was born—the Dao of Spanking—and it rooted itself into the very fabric of reality, an immutable law that governed the punishment and discipline of female cultivators. Every woman who walked the path of cultivation felt it: a subtle weight upon their bottoms, a whisper in their souls that this was now as natural as gravity, as inevitable as the turning of seasons.

In Wuling City, the six slaves of Xuanfa—Lin Qiaoxin, Li Que, Shen Mengyue, Bai Zhenshuang, Hua Qianyu, and Su Qianyao—stood naked in the center of Wuling Square, their bodies bare but their postures proud. Their black slave collars gleamed under the morning sun, and their faces bore expressions of serene obedience. Behind them, a great crowd of female cultivators had gathered: sect leaders, elders, disciples, all summoned by a command that could not be ignored. The six slaves had been sent to deliver the master's decree.

Lin Qiaoxin giggled, her twin ponytails bouncing as she turned to address the assembly. "Now every sister here will have to have her bottom beaten to a pulp every day. No one can defy the laws of the Dao." Her voice was light and playful, but her eyes held a fierce loyalty.

Li Que crossed her arms, her fiery red hair tied high, her athletic frame taut with pride. "My master is the strongest in the world—if he says all female cultivators should be spanked, then spanked they shall be." Her tone brooked no argument.

Shen Mengyue stepped forward, her waist-length black hair falling over her shoulders, her face calm and gentle. "Now that a female cultivator being spanked is a law of heaven, please behave accordingly." She spoke as one who had internalized this truth, her voice carrying the weight of decades of discipline.

Bai Zhenshuang's cool gaze swept the crowd. "This slave used to be proud," she said, her voice like frost, "but after being disciplined by the master and tamed into a slave, I came to understand that a female cultivator's bottom exists to be harshly punished." She stood with perfect poise, her delicate features betraying no emotion.

Hua Qianyu smiled gently, her soft green hair loose and flowing. "Do not fear spanking—although it hurts, it is also part of cultivation. It strengthens the spirit and humbles the heart." Her words were soothing, yet firm.

Su Qianyao giggled, her silver hair shimmering under the light, her bright red pupils sparkling with mischief. "This slave doesn't care about that—as long as I get spanked every day, I'm happy." She reached back and patted her own full bottom, causing a ripple of murmurs among the assembled women.

The crowd of female cultivators shifted uncomfortably. Many of them were powerful—Deity Transformation experts, sect leaders, renowned swordsmen—and the idea that their bottoms were now subject to daily punishment was staggering. Some tried to perceive the Dao for themselves, sending their spiritual senses into the heavens. To their shock, they found it true: the Dao of Spanking pulsed like a heartbeat, a fundamental principle woven into the laws of the world. There was no escape.

Lin Qiaoxin clapped her hands. "Now then, let us demonstrate for you. So you understand what spanking truly means."

The six slaves turned, knelt in a neat row, and raised their bottoms high. Their bare buttocks, each one distinct in shape and size, were presented to the crowd. Behind each slave, two heavenly wooden planks materialized out of thin air—one left, one right—their surfaces dark and solid, vibrating with the power of the Dao.

The first strike fell on Lin Qiaoxin. The left plank slammed into her left cheek with a sharp crack that echoed across the square. Her body jolted forward, a soft gasp escaping her lips. A bright red handprint bloomed on her skin. The right plank struck immediately, and she cried out, "Ah! So... so good!" Her playful tone was strained, but she forced a smile. Stroke after stroke rained down, the planks alternating in a relentless rhythm. By the fiftieth stroke, her bottom was a deep crimson, and tears streamed down her cheeks, but she did not falter. "One hundred... two hundred..." she counted through gritted teeth, her voice breaking with each number. At three hundred, her bottom was purple and swollen, the flesh quivering with every impact. She whimpered, her body trembling, but she remained prostrate, her bottom still raised. At five hundred, she collapsed onto her face, her breaths ragged, but her expression was one of utter submission.

Li Que received her punishment with clenched fists and gritted teeth. The planks struck her athletic buttocks with brutal force, each impact producing a loud slap that made her muscles tense. "I am... worthy of this punishment," she growled between strokes. Sweat glistened on her back as her bottom turned from pink to red to a sickly purple. At two hundred strokes, she let out a groan, her proud spirit breaking into tears that mingled with sweat on her cheeks. "Master... this slave accepts... this punishment..." She lost count by three hundred, her mind clouded with pain, but her body held the position. The planks continued without mercy until the final stroke left her bottom a mass of red and black bruises. She lay prostrate, her fiery hair splayed on the ground, her sobs barely audible.

Shen Mengyue took her beating with quiet dignity. Each stroke made her bite her lower lip, but she did not scream. The planks landed on her full, fair bottom with a wet slap, and her skin reddened quickly, the marks spreading like roses. "Two... three..." she counted softly, her voice steady despite the tears that began to fall at the hundredth stroke. By two hundred, she was gasping, her body shuddering with each hit. At three hundred, she let out a cry, "Ah! Master... I yield..." But she did not move, her bottom presented like an offering. The planks continued to five hundred, each stroke leaving a deeper bruise, until her posterior was swollen and torn with purple welts. She collapsed, her face pressed to the cold stone, her long hair covering her face.

Bai Zhenshuang's cool composure cracked with the first stroke. "Ngh!" she grunted, her stern features twisting in pain. She had never been so humiliated—yet she had submitted completely. The planks struck her round, firm buttocks with precision, each impact making her back arch. Tears welled in her eyes but she refused to cry out. By the hundredth stroke, she was sobbing silently, her body shaking with the force of each blow. At three hundred, her bottom was a swollen mess, and she gasped, "Please... more... this slave deserves... this..." Her proud spirit had been broken years ago, but the pain still cut deep. The final strokes left her limp, her chest heaving, her tears staining the ground.

Hua Qianyu whimpered with each stroke, her gentle nature unable to suppress the pain entirely. "Oh... it hurts... but it is good training..." she murmured, her green hair clinging to her damp cheeks. The planks struck her plump bottom, leaving vivid red imprints that deepened to purple. She cried openly by the hundredth stroke, her sobs soft but continuous. At two hundred, she was gasping for breath, "Master... I accept... this spanking..." At five hundred, she lay prostrate, her body twitching, her eyes swollen, yet her lips whispered "thank you" into the stone.

Su Qianyao giggled through the first strokes, but the laughter soon turned to shrieks. "Ah! Yes! Spank me harder!" she cried, her silver hair whipping as her curvy body bounced with each impact. Her full bottom jiggled with every blow, the planks sinking into the soft flesh. "Two hundred! This slave loves it!" But by three hundred, her eyes were glazed, her voice hoarse from screaming. Tears and drool mixed on her chin, but she still arched her back, offering more. "Five hundred... yes... please..." She collapsed at the end, her body twitching, her expression one of blissful submission.

The female cultivators in the crowd watched in stunned silence. Many covered their mouths, some wept, others felt their own bottoms ache in sympathy. The six slaves lay prostrate for a long moment, then slowly pushed themselves up. Their bottoms were purple and swollen, the skin cracked and bruised, but they knelt with heads bowed. Lin Qiaoxin spoke haltingly, "See this? This is spanking. A female cultivator's bottom is born to be beaten harshly."

The demonstration ended, but the message was clear. The Dao of Spanking was absolute.

From that day forward, the cultivation world was transformed. Every female cultivator who had reached the age of eighteen faced daily punishment. At the stroke of noon, wherever they were—in meditation, teaching disciples, refining pills, or locked in battle—they had to strip naked, kneel, raise their bottoms, and receive one hundred strokes from heavenly wooden planks that appeared as the Dao willed. The wails and screams of women filled the air from every sect, every city, every remote cave dwelling. The sound of spanking became as common as the wind.

In the Tianjian Sect, the elders and disciples knelt in rows in the main hall, their bottoms raised, each receiving her strokes. The sect leader, now a humble slave herself, counted aloud for the newcomers. "Do not resist. It only hurts more. Accept the Dao's will." One young disciple, barely eighteen, cried out in agony as the planks struck her tender bottom, but by the fiftieth stroke, she had learned to be silent, her tears falling onto the floor.

In the Baihua Valley, Hua Qianyu's former disciples now knelt in the herb gardens, their bottoms bared to the sky. The valley was filled with the rhythmic slap of wood on flesh and the soft sobs of herbalists who had once healed others but could not heal this. "It is the way," they whispered to one another, "the master's Dao."

In the Demon Clan, Su Qianyao's former followers knelt in the dark caves, their silver hair flowing as their bottoms were beaten to a pulp. "We are blessed," some said, their voices trembling, "to serve the strongest."

No one questioned the correctness. The Dao was truth. Resistance brought double strokes, and many who tried to run found themselves spanked until they could not walk for days. Within a month, all female cultivators had accepted their fate. It became as natural as breathing. At noon, they would stop whatever they were doing, disrobe, kneel, and present their bottoms. The planks would fall, and they would count, their tears flowing, their bodies trembling, but their hearts resigned.

One afternoon, in a small market town, a rogue cultivator named Xue Lan was caught in the middle of a transaction. The bells of noon rang, and she sighed. She closed her stall, stripped her robes, and knelt on the cobblestones. The planks appeared and struck her with merciless precision. Passersby—male cultivators, mortals—averted their eyes, but they knew the law. Xue Lan whimpered, "One... two..." until a hundred was reached. Then she dressed, wiped her tears, and resumed her work. "Tomorrow again," she murmured.

In the Zefeng Sect, the daily spanking of the female disciples became a ritual. Lin Qiaoxin's daughter, Lin Yuxin, knelt beside her mother, her youthful bottom taking the strokes with practiced grace. "Forty-nine, fifty," she counted, her voice steady. Her mother smiled through her own punishment, proud of her little slave.

Shen Xingmian, the daughter of Shen Mengyue, knelt with perfect posture, her ethereal beauty marred only by the tears she shed freely. She had been trained since childhood; she knew no other way.

Li Yunling, Li Que's daughter, took her strokes with clenched fists, her proud spirit tempered by discipline. "This is worship," she whispered to herself, "this is service."

But h

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Shen Mengyue walked through the misty foothills of Tianjian Sect, her bare feet silent on the mossy stone path. The morning dew clung to her skin, each droplet catching the pale light like scattered pearls against her flawless ivory flesh. Her waist-length black hair swayed with each step, brushing the small of her back, and the Zixia sword hung loosely in her right hand, its violet glow muted. The black slave collar encircling her neck gleamed dully, a mark of ownership that she bore without shame.

As she approached the towering gates of Tianjian Sect, the outer disciples patrolling the perimeter froze mid-stride. Their eyes went wide, jaws slackening as they took in the sight before them. A woman—naked, utterly exposed, yet walking with the unhurried grace of a sovereign—approached their sacred grounds. Her breasts swayed gently with each step, full and firm, the nipples hardened by the cool mountain air. The curve of her hips flowed into long, shapely thighs, and between them, the dark triangle of her sex was visible without pretense. She carried nothing but a sword, and her gaze held no hint of embarrassment or defiance—only calm, unwavering purpose.

“Is that… the Yue Nu of Zefeng Sect?” whispered a young disciple, his voice trembling.

“Shen Mengyue herself,” replied an older cultivator beside him, his face pale. “Former sect leader of Xianxia Sect. Now… a naked slave.”

Shen Mengyue stopped at the base of the stone steps leading to the main hall. She raised her voice, infusing it with spiritual power that resonated through every corner of the sect. “Bai Zhenshuang, Sect Leader of Tianjian Sect, come forth. The honored Xuanfa of Zefeng Sect has words for you through his slave, Yue Nu.”

The disciples scrambled, some rushing inside to report, others standing frozen, their eyes unable to tear away from the visage of the naked woman. They knew her reputation. They knew the names of Xuanfa’s female slaves—Xin Nu, Que Nu, Yue Nu—all fearsome cultivators in their own right, all stripped of dignity and yet more powerful than ever. No one dared underestimate her, no matter how exposed she stood.

The main hall doors swung open, and Bai Zhenshuang emerged, her long black hair flowing behind her like a dark river. Her features were delicate yet stern, an innate nobility set in the arch of her brows and the cool set of her lips. She wore a white robe embroidered with silver clouds, her sword—Ningshuang—sheathed at her hip. Her chest was full and firm beneath the fabric, her waist slender, her hips round and prominent. She moved with the confidence of one who had never been bested, and her eyes held no fear as they met Shen Mengyue’s.

“Yue Nu,” Bai Zhenshuang said, her voice even. “What message does Xuanfa send?”

Shen Mengyue inclined her head. “Sect Leader Bai, you have spoken disrespectfully of Zefeng Sect. For that offense, the honored Xuanfa commands that you strip yourself of all garments, kneel at the mountain entrance of Zefeng Sect, raise your buttocks, and submit to punishment. One hundred strikes of the Heavenly Dao Wooden Board upon your buttocks each day for ten years, as a slight punishment.”

A wave of murmurs rippled through the gathered disciples. Some clenched their fists, others growled in anger. “This is an insult!” cried a young man. “Sect Leader, we will not allow this!”

Bai Zhenshuang raised a hand, silencing them. Her expression remained impassive, though a flicker of cold fire kindled in her eyes. “I respect only those I choose to respect,” she said, her tone flat. “And I have the strength to protect my sect. If Xuanfa wishes to punish me, let him come himself—or send someone who can defeat me.”

Shen Mengyue’s lips curved into a faint, almost gentle smile. “Sect Leader Bai, this is but a slight punishment. If you resist, the honored Xuanfa’s retribution will be far less merciful. I advise you to accept.”

“Let strength decide,” Bai Zhenshuang replied, and drew Ningshuang from its sheath. The blade sang, frost forming along its edge.

Shen Mengyue sighed softly, then raised Zixia. “So be it.”

The battle erupted in a storm of clashing energies. Zixia’s violet light met Ningshuang’s icy brilliance, the two Divine Transformation experts exchanging blows that shattered stone and sent shockwaves through the air. The disciples scrambled back, forming protective arrays as the fight intensified. Shen Mengyue moved like water, her sword techniques fluid and precise, each thrust and slash carrying the weight of decades of discipline. But there was something else in her strikes—a fierceness, a power that seemed honed to a razor’s edge.

After a hundred rounds, the outcome became clear. Shen Mengyue’s blade slipped past Bai Zhenshuang’s guard, the tip resting against the white-robed woman’s throat. Bai Zhenshuang froze, her eyes wide with disbelief. She had never been defeated in sword combat. Never.

“How…” Bai Zhenshuang whispered.

Shen Mengyue withdrew her sword and stood straight, her naked body still unashamed, still composed. “After thousands of buttock punishments by my master, my strength has greatly increased,” she said calmly. “I have now informed the honored Xuanfa through a sound transmission talisman. He says that your obstinate resistance adds to your crimes. You are to be taken back to Zefeng Sect for severe punishment. Now, decide, Sect Leader Bai. Will you resist to the end and implicate your sect in your defiance? Or will you kneel and accept punishment?”

The silence stretched. Bai Zhenshuang’s gaze swept over her disciples—young faces, trained under her, loyal to her. If she fought further, Xuanfa would not spare them. She knew his reputation. Destruction followed defiance.

Her voice came cold and calm: “Since I, Bai Zhenshuang, am inferior in skill and have lost to Shen Mengyue, I am willing to accept any punishment. Disciples of Tianjian Sect, do not seek revenge for me. This is my personal matter.”

Without hesitation, she stripped off her robe. The white cloth fell to the ground, revealing her body—full breasts, firm and round, a slender waist that flared into hips of enticing width, long legs shaped by years of cultivation. Her skin was pale as snow, unblemished save for the faint blue veins visible at her throat. She knelt on the cold stone, her back straight, her head high.

Shen Mengyue approached, holding the Immortal Binding Lock—a simple black collar, dull and unadorned. She fastened it around Bai Zhenshuang’s neck, and the former sect leader’s pride shivered but did not break.

“Now, crawl,” Shen Mengyue ordered, her tone soft but firm. “To the front of your main hall. Your punishment will be public.”

Bai Zhenshuang lowered her hands to the stone and began to crawl. Her breasts dragged against the ground, her knees scraping as she moved. The disciples watched in horror—their naked sect leader, crawling before them, led by an equally naked woman. Shen Mengyue walked ahead, the Zixia sword held loosely, her buttocks swaying with each step, the line of her spine elegant and unashamed.

They reached the wide platform before the main hall, where hundreds of disciples had gathered, their faces a mixture of shock, anger, and humiliation. Shen Mengyue turned and addressed the crowd.

“Bai Zhenshuang is guilty of disrespect toward Zefeng Sect and obstinate resistance against punishment. As a consequence, she will receive four hundred strikes upon her buttocks here, in public, before being taken to Zefeng Sect for further discipline.”

She paused, then added, “The honored Xuanfa has commanded that, to maximize the lesson, the tool of punishment shall be Bai Zhenshuang’s own sword scabbard.”

A disciple stepped forward, carrying the scabbard of Ningshuang—a sleek, cylindrical sheath of pale wood reinforced with spiritual steel. He handed it to Shen Mengyue, then retreated.

“Bend over,” Shen Mengyue ordered.

Bai Zhenshuang complied. She lowered her upper body until her forehead touched the cold stone, her arms stretched forward, her hips raised high. Her buttocks—round, full, pale—jutted upward, fully exposed to the eyes of every disciple. The cleft between them was visible, the tender skin untouched. She held the position, her breath steady, her heart pounding but her face still.

Shen Mengyue raised the scabbard, infusing it with her spiritual power. The wood hummed with energy. She swung.

*Crack!*

The sound was sharp, reverberating across the courtyard. A vivid red stripe bloomed across Bai Zhenshuang’s left buttock. She gasped, her body jerking, but she held her position.

*Crack!*

The second strike landed on the right, symmetrical and deep. Bai Zhenshuang’s teeth clenched, but she made no sound.

Shen Mengyue continued, each strike precise, each blow landing with consistent force. The scabbard rose and fell, a rhythmic, relentless punishment. The disciples watched in stunned silence, some covering their mouths, others turning away. The red marks multiplied, darkened, merged into a deep, angry bruise. After fifty strikes, the skin began to split, thin lines of blood seeping from the welts. After a hundred, the flesh was swollen, mottled with purple and black.

Bai Zhenshuang’s breath came in ragged gasps, but she did not cry out. Her pride was a fortress, and she would not let it crumble before her disciples.

Two hundred strikes. The scabbard was slick with blood now, the wood stained dark. Three hundred. Bai Zhenshuang’s buttocks were unrecognizable—a pulp of torn skin and bruised muscle, each new blow sending fresh waves of agony through her body. She bit her lip, tasting copper.

Four hundred.

Shen Mengyue lowered the scabbard. Blood dripped from its tip, pooling on the stone. Bai Zhenshuang’s buttocks were a ruined mess, the skin shredded, the flesh beneath exposed in places. She trembled, her arms shaking, but she remained bent over.

“The punishment is not complete,” Shen Mengyue said. She gestured, and a whip materialized in the air—a slender, barbed instrument crackling with spiritual energy. “The honored Xuanfa decrees that your crease must also be chastised. One hundred lashes.”

She used her power to spread Bai Zhenshuang’s legs apart, exposing the delicate folds between her thighs. The anus, tight and untouched, and the cunt, pink and vulnerable, were now fully visible to the crowd. Bai Zhenshuang’s eyes widened, a flush of humiliation burning her cheeks, but she said nothing.

The whip descended.

*Whap!*

The barbed tip lashed across both her anus and cunt, the sting immediate and blinding. Bai Zhenshuang let out a sharp cry, her body convulsing. The pain was different—sharper, more intimate. She could feel the lash marks burning into the most sensitive parts of her body.

*Whap!*

Again, the whip struck, covering both holes, the barbs catching on tender skin. Bai Zhenshuang whimpered, tears streaming down her face. She tried to close her legs, but Shen Mengyue’s spiritual power held them apart.

*Whap! Whap! Whap!*

Each stroke was deliberate, ensuring that the whip covered both the anus and the cunt with every crack. The skin reddened, then split. Blood mixed with her own fluids, smearing across her thighs. By the fiftieth lash, her cunt was swollen, the lips purple and torn. Her anus was a raw, bleeding ring, each new lash sending jolts of agony through her core.

Bai Zhenshuang sobbed openly now, her pride shattered. The disciples watched, some weeping, others turning away in shame. The once-proud sect leader lay exposed, her most intimate parts beaten and bloody, her dignity stripped as completely as her clothes.

At the hundredth lash, the whip dissipated. Shen Mengyue looked down at the broken woman. “It is done,” she said softly. “Now, you will crawl to Zefeng Sect.”

Bai Zhenshuang struggled to rise, her legs shaking, her entire lower body a blazing inferno of pain. She lowered herself to the ground, her hands and knees scraping against the stone, and began to crawl. Shen Mengyue walked beside her, the

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Li Que walked the winding mountain path toward Hundred Blossom Valley with steady, unhurried steps. Her tall, athletic body moved with the fluid grace of a predator, every muscle defined and powerful beneath her fiery red hair. The high ponytail swayed behind her as she walked, her flame-colored locks catching the morning light like living fire. She was completely naked.

The black slave collar around her neck gleamed dully against her tanned skin, a stark reminder of her station. Her full breasts swayed freely with each step, and the curve of her hips and the strong lines of her thighs were fully exposed to the open air. She held her head high, her chin lifted with a pride that seemed at odds with her nudity, yet perfectly in harmony with it. This was not shame she displayed; it was submission worn as armor, devotion made visible.

As she approached the outer gates of Hundred Blossom Valley, the first disciples caught sight of her. A young woman in pale green robes froze mid-stride, her jaw dropping. The herb basket she carried slipped from her fingers, scattering fresh-picked medicinal plants across the ground. Another disciple, a man with a staff, gaped openly, his face flushing crimson. A group of three young women stopped their conversation mid-sentence, their eyes wide with shock and disbelief.

Li Que paid them no mind. She had walked through the streets of cities naked, had crawled on her hands and knees across the marble floors of Zefeng Sect, had been spanked publicly in front of thousands. The stares of these minor disciples meant nothing to her. She had long ago learned that her nudity was not a source of humiliation but a badge of honor. She belonged to the Heavenly Lord Xuanfa. Her body was his to use, his to display, his to punish. To be seen naked was to be seen as his property, and she took pride in that.

The disciples of Hundred Blossom Valley began to gather, their whispers spreading like wildfire through the morning air. Some covered their mouths in shock. Others turned away, unable to look. A few of the bolder ones stared openly, their eyes tracing the lines of her body with a mixture of curiosity and discomfort.

"Who is she?" a young disciple whispered.

"Li Que," an older disciple answered, her voice tight with recognition. "The Que Nu. Former vice sect leader of Vermilion Bird Gate. Now one of the slave women of the Zefeng Sect master."

"But why is she... like that?"

"Because that is how he keeps them. Naked. Collared. Always."

Li Que's lips curved into a faint smile as she heard the whispers. She stopped in the center of the main courtyard, her feet planted firmly on the stone pavers. She crossed her arms beneath her breasts, a gesture that drew attention to her nudity rather than hiding it, and waited.

It did not take long for Hua Qianyu to arrive.

The Valley Master of Hundred Blossom Valley emerged from the main hall with a retinue of senior disciples behind her. Hua Qianyu was a vision of gentle beauty, her long green hair loosely tied at the back with a few strands hanging softly by her ears. Her face was soft and delicate, with features that seemed carved from jade and silk, the kind of face that inspired trust and warmth. Her eyes held a natural kindness, a depth of compassion that had made her beloved by all her disciples. Her figure was plump and well-proportioned, her robes of pale green silk flowing around her curves like water over smooth stones.

She stopped at the top of the steps, and her gentle eyes widened in shock. "Li Que?"

Li Que did not bow. She did not greet her as an equal. She simply stood there, naked and proud, and spoke. "Hua Qianyu."

The Valley Master's gaze swept over Li Que's exposed form, and a flush of discomfort colored her cheeks. "Why have you come to my valley like this? Where are your clothes?"

"I wear what my master commands," Li Que said flatly. "Today, he commands me to wear nothing."

Hua Qianyu's lips pressed together. She had heard of Xuanfa's ways, of the public humiliations he inflicted on his female slaves. She had heard how he paraded them naked through his sect, how he spanked them in front of assembled crowds, how he had broken the wills of some of the most powerful women in the cultivation world. But to see it with her own eyes was different.

"What does the Heavenly Lord want?" Hua Qianyu asked, her voice steady despite her discomfort.

Li Que raised her voice so that all the gathered disciples could hear. "The Heavenly Lord Xuanfa has sent me with a message for the Valley Master of Hundred Blossom Valley. Your disciples once occupied the herb garden of Zefeng Sect. This is an offense against the sect's territory and sovereignty."

The disciples who had been part of that occupation paled. They had thought the matter settled, that the vegetable garden was simply an abandoned plot. They had not known it belonged to Zefeng Sect.

"The Heavenly Lord's judgment is this," Li Que continued, her voice cold and ringing. "Those disciples who trespassed upon Zefeng Sect's herb garden shall strip off all their clothes, kneel at the mountain entrance of Zefeng Sect, raise their buttocks, and receive one hundred strikes of the Heavenly Dao Wooden Board on the buttocks daily for ten years. This is a slight punishment for their offense."

Gasps rippled through the assembled disciples. Ten years. A hundred strikes daily for ten years. The numbers were staggering, the humiliation absolute.

"And as for you, Hua Qianyu," Li Que said, her eyes locking onto the Valley Master's, "you failed to discipline your subordinates. You allowed them to trespass upon territory that was not theirs. For this, you will also be punished."

Hua Qianyu's face went pale. Her hands trembled at her sides, but she forced herself to remain composed. She could not let fear show, not in front of her disciples.

"Li Que," she said, stepping down from the platform, "surely there is room for negotiation. I was unaware that my disciples had trespassed. I will apologize personally to the Heavenly Lord. I will make amends."

"Negotiation is not permitted," Li Que said. "The judgment has been passed. You will submit."

The disciples behind Hua Qianyu began to murmur, some in fear, some in anger. One young man stepped forward, his hand on his sword. "Valley Master, we cannot simply let her walk in here and dictate terms. We are Hundred Blossom Valley. We have our pride."

Hua Qianyu closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them. She looked at Li Que, and her gentle eyes hardened. "I will not let my disciples suffer such a punishment. They are young. They made a mistake born of ignorance. I will take full responsibility."

"Then fight me," Li Que said simply. "Defeat me, and I will deliver your counter-proposal to the Heavenly Lord. But know this: if you lose, the penalty will only increase."

Hua Qianyu's hands tightened into fists. She was a healer, a herbalist, not a warrior. But she was also a cultivator of the late Divine Transformation realm, and she had not risen to lead Hundred Blossom Valley without strength. She drew a slender green sword from the folds of her robe, the blade humming with spiritual energy.

"So be it."

The disciples backed away, forming a wide circle around the courtyard. Li Que did not draw a weapon. She simply spread her hands, and flames licked to life around her fingers, dancing and crackling with eager hunger.

Hua Qianyu struck first, her sword tracing an arc of emerald light that carried the scent of fresh herbs and blooming flowers. It was a beautiful attack, deceptive in its grace, carrying a potency that could paralyze the spiritual energy of an opponent.

Li Que sidestepped the strike with contemptuous ease, her flames flaring outward in a wave of heat that forced Hua Qianyu to retreat. The fire was not ordinary fire; it was the Vermilion Bird's sacred flame, a divine power that had made Li Que the terror of the battlefield when she was vice sect leader of Vermilion Bird Gate.

Hua Qianyu recovered quickly, spinning her blade to deflect the flames. Green light surged from her sword, forming a barrier of living vines and herbs that drank the fire and turned it to harmless steam. But the effort cost her, and Li Que was already moving.

Li Que's fist connected with Hua Qianyu's shoulder, the impact sending a shockwave through the courtyard. Hua Qianyu stumbled, her sword dipping. Li Que pressed her advantage, her flames wrapping around her limbs like living armor as she rained blows upon the Valley Master.

For every strike Hua Qianyu blocked, two more landed. For every counterattack she attempted, Li Que was already gone, moving with the speed of wind and fire. The battle lasted only a few minutes. Hua Qianyu was skilled, but she was a healer who had never sought to dominate others in combat. Li Que was a warrior who had been forged in fire and blood, trained by Xuanfa himself to be a weapon of absolute submission and devastating power.

The final blow sent Hua Qianyu crashing to the ground, her sword skittering across the stones. Li Que stood over her, one foot planted on the Valley Master's back, flames flickering around her naked body like a living cloak of victory.

"Yield," Li Que said.

Hua Qianyu's face was pressed against the cold stone. Her green hair was tangled, her robes torn and singed. Tears of frustration and shame welled in her eyes. "I yield," she whispered.

Li Que stepped back and withdrew a sound transmission talisman from a storage pouch at her waist. She crushed it, and a cold voice echoed through the courtyard, carrying the weight of absolute authority.

"Hua Qianyu and the entire Hundred Blossom Valley have obstinately resisted, adding to their crimes. Hua Qianyu is to be taken back to Zefeng Sect for severe punishment. All her disciples will also receive heavy buttock punishment."

The words fell like hammer blows upon the assembled disciples. Cries of terror rose from the crowd. Young women wept. Young men fell to their knees. The fear in the air was thick and choking.

Hua Qianyu scrambled to her knees, her hands clasped together. "Please, Heavenly Lord! I beg you! The disciples were only acting on my orders. They did not know. Punish me double, triple, whatever you wish. But spare them!"

Xuanfa's voice was cold and unmoved. "If only you are punished, it must be severe."

"Yes! Yes, I accept!" Hua Qianyu pressed her forehead to the ground, kowtowing repeatedly. "Only punish me. I will bear it all. Punish me as severely as you wish, but let my disciples go."

There was a long pause. Li Que watched impassively as the Valley Master groveled, her pride crumbling in the face of her love for her disciples.

"Very well," Xuanfa's voice came at last. "Hua Qianyu alone will bear the punishment. But it will be severe."

"I accept," Hua Qianyu said, her voice breaking. "I accept."

The talisman faded, leaving only silence.

Li Que walked slowly toward Hua Qianyu, the sound of her bare feet on the stones the only noise in the silent courtyard. She produced an Immortal Binding Lock, a collar of intricate black metal that would bind Hua Qianyu's spiritual power and force her into submission.

"Remove your robes," Li Que said.

Hua Qianyu looked up, her eyes red and swollen. Trembling, she reached for the ties of her robes. The pale green silk fell away, revealing her plump, soft body. Her skin was pale as cream, her curves generous and feminine. She stood naked before her disciples, her hands covering herself instinctively.

Li Que stepped forward and fastened the Immortal Binding Lock around Hua Qianyu's neck. The metal clicked shut, and Hua Qianyu felt her spiritual power dim, constrained, locked away within her own body.

"On your hands and knees," Li Que commanded.

Hua Qianyu hesitated, her eyes meeting the horrified gazes of her disciples. Then she lowered herself, her palms pressing against the cold stone, her knees following. She crawled, naked and collared, behind Li Que as the fo

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