The journey from the Pavilion of Drunken Immortals to the Feng Clan's underground prison was not long in distance, but it was an eternity in status.
Su Qingyue was not allowed to walk.
Two Shadow Guards, faceless men in dark armor, gripped her by her upper arms. Her feet dragged across the floor. She was completely naked, her body still sticky with the expensive amber wine Feng Wuya had poured over her. The liquid was drying, tightening on her skin, making her feel filthy and sweet—a lure for flies.
They dragged her out of the warm, incense-scented private room and into the service corridors.
"Please... let me walk..." she gasped, her toes scraping against the rough stone. "I can walk..."
The guards said nothing. They were tools of the Young Master. To them, she was already just cargo.
They exited the Pavilion through the back door, into the cool night air. The wind bit into her wet skin. She shivered violently, her nipples hardening painfully against the breeze. Her "Ice Phoenix" physique usually made her immune to cold, but her cultivation had been sealed by Feng Wuya, and her body was exhausted from the sensory overload of the banquet.
They threw her into a cage cart—a black iron box on wheels usually used for transporting spirit beasts.
CLANG.
The door slammed shut. Su Qingyue huddled in the corner of the cage, pressing her knees to her chest. The floor of the cart was covered in old straw that smelled of urine and musk.
"No..." she sobbed into her knees. "I am the Holy Maiden... I am Su Qingyue..."
But as the cart rattled over the cobblestones, heading toward the dark maw of the Feng Estate's dungeon entrance, she realized those titles belonged to a ghost.
The Processing Room of the Dungeon was a cavern of wet stone and rust.
The cart stopped. The guards dragged her out and threw her onto the central slab—a table made of cold, gray slate with drainage grooves cut into the sides.
Su Qingyue landed hard on her hip. "Ah!"
Before she could recover, a jet of freezing water blasted her.
WHOOSH.
"GAAAAH!"
It wasn't a gentle shower. It was a high-pressure hose used to clean filth off demon beasts. The water hit her tender breasts, her bruised buttocks, her face. It blasted the dried wine from her skin, stinging like a thousand needles.
"Clean her thoroughly," a raspy voice commanded. "The Young Master doesn't want his toy smelling like stale alcohol."
Su Qingyue spluttered, trying to shield her face. Through the spray, she saw a man walking out of the shadows.
Warden Gui.
He was a hunchbacked cultivator with skin like old parchment and one milky, blind eye. He wore a butcher's apron stained with dark fluids. He held a cane made of spirit bone.
The guards stopped the water. Su Qingyue lay on the slate slab, gasping, shivering so hard her teeth clattered. She was dripping wet, her hair plastered to her skull, looking like a drowned rat.
Warden Gui limped closer. He poked her thigh with his cane.
"So this is the famous Ice Goddess," he wheezed, a lecherous smile revealing yellow teeth. "Looks like a plucked chicken to me."
He used the cane to lift her leg, spreading her open.
"H-How dare you..." Su Qingyue tried to kick him, but her limbs were weak.
"Spread," Gui barked, whacking her inner thigh with the cane. Thwack.
"Ow!"
"Open it up. Intake protocol. Must inspect for contraband."
Su Qingyue sobbed, letting her legs fall open. She lay there, exposed under the flickering torchlight. Her privates were red and swollen. Her anus, ravaged by the beads earlier, was still slightly gaping, a testament to the abuse she had suffered.
Warden Gui leaned in, his good eye squinting.
"Used hard," he muttered, narrating his findings to the guards who watched with hungry eyes. "Back door is blown out. Look at that gape. Young Master surely has a thick one."
He reached out with a gloved hand—a rough, leather glove used for handling poisons. He didn't use lubrication. He shoved two fingers into her rectum.
"NNNGGG!" Su Qingyue screamed, her back arching off the slate. The leather was rough against her raw interior.
"Checking for hidden storage," Gui grunted, twisting his fingers inside her. "Clear."
He pulled out and moved to her vagina. He pried the lips apart roughly.
"Front is intact. Hymen present, though stretched." He looked at her face. "You're lucky, girl. If the Master hadn't reserved your flower, I'd break you in right now."
Su Qingyue turned her head to the side, vomiting bile into the drainage groove. The humiliation was absolute. Being fingered by a hunchback in a dungeon while guards watched... it was a hell deeper than she had ever imagined.
Click-Clack.
The sound of expensive boots on stone echoed from the doorway.
The atmosphere in the room changed instantly. The heavy, suffocating pressure of a Golden Core cultivator filled the air.
Warden Gui immediately pulled his hand away and dropped to his knees, pressing his forehead to the wet floor. The guards followed suit.
"Greetings, Young Master!"
Feng Wuya walked in. He was still dressed in his fine banquet robes, immaculate and dry. He held a handkerchief to his nose, blocking the stench of the dungeon.
He walked up to the slate slab and looked down at Su Qingyue.
She looked wrecked. Wet, shivering, red marks on her thighs, vomiting on herself.
"You look terrible, Qingyue," Feng Wuya said softly.
"Kill me..." she whispered, looking up at him with bloodshot eyes. "Just kill me, Feng Wuya."
"Death is easy," Feng Wuya smiled, holstering the handkerchief. "Living as my pet takes strength."
He looked at Warden Gui. "Is she clean?"
"Yes, Master! Inside and out!"
"Good. Then it is time to make it official."
Feng Wuya waved his hand. From his spatial ring, a tripod materialized. On top of it sat a brazier of burning spirit coals. Resting in the coals was a branding iron.
The tip of the iron glowed a menacing, white-hot orange. It was shaped into the ancient character for "FENG" (The Feng Clan Name), stylized with a demonic script that meant "Slave."
Su Qingyue stared at the iron. Her pupils dilated in sheer terror.
"No..." She scrambled backward on the slick slate, slipping in the water. "No! Not that! Anything but that!"
A brand was permanent. Healing pills couldn't remove it. It scarred the soul. If she was branded, she could never be the Holy Maiden again. Even if she escaped, everyone would know she had been livestock.
"Hold her," Feng Wuya ordered.
The two guards grabbed her wrists and ankles, pinning her spread-eagled to the cold table.
"Please!" Su Qingyue screamed, trashing wildly. "I'll do anything! I'll suck it! I'll take the beads! Don't mark me!"
"You'll do those things anyway," Feng Wuya said, picking up the iron. He felt the heat radiating from it. "But a collar can be taken off. This... this stays."
He walked over to her. He didn't brand her shoulder or her back.
He looked at the soft, white mound of her Venus—the pubic area he had shaved. It was the most intimate, feminine part of her body.
"Right above the honeypot," Feng Wuya decided. "So every time you open your legs for me, you remember who owns the entrance."
"NO! NO! MOTHER! FATHER! HELP ME!"
Feng Wuya pressed the iron down.
HISSSSSSS.
The sound of wet skin burning was loud and sickening. Smoke rose instantly, smelling of burnt pork.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
Su Qingyue's scream was not human. It was the sound of a soul fracturing. Her body convulsed so violently the guards nearly lost their grip. Her eyes rolled back into her head, veins popping in her neck.
Feng Wuya held it there for a full five seconds, ensuring the burn went deep into the muscle, searing the character into her flesh.
He pulled it away.
Rrrrrip.
A piece of skin stuck to the iron.
On her pubic mound, angry, red, and blistering, was the character "FENG SLAVE."
Su Qingyue didn't scream anymore. She couldn't breathe. She lay there, mouth open in a silent gasp, her body twitching in aftershocks.
Feng Wuya inspected his work.
"A masterpiece," he declared. He reached out and tapped the fresh burn with his finger.
"Ghhhk!" Su Qingyue flinched, tears flowing freely.
"Warden Gui," Feng Wuya wiped his hands. "Take her to Cell 4. The one with the water torture."
"The... special cell, Master?" Gui licked his lips. "The one with the wooden horse?"
"Yes. She needs to stretch for the wedding. Mount her on the horse tonight. I want her hips wide open by morning."
Feng Wuya leaned down and kissed Su Qingyue's forehead, right between her sweat-matted bangs.
"Sleep well, fiancée. Dream of me."
He turned and walked out, his cape billowing.
Warden Gui stood up, tapping his cane. He looked at the broken woman on the table.
"You heard the Master," Gui chuckled, signaling the guards. "Get the wooden horse ready. It's going to be a long night for the new heifer."
As the guards grabbed her arms again, Su Qingyue looked down at her groin. The angry red brand seemed to pulse with her heartbeat.
Feng Slave.
The Ice Goddess was dead. All that remained was the meat.