"Don't come any closer!"
Inside the bathroom.
The Sorceress of the Sensual Realm loosens her garments.
She looks at the Purgatory Demon Sword tied up tightly in front of her, sealed with layers of restrictions, still unyielding, and can't help but chuckle:
"My lover, why resist so? In this Seven-layered Hell, there are devils lining up around Aile City, yearning to die under my pomegranate skirt."
The Purgatory Demon Sword says:
"Lady Maglian, you're already a married woman, and to none other than the tall and majestic, talented Prince Tusk. Why are you so fixated on me, an ugly and weak foreigner?"
The Sorceress of the Sensual Realm pouted:
"Oh, you still know you're a foreigner? You scoundrel, had I not spent a great sum to redeem you, you'd have been sent to Torture Hell by now, experiencing the Blade Mountain, Sea of Fire, and ice tortures. Shouldn't such a grand favor be repaid with your body?"
The Purgatory Demon Sword says:
