But facing these people, she was always expressionless, her pupils covered with a layer of frost, so cold, so piercing, without a trace of emotion, and without any ripple.
But that pride, since the encounter with this Demon Head, who was just like a mortal, had already vanished into thin air, replaced by deep helplessness and shame.
It seemed she could only let the Demon Head toy with her and humiliate her, without any possibility of resistance, and even the thought of resistance did not cross her mind. Deep down inside her, there was a hint of pleasure, as well as a faint sense of thrill and excitement.
Even she herself found this excitement so absurd, so wanton; it simply should not exist for her.
Just as the two of them were gazing at each other, with the atmosphere growing more and more playful, the Demon Lord's voice came rolling out from the Nether River, breaking through the prohibition and falling into the Mortal World, into the insides of the White Jade Flyer.
