"London..."

"Do you think this rope is for tying me up..."

"It's actually for tethering this little bitch on a leash."

"Think about it, if it weren't for your master standing there, would you dare to bark so fiercely here?"

Samael showed great dignity—despite her miserable state, she refused to back down verbally.

She glanced at a bench set far away, sitting alone in the dark corner was Oedipus; then she glanced warily at Beelzebub lying on the table beside her—Samael tilted her head back and spat deeply.

"You..."

London was startled to hear Samael's insult, then a fiery anger surged up in her throat, almost erupting. The rage spread into her mouth, but she forcefully suppressed it.

She didn't know how many people she had tormented in the past; in her hands, no matter how brutal the killer was, they would ultimately become mindless swine yearning for death.

Of course, the reason why Samael couldn't be broken was that even if London wanted to harm her even a little, she had to resort to magic, not physical tools.

If London wanted to use the torture tools she used in the past, it was almost impossible to leave a wound on Samael's body.

"Hmph, it seems the appetizer just now misled you."

"Let me see if the punishment to come can draw a drop of blood from that tough mouth of yours, as hard as a city wall."

London crouched down, opened a box placed on the ground, and took out a pair of extremely menacing fist blades.

Clad in armor, London silently took the fist blades and wore them, exuding a deep and heavy military aura that instantly filled the space between her brows. That masculine bloodthirstiness made anyone daring to look her in the eye subconsciously avert their gaze.

London whispered a spell, and in almost the same moment, the fist blades burst into flames, the two flames entwined around the blades like the angry, vigilant eyes of wild beasts, glaring fiercely at Samael.

"Do you want to beg for mercy?"

Looking down on Samael, London asked, but the response she got was a spit in her face.

Brushing off the saliva disdainfully from her clothes, London gripped the fist blades tightly and ruthlessly struck Samael's face over and over.

Black blood splattered.

Beelzebub on the side sprang up to avoid the splashes of blood, sitting a little further away.

Following a relentless beating lasting half an hour, London almost covered every part of Samael's body that could cause pain.

But even so, Samael still smirked contemptuously with lowered head, as if these injuries weren't affecting her at all.

"Oedipus doesn't want you to confess anything—she only needs you to provide information if she asks."

"She just wants you to show your stance."

"Can't you grasp the situation?"

"Ugh."

Spitting out the remaining blood in her mouth, Samael's black blood staining the entire floor had already turned it red, making her a figure drenched in blood.

Samael seemed to be running out of energy; she had been playing hide and seek with Oedipus on the back mountain, but the exhaustion from constantly evading Mammon's death had taken a toll on her.

She also considered committing suicide...

But she didn't want Oedipus to have it easy before she died.

In fact, she was intentionally caught.

"Ha..."

"Beelzebub, do you not feel any guilt inside for always siding with Oedipus?"

"You've been with Turing for three years."

"Can't you see whether Oedipus or Turing is more deserving of admiration?"

"When Oedipus has completely used you up..."

"How Oedipus treats other angels now is how he will treat you in the future."

"Are you willing to let such a person sit on the throne indefinitely?"

Taking a deep breath, Samael spoke to the little fox not far away.

Upon hearing these words, the little fox simply licked its fur, as if it truly was just a little fox and did not understand what Samael was talking about.

"You actually make sense... Samael."

"No matter how well you feed a wolf, it will still run into the woods."

At that moment, Oedipus rose from her chair, approaching the trapped Samael with silent, sorrowful steps.

Her mysterious aura seemed to drift through the air from a distance, and even by just sniffing, Samael could understand that a unique and unparalleled figure had arrived.

"You've come to kill me, haven't you."

Moving closer to Samael, Oedipus squatted down, gazing down kindly at Samael's face, which had just recovered but still bore traces of fresh blood.

"You never intended to survive."

"Because you're afraid of becoming my strength."

Samael widened her pupils, clenched her teeth, a look of disbelief on her face.

But then she smiled, a wild surge of magical power emanating from her like fluttering banners on a river, her own carefree and unrestrained magic circulating, directly sending London tumbling away.

Seeing the disheveled London, Samael laughed even louder, bursting into wild laughter.