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Netherworld, Eighteen Levels of Hell, beside the Purgatory Fire Pool.
Zhao Chong stood quietly beside the Purgatory Fire Pool, waiting. His silhouette was cast on the door panels of the Gate of the Nether King by the light of the Purgatory Fire, so thin and forlorn.
"Cough cough!" Zhao Chong coughed twice.
A sound like the turning of waves arose beside the Purgatory Fire Pool, and then the smooth back of a woman appeared.
"You've arrived."
"Yes!" Zhao Chong softly replied, his eyes not looking at that smooth back, abiding by his gentlemanly principle of 'see no evil'.
"How are preparations coming along?" the woman continued, turning her head slightly backward allowing Zhao Chong to see her profile.
It was a profile that Zhao Chong was mesmerized by, one that had captivated him for a very long time, still did now, and would continue to do so in the future.
Zhao Chong frowned and said, "There has been a slight complication."
"What complication?"