Dammit! I must have been out of my mind back then. Why didn't I disguise myself as a feathered being but chose to be a horse instead?
Looking at the perverted ox in front of her, spouting nonsense while lasciviously squeezing her hoof with its cloven hooves, "Miss Horse," who picked the wrong target, felt her molars were about to shatter from clenching.
Yet considering the corner of the Ancestral Land of Ten Thousand Spirits that had been shattered, and the recent extreme fluctuations in the Pure White Land, Miss Horse grudgingly held back, nonchalantly withdrawing her hoof and placing it over her robust pectoral muscles, sighing like a tragic heroine from a classical tale:
"Neigh, neigh, neigh."
Upon hearing her response, the lecherous ox opposite her let out a long sigh and then, to her surprise, stood up and walked over to her side. It lifted its forehoof, gently placing it on her back, adopting a posture suggesting she could lean on it, and said with deep affection:
