Ning Xuanwu's inquiry sent a chill down Yao Ling'er's spine, her expression growing even more somber. She faltered, her words stumbling out, "Th-those two treasures... they've been..."
"What has happened to them?" Ning Xuanwu's voice, gruff and heavy with concern, demanded answers.
Yao Ling'er met her master's gaze, bracing herself for the storm that was about to follow. With a deep breath, she reluctantly revealed, "I fear Master may be displeased... The Heavenly Shaking Stone... they have been... they have been used to fill the steps."
"What!?" The shock rippled through the air as Ning Xuanwu's thunderous roar reverberated throughout the hall, his fury palpable. "You mean to tell me that the cherished treasures of our Xuanwu Sect have been reduced to mere steps?"
Yao Ling'er nodded, her heart heavy with the weight of truth. "Yes, Master. Not only that, but the Swift Cloak..."
The tension in the room grew taut as everyone hung on Yao Ling'er's every word.
Ning Xuanwu's entire being quivered with rage, his eyes blazing with an intensity that seemed to set the room aflame.
"The Swift Cloak...?" His voice was low, a simmering fury barely contained beneath the surface.
Yao Ling'er's voice wavered as she continued, her tone barely audible, "...was used as a mere rag, Master, to wipe away dust."
At this revelation, a deafening silence enveloped the room, broken only by the steady rhythm of Ning Xuanwu's ragged breaths.
His features contorted with an indescribable mixture of anguish and fury, the weight of betrayal heavy upon his shoulders.
"Too much... this is too much!" The words burst forth from Ning Xuanwu's lips, each syllable punctuated by the thunderous beat of his enraged heart.
"Boom!"
"Boom!"
"Boom!"