Yang Loudan, her regal demeanor unyielding, spoke with a voice that sliced through the air like a blade. Her gaze, colder than the morning frost, bore into the very core of Naihua's being. Without another word, she turned, her crimson robes trailing behind her, and began walking away from the shattered remnants of the vial.
The other fairies, like obedient petals following the wind, fell into step behind Yang Loudan. Their whispers, delicate as dew-kissed petals, trailed after her. Naihua, however, remained seated amidst the shards of broken glass. Her fingers traced the jagged edges, each shard a mirror reflecting her confusion and turmoil.
Rose, the fairy of roses, leaned toward Peach, her voice trembling like a fragile petal caught in a breeze. "Doesn't she know," Rose murmured, "that without the moonlight dew, the heavenly emperor's healing is impossible? Why would she destroy it?"
