The snow around Shuang Hua's hands hissed violently as her fingers curled into it, melting and refreezing in jagged shards that pulsed with her fury. For a moment she lay there in silence, her breath shallow, each exhale a plume of frost that hung in the air like a warning. Her chest rose and fell, not from exhaustion but with wrath. The kind of wrath that cracked mountains, silenced gods, and reshaped realms.
Her anger surged, ancient and divine, rising like a tide beneath her porcelain skin. The air around her thickened, trembling with power, as if the very world feared what she might become. As the Queen of the Western Demon Realm, the sovereign of frost and moonlight, she had never been this disrespected. And the insult would not go unanswered.
