The roar of the Conclave hall faded into a dull hum as Long Hu stumbled into Empress Xianxia's private antechamber. His newly tailored robes felt heavy, drenched in sweat, and his mind throbbed with the fresh, sickening clarity of Lord Valerius's pact. The Crimson Bloodstone, now radiant in its case, felt like a burning coal in his memory, a symbol of the pervasive, insidious enemy.
Xianxia was already there, standing before a large, shimmering map of the Azure Heaven Realm. Her aura, usually contained, pulsed with a barely perceptible agitation. She turned as he entered, her eyes piercing, demanding. No formalities. No pleasantries.
"Tell me everything," she commanded, her voice low, a razor's edge beneath its calm surface. "What exactly did you see in Valerius? What is this 'seed' you described?"
Long Hu swayed, clutching his head. The memories were too vivid, too raw. He forced himself to speak, recounting the horrifying vision: the shadowy entity, vast and formless, not merely planting a seed, but actively *feeding* from a swirling vortex of suffering. He described Valerius's willing bargain, offering the misery of his own realm, his people's despair, as fuel for the entity's growth in exchange for power.
"It... it hungers," Long Hu choked out, reliving the terror. "For despair. For suffering. It doesn't just corrupt; it *consumes* spiritual essence born from misery. The power it grants is paid for with cosmic misery. It's a bargain, not an infection." He looked at her, his eyes wide with a desperate plea for understanding. "It makes them willing. They give it despair, it gives them power."
Xianxia listened, her perfect features utterly still, but her mind raced. Her previous theories of parasitic decay or subtle manipulation shattered. This was something far more ancient, far more terrifying. A direct consumption of cosmic despair. A literal hunger for suffering. The Void Devourers. Legends whispered of such entities, but they were always dismissed as the fever dreams of dying civilizations. Yet, Long Hu, a broken man, had *seen* it.
Her gaze swept over his trembling form, his raw vulnerability laid bare by the horror he had witnessed. She saw not the arrogant Harem Lord, but a tormented individual, haunted by a truth too vast for any single mind. A flicker of something deep and complex passed through her — not pity, but a profound, almost startling sense of shared dread. He was her witness, her invaluable sensor, tied to her by this unspeakable knowledge. The past betrayal seemed trivial against the backdrop of such a cosmic threat.
Master Tian, who had silently entered the chamber, stood by the doorway, his face a mask of profound concern. He had not heard the exact details, but the Empress's intense demeanor and the apprentice's visible torment spoke volumes.
"Master Tian," Xianxia stated, her voice tight with suppressed urgency, "mobilize the Imperial Archives. Divert all resources. Locate any and all texts pertaining to 'Void Devourers,' 'Cosmic Consumption,' or 'Essence Pacts.' Focus on the most ancient and forbidden records. Leave no stone unturned."
Master Tian bowed, his gaze lingering on Long Hu for a fraction of a second, a silent acknowledgment of the young man's new, terrifying role. "Immediately, Your Majesty." He exited, leaving them alone once more.
Xianxia turned back to Long Hu, her eyes piercing him with an unnerving intensity. She approached him, stopping just before him, forcing him to meet her gaze. "This is no longer merely a Conclave, Apprentice. This is a battlefield for existence itself. And you, it seems, are uniquely attuned to our enemy."
She reached out, her elegant hand settling on his shoulder, a touch that was both a heavy burden and a strange anchor. "You have seen its hunger. You have felt its touch. We will delve into this, Long Hu. Every hidden pact, every whisper of despair. We will uncover how it infiltrates, how it feeds." Her voice dropped to a low, intimate tone, resonating with a dangerous promise. "And then, together, we will find a way to make it *starve*."
He looked at her, the Immortal Empress, her face grim, yet resolute, her hand a warm weight on his trembling shoulder. The cosmic horror was immense, but in her eyes, he saw a will as unyielding as the stars themselves. He was trapped, yes, a prisoner of her power and her vengeful past. But now, he was also her indispensable weapon, intricately bound by a shared knowledge that could shatter realms. The Conclave was just the beginning. Their shared hunt for the Shadow had truly begun, a terrifying alliance forged in the crucible of cosmic despair.