The lingering hum of the Grand Conclave hall felt like a dull throb in Long Hu's head. He sat slumped in the antechamber, the pristine Shadow Lotus in its crystal case mocking the turmoil in his mind. The terrifying clarity of the vision, Morwen's web of forgotten truths, the Devourers feeding on suppressed grief—it all settled over him like a suffocating shroud. His unique sense, once a nascent curiosity, was now an agonizing burden, acutely aware of the countless unspoken sorrows that permeated the very air of the Conclave.
Empress Xianxia entered, her silks rustling softly. She dismissed Master Tian with a subtle nod, her gaze immediately fixing on Long Hu's drawn face. She strode to the table, picking up the Shadow Lotus, her fingers tracing its black petals.
"They feed on the unacknowledged," she mused, her voice low, a chilling understanding in her tone. "They turn silence into sustenance. A truly vile method." She placed the lotus back down, her eyes piercing his. "Describe the sensation. The 'web of forgotten truths.' How does it truly feel to unravel such deception?"
Long Hu swallowed, reliving the mental siege. "It's not a direct attack," he explained, his voice strained. "It's a beautiful lie. It pulls you into a calm, a peace, so you don't perceive the draining. You have to actively *reject* that calm, to seek the discord beneath the harmony. And when you find it, it's not physical pain, but... the echo of their suppressed fear. Their unspoken despair. It's like touching a vast, frozen ocean of grief." His voice faltered, the residual chill of that ocean clinging to him.
Xianxia watched him, her own features softening almost imperceptibly as she saw the raw emotional toll his abilities extracted. He wasn't just a sensor; he was a living sponge for cosmic sorrow. A flicker of concern, sharper than she liked to admit, pierced through her strategic composure. This wasn't merely about using a tool; it was about protecting a vulnerable, invaluable being. A dangerous, unfamiliar protectiveness stirred within her.
She moved closer, circling the table, her gaze never leaving his face. "If they thrive on collective despair, then their strategy must be to sow discord, to perpetuate cycles of suffering that are then suppressed for the greater 'good' or to avoid 'face loss'." Her strategic mind was already dissecting the enemy's logic. "A population united in their suffering, yet forced to conceal it... a vast, untapped feast for the Devourers."
Her eyes met his, a shared understanding passing between them that transcended words. In that moment, the thousands of years of betrayal, of scorn, of the Harem Lord's past arrogance, faded into insignificance before the enormity of the threat they faced together. He saw the Empress's burden, her profound determination to protect her realm, and felt an unexpected surge of shared purpose, a fierce desire to stand beside her, to shield her from the very terror he now carried within himself.
"Your abilities," Xianxia stated, her voice quiet, but firm, "are beyond anything known. We must understand the full spectrum of this hunger. Its ultimate target." She paused, her gaze sweeping across the magnificent hall visible through the pavilion's archway, filled with the bustling figures of Lords and their delegations. "Many realms here boast of peace and prosperity, yet harbor ancient sorrows. We need to identify who among them might be providing the grandest feast."
Long Hu nodded, his own intuition already prickling. The sheer concentration of cultivators, each with their own history, their own suppressed emotions, made the Conclave a potential goldmine for the Devourers. His senses instinctively pulled towards a particular direction.
"There," Long Hu whispered, his gaze drawn to a delegation from the far eastern reaches, famed for their unwavering stoicism and strict adherence to ancient rituals. Their aura was flawless, their movements precise, yet beneath it, he sensed a familiar, deep, and pervasive undertone of... **resigned grief**. "The Azure Cloud Monastery. They project perfect serenity, but they hide a profound sorrow. It feels... very old."
A cold glint entered Empress Xianxia's eyes. The Azure Cloud Monastery. Known for their seemingly unbreakable tranquility, their realm untouched by the major conflicts of the last five centuries. A perfect facade. A perfect source of suppressed despair.
"Grand Elder Ling, the Pure Heart Abbot," Xianxia murmured, a dangerous smile touching her lips. "He will be our next subject. A master of emotional suppression, a paragon of inner peace. And you, Apprentice, will pierce that peace." Her gaze hardened, her resolve absolute. "We will find the truth beneath their serenity. And we will starve their masters."
Long Hu felt the immense pressure of her command, the weight of a hidden war he never asked for. He was Long Hu, the amnesiac apprentice, but he was also Xianxia's uniquely sensitive weapon, delving into the concealed sorrows of realms. The target was set. The game of cosmic truth-unveiling continued, binding him ever closer to the Immortal Empress in a dance of shadows and shared destiny.