Vanguard of the Dragon Fleet

The Grand Celestial Palace roared to life. Not with fanfare, but with the controlled, immense power of a departing armada. Long Hu stood on the main deck of the Imperial Dragon Flagship, the celestial winds whipping through his newly styled hair. Below, a vast sea of cultivation ships, each a marvel of arcane engineering, formed a dazzling array of silver and gold, their spiritual sails unfurling like wings of light. This was Empress Xianxia's Imperial Dragon Fleet, a force capable of rending stars.

Xianxia stood beside him, at the flagship's command console, her presence a silent maelstrom of power. She was clad in armor of imperial blue and gold, shimmering with protective formations, yet it did nothing to diminish her ethereal majesty. Her gaze, usually so intense, was now distant, sweeping over her armada, calculating, unwavering. She moved with fluid grace, issuing commands with succinct precision, her voice carrying across the deck with an authority that commanded instant obedience. She was a general, a ruler, a force of nature.

Long Hu's role was unique. He wasn't wielding a blade or casting spells. He was Xianxia's sensor, her living tactical map. His refined senses, honed in the Celestial Springs, stretched out into the vast emptiness of the cosmos ahead, probing for the faint whispers of discord, the tell-tale hum of decay. He stood beside her, a strange, silent partner, his new appearance making him blend seamlessly with her elite guard, yet his function was utterly singular.

Hours melted into the silent drift through the astral void. The stars, once distant pinpricks, swelled into shimmering suns as they drew closer to the Northern Dominion's predicted coordinates. Tension grew thick enough to cut with a spiritual sword. Long Hu felt it in the taut posture of the bridge officers, in the hushed commands, in the subtle clench of Xianxia's jaw.

Then, he sensed it. Faint, cold, like the distant ringing of a shattered bell. A vast network of spiritual signatures, bristling with aggression. The Northern Dominion's fleet. But woven within their formidable power, Long Hu detected the familiar, pervasive undertone of despair, a subtle siphoning, the ghostly signature of the Void Devourers. It was particularly strong around their central command vessels.

"Your Majesty," Long Hu said, his voice cutting through the silence, his gaze fixed on the shimmering tactical map where faint energy signatures now appeared. "Their main fleet is ahead. Formidable. But... there is a significant concentration of negative spiritual resonance around their five lead Dreadnoughts. A profound despair, almost an active harvest."

Xianxia's eyes sharpened, her head tilting slightly as she processed his words. She looked at the tactical map, then back at Long Hu, a dangerous gleam in her eyes. "Despair makes them reckless. They will be overconfident." Her finger traced a line across the map. "Master Tian, prepare the First and Second Dragon Wings. Full frontal assault, targeting the flanks. But the flagship," her gaze hardened, "will intercept their central Dreadnoughts directly. Long Hu's senses will guide our initial strike."

A thrill, cold and sharp, shot through Long Hu. He was not just detecting; he was directing. He was Xianxia's precise instrument of war. As the flagship surged forward, leaving the main fleet to engage the flanks, he felt her presence beside him, calm and utterly formidable. The immense pressure of the coming battle, the horror of the Devourers, mingled with an intense, unspoken connection to the Empress. Their combined focus was absolute.

The Northern Dominion fleet, arrayed in a seemingly unbreakable formation, surged to meet them. Their Dreadnoughts, hulking masses of spiritual steel, glowed with destructive power. But Long Hu could *see* the invisible threads of despair weaving through their core, making their cultivators subtly sluggish, their command structures less fluid. He guided Xianxia's tactical commands with precise directions, pinpointing the subtle weaknesses.

The flagship plunged directly into the heart of the enemy formation. Long Hu's heightened senses now focused on the nearest Dreadnought, the insidious energy of the Devourers pulsating within its very core. The battle was about to begin, a cosmic dance of power and strategy, with the Empress and her unique apprentice as the unexpected, vital vanguard against an enemy that fed on the very conflicts they were about to unleash.