Infiltrating the Peaks
The sleek, obsidian spiritual vessel sliced through the astral void with barely a whisper, cloaked by Xianxia's most advanced concealment formations. It was small, carrying only Empress Xianxia, Long Hu, Master Tian, and a handful of elite, silent Imperial Guards—the strike force for a war unseen by conventional eyes. As they neared the Crimson Peaks Realm, Long Hu felt it: a suffocating, almost tangible weight of despair, emanating from the planet like a dark, noxious aura. It was far more overwhelming than anything he'd sensed at the Conclave, a vast, active harvest of misery.
Xianxia stood by the viewport, her gaze piercing the cloaking array, her profile etched with grim resolve. She turned to Long Hu, her eyes, deep pools of cosmic wisdom, holding a focused intensity. "The Crimson Peaks are volatile," she stated, her voice low. "Their despair runs deep. Your senses are our only guide through their chaos. Pinpoint the nexus. Accurately." Her subtle nod carried the weight of a thousand commands, a silent testament to her absolute trust in him.
Long Hu closed his eyes, forcing himself to breathe through the waves of sorrow that washed over his unique senses. It was a symphony of agony – echoes of screams, the bitter taste of betrayal, the crushing weight of hopelessness. He could discern the faint, rhythmic pulse of the Devourers' feeding within the cacophony, a dark beacon at the heart of the despair. He focused, pushing past the overwhelming noise, seeking the epicenter.
The vessel shimmered, bypassing the Crimson Peaks' formidable outer defenses with ease. They descended through layers of roiling crimson clouds, into a desolate, mountainous region. Here, the despair was thick enough to choke on, manifesting as a pervasive spiritual blight. Twisted, withered spiritual trees clawed at the sky, and dry, cracked rivers of what should have been vibrant Qi flowed sluggishly, choked by unseen bitterness.
As they began their ground infiltration, moving with the silent efficiency of trained assassins, Long Hu's senses recoiled. A distorted spiritual formation, hidden beneath a cluster of jagged peaks, pulsed with a subtle, malevolent energy. It was a primitive attempt to contain the despair, but in doing so, it merely concentrated it, turning it into a richer source for the Devourers.
"Your Majesty," Long Hu whispered, pointing to a fissure in the mountainside. "There. The formation. It's a feeder point. A minor one, but active."
Xianxia's eyes narrowed. "Destroy it." Her command was to Master Tian, who, with a swift, precise spiritual strike, disintegrated the distorted formation, releasing a brief, intense wave of concentrated despair that slammed into Long Hu, nearly knocking him off his feet. He gasped, bracing against the pain, enduring the psychic onslaught.
Xianxia's hand shot out, steadying him. Her touch was a warm anchor, a conduit of immense, soothing power that countered the overwhelming despair. "Focus," she murmured, her gaze locking with his, a silent reassurance passing between them. Their shared purpose, their intertwined fates, became the only solid thing in the midst of cosmic chaos.
He nodded, forcing his senses forward. Deeper into the blighted mountains, the air grew heavier, the spiritual rot more profound. He could feel millions of despairing souls, a vast, unseen ocean of sorrow that pulsed with a horrifying rhythm. And at its very core, radiating a cold, insatiable hunger, was the nexus. The epicenter.
They stood at the mouth of a vast, naturally formed cavern, its entrance shrouded in an unnatural, clinging darkness. From within, the waves of despair were almost physical, pressing down, threatening to suffocate. Long Hu could see it now, through his unique lens: a central point of absolute void, drawing in the suffering of the entire region, like a monstrous, invisible heart. This was where the Devourers truly fed. This was where their true work began. And the chilling reality of what they were about to face settled over him like a burial shroud.