Beneath the Golden Façade

The Aureate Citadel was a monument to flawless control, and Long Hu felt its oppressive perfection in every fiber of his being. Every polished jade paving stone seemed to hum with enforced harmony, every flowing robe of its inhabitants spoke of serene purpose. He walked beside Empress Xianxia through its vast, echoing spiritual temples, his senses constantly assailed by the underlying falseness of it all. There was no true joy, no profound sorrow, only a meticulous, orchestrated tranquility that felt colder than any void. He saw the citizens, their faces placid, their eyes calm, yet he felt the whisper of the subtle shunt, pulling at the repressed energies that kept their collective facade intact.

Days dissolved into a delicate dance of observation and veiled inquiry. Xianxia played the role of a visiting Imperial sovereign, engaging Lord Regulus in polite, philosophical discussions about governance, spiritual unity, and the enduring strength of realms. Long Hu, always at her side, remained outwardly quiet, but his senses were pushed to their limits, trying to penetrate the impenetrable wall of spiritual and emotional suppression.

He found no overt despair, no raw spiritual wounds that he could simply 'purge'. The Devourer's influence here was subtle, parasitic, feeding on the very *energy* required to maintain the illusion of perfection. It was a vacuum, siphoning the desperate effort to control every ripple of dissent, every flicker of independent thought that might challenge the rigid unity. This was a new kind of hell, one built on the suppression of life itself.

Xianxia, her gaze never missing a beat, saw the strain in Long Hu's eyes, the way his brow would subtly furrow as he grappled with the sheer scale of the controlled calm. She knew he needed a trigger, a crack in their facade.

During a formal banquet, where the very air was stifled by perfect serenity, Xianxia raised a crystal goblet. "Lord Regulus," she began, her voice a melodious silver, "your realm's unity is indeed admirable. But even the purest gold must first pass through fire. Tell me, how does the Aureate Citadel foster such unwavering cohesion, when other realms, despite their strengths, often fall prey to the inherent fragilities of individual will?" Her question, cloaked in praise, was a subtle prod at their painful history, a challenge to the very concept of "absolute spiritual cohesion."

Lord Regulus's smile remained unwavering, but his eyes, for a split second, flickered with an unreadable emotion. "Empress," he replied, his voice smooth as polished jade, "it is the unwavering devotion to the collective, to the eradication of self-serving discord. All impurities, all dissent, are transcended for the greater glory of the realm." His words were a shield, expertly deflecting, but Long Hu felt a momentary tremor beneath his perfected aura, a tiny, almost imperceptible surge of energy from the spiritual shunt.

Long Hu focused, pushing against that tremor. He couldn't attack it directly. He needed to resonate with the suppressed truth, to make the spiritual shunt falter by overloading it with the very energy it consumed: control. If he could introduce a counter-frequency, one that resonated with the *cost* of that absolute control, the deep, exhausting effort, it might force the hidden despair to surface, disrupting the shunt's feeding. He needed a focal point, something they poured their collective effort into.

He let his senses drift through the hall, searching, pushing past the layers of enforced tranquility. His gaze landed on the colossal, crystalline Heart of Purity that pulsed rhythmically at the center of the hall, acting as a spiritual anchor for Regulus's domain. He focused. Within its core, Long Hu discerned a subtle, almost imperceptible dissonance. Not an impurity, but a resonant frequency that seemed to bind the suppressed emotions. It was the heart of the "spiritual shunt." He felt the profound, collective burden of its maintenance.

Lord Regulus's gaze flickered towards Long Hu, a predatory gleam in his eyes. He had sensed Long Hu's probing, a tiny needle pricking at the vast fabric of his realm's control. A ripple of raw power, a silent warning, emanated from the Lord Protector, aimed directly at Long Hu.

But Xianxia was faster. Her eyes, meeting Regulus's, flared with a silent challenge, an immovable force against his subtle aggression. She subtly shifted her stance, placing herself almost imperceptibly closer to Long Hu, a physical shield of immense, unyielding power. In that moment, their gazes met—his, a raw plea for understanding and strategy; hers, a cold, unwavering resolve that promised both protection and ruthless intent.

Long Hu inhaled sharply. He had it. The Heart of Purity wasn't just an anchor; it was a vast, central amplifier for the Devourer's shunt, precisely tuned to the suppressed despair of the schism. If he could introduce a precise, opposite frequency... one that resonated with the *original*, unsuppressed grief, it might temporarily unravel their enforced tranquility, forcing the hidden despair to surface, disrupting the shunt's feeding without shattering the entire artifact or causing mass panic.

Later, in Xianxia's private chamber, Long Hu meticulously drew the complex spiritual diagrams on a luminous tablet. "Your Majesty," he explained, his voice low with discovery, "the Heart of Purity in the Grand Conclave Hall. It's not just an anchor; it's the master conduit for the shunt. Its resonance is tuned to the suppressed grief of the past schism. If we can introduce a precise, opposite frequency... it could temporarily unravel their enforced tranquility, forcing the hidden despair to surface, disrupting the Devourers' feed."

Xianxia's eyes glittered, a dangerous, strategic brilliance shining within them. "A fascinating gamble, Apprentice. To combat a lie with truth. But if it fails, or if it unleashes too much, too quickly..." She paused, her gaze fixed on the map of the Aureate Citadel. "It could unleash chaos, feeding them a feast beyond measure. Are you certain of this?"

Long Hu met her gaze, the weight of his conviction heavy. "It's the only way to pierce the purest deception, Your Majesty. To truly make them starve."

The Empress looked at him, her lips curving into a slow, chilling smile. The strategy was set. The delicate, terrifying operation to confront the heart of enforced control, and the hidden hunger it served, would begin.