Echoes in the Archives

The silence in the central district was now profound, filled not with terror, but with the quiet, wrenching sobs of released grief. Long Hu, still weak from the ordeal, felt the lingering echoes of a realm's unburied past within him. Empress Xianxia, a pillar of unwavering strength, remained by his side, her touch a constant anchor as Master Tian dispatched scholars and Imperial Guards to scour the Citadel's vast archives. The hunt for truth had begun.

The Aureate Citadel's libraries were monuments to meticulously recorded history, yet Long Hu's unique senses immediately discerned the subtle spiritual taint of **selective omission** and **deliberate alteration**. Not outright lies, but truths meticulously buried beneath layers of carefully crafted narratives. He felt faint resonances of forced agreement, of compliance under duress, woven into the very spiritual fabric of the records. It was another, subtler feast for the Devourers—the consumption of forgotten truth.

Xianxia directed the search, her strategic mind dissecting every anomaly. "Focus on the period immediately following the schism's climax," she commanded. "Seek records pertaining to resource allocation, population shifts, any sudden, unexplained shifts in public spiritual practice. Look for what is *missing* as much as what is present."

Days blurred into a methodical uncovering. Long Hu, though still recovering, joined the search, his refined senses guiding the Imperial scholars. He would run a hand over a dusty chronicle, feeling the subtle lie in its spiritual resonance, leading them to another, more obscure text hidden within a false wall, or a heavily censored passage that hummed with suppressed despair. He found not glorious accounts of unity, but cold, sterile directives for "spiritual reintegration" and "emotional refinement" that felt like chains.

One evening, deep within a forgotten section of the archives, Long Hu's senses flared. A profound, ancient sorrow emanated from behind a crumbling section of wall. Master Tian, alerted by Long Hu's sudden intake of breath, quickly used a spiritual probe. What they found was a hidden chamber, barely large enough for a single occupant. And within it, a figure.

She was incredibly old, her skin like parchment, her eyes, though dimmed by age, held a piercing clarity. Her spiritual aura was almost non-existent, but her silent sorrow was a torrent that nearly overwhelmed Long Hu. She was a **Witness**, one of the few who had survived the "Great Silencing" by withdrawing entirely from the world, cultivating a deep, private sorrow the Devourers likely found too isolated to siphon.

Xianxia approached, her imperial presence softened by a genuine solemnity. "Elder," her voice was gentle, a stark contrast to the usual sharpness of her command. "We seek the truth of the Great Silencing. The records are... incomplete. Your memory is a priceless treasure."

The elder's eyes, filled with centuries of unwept tears, flickered with fear. "Truth?" her voice was a brittle whisper. "Truth is a dangerous thing here, child. It brought only death. Only despair." She began to tremble, and Long Hu felt the familiar, insidious tendrils of Devourer influence, drawn by the elder's fear, attempting to re-suppress her memories.

Long Hu stepped forward, his heart aching with empathy. He gently placed a hand on the elder's withered arm, channeling his unique essence, not to purify, but to soothe, to anchor her against the returning despair. "No," he said, his voice quiet, resonating with profound understanding. "Truth brings freedom. And healing. We are here to cleanse the land of the shadow that feeds on silence. Your memory is our light."

Xianxia watched him, her gaze filled with a complex blend of admiration and a profound, almost protective tenderness. His capacity for empathy was truly boundless. She then projected a silent, powerful spiritual barrier around the chamber, deflecting the subtle Devourer probes that tried to exploit the elder's fear.

The elder looked at Long Hu, then at Xianxia's unwavering gaze, and slowly, the dam broke. Tears, ancient and heavy, streamed down her face. She began to speak, her voice gaining strength, revealing horrifying details Long Hu had only glimpsed.

She described the deliberate engineering of mass surrender during the schism, followed by a **false promise of reintegration**, which was instead a systematic, silent purge. The spiritual essence of the victims was not scattered, but meticulously contained and channeled by hidden formations—formations Lord Regulus, then a zealous young purist, had overseen. The *true* purpose was to cultivate a profound, collective despair, disguised as swift justice, to feed an unseen patron. The elder described not just a historical event, but a spiritual experiment.

The revelations were chilling. The Great Silencing wasn't just a massacre; it was a deliberate act of **despair farming**, a calculated offering to the Void Devourers. Long Hu felt the sheer, horrifying malice of the Devourers' long-game strategy. They had turned a societal wound into an eternal feeding ground.

The elder, exhausted but lighter, eventually fell into a peaceful, dreamless sleep. Long Hu looked at Xianxia, his heart heavy. They had the truth. A painful, terrifying truth that explained the Aureate Citadel's false serenity. The Devourers were not just consumers; they were cosmic orchestrators of misery, turning history itself into a weapon.

Xianxia squeezed his hand, her eyes blazing with grim determination. "The Devourers cultivate sorrow," she murmured, her voice tight. "But we will cultivate truth. The Aureate Citadel will be cleansed, and its history will be mourned, genuinely." Her gaze swept over the vast archives, then returned to Long Hu, a silent vow passing between them. Their next challenge would be to expose this historical atrocity to the traumatized, amnesiac populace, and complete the profound healing of a realm.