The Unveiling

The silence in Xianxia's private chambers was heavy, thick with the weight of the elder's testimony. The truth of the Great Silencing—a calculated act of despair farming—burned in their minds. The task ahead was unprecedented: to publicly unveil this atrocity to a realm that had buried it for centuries, risking chaos, disbelief, and a potential feast for the Devourers.

"The truth must be revealed," Empress Xianxia declared, her voice firm, unwavering. "But it must be guided. We cannot simply shatter their illusions; we must help them process the pain. Master Tian, prepare the Grand Public Purifying Arrays in the Central Plaza. Gather the populace. Apprentice Long Hu," her gaze fixed on him, an unspoken plea in her eyes, "you will be the conductor of this symphony of sorrow. The heart that guides their memory."

The Central Plaza, usually a scene of quiet, controlled reverence, was transformed. Imperial Guards stood in a silent perimeter, and above, the intricate lattices of the Grand Public Purifying Arrays shimmered with golden light, far grander than any seen before. Below, thousands of citizens gathered, their faces a mixture of confusion and cautious expectation, their auras still humming with the lingering notes of their recently released emotions.

Long Hu walked to the core of the arrays, the vastness of the crowd and the enormity of the task settling upon him. His senses were already picking up the underlying tension, the subconscious dread of a truth they knew, but could not articulate. He saw Elder Tianxia, the elder witness, being gently led to a prominent position, her ancient eyes filled with a fragile hope.

Xianxia stepped forward, her imperial robes radiating authority, her voice resonating across the plaza, amplified by the arrays. "Citizens of the Aureate Citadel! Your Empress brings you not judgment, but truth. For centuries, a wound festered beneath your serenity, a truth denied for the sake of 'unity.' Today, that wound shall be exposed, so that true healing may begin!"

As her words echoed, Long Hu connected with the arrays. He focused his essence, not on forcing, but on gently *unveiling*. He channeled the raw, purified memories from the elder witness, allowing them to flow through the arrays, not as overwhelming torrents, but as guided waves of shared truth. He felt the mental resistance of the population, their subconscious defenses fighting the incoming information, but he pressed on, guiding the memories, not forcing them.

The reactions were immediate and profound. A collective gasp rippled through the crowd. Faces contorted in disbelief, then horror. Whispers erupted, escalating into cries of agony and recognition. People collapsed to their knees, clutching their heads as images of the Great Silencing—the betrayal, the purge, the silent screams—flooded their minds. It was chaos, but a necessary, cleansing chaos.

Xianxia, a beacon of resolute calm, projected a vast, soothing aura over the plaza, a silent anchor amidst the rising emotional storm. Her gaze was fixed on Long Hu, her hands subtly directing the flow of Qi into the arrays, reinforcing his connection, providing immense support. She shattered tendrils of Devourer influence that materialized—malicious whispers of doubt, phantom images of ancient "Purifiers" trying to re-suppress the truth. Her eyes blazed with fierce protectiveness; nothing would stop this vital, painful unveiling.

Long Hu, overwhelmed by the collective memories of a million agonies, by the profound grief and anger erupting from the crowd, pushed his essence to its absolute limit. He wasn't just relaying memory; he was guiding a spiritual catharsis. He felt the desperation of the Devourers, their furious attempts to re-seal the well of historical despair, but he held strong, transforming the raw emotions into a river of shared sorrow, a painful but ultimately pure acknowledgment of their past.

Hours later, as the arrays finally pulsed into silence, the plaza was transformed. The screams had subsided, replaced by a symphony of genuine, unrestrained weeping. Citizens huddled together, sharing memories, comforting strangers, their faces streaked with tears, but their eyes clear, burdened yet unburdened. The raw truth had been unveiled.

Long Hu collapsed, utterly spent, his body wracked by tremors. Xianxia caught him, pulling him into her embrace, holding him tightly as he gasped for breath. She looked out at the weeping citizens, then back at his pale, beautiful face, ravaged by the truth he had channeled. Her heart swelled with a complex mix of triumph, profound love, and awe for his boundless empathy.

"They remember," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion, her hand gently stroking his hair. "The truth is free. The Devourers' historical feast... is over." Her gaze swept over the plaza, then returned to Long Hu, a silent vow passing between them. The Aureate Citadel would begin its true healing now, a painful, long journey. And they, the Empress and her apprentice, were bound by every single scar.

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