Chapter 51: Realms of Recent Sorrow
The vastness of the void outside the flagship's viewport no longer felt like a battlefield, but a boundless hunting ground. Empress Xianxia's Imperial Dragon Fleet, though immense, now moved with a new, quiet purpose.
No more massive formations for direct engagement. Instead, smaller, highly specialized vessels, cloaked by advanced stealth arrays, detached and dispersed, their mission: to tirelessly scan the cosmic currents for the tell-tale hum of recent, raw despair—the tell-tale signature of a newly established Devourer feeding ground.
Long Hu spent his days on the command bridge, his senses stretched across light-years. He was the fleet's living divining rod, sifting through the countless echoes of suffering emanating from distant worlds.
He analyzed reports from deep-space scouts, cross-referencing ancient star charts with recent cosmic anomaly data.
He sought not the rage of war, but the quiet anguish of natural disasters, the slow torment of disease, the profound grief of unexpected loss. These were the fresh wounds the Devourers would seek to exploit.
"Your Majesty," Master Tian announced one cycle, his voice cutting through the bridge's usual hum, "reports confirm a level-nine celestial plague has ravaged the **Veridian Weave Realm** for the past two cycles.
Population density reduced by forty percent. Social structures collapsing. Despair levels are... catastrophic."
Xianxia's eyes, fixed on the holographic projection of the afflicted realm, narrowed. "Catastrophic despair.
A new, abundant feast." She turned to Long Hu, her gaze sharp, precise. "Apprentice, assess the spiritual resonance. Is there active siphoning?"
Long Hu closed his eyes, extending his senses across the vast distance. He saw the Veridian Weave, once a vibrant tapestry of life, now a dimming ember.
He felt the overwhelming grief, the terror, the agonizing hopelessness. And woven within it, like parasitic threads, he discerned the subtle, insidious touch of the Devourers—not yet a concentrated nexus, but numerous, nascent conduits forming around pockets of intense suffering. "Yes, Your Majesty," he affirmed, his voice grim. "Not fully established, but... they are tasting the wine. Ready to gorge."
Xianxia slammed her hand onto the tactical table. "Then we will deny them their feast. Master Tian, prepare the primary stealth vessel. The expeditionary force will be small, elite. Myself, Apprentice Long Hu, and a contingent of Imperial Purifiers.
Our mission: stabilize the realm, contain the despair, and cleanse the Devourer's touch without inciting further panic or widespread destruction." Her words carried the weight of a thousand lives, a grim determination to protect even realms not under her direct dominion.
Long Hu began his preparations. This new phase of the war was different. It wasn't about physical combat, but mental and emotional fortitude.
He meditated, purifying his own core, readying his empathy for the torrent of raw grief he was about to process. He knew the cost. He knew the pain. But he also knew the profound, liberating relief he could bring.
Xianxia found him later, standing by the viewport, gazing at the distant, shimmering glow of the Veridian Weave Realm. She stopped beside him, her presence a powerful, comforting anchor.
"This path we walk, Apprentice," she murmured, her voice softer than usual, "it is not glorious. It is often painful. Are you ready to shoulder the grief of another realm?"
He met her gaze, his eyes reflecting the vast, sorrowful glow of the distant world. "I am ready, Your Majesty," he affirmed, his voice steady. "To make them starve."
A silent understanding passed between them, a shared resolve that transcended words, a bond forged not just in battle, but in the profound, unspoken commitment to heal suffering.
The stealth vessel descended through the Veridian Weave's atmosphere, passing through layers of spiritual miasma that pulsed with the collective agony of a dying world.
Below, the once-verdant landscapes were now withered husks, dotted with silent, abandoned cities. The air, heavy with the scent of decay and despair, pressed down on Long Hu, suffocating his senses.
He could hear it now—a pervasive, low hum, the insatiable song of countless Devourer conduits, feasting on the Veridian Weave's profound sorrow. They had found their next target. And the hunger was immense.