The Azure Heaven Realm trembled not from an earthquake, but from a flicker of Empress Xianxia's will. Perched on her throne of condensed starlight within the Grand Celestial Palace, she surveyed the endless cosmos stretched before her, a canvas of swirling nebulae and distant, burning stars. Each twinkle was a world, each nebula a galaxy-spanning cultivation sect under her dominion. Yet, despite being the undisputed apex cultivator, the Blazing Immortal, the Empress felt a familiar, hollow ache deep within her perfected Dao heart.
A millennium had passed since the Cataclysm of Hearts, the day Long Hu, the infamous Harem Lord of the Nine Provinces, had abandoned her for a legion of lesser women. A thousand years since his betrayal had carved an irreparable chasm in her nascent path to true immortality. She had transcended, yes, reaching heights he could only dream of. But the scar remained, a testament to the one time the Empress had allowed herself to be vulnerable, to be human.
A chime, light as stardust, broke her reverie. Her most trusted High Elder, the austere Master Tian, bowed low, his usual stoic face etched with a rare blend of confusion and urgency.
"Your Majesty," Master Tian began, his voice a low rumble, "a... peculiar disturbance. A spatial anomaly detected near the Crimson Lotus Gate. What emerged defies explanation."
Xianxia merely arched a perfect brow. "Peculiar? Nothing in this realm is beyond the Empress's comprehension. Speak plainly."
Master Tian hesitated, then continued, "A male, Your Majesty. His cultivation shattered, spiritual roots utterly severed, barely clinging to life. He appeared as if spat out by a dying dimension. But... his aura. Though fainter than a dying ember, it resonates with… a past presence."
A faint tremor, imperceptible to any but an Immortal Empress, rippled through Xianxia's being. A past presence? Impossible. She had personally overseen the dismantling of Long Hu's empire, had ensured his utter ruin.
"Bring him," she commanded, her voice calm, utterly devoid of the storm brewing within. "To the Northern Pavilion. I will assess this 'anomaly' myself."
The Northern Pavilion was a place of solitude, often used for solitary meditation or the occasional disposal of minor cultivation waste. When she arrived, the air crackled with a strange dissonance. There, on a simple cot, lay a figure.
He was thin, almost skeletal, his once vibrant robes reduced to tattered rags. His long, black hair was matted with grime, and his skin, once famed for its flawless luster, was pale and bruised. He was unconscious, his breathing shallow.
Empress Xianxia strode forward, her footsteps silent on the polished jade. She stopped beside the cot, her gaze sweeping over the pathetic form. Her hand, slender and porcelain-white, hovered over his forehead. A surge of her divine senses, boundless and all-encompassing, plunged into his very essence.
Her eyes, usually as serene as a calm nebula, widened.
No spiritual root. No cultivation. His Dao heart was a broken shard, his soul a fragmented whisper. It was almost as if... he had been reborn. But the echoes of his essence, the unique resonance of his fragmented spirit, were unmistakable.
It was him.
Long Hu. The Harem Lord. The man who had forsaken her. Not a powerful rival, not a vengeful ghost, but a broken, pathetic wretch. He looked no older than a mere twenty cycles, utterly stripped of his former power and arrogance. A cruel, cosmic joke.
A slow, dangerous smile curved Empress Xianxia's lips, a smile that sent shivers down Master Tian's spine from where he stood respectfully far away. This wasn't the bitter, aching wound she'd carried. This was something new. A delicious, unexpected opportunity.
"Master Tian," she purred, her voice sweet yet laced with an icy edge that promised mischief. "This 'anomaly' is indeed peculiar. Most peculiar."
"Your Majesty?" Master Tian questioned, confused by her sudden shift in demeanor.
"He is not an anomaly to be discarded," Xianxia declared, her gaze fixed on the unconscious, helpless man. "He is... an apprentice. A very special, utterly personal apprentice."
She leaned closer, her perfect features inches from Long Hu's unaware face. "Welcome back, Long Hu," she whispered, her voice a chilling promise. "Or should I say... my newest and most precious plaything? This time, you will learn the true meaning of devotion. And humility. From me."
The Empress straightened, her aura flaring with renewed, terrifying brilliance. The jest of a fallen god, perhaps, but it was a jest she intended to savor for a very, very long time. His journey to the peak would begin not with grand cultivation, but with the grind of servitude, under the watchful, vengeful eye of the woman he once scorned. And she would ensure every step of his rise was a testament to her unending spite.