After a night of passion, Lia had seamlessly assumed the role of mistress of the estate. She now gave orders to the servants with ease, fully embracing her identity. Visitors continued to arrive, eager to meet Qin Xian, now an esteemed figure among Hydra’s elite.

But he was already gone, having left early in the morning.

Today, Rosha was convening a grand assembly at the Capet Imperial Palace—a gathering of all races, nations, families, and powers in Hydra to discuss their next moves against the Void.

These meetings always carried great weight. Every major decision that shaped the world was made here, and countless lives would be affected by the choices of this day.

The Sovereign Hall, where the meeting was held, was a grand and ancient chamber. Legend had it that the founding emperor of the Capet Empire had been crowned there.

When Qin Xian arrived, an attendant immediately and respectfully led him through the heavy doors. A breath of ancient and mystical air greeted him as he entered. Inside, the hall was adorned with exquisite murals and sculptures, each telling a story from ages past.

In the center stood a massive round table, surrounded by dozens of seats. Murmurs filled the space as representatives from every major power gathered in small groups, whispering, debating, and occasionally arguing outright.

Two hundred years of ceaseless war with the Void had left Hydra scarred. Though they had survived, the stress of war had fermented deep divisions.

The longer the conflict dragged on, the harder it became to suppress internal discord. Some nations had suffered heavier losses than others. Faith and unity could only carry them so far—human nature, with its desires and ambitions, would inevitably rise to the surface.

As Qin Xian stepped into the hall, the hum of voices quieted slightly. Leaders and envoys glanced at him with solemn expressions, nodding in greeting. Word of his feats had spread—how he had crushed Edward, the Dragon Knight Commander of the Saint-Spear family, and even slain the Black Dragon King, a peak 9-star being.

His strength was unquestioned, and the attendees knew better than to show disrespect to one of the most powerful figures in the world.

“Soren, you’ve arrived.” Rosha’s voice called out as he ended a tense conversation with a frowning elven lord.

Though the elf had clearly been reluctant to agree to Rosha’s request, he eventually gave in with a sigh and a nod.

Rosha looked at Qin Xian with a gaze that carried a trace of complexity. No matter how many times he reminded himself of his suspicions, it was hard to believe that someone radiating such pure Holy Light could pose any threat to Hydra.

Even Qin Xian had to admit—Rosha had remarkable charisma. The way the atmosphere shifted when Rosha entered the room, how every faction, no matter how tense or angry, showed him respect—it was clear Rosha had become the spiritual pillar of this world.

“In the recent battle, we once again repelled the Void’s forces and even slew a Void Lord. It was a glorious victory—one of more than a dozen we’ve achieved in succession,” Rosha announced.

A ripple of smiles passed through the crowd, softening even the most hardened expressions. Before Rosha rose, Hydra had suffered continuous defeats. Their fertile old continent had been devoured piece by piece until it was lost completely.

Many had despaired, believing the Void was invincible. Some had even turned traitor, offering their souls to the enemy and becoming Void cultists. It had been Rosha’s rise that halted the spiral, rekindling hope.

“But… the situation remains dire.” Rosha’s voice grew solemn. “The Void’s armies seem endless. We’ve slain hundreds of thousands, but more continue to pour in. We’ve killed Void Lords, yet others take their place. Despite our victories, our space for survival is being compressed with each passing day…”

The leaders fell silent, heavy expressions settling over the room.

This was the true terror of the Void—no matter how many times you won, the victories always felt fleeting. The army of the Void… was endless.

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