The warmth of the kiss lingered in the quiet air of the private chamber, a silent anchor amidst the overwhelming flood of cosmic revelations and ancient histories that had just passed between them.
"What is the plan to handle these envoys, Adrian?" Hestia asked, her voice calm but deeply serious.
Adrian thought for a moment and replied, "The three Major Sect envoys coming now could just be a teaser," he said. "Even if we somehow handle them, there could be more after that. If we think about it from their perspective, we are people who have just ascended. We have no established backing, recognized influence among Major Sects, and no ancient faction openly standing behind us. In their minds, we are still children who happened to stumble upon treasures they want, so they think they can simply come here and hire us into their sects."
"But what if we prove to them that we are not mere children as they think? If we show enough power, enough depth, and enough uncertainty around our foundation, they will not dare to casually knock on our door like this again."
Hestia's brow furrowed. She agreed with the logic of demonstrating strength, because the universe respected nothing else with true power. Mercy was respected only when it came from power. Peace was preserved only when those who wished to break it feared the consequences.
"But how are we going to do that exactly?" Hestia asked, her tone tight with genuine concern. "Before, we thought the Astral Stage was just based on authority, and we thought we could handle the situation. Now we know it is different. These envoys could have techniques related to consciousness, and against those, we may be vulnerable. If they use methods like Hazel's roar, or something far more refined, our domains alone may not protect us."
Her worry was not unfounded. Hazel's intangible roar had nearly crippled multiple Peak Rule Stage beings, including Octaven and Kaelar, both of whom possessed high-tier divine concepts and terrifying authority.
If the new envoys possessed greater mastery over their willforce, perhaps standing at a higher stage of consciousness than Hazel, their attacks would bypass domains, armor, formations, and physical defenses entirely.
Raw authority alone would not be enough to shield them from a direct assault on the mind. Even Hestia, who had fought Hazel to a standstill in terms of speed and authority, had felt how dangerous those subtle interruptions were. One mistake, one split-second delay, and the battle could have turned fatal.
Adrian met her gaze, and his expression softened slightly as he acknowledged the severity of the threat. "I know, and I am thinking of a solution. We still have a few weeks, and I think we can find something." A faint, confident smile touched the corners of his lips as he continued, "Is that not what we always do? If we do not get a solution, we will still face them."
Hestia stared at him for a moment, then let out a slow breath.
They had survived the war of the Andromeda galaxy, shattered the plans of the Everlasting Pill Sect, and brought the four dominant powers of Andromeda to their knees. A few Major Sect envoys were simply the next hurdle, even if that hurdle stood far higher than anything the Crimson Vital Sect had ever faced.
Adrian's tone shifted back to the immediate, practical necessities of their survival. "But before all this, let us first handle the internal politics within the Andromeda Galaxy. We have claimed the three dominant sects' resources and everything attached to them. We have already executed the captured instigators, and now there are the other sects that submitted to us, as well as our allies like Nightshade. We need to make peace with them and stabilize the galaxy properly, so we do not have internal conflicts when an outside danger arrives."
He stepped back slightly, gesturing toward the sprawling expanse of the Crimson Spire beyond the chamber door. "We have taken the throne of the Andromeda Galaxy, but first, we need to stabilize it."
If they were to face the titans of the universe, they could not afford a fractured foundation beneath their feet. A galaxy simmering with resentment, fear, and rebellion would only serve as a weakness for the Major Sects to exploit. An envoy who could not defeat Adrian directly might try to buy desperate subsidiary sects, provoke old hatreds, or turn the remaining powers of Andromeda against their new rulers.
The galaxy needed to be unified. People needed to understand that the Crimson Vital Sect's rule would not become a nightmare, and enemies needed to understand that betrayal would lead only to annihilation.
Hestia nodded, her posture straightening as the mantle of Sect Leader settled firmly back onto her shoulders. The hesitation brought on by the Void Emperor's memories vanished, replaced by the unyielding resolve that had carried her people through a million years of hardship. "I will call a meeting with all important figures. Let us take care of this first."
…
A day later, within the upper echelons of the Crimson Spire, the grand central conference room had been prepared for a gathering unlike any in the galaxy's history.
The chamber was a masterpiece of architectural imposingness. High, vaulted ceilings arched over a massive, circular table forged from pure void alloy and lined with glowing runic conduits. Tall transparent viewports offered a sprawling, dizzying view of Sanguis Prime, serving as a silent reminder of the power that resided within these walls.
Hestia and Adrian sat side by side at the head of the table. Today, the surrounding beings were not only the familiar faces of the Crimson Vital elders. Instead, the seats were occupied by the leaders of the sects in the galaxy, or rather, what remained of them after the collapse of the old order.
More than a hundred sect leaders sat around the massive conference table. The vast majority represented lesser minor sects, factions that had spent their entire existence bowing to the whims of the dominant powers. A few came from upper minor sects, but even they were battered remnants who knew they could no longer compare to the undisputed dominance of the Crimson Vital Sect.
The atmosphere within the room was suffocatingly silent and tense.
Many sect leaders trembled in their seats, their hands clasped tightly in their laps, their auras compressed to the point of near-invisibility as if any accidental fluctuation might be interpreted as disrespect.
The Crimson Vital Sect had been utterly ruthless against those who threatened them. They had dismantled ancient lineages, executed instigators, seized treasuries, locked down resource channels, and rewritten the hierarchy of the galaxy in days.
Now, even though these remaining leaders were essentially subsidiary sects bound by UNI-Contracts under the Crimson Vital Sect, none of them knew how their new absolute rulers intended to handle them.
Would they be treated like livestock? Would they be forced to hand over their most talented disciples as hostages? Would their archives be stripped, their treasuries emptied, and their autonomy reduced to ashes beneath the excuse of galactic order?
The only exception was Nightshade. The Thousand Veils Sect Leader sat comfortably in his chair, his dark robes blending with the ambient shadows around him. He quietly sipped from a cup of refined tea, his posture entirely relaxed compared to the frozen tension of the other leaders.
He had bet on the right side early, and his sect was now recognized as a favored ally rather than a defeated subordinate. The terrified glances the other sect leaders shot in his direction only seemed to amuse him further, though he wisely kept that amusement hidden behind the rim of his cup.
Everyone remained quiet, and no one dared speak a single word.
Finally, Hestia broke the silence. "I welcome all of you to the Crimson Spire," Hestia began, her pale golden eyes sweeping across the gathered leaders.
She turned her gaze first to Nightshade and the handful of sect leaders who had approached the Crimson Vital Sect voluntarily before the war reached its bloody climax. "Before we address the future of this galaxy, I must first acknowledge those who stood with us when the outcome was still uncertain. To Sect Leader Nightshade, and to the allies who offered their support before the fires of war reached our borders, you have my gratitude. Your loyalty and foresight will not be forgotten by the Crimson Vital Sect."
Nightshade offered a slow, respectful nod, setting his teacup down with deliberate grace. The allied minor sect leaders visibly exhaled, their shoulders dropping with relief. Some had feared that their contributions would be dismissed as insignificant now that the Crimson Vital Sect had risen so high, but Hestia's acknowledgment before the entire room immediately secured their standing in the new order.
Then Hestia shifted her gaze to the other side of the table. The temperature in the room seemed to drop as she looked upon the leaders of the sects that had fought alongside the Ashen Vortex, Grave-Sky, and Ironbound Path sects, those who had only surrendered when annihilation was the only other option. Several sect leaders flinched instinctively, lowering their eyes.
"As for the rest of you," Hestia said, her tone growing notably colder, "our intelligence networks and interrogations have verified that your sects were forced into the vanguard. You fought because you believed you had no choice, and our investigations confirmed that your primary intent was survival, not a true malicious desire to destroy the Crimson Vital Sect."
"Because of that, you are sitting at this table today rather than drifting as corpses in the void. But let me be absolutely clear. If things prove otherwise in the future, if any of you harbor true bad intentions toward the Crimson Vital Sect, or if you attempt to scheme in the shadows, you will face the exact same situation as the dominant sects. You will be erased, root and stem. Do not test my patience."
"We understand, Senior," a chorus of trembling voices immediately replied, several sect leaders bowing their heads so low they nearly touched the table. "We swear absolute loyalty."
Hestia observed their terror for a long moment, allowing the weight of the threat to settle deep into their bones. Only when she was certain the warning had taken root did she sit back, her posture relaxing by the smallest degree.
Then Hestia spoke of the future of the Andromeda Galaxy.
"We have claimed the territories, treasuries, and resource channels of our enemies," she declared, her voice shifting back to a calm, steady resonance. "But I want to make one thing clear to all of you. While you are now our subsidiary sects, we have no interest or wish to strip you of what is yours."
The sect leaders blinked, their eyes darting upward in confusion.
"You will all retain your own territories," Hestia continued, her words echoing clearly through the grand chamber. "Your internal governance, your cultivation methods, your archives, and your ancestral foundations belong to you. You will live and operate just as you did before the war, except under the larger peace and protection of the Crimson Vital Sect. No one from our sect is going to occupy your homes, steal your inheritances, or force you to surrender the legacies your ancestors built."
The sheer shock of the statement left the room paralyzed. In the universe, to the victor went the spoils. When a sect was conquered and turned into a subsidiary, it was standard practice for the ruling sect to demand the most powerful divine concept records, rarest artifacts, most talented disciples, and absolute control over local governance.
Some rulers would demand hostages from every major bloodline. Others would bleed their subordinates through impossible taxes, ensuring they could never rise enough to rebel. To be told they would simply be left alone was something none of them could comprehend.
A heavy, agonizing silence hung over the table as the leaders struggled to process the declaration. Finally, an elderly man wearing the dark green robes of the Verdant Hollow Sect, a lesser minor sect that had barely survived the conflict, trembled as he slowly stood up. He bowed respectfully, his voice quivering with a mixture of fear and desperate curiosity. "Senior, if we are to retain our territories and govern ourselves, is there any tax that we should pay to the Crimson Vital Sect?"
He braced himself after asking. He expected the catch. He assumed Hestia was about to demand eighty or ninety percent of their annual resource yield, effectively turning them into slave laborers bound to mine, harvest, refine, and deliver wealth to their new rulers until the end of time.
Hestia looked at the trembling elder. Her expression softened, the cold authoritative mask giving way to the weariness of a woman who had spent a million years watching people suffer over petty greed and resource wars. "No," she said flatly.
The elder's jaw dropped. Around the table, gasps of disbelief broke the silence.
"There will be no exorbitant taxes. There will be no resource tithes that bleed your sects dry," Hestia stated, "My wish is to create a peaceful place. I did not fight this war because I wanted to rule you, and I do not wish for petty conflicts or a dominating form of rule that suffocates the life out of this galaxy."
She spread her hands slightly, addressing the entirety of the room. "Everyone can simply live their lives peacefully. Cultivate, Trade, Build your families, and guide your disciples. Grow if you can grow, Prosper if you can prosper. The Crimson Vital Sect will not crush you for existing beneath us."
Then her tone sharpened, laying down the supreme law of the new era. "However, there is one absolute condition. If a minor sect grows, then it will grow. No one, absolutely no one, is allowed to declare war out of jealousy or greed. If a neighbor discovers a rare resource, you will trade for it fairly. If a rival produces a genius disciple, you will compete with them in markets, auctions, training grounds, academies, and public challenges, not with assassins in the dark."
Hestia's gaze swept across the room, ensuring every single sect leader met her eyes at least once. "If anyone violates this law, if any sect initiates a war for the sake of petty dominance, the Crimson Vital Sect will descend upon you. I want a peaceful environment, not a battlefield. Is that understood?"
"Yes, Senior."
"We understand perfectly, Sect Leader Hestia."
"We will obey the law of peace."
The responses came rapidly, trembling at first, then growing steadier as the meaning of her words sank in.
Everyone was shocked beyond measure. When they had first entered this meeting, they had imagined countless horrifying scenarios. But now, the situation was entirely different from what they had imagined.
They were not being enslaved. They were being protected. Hestia was not acting as a tyrant; she was acting as a true sovereign, establishing an unbreakable law of peace that protected the weak from the strong.
For sects that had spent millions of years living in constant fear of being devoured by larger neighbors, this declaration was nothing short of a miracle. They were being told that ambition would no longer invite extermination, that growth would no longer be treated as a crime, and that the powerful would no longer be allowed to crush the weak simply because they could.
In a way, a genuine, undeniable hope began to bloom within them.
The terror that had gripped their hearts evaporated gradually, replaced by overwhelming relief and gratitude. They now felt that the Andromeda Galaxy being under the control of the Crimson Vital Sect was not actually bad at all. In fact, it made things immeasurably better for their survival, their disciples, and their very way of life. The old order had forced them to bow, bleed, and participate in wars they did not want. The new order, if Hestia's words held true, might allow them to breathe for the first time in their long histories.
Tears of relief welled up in the eyes of the Verdant Hollow Sect elder as he fell to his knees, pressing his forehead against the floor. "Thank you, Sovereign Hestia. We shall uphold your peace for a million generations."
Around the table, dozens of other sect leaders followed suit, standing from their chairs only to bow deeply in genuine, unforced reverence. This was not the trembling submission of people begging not to die. It was the first fragile expression of faith in a ruler they had expected to fear forever.
From his seat beside Hestia, Adrian watched the scene unfold with a quiet, immensely proud smile. He leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed loosely over his chest.
This was the exact opposite of Morka's dead, hollowed-out Virelith Galaxy. This was the Origin Path applied on a galactic scale, strength used not to chain the weak, but to shatter the chains entirely so that life could finally breathe.