The development of Crimson Hawk entered a strange, almost unsettling phase of calm.

After weeks of relentless pressure, conversion, and silent conquest across the Eastern Continent, the Azure Dragon Sect went quiet. Too quiet.

No assassination squads appeared at night. No mercenary coalitions were mobilized. No sect edicts thundered across Astralis Border Seven. Their banners still flew over their core territory, proud and defiant, but their influence no longer extended beyond it.

To most, it looked like restraint.

To Vahn, it looked like preparation.

Power did not disappear when it retreated. It condensed.

Crimson Hawk, meanwhile, grew with frightening efficiency.

Trade caravans now requested Crimson Hawk escorts rather than sect protection. Independent cities offered docking rights and tax exemptions. Minor factions sought protection contracts, swearing allegiance not to a sect, but to a mercenary dominion that operated with iron order and terrifying predictability.

Vahn did not rule from a throne.

He ruled from maps.

Every morning, he studied logistics. Spirit stone inflow. Cultivation bottlenecks. Talent distribution. He reorganized mercenary units into layered formations that could operate independently if severed. He introduced rotating command to prevent stagnation and betrayal. He redistributed seized resources not evenly, but intelligently.

Growth followed contribution.

Power followed loyalty.

Renka watched it all from his side, her initial awe slowly turning into something deeper and far more dangerous.

Respect.

She had served under many leaders. Brutal ones. Charismatic ones. Cowards pretending to be visionaries. But Vahn was different. He did not posture. He did not overpromise. When he spoke, it was because he had already calculated the outcome.

At night, when the camp quieted and only the hum of formations filled the air, she sometimes found herself watching him from a distance, studying his silhouette against projected maps, wondering what kind of existence could produce a man like this.

Zutian, on the other hand, had long abandoned any attempt to understand Vahn in normal terms.

He simply accepted it.

"If the world is changing," he muttered one evening while sharing a drink with Renka, "it might as well change in our favor."

Renka did not respond. Her eyes were fixed on Vahn across the hall, where he was speaking calmly to a group of newly sworn Golden Immortals as if they were junior subordinates.

None of them dared interrupt him.

And that, more than his power, unsettled her.

---

It was during one of those rare, quiet afternoons that Vahn encountered something that shook him far more deeply than any sect conflict.

He had been reviewing Astralis-wide intelligence feeds when a public projection caught his eye.

The Immortal's Record.

It was a widely circulated chronicle, half news, half propaganda, documenting major figures, rising powers, and epoch-level movements within the Immortal Realm. Vahn usually ignored it. He had no interest in imperial narratives.

But this time, a headline froze him in place.

"Seven Galactic Sovereigns Convene at the Astral Apex."

His eyes narrowed.

Seven.

That number was not uncommon.

And yet, something compelled him to open the article.

The projection expanded, revealing an image array.

Six women.

The world around Vahn seemed to fall silent.

His breath caught.

There was no mistaking them.

Even clothed in sovereign regalia. Even radiating authority so vast it bent the image itself. Even framed by celestial thrones and cosmic backdrops.

He recognized them instantly.

Aria.

Lilith.

Seraphina.

Evelina.

Flama.

Valeria.

His wives.

His Empresses.

The six women who should have been ruling the Void Empire in Dalu.

The six women he had left behind.

And here they were.

Alive.

Magnificent.

Terrifyingly powerful.

The article scrolled automatically.

Each name was introduced with reverence.

Galactic Sovereign Aria of the Crimson Stratagem Domain. Commander of the Thousandfold Warfronts.

Galactic Sovereign Lilith of the Umbral Expanse. Mistress of Shadow Realms beyond imperial reach.

Galactic Sovereign Seraphina of the Radiant Accord. Beacon of Harmonized Worlds.

Galactic Sovereign Evelina of the Frostbound Continuum. Empress of Eternal Ice Territories.

Galactic Sovereign Flama of the Solar Forge Dominion. Ruler of Stellar Flame Industries.

Galactic Sovereign Valeria of the Verdant Genesis Sphere. Shepherd of Living Worlds.

Each commanded millions of immortal worlds.

Each stood far above sects.

Far above regional lords.

Far above Crimson Hawk.

Vahn stared.

His mind refused to connect the pieces.

"This is not possible," he whispered.

Zutian, standing nearby, followed his gaze and broke into a grin filled with awe.

"You found it," he said. "The Seven Apex Sovereigns."

Seven.

Vahn snapped his head toward him. "Seven?"

Zutian nodded enthusiastically. "Six ruling sovereigns and one vacant throne. The Immortal Realm has been buzzing about them for centuries. No one knows where they came from originally. They appeared almost simultaneously across different galactic sectors, already absurdly powerful, as if awakened rather than cultivated."

Vahn's chest tightened.

Centuries.

He forced his voice to remain steady. "You said six faces. Who is the seventh?"

Zutian shrugged. "Unknown. The Seventh Sovereign has never appeared publicly. Only acknowledged in records. Some say the position is reserved. Some say it is cursed."

Reserved.

Vahn's hands clenched slowly.

His mind raced.

Were the Seven Saintesses of Dalu somehow connected to this?

No.

That explanation was too small.

This was not reincarnation.

This was ascension on a scale that made no sense.

How could his wives, who should have been bound to Dalu until his return, be here?

Not just here.

But ruling.

And stronger than him.

Zutian continued, unaware of the storm raging inside Vahn. "They are not aligned with Astralis Empire. Not enemies either. Independent. The Empire treats them carefully. You do not provoke people who can collapse entire galactic clusters."

Vahn barely heard him.

His thoughts spiraled.

Did they ascend without him?

Did time flow differently?

Or had something far more terrifying occurred?

Were they even the same people?

The Void within him stirred uneasily.

For the first time since entering the Immortal Realm, Vahn felt truly uncertain.

---

He did not allow that uncertainty to slow him.

If anything, it hardened his resolve.

Crimson Hawk continued expanding.

Territories stabilized. Cultivation output increased. Void-bound oaths ensured loyalty without resentment. Vahn deliberately avoided revealing his connection to the Void Dragon again, maintaining the image of a terrifying but comprehensible ruler rather than an incomprehensible calamity.

But the Immortal Realm was not blind.

Power attracted attention. And attention brought invitations.

One arrived sealed in imperial gold.

A regional lord under Astralis Empire requested Vahn's presence at a formal banquet.

The invitation was polite.

Respectful.

And absolutely dangerous.

Renka read it twice, her expression turned dark. "This is a trap."

"Yes," Vahn replied calmly.

"You are still going," she said flatly.

"Yes."

Zutian crossed his arms. "You know they will test you. Probe you. Maybe try to bind you politically."

"Or assassinate me," Vahn added.

Zutian grinned. "That too."

Renka exhaled slowly. "Then you will not go alone."

Vahn turned to her. "I had not planned to."

She met his gaze steadily. "I will accompany you."

Zutian blinked. "You?"

Renka nodded. "As a companion. Appearances matter. A rising lord arriving alone suggests instability. Arriving with a trusted woman suggests permanence."

Vahn studied her for a long moment.

"You understand the risk," he said quietly.

She did not look away. "I have understood it since the night you summoned the Void."

Something unspoken passed between them.

Vahn inclined his head. "Very well."

---

The night of the banquet arrived.

Renka stood before a polished mirror, adjusting her attire with uncharacteristic care.

She did not wear armor.

She wore a long, flowing gown of deep crimson silk, threaded with subtle spirit patterns that enhanced presence without screaming power. Her silver hair was braided elegantly, falling over one shoulder. A single blade-shaped ornament rested at her waist, ceremonial but real.

When Vahn entered the room, he paused.

Not because of desire.

But because of recognition.

Renka, stripped of command and bloodshed, looked dangerous in an entirely different way.

"You clean up well," he said simply.

She smirked faintly. "Try not to start a war before the first course."

The banquet hall was vast, suspended above a city of lights. Regional lords, imperial envoys, sect representatives, and mercenary magnates mingled beneath floating constellations and illusionary starfields.

Conversations hushed subtly as Vahn entered.

Not fear.

Recognition.

This was the Void-aligned ruler who had humiliated Azure Dragon Sect without ever attacking its core.

The regional lord greeted him warmly, too warmly.

"Lord Vahn of Crimson Hawk," he said, smiling. "Your rise has been… impressive."

Vahn returned the smile without warmth. "Efficiency tends to be."

Eyes flicked to Renka.

"And this must be your companion."

Renka inclined her head gracefully. "Renka. Acting commander of Crimson Hawk."

The lord's interest sharpened.

Throughout the banquet, subtle tests followed.

Veiled insults.

Leading questions.

Offers wrapped in compliments.

Vahn deflected them all with calm precision.

He spoke little.

Observed much.

Renka played her role perfectly, speaking when needed, silent when not, her presence reinforcing Vahn's authority rather than competing with it.

At one point, an imperial envoy leaned closer. "You are building something dangerous, Lord Vahn."

Vahn met his gaze. "Dangerous to whom?"

The envoy laughed nervously.

As the banquet continued, Renka felt it.

The shift.

The room was no longer assessing Vahn.

It was recalibrating around him.

Power recognized power.

And feared unpredictability.

When the night ended and they departed under artificial starlight, Renka released a breath she had not realized she was holding.

"They will move soon," she said quietly.

Vahn nodded. "They always do."

She glanced at him sideways. "And what will you do?"

His gaze drifted toward the distant horizon, where invisible threads connected him to queens who might not even remember him.

"I will continue," he said. "Until the truth has nowhere left to hide."

The Void within him pulsed, patient and vast.

Above them, the Immortal Realm watched.

And slowly, inexorably, began to understand.

This was not a war.

It was a convergence.

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