The soft, childish voice trembled, little body shivering, the sound caught in his throat, but he curled perfectly into Amos’s embrace, securely sheltered by those wings.
The heavy feathers barely brushed the fluffy little wings, especially the limp, droopy half—Amos dared not touch it. That unfamiliar warmth at the point of contact travelled from his wings’ tip to his back, down to his heart—a tingle he couldn’t tell was anger or regret.
The cub had tried to be brave for so long, all because of those two sentences… those two hollow words.
It was as if Amos’s heart had been shredded.
Unfamiliar emotions churned inside. All he could do was crouch before the cub—even kneeling, he was still a head taller. He bent over, carefully winding around those little wings, drawing Chu Zao tighter while still holding back so as not to hurt him.
He lowered his head until his lips were at the cub’s ear.
“It’s Papa’s fault.”
Little Chu Zao hid in Amos’s arms.
Amos had rushed desperately.
Really, all this had taken only half a day.
He still carried the icy, snowy scent of Holy Cas—mixed with a faint, smoky blood tang.
It wasn’t a pleasant smell—especially for Chu Zao.
Though he’d only lived five years, Chu Zao had already survived so much alone, his survival instincts honed sharp.
This scent always meant trouble—danger.
In the past, at just a hint, the cub would have fled far away.
But now it was different, for in that scent, Chu Zao found a strange sense of security.
His tears fell in heavy drops, unstoppable, soaking in that warmth. His wings, numb with pain, couldn’t even move.
Did Zao Zao do the right thing?
Did he do well?
Zao Zao liked it here—Zao Zao liked… Zao Zao liked Baba.
He heard Amos’s voice, gentle as if handling precious glassware. Careful hands sought a hold on him, gently gathering him up.
“Zao Zao is strong, but it’s okay to cry. I need to officially correct a few things.”
The Emperor of Holy Cas, as if announcing a royal decree, said as he lifted the cub into his arms.
“First, as a father, I failed to look after you well enough. That’s my fault, not yours.
Second, because I had never met a cub before, I entertained wishful thinking, planning with a talent-cultivation mindset, which led to your hurt… and mine. This was a mistake in my understanding.
Third, letting you hear those hollow words was again my fault, making you uneasy, making you feel you had to endure hardship and grow strong at age five. That’s not right.”
Chu Zao folded his little wings, sitting in his father’s arms, eyes glassy and bright.
His delicate face seemed soft, beautiful, and innocent, nose red from rubbing, looking up at Amos.
“I hope Zao Zao will give me a chance to make up for these mistakes.”
Amos lowered his voice, holding the cub who had been out of sight for a day and had nearly gotten in trouble.
“Going through storms?”
Amos had discovered, with regrettable speed, that he might just go insane for real, even when his spiritual power wasn’t out of control.
“So, it’s okay to cry.”
He lowered his gaze, and, if you looked closely, there was a bit of tenderness.
The more he said, the less the cub could hold back his tears.
Now, Chu Zao was truly just a child again. He let out a few sobs and clung to Amos’s neck.
This time, his crying was less repressed, still full of fear and grievance.
“Grandpa Meilun… wuwu… Grandpa Meilun… he still hasn’t woken up, his temperature’s so low, Zao Zao is scared…”
“Papa’s here.”
Amos’s voice was soothing.
The cub was spent, his halo above still golden but visibly dimmer now.
As he wept, his eyelids slowly drooped.
He thought he heard someone sigh at his ear.
“Sleep, Zao Zao.”
Mm…
The cub wasn’t sure if he’d replied, but in the familiar warmth, as the parent arrived in time, nerves finally loosened, and he quickly drifted off.
His little face relaxed peacefully; Amos, already familiar with Chu Zao from video, had seen some of his memories when their spiritual halos met.
Amos glanced around.
The mine defenders seemed to only now realize—this was Amos.
Wen Qingfeng, Wen Qingyu, and the others had shaking hands.
They’d just found out Chu Zao was a Crown Clan little prince; now—he was Amos’s cub? That would make him the future emperor!
There was no time for thought. As the realization struck, they were so moved they shook, bowing.
“Your Majesty! Holy Cas Mining Planet No. 78 Guardian Squad reporting! Mine defense complete! Glory to the sacred coronet!”
Amos’s halo hovered quietly above him, its broken edge shining with deep light, like the crown of an ancient kingdom. He displayed neither excitement nor agitation for such fervor, remaining steady and calm as ever.
“You have guarded our Crown Clan’s hope. You shall be rewarded.”
Behind him came the sound of arriving Imperial troops.
The army’s pace had been slower than Amos, now landing in tidy ranks, subduing the thieves and handling formalities with the guardians.
Though Amos never intended to keep Zao Zao hidden, the visibility of the Crown Clan meant he didn’t publicize it. The Ninth Army only knew Prince Meilun was missing—they hadn’t heard of Chu Zao.
Until Amos broke through the atmosphere, moving with a rare urgency, anxiously guarding the small one.
That little one, with snow-white wings drooping, a faint golden halo…
So they were looking for a Crown Clan cub—not just Prince Meilun? Wait—A crown clan cub???
Amos had someone retrieve Meilun.
He himself carried the exhausted cub away.
Although the response was urgent, the Ninth Army was fully deployed, with top-of-the-line equipment, including medical.
Chu Zao had many injuries, swaddled in ill-fitting clothes. His wings had avoided the worst—merely dislocated, with a few other scratches.
None of these were serious, and would heal quickly. The real concern was what happened to the cub before—Meilun’s halo should have shattered, yet now seemed fine. Aside from deep cuts, his overall condition was good for a Crown Clan’s tough constitution.
But the cub’s halo had dimmed a lot.
No trouble showed up in spirit tests, but Amos was uneasy.
Outside the infirmary—
A few military medics peered nervously inside.
It was an unbelievable sight—a five-year-old cub sleeping deeply in Amos’s arms, tiny hand clutching a fistful of Amos’s coat, rumpling it.
Their always-cold, aloof emperor, known for clashing even with other Crown Clan, was now calmly and patiently smoothing every single feather for the sleeping cub.
—Just as a great bird, mistrusting its chick’s own preening, would fuss over every down stroke while the little one was asleep.
It was almost too heartwarming.
“Your Majesty.”
General Yemeng of the Ninth Army marched over, standing at attention before Amos, then lowering his voice on Amos’s cue.
“The thieves belong to the Falcon group, notorious, multiple bases destroyed but leader always escaped—now rumored to be planning a party at a nearby world. Do we keep hunting in this sector?”
Yemeng couldn’t help a curious glance at the sleeping cub in Amos’s arms.
This was utterly unthinkable.
But before he could dwell, Amos’s smoothly steady voice, this time edged with rage, interrupted.
“Continue the hunt.”
Yemeng was startled, lifting his gaze.
His Majesty, along with the other Crown Clan elders, always reined in their emotions—Amos, as emperor, was famously calm and steady to his subordinates.
But now—with that dreadful gaze, the flaring and fading coronet—it was impossible to associate those words with him.
Whether it was the anti-immortal Hymn group, or the Falcon thieves that plagued Holy Cas, one thing was clear: the Crown Clan’s kill list had grown. And word was, the royals who’d missed intercepting the Hymn group were on their way now.
Yemeng understood—now it was a total sweep. “Yes!”
*
When Chu Zao woke up, it was already night on Holy Cas Mining Planet No. 78.
The Ninth Army’s ships were quietly stationed beyond the planet.
The room was dark and silent.
Chu Zao blinked.
He’d only just woken, still a bit foggy.
He slept with wings outstretched.
While dozing, Amos had gently unfolded and straightened every feather, so lying with wings splayed out left them totally numb on waking.
Chu Zao couldn’t feel his wings at all.
He blinked.
Huh?
Where were Zao Zao’s wings?
His wings had been hurt—now he felt nothing?
And where was he?
Where was Baba?
The cub was a bit panicked, and as he woke, his dimmed halo suddenly brightened.
Softly, he reached up and plucked off his halo with practiced hands, using it like a flashlight to check his wings.
His movement instantly woke Amos, dozing nearby.
In fact, the cub hadn’t awoken on the same night.
He’d been so exhausted, with nothing abnormal on evaluation, that he slept straight through the next day and into the next night.
Throughout, the Ninth Army squads hunted for the Falcon thieves’ whereabouts, destroying several bases; but the leader’s whereabouts were still unknown.
Frey and Anya had arrived, checked the cub, and quickly went out again.
Amos hadn’t left, staying with the cub and Meilun the whole time, handling documents for a day and a night. Only after the crisis passed did his tension finally ease and he get a bit of sleep.
In fact, Chu Zao was remarkably unscathed; nightmares passed quickly thanks to prompt care, leaving no lingering trauma. But as for Amos—his spirit readings had peaked in the danger zone.
Awoken, Amos saw the small lump holding his crown halo, using it as a flashlight to check his wings, then tilting his head as if studying its properties.
—It was a sight that stunned him.
Who taught you to use your halo as a torch? Who told you to take it off?
Amos exhaled and switched on the light.
The cub blinked, holding his halo, and turned to Amos—tension giving way to relief, as he called softly, “Baba!”
Not the fuzzy white furball but a fair-skinned, rosy-lipped, soft-dark-haired child.
Short arms and legs, even more mini and cute next to the Crown Clan adult.
A tiny hand stuck out from the big-sleeved shirt—Amos’s military shirt, altered for the cub, so big the sleeves whipped about in the air.
Amos glanced at the halo, then stood and scooped the cub up naturally.
“What are you looking at?”
“My wings are numb,” the cub replied, milky-soft, peering at his halo. “I wanted to see, but there’s something odd here.”
What?
Amos followed the little finger.
For the Crown Clan, this “brain” was vital—Amos winced at a phantom pain, having not looked closely before.
The cub’s coronet halo was tiny; originally a bright gold, but a small section had lost its shine and the color was off—not the usual Crown Clan hue either. The golden halo now had a patch of dark gold, not obvious unless you looked closely.
Since a coronet halo is crucial for the Crown Clan, Amos dared not delay and summoned the doctors to run more tests.
But the results showed no issues.
After the doctors left, Amos studied the cub with the halo.
Chu Zao was puzzling over it.
Then his eyes brightened.
He reached out and started rubbing at the odd-colored spot.
Amos: !!!!!
Amos finally took action, grabbing the cub’s wrist.
Chu Zao looked up in confusion, honey-gold eyes blinking: “Baba?”
“That’s enough.”
Stop rubbing your “brain.”
Amos simply pulled the cub into his arms, took his hand, and set the shining halo atop his head again.
“We’ll check again after we go home.”
The cub went quiet in his arms for a moment.
Home?
After waking, Chu Zao had quickly bounced back emotionally, but now was startled for a second.
Oh, right. He was a little angel with a home now.
“Then, how’s Grandpa Meilun?”
He hesitated a long time and finally asked.
The cub was confident in his Baba—once Amos arrived, he wasn’t worried for the others in the squad. But Meilun had looked like he might die.
Chu Zao had been scared to ask.
Only after studying Amos’s expression did he dare to whisper.
Amos simply lifted the cub and walked to the back of the medical bay.
Meilun lay quietly inside, still a bit pale.
“Grandpa Meilun—”
The cub called softly, bending over, little hand pressed on the glass, peering inside.
“He’s all right. Most wounds have healed; his halo is intact; his spirit is stable. The response is a bit slow, so he hasn’t woken yet—but soon.”
You could say—thanks to this cub, Meilun was a miracle.
“Really?”
The cub didn’t look up, still pressed to the glass, staring at Meilun.
“Really.”
“…”
Long silence. Then Amos heard a low, soft sob—like a shiver.
“That’s so good.”
Amos paused—he’d wanted to ask what Chu Zao did when Meilun’s coronet broke, but now he just hugged the cub tighter. Seeing the tears in the cub’s eyes, this was clearly not the time.
Amos lifted a hand and gently wiped at Chu Zao’s eye—when the cub was a white fluff, he hadn’t needed such care; now, in human form and recovering, his skin was so delicate that even the slightest pressure left a red mark.
Highly conspicuous.
The cub’s spirits dipped again.
His tummy rumbled.
Chu Zao blinked and looked up at Amos, cheeks flushing. He ducked his head against Amos’s shoulder—hiding.
He pressed in close.
Warm, soft breath brushed Amos’s cheek.
Cub—
Outwardly calm, Amos felt his agitation melt with every snuggle from Chu Zao.
Now he began to understand why the Crown Clan of old clung so fiercely to their cubs.
Without cubs, the Crown Clan was cold and fierce—but nothing more. Without restraint or hope, no reason for anticipation.
Amos took out warm cub milk.
Chu Zao still wouldn’t look up, but when Amos sat down, he climbed up and took the bottle.
But Amos didn’t let go this time.
“Baba?”
The cub hugged the bottle, eyeing Amos’s hand in confusion.
But Amos was unyielding.
“I’ll feed you.”
Oh—but Zao Zao can drink himself.
Amos insisted, “You’re only five. No need to rush independence or growing up fast.”
The cub blinked and calmly drank his milk.
Sitting in Amos’s lap, hands clutching the bottle, Amos’s hand holding the bottom.
Amos watched as Chu Zao gulped the bottle dry; the boy’s long, lush black lashes trembling with each sip, eyes fixed intently on Amos’s hand.
Amos felt a moment’s doubt.
He wanted to tell Chu Zao this, but had he been too forceful, too commanding?
No time for parental regret.
Finishing off the milk, the cub smacked his lips, delighted by the sweet taste, then exclaimed, “Baba, your hand is so much bigger than Zao Zao’s!”
The child held his hand up to Amos’s.
His soft, pale hand was still healing in places; it was so small it didn’t fill Amos’s palm.
Warmly pressed together, Amos closed his hand around it.
The cub tugged his hand, tilting his head, then smiled—a sweet, gentle little face, “Baba, you can cover my whole hand with just one of yours!”
It was the first time he’d realized—grown-ups’ hands were huge.
He really was a tough little cub.
Still scratched up and almost in tears over Meilun, he was soon smiling again—he could have afforded not to be this strong at his age.
A bittersweet softness filled Amos’s heart.
Just then, the infirmary door knocked.
Anya and Frey stood at the entrance, and the sight of father and son together gave them both pause.
“Amos.”
“Second Brother.”
They entered, eyes unconsciously sizing up the cub’s hand in Amos’s.
—So tiny?
The baby-faced cub blinked up at them.
“We’ve found another cluster, should be near the leader’s lair,” Frey reported, adding a touch of formality. “Your Majesty, I need to speak to you privately.”
Amos nodded, letting go of Chu Zao’s hand and rising.
He and Frey stepped just outside.
The infirmary door stayed open, and Chu Zao, perched on the sofa, peeked out.
Anya guarded the door; Amos and Frey remained close, and Amos kept his gaze on the room.
This dynamic—
Frey wasn’t sure what to make of it.
The cub looked fine, but Amos seemed to be showing signs of stress.
“Your Majesty, your spiritual levels were in the danger zone last night—you need to rest, let it out, don’t risk damaging your halo with emotional surges.”
Before Amos could answer, Frey spoke again: “This is the core of the Ninth Fleet’s ships; until you’re back, I and Anya will stay, and Anya realizes his mistakes—losing our precious cub was arrogant of us, but we will guarantee total security. Your spiritual power could also affect Zao Zao.”
A flicker crossed Amos’s eyes.
“I know.”
He returned to the infirmary.
Amos knelt before Chu Zao.
“Papa has to leave for a few hours, maybe four or five, to deal with some things. Zao Zao will stay here, with first uncle and fifth uncle—okay?”
Chu Zao hesitated, mostly glancing at Anya, wings drooping, looking reluctant.
But seeing Frey needed to talk with Amos, it must be important.
He nodded. “Okay.”
Only then did Amos leave, stoking his suppressed rage to go deal with those who’d dared to act out. He’d be back soon.
Chu Zao peered at the two, big eyes blinking.
He wasn’t very used to them, so looked a bit apprehensive.
Anya hesitated, seemingly wanting to say something, but every time the cub glanced at him, he’d look away fast.
After the cub’s disappearance and finding Meilun alive, Anya admitted—maybe there had been some plot or scheme, but for the Crown Clan, Chu Zao was an unprecedented miracle.
He knelt down.
He seemed to want to apologize but couldn’t get the words out, his face turning strange.
Frey watched, smirking, thinking to give him a push.
If you can’t say it, let it go; can’t you see the cub’s nervous?
Chu Zao did look a little tense as Anya approached.
He raised his hand, pulling it back a little.
Just as he was about to speak—
Anya, staring at that tiny hand, suddenly remembered the scene at the door.
So small?
Suddenly, he made a fist and bumped the cub’s little hand.
“I…”
Zao Zao: ?
The words stuck in Anya’s throat.
Because the moment he bumped the cub’s hand, Chu Zao instantly whipped off his halo and bonked it on Anya’s hand, then darted to the other end of the sofa.
Slick as could be.
He glared, holding up his halo: Zao Zao is fierce, too!
Seeing Anya’s hair nearly wilt, Frey snorted: serves you right.
Zao Zao is the absolute cutest 🤎🤎