Cub 027: Zao Zao Ate Your ‘Brain’

What are you still resisting fate for? You’ve already surpassed fate.

Meilun looked at the ceiling, thinking of this hellish joke.

But it didn’t matter, His Majesty realized quickly enough.

Meilun heard Amos’s footsteps, light and steady.

Amos walked to his bedside.

Meilun opened his mouth, attempting to say something—

Then Amos bent down.

Meilun: ?

Amos carefully picked up Little Chu Zao, who was curled in the corner.

Meilun: ???

Amos took a long breath and relaxed all at once.

Meilun: ????

So you didn’t realize I was awake?!

Although Zao Zao was important, still, he himself was the patient, wasn’t he? Wouldn’t you at least look at him?

Amos turned—

Meilun: ?

Not even a glance?!

Meilun struggled to lift his hand, tapping the medical bed lightly—letting fate know that he wouldn’t admit defeat!!!

Only then did Amos turn to look at him.

Moments later, the military doctors rushed in.

The Ninth Army Group’s medical team wasn’t particularly skilled with mental force, but with the instruments they had more than enough ability.

Nutrient injections were administered. Meilun, who had lain for a long time, was propped up against his pillow. They closely examined Meilun’s halo.

“Your Majesty,”

The medic spoke up.

“Meilun’s mental force has shown no changes, and examining the crown, all the complex branches on the halo have broken; you could say there’s only a circle left. This ought to be unstable, but strangely, Meilun has stabilized. We suspect it’s related to the gold veins on his halo. The gold lines seem to have repaired his halo; but we’ve never seen this, so we need further research and investigation.”

“Lord Meilun, do you remember what happened?”

Meilun feebly raised his hand, looking at his palm.

His hand had lost all color; even making a fist took effort. Meilun had never been so weak, yet he’d also never felt so relieved since the destruction of the habitation planet.

“What happened?”

Meilun recounted slowly.

“It was a premeditated attack from the immortal mythic kind organization. The attacker was a royal prince I’d disposed of before for challenging the empire’s authority. He brought the source of pollution, which shattered my crown—at that moment, I saw an angel… it was Zao Zao, Zao Zao pinched my halo. It was a very strange feeling, and suddenly, it was much easier. I saw him help piece my halo back together, after that I don’t remember much… Is Zao Zao okay?”

“All checks show nothing wrong. Aside from injuries, it’s similar to the check-up at the Imperial Star.”

The medical team had already seen what Meilun described in the video.

Meilun relaxed a bit, coughing softly twice.

“And Your Majesty, is there something wrong with your mental force? Why so aggressive? I’d just woken up and you pressed me back down.”

He seemed a little aggrieved.

After surviving calamity, the once-dejected Meilun regained some of his joking spirit.

“And I have to say—the bald halo looks terrible, ugly, just hideous! Dammit!”

Those guys were too hateful!

The golden little crown was so cute! Splendid and beautiful!

Meilun wasn’t even sure what was real or not; he’d just woken up, still in a daze, only remembering the burning scene, his mind a bit muddled.

But the others, hearing this, couldn’t help glancing at the halo above his head—yes, a truly bald halo.

Uh—

“Though the crown’s not shattered? But his mind’s gone?”

Anya whispered to Frey.

Before Frey could reply, Meilun spoke faintly—“I’m not deaf.”

“Oh, okay, Uncle Meilun, I suspect there’s something wrong with your mind.”

Anya spoke again.

Meilun: …

Meilun could not be bothered to answer this brat.

He sat on the bed, looking over longingly.

“Speaking of which, why are we still here? Why haven’t we returned to the Imperial Star?”

Amos had not spoken until now.

He sat farther away, holding the little cub in his arms.

The little one was still sleeping, his halo somewhat dim, showing a tinge of dark gold; none of them knew what that signified, or how it would affect the cub.

The cub’s little wings folded back, white feathers brushing Amos’s fingers, his face buried in Amos’s embrace, cheeks a bit plump, sleeping pink and soft.

“Because the revenge isn’t over yet.”

Frey spoke, explaining to Meilun.

Meilun listened, his fingers tightening until veins bulged on the back of his hand.

His hint of grievance was replaced by the Crown Clan’s signature coldness: “You haven’t found the ringleader of Falcon?”

“Almost, but the opposition runs fast; based on previous experience, we avoided alarming them. After getting leads, to let them relax their guard, we destroyed one of their distant camps. By the way—Uncle Kaman’s here. He shut down his signal not long ago, but we suspect he’s hiding somewhere.”

“Kaman?”

Meilun looked up sharply.

“Why is he here?”

“It’s presumed his halo situation is poor; perhaps he’s picking a good burial site for himself.”

“He wants to blow up the thieves’ group? Is he sick? Are those thieves worthy of his trouble? Wandering all those years just for this?”

Meilun sounded disgruntled.

His rising mood instantly pressed down.

Kaman’s life was also at its end—one more lost among the few remaining Crown Clan members.

“And another matter.”

Frey thought for a moment, adding,

“Joab and Joshua broke into the polluted zone. Looks like they couldn’t hold out.”

—That desperate fate.

The twin Crown Clan who left the Holy Cas Empire charged into the polluted territory where they should not go, furiously seeking to destroy everything.

“So soon?!”

Meilun jerked upright.

“No, impossible. Although crown-broken deaths have gotten earlier with each generation, the shift is small; counting it, your generation shouldn’t start dying for decades, how can it already begin? You must intervene, we can’t not intervene! Find their position!”

If it started now, then decades later, by the time crown-broken deaths should have just begun for this generation, most would already be dead?

They were a mythic race, all Crown Clans were family, not by blood but linked by mental force, brothers and sisters; so once crown-breaking deaths started in any generation, the next would follow, then another—despair spread, uncontrollable, leaving only a few survivors.

If Joab and Joshua went unchecked, they might open the desperate fate of Amos’s generation’s deaths—

But, perhaps not.

Meilun belatedly realized… he was still alive.

After his crown had broken.

Perhaps too many people were around, his fluctuating emotions made his voice slip.

The little Chu Zao, who’d been sleeping softly, slowly lifted one eyelid.

The little halo lit up—booting up.jpg

Little Chu Zao blinked, lifted a small hand to rub his eyes, and saw Amos.

“Baba?”

The childish, tender voice instantly interrupted all heated debate in the room.

Every Crown Clan present looked at Amos’s arms.

The little one, sitting up in Amos’s embrace, his golden halo slowly rising, shining. From Meilun’s angle, only the little halo and the soft black hair could be seen.

“Baba, you’re back?”

Little Chu Zao reached out, thought for a bit, and rested his little hand on Amos’s shoulder.

Still a bit dazed.

“Did Zao Zao sleep a long time?”

“Not too long.”

The cub, just awake, voice still sleepy, softly asked: “Where’s Grandpa Meilun? Hasn’t Grandpa Meilun woken yet?”

“Zao Zao—”

Meilun’s voice suddenly came through.

Little Chu Zao, still a bit dazed, eyes suddenly widened, little hands pressing on Amos’s shoulder, pushing himself up to look toward the medical bed.

“Grandpa Meilun!”

His small wings fluttered excitedly, and his little body jumped down from Amos’s arms, running to the bedside, standing on tiptoe, clinging to the edge.

“Grandpa Meilun—”

Meilun was smiling, about to joke with the little one.

But the next second, that childish tone faltered, shifting straight into a sob.

Meilun froze, at a total loss.

“Zao Zao thought, Zao Zao thought Grandpa Meilun wouldn’t wake up… wuu… Baba said Grandpa Meilun would wake up, Zao Zao kept watching—you slept, slept so long—so long—”

The little cub’s shoulders shook, uncontrollably shedding tears.

Too few had entered Zao Zao’s little world.

He’d received too little.

He cherished every single person immensely.

He sniffled, eyes red, looking at Meilun: “That’s great—Grandpa Meilun, next time we can go see the snow together again.”

For a moment, Meilun nearly cried as well.

He really liked cubs.

Even if they did nothing, just standing there, the Crown Clan cubs could make him happy.

He always thought it was just because he liked cubs that he liked Little Chu Zao.

But it wasn’t.

He liked this little one, not for any other reason, just because he was himself.

Some images rose in his mind—Meilun didn’t know how to express himself, but he wanted to tell the cub: you’re worth being liked, being loved.

And right now—even weak as he was, he wanted to give Zao Zao a hug…

But the little cub was picked up by Amos, who walked over just then.

Amos looked down, meeting the little cub’s gaze.

“Zao Zao, Meilun’s awake. We should go to another lounge now.”

Little Chu Zao blinked big eyes at Amos.

He had always kept Little Chu Zao with Meilun because the cub was so worried, unwilling to go.

Now Meilun was awake, and temporarily safe.

“Meilun is still tired.”

Meilun: …?

“He still needs rest.”

Meilun: …???

“His mental force is still a bit weak.”

Meilun: Wait! I just woke up! I feel great! Weak mental force? Who just made his mental force go weak—Your Majesty, shouldn’t you think about that yourself?!

The cub considered, then nodded.

“Then Zao Zao won’t disturb Grandpa Meilun’s rest.”

Amos nodded slightly.

Meilun: “I—”

The little one stuck his head out: “Grandpa Meilun, you have to rest well. Zao Zao will come see you again.”

Looking at the exquisitely small face, those amber eyes with a glimmer of wetness, Meilun’s words of protest got stuck in his throat; all he could do was mutter an agreement.

He would get himself into perfect shape!

Meilun keenly sensed that a change was coming to the Crown Clan. Whether it would be big or small, good or bad for them, there was one thing Meilun was clear about—he would be Little Chu Zao’s favorite grandpa!

After Meilun woke, three days passed.

Holy Cas Empire’s Ninth Army Group ceased their searches; some warships headed back to the Imperial Star as a ruse, the others went silent—a massive fleet lying like a snake, lurking quietly in the star sector.

The Falcon thieves seemed to believe they’d won another standoff against the Holy Cas Empire.

The banquet continued as usual, on a drifter planet not far from Holy Cas territory.

Meilun had recovered well lately; his repaired, bald little halo still unchanged, most wounds nearly healed.

Holy Cas’s forces had already locked onto these fools unaware of the seriousness, busy partying—just waiting for the final blow.

Amos decided to go in person.

Including Anya, and Frey.

Meilun wanted to come too, but was refused on the grounds that his crown, though repaired, was still unstable after breaking; he was to stay behind on the flagship alone.

Yes, alone.

Amos’s recent oddness hadn’t just been noticed by Anya, Frey, or Meilun—even many soldiers in the Ninth Army had sensed it.

These three days, Amos had kept a close watch on the cub, hardly letting him out of sight.

Not only kept within his mental force range, but also within his vision.

If anything, it had gotten even more intense.

Perhaps Amos had been scared by the pitiful state the cub was in when he found him.

This time, even going against the thieves, Amos had no intention of letting Little Chu Zao out of his sight.

Three hours before departure, Frey and Anya were already prepared, the two coming, one before, one after, to Amos.

These days, Little Chu Zao and Meilun were mostly resting, rarely interacting with Frey and Anya—especially Anya; whenever the cub saw him, he’d warily try to take off his halo, making Anya nearly break down, but there was nothing he could do.

The once proud and unruly Crown Clan member now hung his head, trailing behind his elder brother.

Frey: “Bringing Zao Zao is not a good idea.”

Amos stood in the flagship hallway, looking out a porthole.

Behind him, the wide room’s door was slightly open. Little Chu Zao sat on the soft carpet inside, fiddling with something, Meilun—meant to be convalescing—by his side.

At Frey’s words, Amos only looked over—

“Is that so?”

The emperor seemed little different from usual, taking everything in stride, calm and in control. He simply turned, walked to the door, pushed it open—and his soft voice drifted in.

“But I’ve already been burned once.”

He’d learned a bitter lesson from putting the cub somewhere he thought safe.

“These are all raw potatoes.”

The little cub rummaged through the bag of potatoes gifted by the Wen siblings. He’d shared the cooked ones with everyone, slowly finished the rest himself while playing.

Only this bag of raw ones remained.

“Oh, do you like these?”

Meilun squatted before the cub, smiling with affection.

“Grandpa will roast them all for you, how about that?”

Little Chu Zao looked over, hugging the potato bag.

“No.”

He sounded soft, a bit wary, even puffing up his cheeks.

“These are Zao Zao’s seeds.”

Meilun briefly paused.

He studied the cub’s expression.

The little one lowered his head; thick lashes fluttered like little fans, hiding what he was thinking; he sounded faintly uncertain, but after another moment, he pulled one potato out and handed it to Meilun.

“If Grandpa Meilun really wants to roast one, you can, but Zao Zao doesn’t really like eating them. I heard they are easy to plant; Zao Zao wants to try growing some when we go back.”

Meilun accepted the potato, not mentioning the surreal dream he’d had.

Honestly, once fully sober, recalling the dream, he found it absurd—was that just some fantasy about the little cub?

But at this time, watching the little one—

In a flash, the cub he saw crying before the barren land overlapped with the present Little Chu Zao.

Meilun’s hand unconsciously squeezed the poor potato, nearly crushing it, until Frey nudged him in reminder—

Meilun jolted, looking down at the potato—the poor thing nearly squished.

The cub, seeing the potato’s plight, then looking at Meilun, spread his little wings in confusion—he looked ready to scoop up the rest of the potatoes and run.

The cub was always like this, finding a spot to curl up whenever worried.

Meilun: …

Meilun hurried to set the potato down in a show of innocence, and found himself rambling.

“I was just thinking about something, nothing big—When we go back, Grandpa will plant potatoes with Zao Zao, how about it? Grandpa is good at farming! My dream is to be a farmer!”

Anya sneered: Oh sure, “farmer”? Back in your youth, you wanted to be a ‘farmer’—by ploughing through all those hostile planets! Who would believe that…

“Really?”

The cub leaned in, eyes lighting up.

Anya: …?

Little hands clutching Meilun’s clothes, tilting his little head, his halo shining brightly.

“Zao Zao’s never made anything grow. Will Grandpa Meilun teach me?”

Not only had he never grown anything—he’d only ever been told, as an outcast, that the god of nature wouldn’t help him. No one had ever taught him.

The little cub had raised himself with many bumps and scrapes.

But if the seeds wouldn’t grow, then surely it was the god of nature’s problem!

The cub sincerely thought this way.

Meilun looked at Little Chu Zao, touching his soft cheek: “Of course.”

He’d study all the farming guides once back!

Anya: ????

Anya, struck, retreated two steps.

The cub smiled, just now noticing that Amos and the others had been watching for a while.

He scrambled up: “Baba!”

Amos walked over, picking up the cub.

He glanced at the bag of raw potatoes, then at the now-empty cooked potato bag.

“You finished them all?”

Everything from Mining Planet 78 of Holy Cas had already been tested; Amos knew that.

He just hadn’t expected that, after just a few days and still drinking infant formula for growth, the cub had eaten all the potatoes as well.

Little Chu Zao nodded, gesturing with his chubby hands: “I ate too much on the first day and got stuffed, after that Zao Zao ate less.”

He hadn’t really been hungry.

More just a craving, always wanting to eat something—like some biological instinct, the body sending signals to supplement what nutrients were lacking.

“It’s not much all in all,”

Frey observed, calculating.

“Still within a normal range.”

“Baba, are we leaving soon?”

Little Chu Zao was used to hugging Amos’s neck.

“In a bit.”

Amos finally set the cub down.

He sat by the cub.

He looked at Meilun; at the moment, Amos looked relaxed, not like the emperor of Holy Cas, with his black hair a little soft and unruly, lending a casualness to his striking, cold face.

“Uncle Meilun, at this time you belong in the infirmary.”

“Hey, Your Majesty, no offense, but I think you should really have your mental force checked out.”

Meilun was displeased. Even if the little cub was not quite like previous Crown Clan cubs, Little Chu Zao had only appeared at five, so they didn’t know his past, but Amos was different—he was acting unlike any prior Crown Clan parent.

“No parent would stick to their cub like this; they need more space to grow and explore.”

Not being watched every second like Amos did.

Such over-tight control was bad for cub and parent alike.

Amos looked at him, his wings slowly unfolding, very naturally tucking the cub under his wings, and pressed the communicator to call the medical room.

“Take Meilun back for further treatment soon.”

Meilun: …Great, so you just ignored everything I said?

And besides—

“Treatment? I’m fine now, Your Majesty, I don’t think I need further care; I’m strong enough to tear a star-beast apart with my hands. If you’re willing, you can wait here with your cub and brothers, while I rip the Falcon group to shreds for you.”

Meilun said, raising his hand.

A spiritual weapon shaped like little throwing knives appeared in his palm.

Radiating brilliance, all silver-black, not much different than before.

After all, the halo was only a limiter for the Crown Clan—mental force wouldn’t weaken from a broken halo.

Hidden under Amos’s wing, the cub watched Meilun’s spiritual weapon with wide eyes, unblinking.

Meilun noticed and smiled, handing a piece of the spiritual weapon to the cub.

“Zao Zao wants a look? Grandpa Meilun is not weak at all now, thanks to Zao Zao, quite stable.”

Little Chu Zao accepted the psychic weapon with both hands.

Because the cub had taken it, Meilun’s mental force held no hostility, especially watched over by him. Meilun could feel the little one holding and examining the weapon.

What seemed small in Meilun’s hand had to be held with both hands by the cub; he stared at it, swallowed—how odd.

It really looked delicious—

Little Chu Zao gulped again, couldn’t resist, and tucked himself further under Amos’s wings.

—Zao Zao, Zao Zao will just take one tiny nibble!

Just one bite.

Meilun felt a strange sensation from the carefully monitored psychic weapon.

He instinctively looked over.

Saw the little one curled up under Amos’s wings, so small and adorable, opening his mouth, trying different angles, finally picking a suitable spot—he tentatively bit down.

Meilun: How cute…

Meilun: ???!!!

“Zao Zao!!!”

—Zao Zao ate your ‘brain’.