This snowball fight ended pretty quickly, too.
On the battlefield, they obeyed Amos’s orders, but in a game like this, could they keep obeying?
It eventually turned into an all-out brawl. When they’d finally used up all the snow, Little Chu Zao was nearly frozen through, and Butler Mori had finished preparing the meal—only then did everyone stop.
They were all soaked.
Even Amos was a little dishevelled for once.
At the door, he shook his wings, scattering snowflakes from his feathers, while Little Chu Zao hid under his wing, mimicking him—shaking himself like a damp, uncomfortable little animal—successfully spraying Amos with water. Amos promptly picked him up by his clothes.
Amos wiped the droplets from his face, looking at this wide-eyed “dutiful son.” Little Chu Zao was still laughing, lips red and teeth white, delicate and adorable.
Compared to before, he was much more lively and animated.
“Papa, Zao Zao will wipe you.”
Little Chu Zao pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped Amos’s face.
Amos lowered his head slightly, making it easier for the little one to wipe.
“Hey, hey—”
Meilun, who’d come in last, saw the little one brandishing the cloth.
“Only His Majesty gets face-wiping service? What about me? What about me?”
He had been Amos’s main target—wasn’t that just bullying your elders?
Amos, holding this five-year-old cub, glanced at Meilun and handed the little one in his direction.
Mori, watching, handed over a fresh handkerchief.
The cub accepted it, obliged Meilun, and wiped his face as well.
Meilun was instantly satisfied. Smiling at the soft little cub, he couldn’t resist giving his head a pat.
The cub was truly a wonder.
He’d almost forgotten when he’d last smiled so simply and joyously.
Finally, Little Chu Zao was set down.
Frey and Anya entered last.
The little one switched to a fresh handkerchief and beckoned to Uncle Frey.
The cub was impartial in this regard.
Frey, flattered, knelt down as the little one wiped the water droplets from his face.
Did he really get this treatment too?
So small, cool hands, taking the job very seriously.
Behind them, Anya gave another glance—he’d been the hardest hit—he had the worst temperament, always offended people, and during the final brawl, no one knew who was on whose side.
Anya got targeted several times and was soaked through.
He tactfully headed straight upstairs to change clothes.
He knew, given the little one’s attitude, face-wiping was not in his cards.
Defeated time and again, Anya felt a little awkward around the cub.
—He does, not, care.
Not, at, all.
Really.
It’s just a cub—he simply hadn’t found a chance to apologize, which was why he paid so much attention to Little Chu Zao—that’s all.
Little Chu Zao, clutching his cloth, watching Anya stride away: ?
But never mind.
He did recall that this person didn’t like him.
He wasn’t the type to initiate closeness.
After bumping into so many walls, he’d learned to be careful in all his interactions, even though he was only five. He’d already encountered so much malice—people who called him a monster, who said he was pretending, who accused him of this and that—Anya’s curiosity was too weak, and after being scared by him a few times, the cub simply avoided him.
But the little one didn’t dwell on it.
The cub changed clothes, wings dried, hugged a bottle of baby milk, his wings falling onto Amos’s lap as Amos gently groomed his feathers.
Once Little Chu Zao was fed and content, only then did the adults go to eat.
Little Chu Zao sat nearby, nibbling on his dessert—tiny little fruits.
He sat next to Amos, and the sweet fruits made his eyes shine.
After eating half a bowl, he tugged at Amos’s sleeve.
“Baba.”
The others were finishing up, the table being cleared.
Hearing the little one’s voice, Amos looked down, pondering.
“What is it? Still hungry? Or do you want to chew… a mental strength weapon?”
At this, several Crown Clan members at the table shuddered—
Especially Meilun whose weapon had been chewed.
The cub thought for a bit, smacked his lips, then shook his head.
“Not now.”
It felt different from last time.
This time, Little Chu Zao didn’t feel that incredible craving.
He just felt—especially tired.
Right now, very, very tired. If left alone for a bit, he’d probably fall asleep, as if he were just too exhausted to want anything, not even to snack.
But he held up his fruit.
“Baba, this is very sweet. Baba, have one.”
Amos looked at the little fruit—by now, the little one had climbed up, standing on his chair.
He was just so tiny—it was clear he hadn’t been raised well before, and he seemed even smaller than a typical five-year-old, bundled in soft wool socks. Standing up, he was just at their eye level, fluffy black hair framing honey-colored eyes that glittered with unease.
Little hand holding a red fruit.
Truth was, Little Chu Zao was really sleepy and felt so tired, wanting to just go to bed, but because he sensed something off about Amos, he forced himself to hold on.
He’d heard people say, when you’re unhappy, you give off a bitter scent.
The cub didn’t understand what had happened with Amos.
But he didn’t like that feeling.
If Amos ate something sweet, would he get happier and the bitter scent fade?
Thinking so, the cub pushed one of the sweet fruits Crown Clan kids liked toward Amos’s mouth.
With fruit right at his lips, Amos, who’d never been hand-fed before, had no choice but to open up and let the fruit be popped in.
The little one looked up at him.
Amos reached out and patted the cub’s head—the soft sensation eased his mood a bit.
“Your Majesty, you’re having the cub’s meal set today too,” Meilun teased from the side.
The cub looked over.
He offered a fruit to him, obediently.
“Grandpa Meilun, here you go, it’s very sweet.”
The boomerang hit Meilun; he hesitated zero seconds.
He took the fruit.
“The cub’s meal is nice too.”
He could be flexible.
Frey and Anya just stared at Meilun.
The cub wasn’t done.
Half a bowl of sweet fruits remained.
He gave one to Frey.
Finally, he looked over at Anya.
Anya met his gaze.
Kind of awkward—
Frey kicked Anya under the table.
Anya, coming to, was just about to say something.
Then spotted the cub climbing down from the chair.
The floor tiles were warm; the cub’s little feet were in fluffy wool socks. He walked with a light and muffled step, like a new drumbeat landing in each Crown Clan’s heart.
It wasn’t for him.
Anya pressed his lips together, face unchanged, gave Frey a look: Why’d you kick me?
Whatever—it’d be best to find a chance to apologize later. It was fine—as before, life went on without a cub, so nothing’s changed now…
A soft, pale little hand emerged under the table.
Anya froze.
The table was too high for the cub.
Standing, he couldn’t see what was on top.
So he had to tiptoe, his little golden halo rising up from under the table, white-soft hand holding a fruit, offering it at Anya’s side.
Done, the little one seemed cheerful again, his little halo swaying, as he returned, climbed up onto his seat, and ate the remaining fruits.
Just moments earlier, when looking at Anya, the cub had seen him stare a couple seconds at the fruit in Frey’s hand, face expressionless.
Zao Zao hesitated, unsure if he’d read that right.
But he knew what it felt like to be excluded.
After a struggle inside, he shared the fruit with Anya, and it made him happy too.
“For me?” Anya asked softly.
Opposite, the cub nodded.
Anya picked up the little fruit.
Its thin skin released sweet juice, like his own heart at that moment.
It even still radiated a little of the cub’s warmth.
Anya said nothing more.
By now, Mori walked over.
“Your Majesty, Peng Yue of the Peng family and Army Commander Changle of the Tenth Army have arrived. The advance party has also reported in; they’re waiting in the conference room.”
Amos nodded in reply.
He let the cub, who’d finished his fruit, play by himself on the carpet. The little one actually wanted to watch or wait outside, but by the time Amos and the rest finished changing and came out, things had quieted down.
“For today, I didn’t spot anything odd with Zao Zao. You all?” Meilun stood at the stairs, keeping his voice low.
“No, the little one looks the same as always—maybe just a bit more clingy than usual the last day or two.”
Frey thought aloud, crown-marked epaulettes glinting.
“To be precise, more clingy to Amos.”
Which made sense.
After all, the little one had just been through a lot, it was normal to stick closer to his guardian for comfort.
Anya hadn’t eaten his fruit; he held it in hand a moment, then carefully tucked it into his pocket, wrapping it several times in mental strength.
Amos came out last, pressing his brow, shadowed.
“Your Majesty.”
“Amos—”
“It’s nothing, but I might need to go out soon.”
Amos suppressed the negative emotions.
“Second Brother, your mental strength is going out of control again?”
Anya frowned instantly.
“What was that thing, any further research?”
“The Institute concluded—it’s a special substance that activates and draws mental strength. Once exposed, you can’t get rid of it, but it’s rare, requiring large consumption to extract it from things like ores—most can’t bring themselves to actually eat those. We’d already assessed it across the galaxy and believed it posed no threat to us, but unexpectedly, that guy could concentrate it. This won’t happen again.”
Frey opened his communicator.
“All Crown Clan in the field have been notified, and are now protected. The cleanup teams also reported—Falcon is a rare interstellar species, not just a regular human, and only a handful are left; other species can’t replicate this.”
Hymn Organization—
The group targeting all long-lived interstellar species.
This was clearly a move aimed at the Crown Clan.
Good thing that fellow was eliminated before the danger threshold was reached.
But it still affected Amos’s mental strength.
Amos hadn’t been feeling well lately.
Though he never said so, the pressure on him had always been immense.
The Crown Clan’s despair didn’t ease with position.
That fate was the same for all.
“Don’t tell Zao Zao.”
Amos stopped their discussion in a low voice.
He kept thinking of the cub’s poor state after repairing Kaman’s halo.
He dared not risk anything anymore.
Maybe it was best to just keep things as they were—
They went downstairs, keeping their voices low.
Then all paused in surprise.
In the warm sunlight, the cub had at some point fallen asleep on the soft carpet, with the little snowman Mori restored for him still on the windowsill, casting a shadow over him.
At last, he couldn’t hold on, and fell asleep from exhaustion, long lashes trembling, breathing shallow.
All the Crown Clan members’ eyes softened.
“Nice sunny day today.”
“Yeah, in a few days the snow will melt.”
*
This meeting didn’t last long either.
The main topics: compensation and recruitment in the Guards, and lists of top talent from the Imperial First Military Academy.
When it was all over, State Minister Peng Yue of the Peng family was the first to leave the palace.
He looked a man in his forties—calm and steady—but in fact, he was over eighty, right at the generational handover of the Crown Clan.
Changle, Commander of the Tenth Army, caught up and clapped Peng Yue on the shoulder.
“Teacher Peng, long time no see.”
Peng Yue, recognizing him, exhaled.
“Commander Chang, I heard your last pursuit operation couldn’t catch up to the Hymn Organization?”
“Those guys run like nobody else.”
Changle waved him off.
“No targets, just flailing. Like a headless fly, no way to find them—I’m so mad about it.”
“Why was it only your Tenth Army in pursuit? What was the Ninth Army doing? Why no communication from His Majesty and the princes? And the Fourth Prince is returning too—how is all this connected?”
“Teacher Peng, you shouldn’t ask. It’s classified—but I hear your son’s excelling at First Military Academy. Good time for him to seize this chance.”
Peng Yue’s eyes darkened.
“The atmosphere’s off lately. Martial law in the palace, many corridors closed—don’t say you haven’t noticed. What else do you know? We best plan ahead.”
The Peng family had long benefitted from the Crown Clan. Even now, Holy Cas’s independent stability depended on the Crown Clan.
The condition of His Majesty and the princes’ mental strength was the concern of all Holy Cas citizens.
Yet the supposedly invincible Crown Clan had not made things better, they’d even gotten worse—the two generations now focusing more on building strength.
It raised worries about what would happen to Holy Cas Empire after they left.
And with His Majesty’s lenience, some were eager for action, making people uneasy and powerless.
Martial law was never a good sign.
Changle looked at Peng Yue.
“Relax, Teacher Peng, maybe things will turn out well.”
“No, they won’t—”
Peng Yue said pessimistically, taking a velvet box from his pocket.
“It’s not only the Crown Clan’s fate, but ours too—everything has its price, like when Lord Kaman left Holy Cas. Our family promised Lady Kalina we’d keep his epaulettes for him, but now I fear the Pengs will have to store them forever—”
Changle was poking Peng Yue’s arm.
Peng Yue snapped, “Don’t forget I taught you—respect your teachers, hmm—”
“I heard from His Majesty Amos that my mother kept my discarded epaulettes? Gave them to your family for safekeeping? This it?”
The box was snatched away.
Peng Yue stared blankly at the figure before him.
Time had left almost no trace on Kaman.
He’d only just woken, still pale, exactly as when he left years ago.
Peng Yue remembered when Lord Kaman left; he was still a young man, with family ties to Kaman’s clan. He’d thought he’d never see Lord Kaman again.
Now, Kaman stood steady and calm before him.
“Thanks.”
Kaman glanced inside, waved to Peng Yue.
He gave Peng Yue a once-over.
“You look really changed? Let’s catch up later… ah, it was such a mess when I ran off back then.”
Kaman put away the box, walked ahead two steps, then turned back under Peng Yue’s dazed gaze.
“By the way, I just heard—you’ve got a cub in your family? What does your little one like?”
Peng Yue: ???
*
By the time everything was settled, Amos and the rest returned late at night.
Tracking Job and Joshua’s position had taken considerable effort—both were in poor shape and refused contact.
Amos wasn’t in great shape either; it was uncertain what effect that rare substance would have on his mental strength.
He decided to make time to visit the destroyed habitat planet again, releasing his power once more to see if things improved.
By now, the cub was fast asleep in his little bed.
Amos glanced at the little one from afar, then returned to his room. He was unaware that the trace of mental strength he’d left made the cub’s halo flicker, making that tiny body curl up fitfully.
Amos still had much to handle—the Dwight family still had two Crown Clan fighting the beast legion outside, but the fourth in line, Feiman, would be back soon. He had a meeting early next morning.
Back in his room, he leaned by the bed as always, unable to sleep for hours.
His mental strength crown appeared; Amos gazed into the mirror—just two days and a silver-black ornate crown had cracked off another small corner.
A branch was about to break.
Fast.
That was also why Amos couldn’t control his mental strength well.
But it didn’t matter—
He looked at his crown halo in the mirror.
He could probably last a long while yet.
Long enough to clear the path for his cub.
But the little one’s condition was uncertain.
He would not allow Little Chu Zao to touch or repair his crown halo.
That was a wrong decision.
So thought a parent still rattled by the cub’s medical report.
Just then, a soft knock sounded at the door.
Amos froze.
He’d been lost in thought, covering a wide range with his mental strength, but it was all familiar so he hadn’t watched closely.
Now, there was a little soft presence outside.
Amos opened the door.
The little one stood at the threshold; hearing the door, he looked up at Amos—on his babyish, cute little face, there were beads of sweat.
“Zao Zao?”
“Baba—”
The cub had come barefoot, wearing white-pink velvet pajamas, little golden halo on his head, big eyes full of tears. He wiped his eyes, little wings drooping.
Just one look made Amos’s heart ache.
“What’s wrong?”
Amos froze, bent down to pick up the little one.
“Zao Zao had a nightmare—”
The cub wiped at his tears, reaching to hug Amos’s neck.
“Dreamt Baba’s halo broke, Baba smelled bitter, Zao Zao—Zao Zao wants to see Baba’s halo.”
Amos wasn’t sure if the cub had picked up on something from him, to have such a dream.
He instinctively tried to gloss it over, his voice low and steady.
“It’s okay, daddy’s right here.”
“Zao Zao, Zao Zao wants to see Baba’s halo, Zao Zao is really good at mending haloes—Zao Zao can help—”
The cub, still crying, wouldn’t give up, snuggling up desperately, eager to show Amos how useful he was, how he could stop destiny—But at what cost? The reports flashed before Amos’s eyes again, stabbing at his rawest nerves.
“Zao Zao!”
Amos’s tone suddenly turned harsh.
“Daddy’s telling you now, you’re never to mend a halo again, understand?”
The words and look were a little fierce.
Little Chu Zao stopped, staring at Amos.
He seemed frightened.
Amos instantly realized he’d lost control, exhaled deeply, and brought the cub inside.
He set the little one on the bed, knelt beside him, eye-level. Amos hadn’t expected how sensitive Chu Zao was to mental strength changes.
“Sorry, Daddy let his feelings get out of hand. Daddy should have explained nicely—”
But the little one kept on crying, tears pattering down.
“No.”
He wiped his eyes with tiny hands, still sobbing, but the tears only increased. Amos had never seen Little Chu Zao cry so hard; his face was red.
“Don’t want Baba’s halo to break—it was so hard, so hard for Zao Zao to have Baba—Zao Zao, Zao Zao wants to be a happy little angel, but without Baba…”
At last, as if released, he wept until he was gasping, smart for his age and sensing something from how Amos acted, plus he knew no halo meant death, and joined with the scent he’d smelled—his unease reached its limit and finally burst out.
His soft, choked sobs, after a nightmare and with nowhere to turn, demanded an answer. He looked at Amos pitifully, big tears streaming down.
“No Baba, Zao Zao can’t be happy… Zao Zao is strong, Zao Zao doesn’t want to cry—but Zao Zao is so worried about Baba, Baba won’t—sob—won’t say anything to Zao Zao—”
His tiny hand gripped Amos’s shirt, making it damp and warm: “Zao Zao is so scared—Baba, Zao Zao wants to see Baba’s halo—Zao Zao wants, wants Baba to promise, please? Baba…”
I DONT KNOW WHATS THE BEST DECISION WHAAAA