This is the end! Someone can touch his halo!!
Help!! They’re even pulling it down!!
Joshua had just opened his eyes, only to be subjected to this trauma. He could not help wondering—had he perhaps already died?
A cold numbness crept up his scalp; his own halo seemed to break out in a cold sweat.
Stop pulling—aaah, it feels like his head is about to explode!
Previously, even Amos and the other Crown Clan, who saw Little Chu Zao able to pick up his halo, had tested it for themselves.
In the end, they only managed to make themselves dizzy.
But they all knew: only when the little one was sincerely patching their halos could he touch them.
At this moment, the little cub, clinging to a new halo and nearly falling off, pressed downward with his own body weight, thus granting Joshua the unique achievement of being the first Crown Clan to have his halo forcibly yanked.
Amos raised an eyebrow at Joshua’s halo and at the little hand on it. He gently repositioned the child.
Songxing lizard secretion was evidently a strange substance even for a little cub: mildly feverish, sluggish in reaction, and not too clear-headed, the little one simply relied on instinct and curiosity to explore.
At this age, cubs were incredibly curious and sometimes disregarded danger.
Amos met Joshua’s gaze as he opened his eyes.
Joshua: …
“Oh god, I must still be dreaming,” he muttered, being carried by Holy Cas soldiers, his whole self in a daze, “I not only dreamt someone could take a Crown Clan halo, I even saw boring, stiff Amos—”
Boring… stiff…
Amos: …
He loosened his hold on the cub a bit.
Outside the nest, when Job saw Joshua’s halo being grabbed, he froze for a split second.
In that moment, Anya seized the chance and attacked from the side.
Job instinctively blocked.
Anya’s leg struck Job’s arm with a heavy thud, then, using that as a pivot, spun a half circle for a second, landing an even heavier blow and sending up dust. Neither used mental strength; just by strength of body, the clashing sound was intimidating. But Anya found an opening, forcing Job down on one knee with sheer brute force.
Job, who coming to, saw Amos nearby, pursed his lips, and ceased to resist.
Amos relaxed his grip on the little cub a bit more; Little Chu Zao couldn’t resist another sniff of the secretion and again grabbed Joshua’s halo, leaning in closer for a whiff.
Joshua: …
Joshua: ………
“A-A-Amos? Your Majesty?!”
He finally snapped to himself—none of this was a dream.
Someone was actually holding his halo.
Amos was stony-faced as he pulled his cub back. “Take him away.”
The soldiers carrying Joshua moved quickly.
Having inhaled copious secretion, Joshua was lost in delirium, his body limp. Not that he couldn’t resist, but seeing Amos, Joshua knew it was pointless.
Joshua was taken away.
Job, subdued by Anya, let his strength dissipate. He looked up at Amos.
Job didn’t raise his head—
“Were you searching for high-grade Songxing lizard secretion for Joshua here?”
Amos asked.
“You can bear the weight of Joshua’s life?”
Job’s hands balled up tightly.
“But what could I do—”
Job’s voice, cold and sharp, squeezed out between his teeth.
“Joshua kept begging me. I am… I am his brother, I can…”
Faced with Joshua’s repeated pleas, it seemed more merciful to let him witness the end through dissolution—rather than let him linger.
Even if they had let down the current Crown Clan generation, by now they’d already failed Holy Cas—Crown Clan would end anyway, perhaps lingering only a few more decades.
So be it—
Job thought—he didn’t mind being the villain.
“Brother.”
Anya glanced at Amos.
Amos could sense Job’s issues ran far deeper than Joshua’s.
Those two were always like this.
Anya was the youngest of this Crown Clan generation, but Joshua was always the one pampered and protected—he’d barely learned any combat skills, preferring the arts and wild flights of fancy, utterly indulged by his brother Job.
Amos patted Job’s shoulder.
“Let’s go. Crown Clan don’t mope like that, especially now—we’ve found a new way to resist fate.”
A new way to resist fate?
Job looked up, confused.
His face stayed composed, but silent tears streamed down.
Joshua was still alive; he wasn’t sure if his tears were regret or relief.
Then Job saw the cub in Amos’s arms.
Catnip worked wonders on cats.
Songxing lizard secretion left a little cub like this dizzy and light-headed.
He was already muddleheaded, now even moreso, tucked in Amos’s arms like a little toy.
Only the golden little halo above his head shimmered, showing how lively Little Chu Zao’s mental strength still was.
Job: “…What’s that?”
He had just seen him grab Joshua’s halo.
“A baby Crown Clan?”
Job confirmed the golden halo, in disbelief.
“How could that be? Whose cub is this? Where did you get a Crown Clan baby, is this some special experiment? Maybe his father is Uncle Kaman or—”
The tiny cub, nestled in his guardian’s arms, clung to Amos’s neck.
He let out two soft, dazed giggles.
“Baba… over on that hill, Grandpa Meilun and Grandpa Kaman are doing the bunny dance—”
What? Baba…Papa? Amos?
Job: ???
Amos held the cub. “He’s never been trained for this, so he’s a bit out of it after exposure to the secretion. He’ll be fine in a while.”
Job: “…Oh.”
…Wait, is that the point?!
The formidable, intimidating Amos somehow produced a cub?!
*
Job and Joshua were brought aboard the Ninth Army’s flagship.
The surrounding beasts were quickly crushed; the army withdrew rapidly.
Job and Joshua were not well, but were in far better shape than most Crown Clan agonizing at the royal court.
Only, the two were deeply depressed, faring even worse than the previous generation who awaited death.
Except for slight reactions to the Crown Clan, they were abnormally indifferent to everything else.
After a few space jumps—
About a day’s flight remained to Holy Cas Prime.
No more space jumps were needed, so the cub was let out of the isolation chamber.
His fever had almost completely faded.
His overly active mental energy had also calmed.
He sat on Amos’s lap, a little fruit basket in his arms.
Nibbling one fruit, he held out another for Amos.
Some were tart, some sweet; when he bit into a sweet one, he squinted with joy, but the sour ones made his little wings shudder.
So sour…
Little Chu Zao stared at the half-eaten fruit, wide-eyed, swallowing hard—
Didn’t want to eat more, but Zao Zao didn’t like to waste food.
The cub pondered.
Meanwhile, Amos listened to his subordinate’s report.
“We’ll arrive at Holy Cas soon. Princess Feiman will also arrive momentarily—she happened to meet some elders of the Holy Chalice race, and they’re traveling back together.”
There were only a handful of mythological species left in the galaxy.
Half of them were not combat types, mostly recluses in their own forbidden star territories; only the Crown Clan ever chose, for shelter and legacy, to create Holy Cas.
After the interstellar beast crisis and the Hymn Organization’s sabotage, several myth species had gone extinct. The Holy Chalice Clan was among those that survived by seclusion, rarely coming into contact with humanity. They were learned and wise, their mental strength could transform into a chalice for a range of powers.
They were also quick to adapt when facing crisis.
Amos nodded, indicating he understood.
The officer kept reporting.
Meanwhile, another fruit appeared at Amos’s lips.
He absentmindedly ate it—then realized it had already been bitten.
The sour burst made Amos frown.
But he chewed and swallowed anyway.
And then Little Chu Zao seemed to unlock some dreadful new trick.
Amos, who’d just started getting whole fruits, suddenly took several more half-eaten sour ones in a row.
Amos, not picky about taste, began to struggle.
He stopped the cub’s hand.
Enough, Zao Zao.
The cub’s gaze was still hazy; the fever patch gone, but still a bit warm.
Not a comfortable temperature for such a little one.
Little one licked his lips and, seeing the other men, shyly nestled into Amos’s arms.
“That’s enough for now; we’ll discuss the rest after we return to the royal court.”
Amos set the cub down, holding his hand, heading for the infirmary.
Of course, the ghost bear was close by. He didn’t have to hold it all the time now, but he still kept an eye on it. Walking off, the cub trailed after, hugging his bear.
Job and Joshua were under observation.
Anya leaned against the wall by the door, straightening when Amos approached.
“Second Brother.”
The room was silent.
Job was not talkative.
Joshua, coming out of his daze, also remained quiet.
Amos entered with the cub.
Job glanced up.
Joshua stayed supine.
Amos stopped beside Joshua, looking down at him.
Boring? Stiff?
For a moment, not-so-friendly phrases hovered between the two Crown Clan.
Joshua: …
“Don’t bother, I have no interest in the world, Your Majesty might as well consider me dead.”
He radiated a sort of living-dead despair, looking aside.
Then a little cub-voice piped up.
The fever was gone, logic just budding, though limited—the cub blinked at Amos.
“Baba… if you die… do you get buried?”
Little Chu Zao had heard, only when you return to earth can you be at peace.
Amos lowered his head.
Joshua reflexively looked over.
The cub held up a small hand.
“Grandpa Mori gave Zao Zao a shovel.”
He meant the snow shovel toy.
Amos: “Zao Zao is right—very smart.”
The little one, encouraged, blinked and beamed.
Joshua: …No need to rush things, right?!
Bury me already?!
Joshua couldn’t help but look at the cub.
He’d already discussed it with Job, plus he’d experienced the sensation of the cub tugging his halo.
A little Crown Clan, and an Amos child at that.
A truly strange realization.
None of his generation had seen a cub; even Job and Joshua were endlessly curious.
But in the end, he looked away—it was just a cub.
Joshua eyed the ceiling.
What was the point?
He couldn’t comprehend—nor relate to—the older generation’s obsession with cubs.
And at this moment—the way Amos treated and doted on the cub was both chilling and bizarre.
This cub made His Majesty… different.
Joshua’s dead-fish eyes met Amos’s; then, giving up, he conceded.
“Your Majesty, why not just lock Brother and me up? Tranquilizers daily if you must. Destiny has kneaded us to rags—whatever happens now, I only wish for dreamless sleep—”
Too tired, too exhausted, living under a constant Damocles’ sword.
“I’ll consider how to arrange you two.”
Amos’s voice was as steady as when he’d let them slip away from the Empire.
“But it’s out of your hands now.”
Joshua sneered: “…Such dictatorship. Such arrogance… Your Majesty.”
The mood grew heavy.
Until—
“Wrinkly…?”
A soft baby-voice instantly redirected everyone’s attention.
The cub was propped against the bedside.
Too short, still hugging the bear—couldn’t see Joshua up there.
He had to stand on tiptoe, stretching sideways, soft black hair and half his little face peeking up to meet Joshua’s gaze.
“Grandpa Mori irons clothes super fast—they can be flattened in no time—”
Still only five, not fully alert.
He seized on the keyword: “Let Grandpa Mori iron you, and you’ll be fine.”
Just iron it—
Joshua looked at the soft face, momentarily dazed.
That face was even more like young Amos.
But Amos never smiled this sweetly or foolishly.
A smile… some subtle feeling, like a tiny hammer knocking on those hard feelings.
Joshua didn’t quite understand this’s being “moved by cuteness.”
Not until Amos left with the cub in his arms.
He lay there, staring at the ceiling for a long while, then spoke to silent Job on the other side: “Brother.”
Job looked up.
Joshua, for the first time in ages, seemed to smile, a laughably absurd look: “He wants to flatten me with an iron? He’s so little? How could he think fate’s wrinkles can just be ironed smooth…”
He was quiet for a long time.
At last Job heard him whisper, “But it’s actually kind of… interesting. Brother, I always regret dying after I fall asleep, and when you wake me I’m happy—but I never told you, because once I wake up I want to die again…”
Joshua’s eyes were empty: “Waking up to the world hurts too much—everyone’s dead, Dad, Mom… uncle… grandmother… Holy Cas Empire means nothing for survival… but this time, weirdly, I didn’t regret it as much.”
Once, the siblings had seen two relatives end themselves in a day. Job had been at the army, while Joshua had watched it all. After that, he became silent, never smiling again.
Job drew closer, holding his brother like a faltering flame.
*
A day later.
The starship arrived at Holy Cas.
Job and Joshua were sent to the medical center for several days of observation.
The cub, having napped in Amos’s arms, woke with his fever gone. Owing to travel time, it was still night outside, but he was already awake.
He hugged his ghost bear, limbs wrapped tightly.
His back pressed against Amos’s chest.
Amos held him in place under the covers, stopping him rolling off.
The cub woke.
He stared at his bear, thinking dazedly.
Behind him, Amos soon woke too.
The cub was lifted and Amos pressed his forehead against the little one’s to check for fever.
Satisfied, he looked at the cub’s halo.
“Zao Zao? Anywhere else uncomfortable?”
Little Chu Zao reacted, then shook his head lightly.
“Baba…”
His big, round eyes looked a bit blank.
Still clutching the bear, in response to Amos’s puzzled tone, the cub murmured, “Was Zao Zao naughty before?”
He’d fought with the adults over the bear.
But, even without a fever, Zao Zao was still a five-year-old—clinging desperately to the soft, Amos-scented bear.
“Why do you ask?”
Amos raised an eyebrow.
He got up, and turned on the bedside lamp.
Warm yellow light softened the cold emperor’s face, giving a gentle cast.
Amos crouched by the bed, eye level with the child.
“Because… because… Baba said he’d get Zao Zao a new bear, and Zao Zao ignored him…”
The cub blinked wide eyes.
When confused, his way to resist was to pretend not to hear.
“Naughty kids aren’t liked…”
But being willful… Chu Zao recalled what he had heard among the angel race.
Little angels, as with all children, at this age were active, mischievous, and often irked their parents.
He’d often hear angel kids being tugged home and scolded: “If you keep this up, I won’t like you anymore.”
No angel ever treated Zao Zao well; now, for once, he was a true child, but didn’t know how children and parents should really interact. He had never seen what happened between angels and kids after such words were spoken.
He’d just absorbed the notion—be good.
So you’ll be liked.
Until now, it hadn’t mattered so much.
But, as time passed and he cared more about Amos, it began to matter.
If not for all this, he might have silently turned himself into the perfect, obedient child.
Amos sensed this now.
He gazed at the babyish, delicate little face.
He heard the soft words: “Baba… Zao Zao is very good…”
But it shouldn’t be like this.
Amos drew the child into a hug.
“Zao Zao doesn’t need to be super obedient or perfect…”
Little Chu Zao nestled in Amos’s embrace.
He heard Amos speak.
“Papa is raising a child for the first time. I get things wrong, overlook things.”
For Amos, these words were hard to say.
But seeing his newly well, first-thought-is-am-I-naughty cub—
How could he describe the ache? Amos found it suddenly easy to say, because he realized this was what he truly wanted.
“All Zao Zao ever needs is not to wrong yourself.”
Nestled in those wide arms, both cub and bear easily fit, with space to spare.
The little cub’s eyes slowly widened.
“And, baby, always remember—”
Amos let out a rare sigh.
“Papa loves you.”
“Zao Zao… Zao Zao loves Baba too… Zao Zao likes, really likes Baba…”
The child reached up and hugged Amos—Baby, Zao Zao likes being called Baby.
At that moment, in the royal base, a giant starship was descending.
The hatch opened.
A tall woman stood at the front, looking at snowy Holy Cas for a long while: “Let’s go.”
“Yes, Princess Feiman!”
Dwight manor.
The cub was awake, but couldn’t sleep at this hour.
Amos had given up on sleep too.
He held the child and pulled out the study books Mori had prepped.
The little one hadn’t learned anything yet; they were still searching for the right teachers—not only for learning, but also for fighting. Amos was powerful, but not a teacher, least of all for a five-year-old.
So now, he sat with the cub, watching the wobbling halo, helping him sound out pinyin.
Chu Zao hadn’t realized the grey “thread” had once again wound itself around his halo.
He was focused.
“Ah—ah? Ah~ ah!”
“E—e? …” Not going well, so just use “ah” for the phonics!
Elsewhere in the palace.
Late at night, Hel, slumping against a wall as always, sighed long and deep…
Sigh…?
A baby-voice: “Ah—ah? Ah~ ah!”
Hel: …?
Hel turned his head, puzzled by the sudden intrusion, but it faded; soon he bowed his head, clutching his shirt, crown breaking to pieces above.
Useless…
Baby-voice: “Ah—ah? Ah~ ah!”
Hel: …
Baby-voice: “Ah—ah? Ah~ ah!”
The voice grew smoother, more confident—only, it echoed endlessly… in someone else’s mind.
Hel: %$#…
Who?! Who?! What’s going on?!
Never mind how this is happening!
Who keeps ah-ah-ing in my brain at midnight?! Can’t you have some boundaries?! Ah?!?!