Cub 057: Which Crown Clan Do You Want to Kidnap—The Big One or the Little One?

Amos insisted—back in the day, the spiritual long swords he conjured exuded real authority. That was, of course, before Chu Zao.

But then—

Amos recalled all those spiritual swords he’d failed to fully reabsorb into his coronet—a few had bite marks on the hilt, others were missing the tip thanks to a curious gnaw, several bore small jaw prints along the blade. Even his own coronet still showed tiny tooth marks.

Now he looked at Chu Zao who, needing both hands to get down from the bed, carried his spiritual long sword in his mouth, padding over, still sleepy, halo bobbing and twinkling. He raised his little hands, stretched up on tiptoe, and started circling the candy in Amos’s hand.

Amos was so used to it now it no longer made his scalp tingle—he just numbly stowed away the spiritual long sword and handed over today’s candy ration.

“No candy before breakfast.”

And besides—maybe it was time to hold off on certain trainings. The anti-kidnapping lessons from Teacher Hel seemed of limited effect.

Amos glanced down at the little cub, wings fluttering behind him like a happy white bird, bright-eyed—wasn’t he just a little too easy to trick?

Amos pondered.

“Mhm.”

Chu Zao took the candy, still drowsy, yawned, and tucked it into his pocket.

His pale little cheeks still bore creases from napping—the shape of a tiny star, imprinted from the decoration at his collar.

Since this trip was secret, all elements of Holy Cas had been hidden, so the little one was dressed very casually.

A warm yellow hoodie with a fuzzy orange lining, two star-adorned drawstrings resting in front, making his little face look even softer.

Amos, too, for once out of uniform, wore a white shirt under a long black coat, gem accents at the collar and cuffs, black fingerless gloves. The missing uniform gave him a more languid air.

Chu Zao reached out to tug Amos’s coat.

Sleepy still, he yawned and looked out the window.

Dawn barely touched the sky, not enough light to illuminate the room—only a warm bedside lamp glowed.

Normally, Chu Zao would still be asleep at this hour.

Outside, the snow had melted but the air still bit; the warm duvet was endlessly tempting—the cub honestly wanted to live permanently in his covers!

Amos bent down and scooped him up.

“Come on, time to head out.”

Elsewhere, a short while before, while the sky was still dark, Feiman jolted awake in bed, breathing a touch ragged, hand pressed to her forehead. She glanced around, exhaled slowly.

Nightmare again…

Still the same nightmare—the destruction of her army, her family. For Feiman, this had gone on for centuries, ever since her childhood recklessness.

She rose, dressed, bit her hair tie, briskly pulled back her black hair, and looked in the mirror.

A high ponytail, cold and sharp brows, calm yet ready as a drawn blade: utterly reliable.

In her crimson Crown Clan eyes, a depth as dark as a bottomless cold lake.

Her expression didn’t change at all.

Nightmares… she was used to them now.

That was the cost she had to bear.

She left the room, first down, to wait for Amos and the cub.

Downstairs, Frey and Anya were already waiting.

This operation was strictly secret.

Few Crown Clan remained; there were still some Zao Zao hadn’t met, but all those familiar with him knew about this mission.

Meilun and Kaman had arrived, squabbling as usual.

Hel sat, silent; Morlo was still under treatment, Job and Joshua still under observation, all slowly improving.

Job and Joshua were not the most obedient, but even Hel had to admit, Zao Zao was a weapon of mass destruction among the Crown Clan—he had the strongest spiritual power, and, except for pollution, almost nothing else could harm them.

But five-year-old Zao Zao did what nothing else could—every time he pulled his Cupid’s Bow, the Crown Clan trembled.

“That’s why your case is serious—you need time in the palace to recover. Not me. I’m fine, why should I get the same treatment, Little, Ka, Ka—”

Meilun, grumbling, propped his chin.

“It should finally be my turn to go out with Zao Zao, right?”

Kaman rolled his eyes: “What is this, a vacation? You’re sick! Call me that again and I’ll shave your ugly white hair off at night.”

“…Don’t you know fashion?”

Meilun gaped, deeply offended.

So old, so childish, fighting over such petty things.

He flicked his white hair, pouting.

“The starnet says it’s the trend! Fashion!”

“Are you really taking starnet fashion advice?”

Kaman seemed amused, glancing at Meilun, “Feeney’s bristling beard is called ‘rugged individualism’ there.”

Meilun: …Well, Feeney dragged the starnet’s credibility down several notches.

Can’t argue with that.

“You’re a bit late.”

Frey, leaning by the sofa, raised a hand in greeting as Feiman came down.

She said nothing—the hall was otherwise silent except for Kaman and Meilun’s banter.

This was how most of this Crown Clan generation was: quiet in private.

Until Amos came down with the cub.

The pale yellow of his clothes matched his skin perfectly; that small, brilliant halo glowed even brighter in this setting.

The baby clung sleepily to Amos’s neck, peering down, halo gently trembling.

“Big uncle, auntie, little uncle, Grandpa Meilun, Grandpa Kaman, teacher—good morning—”

In one breath, the cub greeted all the Crown Clan gathered.

Hel just nodded, silent. Meilun grinned, waved.

“Good morning Zao Zao,” he elbowed Kaman, “did you hear? He greeted me before you!”

Kaman: “…Is this some spiritual victory?”

Kaman, recovered now, managed a faint smile at the cub: “Good morning, Zao Zao.”

Frey: “Morning.”

Anya: “Ah… Thinking about today’s work isn’t that great, but whatever—morning Zao Zao.”

Feiman put out her hand: “Morning, want auntie to hold you?”

Zao’s eyes went wide—he hugged Amos’s neck tighter.

No, thanks, polite refusal.

“Your Majesty.”

Hel spoke again.

He’d disapproved of Amos’s plan since learning of it yesterday.

“I know I always urge you to let Zao Zao be challenged—he’s a little Crown Clan, not a flower we control.”

The Crown Clan had always protected their children; being so powerful, they weren’t the best at raising young—cubs faced setbacks and learned to get up. Amos had misjudged Zao Zao’s gentleness, and missed many dangers. For a long time, he had overprotected him—because of the cub’s age and unusual upbringing.

But—

“The Boel sector was once the Spirit Eye Race’s, and as another long-lifer, we rarely interfered in their domain. We can’t extend our reach so far—I think Feiman and Anya going is enough.”

Feeney? That guy is never reliable on missions.

He only gets lucky by storming into trouble with the equally accident-prone Third Fleet, but sometimes produces results.

No one expected Feeney would play a big part.

Currently, the main Crown Clan power near old Boel was the force Feeney took before, secretly investigating, but results weren’t great.

In domains we can’t control, Hel, who lost a lover for years here, felt a natural anxiety.

“No need to worry, teacher.”

Anya chimed in, “Second brother can protect Zao Zao. Besides, that Hymn Organization is everywhere, like cockroaches—since they appeared, they’ve been all over the stars.”

Meilun couldn’t resist: “You sure do love cockroaches.”

Anya: …

The cub was still half asleep. The adults, voices low, chatted; it was only after a bit that he looked to Amos.

Hel caught himself, quickly added, “Maybe I’m overthinking it—time to go, Your Majesty, Lady Feiman, young highness.”

They crossed the hall to the Holy Cas docking bay.

The sun still hadn’t risen.

Halfway there, they sensed someone in the distance.

Frey glanced aside.

“That’s Speaker Cheng Xuan—early today, working on yesterday’s agenda.”

The Crown Clan moved discreetly, utterly silent.

But over time, Emperor Clansis’s influence had faded; within the clan, Amos was now the indisputable center.

When the Crown Clan began to fall, most still accepted Clansis’s original plan for Holy Cas—cultivate new power, prepare for a world without the old clan.

Still, that didn’t make them more willing to socialize with the old official still upholding Clansis’s decrees.

“Feiman, I heard you came back but never greeted parliament or Cheng Xuan?”

Anya raised a brow, walking beside her.

Feiman didn’t hesitate: “Ah, I have social anxiety.”

Every Crown Clan stopped in their tracks.

What?

Did you say social what?

Chu Zao’s eyes widened as, from Amos’s shoulder, he watched the “kissing maniac” claim social anxiety.

His baby voice echoed everyone’s thoughts: “Huh?”

“You mean… your phobia is… what, being afraid when others are around you?”

Anya looked at Feiman.

“Next time you lie, at least make it plausible.”

As they spoke, the starship for their secret mission launched quickly at dawn.

*

Meanwhile—

Old Boel border, a planetary laboratory.

“Nngh…”

There was a crisp snap, and a grim, dejected woman gave a quiet grunt, frowning, sweat rolling down her forehead. She endured the pain, staring at her bent finger.

“I saw you hadn’t destroyed all your files—were you a Holy Cas research team?”

The leader, a man in his thirties, wore an exoskeleton suit, two energy guns slung on his back, cockily propped one foot on her chair as he easily broke her finger.

“Talk. Starve as long as you want, no one’s coming from Holy Cas to save you. Crown Clan? Ha. They’re way off in the other end of the galaxy—could never reach us. They never dared mess with us here. As for those types they wiped out—what idiots, knowing Crown Clan was trouble yet still went looking for it. I’m different.”

He jerked his chin at a group lying on the floor.

Some were unconscious from an unknown injection; a few in Holy Cas uniforms, found as guards earlier, had been overwhelmed despite their training.

“In this lab, I’m king. Holy Cas will never go to war over some worthless commoners. Get real, just cooperate and life’s easier. I saw your tag—Zhong—Ms. Zhong Zhiyi, correct?”

She finally lifted her head, sweat-streaked face cold and gloomy, lips bloodless.

“Get lost.”

The man stepped back.

He spat. What was it with these Holy Cas weaklings? He’d joined Hymn and gotten paid to protect this lab, king of his own little patch for years, and never met anyone this stubborn—threats, bribes, even drugs: nothing worked.

And they’d recently learned Holy Cas military had shifted nearby—the chaos in Boel was unsettling their “paradise.”

Yet Hymn paid well—resources, land, even drugs to enhance mental power, sometimes promising long-lifer traits.

He waved a hand: “Continue.”

He wasn’t giving up yet.

“Boss Jiang Chao—”

His aide leaned in, whispering.

“Too much heat lately—word is, lots of labs are being smashed by unknown foes from other sectors. Boel’s chaos helped us fish, but now we’re short on specimens. Not like we can just kill these Holy Cas folk, but maybe we should raid a few more starships?”

Jiang Chao narrowed his eyes.

“You make a point.”

“And those Holy Cas troops keep poking around. Shouldn’t we…?”

“Too scared?”

Jiang Chao glared.

“A bit over half a month till the Holy Cas national celebration—what Crown Clan would have time to bother us now? Impossible—they won’t show up! It’s too hard to sneak into Holy Cas; you know how valuable this research team is? Set them free? Never!”

As the threats rang out, Zhong Zhiyi, injected with drugs, felt herself slipping into unconsciousness.

Her mind wandered—

Her life had always been adrift.

An orphan, wandering the drifters’ planet, ending up trafficked into a lab where she spent years as a test subject, her body experimented on. Misery everywhere, only her inexplicable luck keeping her alive.

After the lab was destroyed by Holy Cas, she lived there; as an outsider, she was constantly watched, could never feel secure. She didn’t idolize the Crown Clan like locals did; everything seemed to be just one accident after another. The only good thing—meeting her mentor while lost.

He was sick, she worked hard to keep up.

Still, misfortune never left her. This time, collecting special specimens in Boel, she was caught up in its collapse, captured here—her mentor must have heard by now… Who knows how his health is now…

Some people—like her—are just born unlucky. She’d never even heard of the phrase “after the storm, the moon emerges.”

*

Meanwhile, the Crown Clan, “too busy with national holiday prep to care,” were racing toward the target on a secret starship.

Time had passed; their ship landed on a planet at Boel’s edge firmly under Holy Cas control.

En route, they’d contacted Feeney.

He always seemed to find off-script trouble; the Third Fleet, veering off, stormed an interstellar lab, destroyed it, then met a strange starship—no weapons, just defense and speed, launched a few harmless shots and raced away.

Not to be outdone, Feeney gave chase—guess what?

He discovered, one after another, hidden outposts, many marked with the twisted Hymn insignia, and even managed to wipe out a group, though just small fry.

Any damage to Hymn was a win. If that missing civilian research starship was involved, maybe they’d find clues.

So, for now, he kept chasing forward.

That strange ship kept reappearing, guiding them to ruins: they’d smash a site, it would lead them on, like a pointer.

Not like a provocation—more like a guide.

Amos ordered Feeney to keep striking targets and chasing clues; Amos and Feiman, with the cub, reached their destination.

On that mysterious ship, people bustled.

“Boss, how do we file a report?”

“How?”

Shenghua lounged in her chair, arms crossed.

“Truthfully, of course!”

“Huh?”

Wherever they ran, a base crumbled—report that?

“Here’s what you say—‘We discovered Holy Cas military striking at us with full force. We bravely resisted but still suffered setbacks. We dared fire back, but were often forced to flee, sustaining heavy damage and now need more resources for repairs.’”

Shenghua propped her chin, then waved a hand.

“That’s enough—let’s get out of here soon; that fleet is too sharp. Next chance, we’ll exit this sector.”

*

Elsewhere, Amos and Chu Zao were boarding a civilian ship.

Recent intelligence said that line had been swept again and again—nothing unusual.

Ships vanished often in this area.

Aside from patrolling with military vessels, they’d purchased several typical Boel civilian ships, baiting for trouble, but got nothing.

Amos and Feiman split up, each boarding, ready to blend in and scout for clues.

Amos took the cub.

Chu Zao, in disguise, tiny hand holding Amos’s, was in matching dark-brown coats. A little brown hat perched on his head; round cheeks lifting in a smile—adorable beyond reason.

“Baba, Baba—this is so different, really different—”

Civ ships were nothing like the Holy Cas military’s: up front was a dining area, seats behind, not vast or room-divided.

The cub’s eyes darted everywhere, curious, tugging along until Amos picked him up, settling him by the window.

It was the most common civilian ship type in Boel; there were kids’ seats, toys, things Chu Zao had never seen.

Amos chatted quietly with fellow passengers—actually all Holy Cas military, scattered throughout.

The ship launched; the cub, now playing with a toy box, examined every angle.

This was a picture-viewer: peer in, press a button, change the image.

He held it up, head cocked, curiously peering in.

Amos, at his side, alternated between watching outside and watching his child.

“Zao Zao, this could get dangerous.”

“What kind of dangerous?”

Amos was pondering: though he could protect the cub, was this risky? He’d never raised a Crown Clan cub; his own father had always just let him run wild—there was no baseline for this.

“Well, not really ‘dangerous’—maybe just scary. Baba said before, sometimes someone tries to hijack a ship.”

“Yep, Zao Zao knows. If I don’t stick close, they might try to kidnap me!”

The cub peeped up trustingly.

So he had been listening.

“Zao Zao will stick to Baba! And Baba is the best—nobody can kidnap Zao Zao with Baba around!”

Amos paused, stroked his little face, and replied.

The ship cruised peacefully for hours. No clues this time either.

Just then, a silent approaching vessel took notice.

Jiang Chao’s men, desperate, waited till Holy Cas patrols left, hunting for a target—

And there—just as he thought, a likely one!

“Quick, pull up! Power up the guns!”

Aboard, Chu Zao had just peered through all the picture slides—and suddenly froze, stiff for a moment.

Amos noticed at once, looked down.

“What’s wrong?”

The cub, holding up the toy, climbed up, slyly placed a hand over Amos’s eyes, and aimed the lens for him, pulling his hand away—“Baba, look!”

Amos, unguarded, looked in—scarlet eyes flickering, pupils contracting for just a second, though he looked calm.

It was a prank viewer, not a kids’ toy—after some scenic shots, a huge face would pop up, startling you.

The cub, eyes still aggrieved, fists clenched, stood in his socks on the cushion and huffed: “Baba, Zao Zao got scared like that!”

Amos: …

So now you want to scare Baba back, eh?

Model son 🙂

Just as Amos was about to speak, alarms blared and someone quickly shouted up front.

“Your Majesty, a ship is blocking the way! They’ve powered up weapons—wanting us to open a link!”

Amos: …hmm?

Chu Zao, still holding the prank box, looked dazedly at Amos, then obediently got down to put on his shoes, operating on instinct.

“Baba, someone’s trying to kidnap Zao Zao?”

Amos’s voice was even: “Mhm, and they want to kidnap Baba, too.”