Cub 060: New Use of the Halo—Got It

He walked forward steadily—even though Spirituality held the advantage of higher ground, he could not help but tremble, blood dripping from his hand clutching the gun, quickly forming a little puddle.

The Hymn Organization had always obsessed over targeting the Crown Clan, yet rarely dared to confront them directly, and this was exactly why. In the emperor’s century-long reign, countless plots had been foiled. Their unmatched power granted them an inherent arrogance toward their foes, as if looking at lowly ants; their territory had expanded madly, and with one nation’s strength alone they forcibly imposed peace upon all around the Holy Cas Empire.

Even as the Hymn’s internal personnel turned over completely, Amos still remained—the Crown Clan still stood among suffering, unyielding.

That silver-black mental force sword, drawn and bloodied, swept away all before it. Any fierce beast who invaded would be reduced to bloody mist and rain.

When Amos was younger, he had been far less refined—once walking calmly out from the blood rain, silver-black coronet and psychic sword radiating the force of a black hole that could drag one into oblivion, his careless motions and lazy conduct, commanding the war machine at his back to trample everything in their path—thus, he earned the title of Dark Tyrant.

One could not help but curse this star sea’s bias.

It would take him no more effort to deal with Spirituality—just as he had dispatched Jiang Chao while neutralizing the collapse threat—yet he did not. He spoke calmly, just as he had when responding earlier to his little cub.

“Zao Zao.”

Everything happened too quickly.

Little Chu Zao was still very young. Amid these rolling thunderous collapses, he could only make out the threat of collapse, unaware that anyone was aiming at him.

The cub’s wings behind him folded involuntarily in nervousness as he watched Amos. Only upon hearing Amos call him did he scamper to his side.

“Baba?”

The cub’s pale little face was smudged with dust from the recent collapse; his cheeks and even his snowy soft wings were stained a bit. But his eyes were bright—like a dusty fledgling, flapping its wings, rushing to its parent’s embrace.

Amos crouched and took the cub’s hand, raised it, and aimed the little bow at the frozen-with-terror Spirituality.

“Zao Zao, try again.”

Little Chu Zao looked up at Spirituality, who stood atop the collapsed high ground, his eyes wide.

In a soft voice, he asked Amos—“Baba, is he a bad guy?”

“Mhm, a bad guy.”

Amos replied.

He crouched beside the cub, watching the gleaming little coronet by his face reignite with black flames—clustering angrily, spreading from the dark-gold edges—did this also show the Crown Clan’s anger at so-called fate?

In Little Chu Zao’s hand, the golden arrow instantly changed, trailing black flame as it shot out straight at Spirituality.

Boom—a cloud of dust exploded, obscuring what happened.

Behind them, the rescue of Zhong Zhiyi and others continued.

Among the research team slowly regaining consciousness, some wept, some explained the situation, others looked over, muttering in disbelief.

“No way…is that His Majesty?”

“And that’s the little prince we saw on the livestream? I was hoping to see the little prince at National Day—never thought I’d live to National Day—”

Little Chu Zao still lacked battle experience. Neglected during cubhood, his real training had only started less than half a year ago. Not to mention adults—even among Crown Clan cubs remembered by others, his fighting power might fall a bit short, though his psychic traits were certainly special.

To be honest, Little Chu Zao’s progress in such a short time was quite astonishing.

So while his attacks had some effect, they were still rather easy for a battle-hardened warrior to dodge.

Spirituality stumbled away, bleeding even more, yet fired back without hesitation through the dust, sighting on Little Chu Zao and about to pull the trigger.

In the next instant, Amos casually swept his sword.

Amos’s sharp psychic power hit in a flash.

Spirituality screamed, staring at his fallen arm.

He cursed, saw Amos watching him—scarlet eyes twisted and violent. Amos was not always the calm type; he simply knew his demeanor inspired reliability. Now, he even smirked in contempt, his message clear—

He may beat you, but try touching his cub—see what happens.

Little Chu Zao shot another dark arrow. The child was flagging, gave a little sigh, and shook his dusty wings.

“Baba, Zao Zao feels like he can’t kill this bad guy—”

Spirituality was already seeking a chance to escape. After the last incident, he knew dealing with this cub had become extremely tough. But equally, Amos wouldn’t dare leave his cub’s side. What he needed was to quickly open up the distance and retreat—

Spirituality feigned offense, but in the next second, he used a grappling cable without hesitation, quickly rappelling out.

But as he looked up at the sky, he was momentarily stunned.

Countless mechanical beasts, like whales cruising the sea, moved through the dark sky. Their running lights and lamps flickered amid the haze, as if blended into the sky itself, like a doomsday backdrop.

Further ahead—there was shining light: the familiar patterned coronet of the Crown Clan.

Suspended silently above, a tall, poised figure—their wings lazily moving, long black hair billowing, crimson eyes looking down from on high. In her hand was a silver-black spear radiating pale psychic light, which she spun once, stardust glinting, before resting it behind her.

In the distant background, fleeing starships were clashing with Holy Cas’s warships, ships being shot down and bursting in flame, and the ground nearby bore similar scars.

It had been too chaotic before for them to be warned.

“Fei—Man—”

Spirituality ground out her name, turning in retreat without a moment’s pause.

There might still be hope—

Feiman watched Amos, who had already brought Little Chu Zao to the ground. She saw Amos’s rage and made no move to pursue. Of course—no one would risk Amos venting his anger on their own instead!

Feiman thought it through—especially when Amos was handling business, she could just dote on Zao Zao all she liked.

Baby, here comes your kiss!

With Amos here, the arriving group could hardly be called reinforcements—perhaps it was more accurate to call them Little Zao Zao’s “summon pool.”

In the cub’s summon pool, every Crown Clan elder took their place, all eager to leap out when called.

Feiman landed. Amos was no longer at Little Chu Zao’s side. The cub, wide-eyed, just called out warily for “auntie,” when Feiman exclaimed in shock: “Zao Zao, how did you turn into a gray cub?”

Little Chu Zao: …

He spread his little wings and reached out to pat at himself.

“Come here, auntie will help you.”

Feiman stooped, gently brushing the dust from the cub.

The little fellow was quite earnest in his actions, the soft bun-like face looking a bit stubborn—though not so white at the moment, more like a squishy bun rolled across the ground. Cute, but also a little pitiful.

Feiman was left stunned by the cub pursing his lips so adorably. The Holy Cas starship landed, soldiers rushed in with medical equipment. This underground lab was massive—destroying only Zone B hadn’t yet made it safe.

The Holy Cas army had swiftly organized squads to clear the facility’s other areas.

Feiman asked for a soft towel, wetting it with saline, and handed it to the cub.

“Zao Zao, your face is dirty too.”

Little Chu Zao took the cloth, shut his eyes, and scrubbed hard at his face.

“Thank you, auntie…how about now?”

His childish voice was soft and sweet.

His little face was a bit damp, eyebrows slightly mussed, the gold halo above his head shining bright.

Big brother Amos must clean up those people thoroughly—

Feiman thought, her face cold as she leaned in—and gave him a kiss.

Feiman nodded, “Not bad.”

Just—this kiss tasted a bit salty.

Little Chu Zao: …

The cub’s eyes grew wide.

Kiss-fiend auntie!!

On the other side, Spirituality could no longer escape. Amos was on his tail, haunting him like a game of cat and mouse—though Amos soon tired of it.

Amos was thinking—should he capture one alive to question, see what else could be dug up?

Spirituality only felt a surge of deadly sword-force behind him. Forced to roll aside, another scar was carved across his back.

He knew he could not escape. At some point his hood had fallen, revealing a rather ordinary face. His voice, hoarse and desperate, screamed, “Crown Clan—don’t get cocky! You too are an abandoned race, your fate is sealed! You possessed ‘divine’ power—you will pay far more than any other immortals!”

Price? Fate?

It had been many generations, and yet to the bitter end, hardly any Crown Clan would choose to yield.

Amos gave a cold, faint laugh, the lazy menace in his attitude very different from the peaceful, reliable king behind closed doors.

“Though we’re locked in a deathmatch—I’m still very angry…”

Very angry, especially angry—these people were after his cub.

Amos was about to explode.

Spirituality sensed mortal danger. He tried for a last stand, his eyes flashing, psychic power pouring out, searching—at the exact instant Amos attacked—for a single flaw.

He found only despair.

The king of Holy Cas, his legend resounding for a century—the Dark Tyrant Amos, without flaw, without weakness.

A huge explosion—Spirituality’s psychic force was crushed. Amos slammed his sword into the opponent’s shoulder, planted a foot on his chest, and his scarlet eyes narrowed. “Just now—your psychic power…felt a bit like the Spirit Eye Race?”

Amos felt deep discomfort, even a faint threat.

Forget it…learning this much was enough; keeping him alive might be too dangerous.

Amos changed his mind.

He drew his sword, the blade fluxing with psychic power—one more blow would reduce even the largest beast to blood mist.

So when Little Chu Zao coaxed auntie to bring him to Amos, what he saw was this:

A ruined figure shrieked in a rasp, ranting about how many immortals had already been killed. Their “god” would come, exposing all the immortals’ false glory, destroying everything.

But next instant, the sound was cut off.

The psychic power, though immense, was eerily silent—an unmatched control, not even harming the ground beneath Spirituality.

Then Amos’s voice came, cold with scorn, as Spirituality’s mind faded for the last time.

“But in all you’ve experienced—win or lose—every step records our victory.”

Little Chu Zao’s eyes widened.

“Baba.”

The childish call made Amos shift his mood in a heartbeat, turning back.

“Why’d you come over here with Zao Zao?”

The psychic sword disappeared from Amos’s hand. Leaving the blood behind, he strode a few paces toward the cub.

And there, the little fellow by his aunt looked especially tiny—skipping and bouncing, raising tiny hands, eyes shining.

Amos paused mid-step. Watching his little one bounce over, hugging his leg, looking up at him—“Zao Zao’s baba is the best baba.”

Amos froze, coughed lightly, awkwardly reaching to pick up his cub.

Then—from the cub’s belly came a loud grumble.

Amos: …

Zao Zao: …

Little Chu Zao whispered to Amos, feeling a bit shy, even his dusty wings curled bashfully, “Baba, Zao Zao just felt—so hungry.”

Of course, piecing together the coronet, the cub had to eat others’ psychic weapons—but even just using the black psychic arrows last time had left the child starving. Now he’d used them twice—Zao Zao was ravenous.

Feiman leaned in, “No wonder you were so eager to find him…couldn’t you just tell auntie?”

The cub clung tight to Daddy’s neck.

No way—Auntie is a kiss-fiend! She called Zao Zao dirty and still came to kiss. No more kisses.

“Feiman, stay with the troops to handle the aftermath.”

Amos snugged the cub and instructed Feiman.

“I’ll take Zao Zao and the wounded who need urgent care back to our garrison planet—plus check where Feeney’s gone.”

“Yes.”

Feiman responded promptly to real duty.

*

“Spirituality can’t be reached. Someone’s spotted Holy Cas army activity in the Boel Alliance.”

Elsewhere in the galaxy, the Hymn Organization convened by special comms.

“Damn, damn it…those Crown Clan again—”

“Spirituality was favored to inherit the Seven Virtues, and even received a touch of divine favor. How could they have been found?”

That had been their greatest laboratory.

“It’s infuriating…such anger—damn it, Holy Cas Empire, we must destroy them, break them down. Most importantly—there’s no news of the Crown Clan coronet breaking. That little royal cub must be the key, we have to deal with him first.”

“Calm down, comrades. We don’t need to rush headlong at a mighty immortal—everyone knows not all immortals are as strong as the Crown Clan. We’ve even wiped out clans once as strong as the Crown Clan. Step by step—it’s been centuries, what’s a little longer? I already have a plan. Step by step.”

The gentle voice eased the curses of a few other Hymn Virtues.

“And as for our next target, haven’t we just discovered something new?”

“Gentle, you mean—”

“Yes.”

She smiled.

“The reclusive immortals—the Holy Chalice Clan. We finally caught their trail.”

*

On the other side, with serious injuries in the research group and the Boel Alliance still in chaos, they needed to return to Holy Cas Imperial Star as soon as possible.

Feeney finally arrived late—but wasn’t stuck with cleanup this time.

Feiman handled the aftermath. With less than half a month until National Day, Amos worried Feeney might not make it back in time if left behind.

Amos thought he’d probably not make it.

Not that he didn’t trust Feeney—he just “trusted” Feeney too much.

So, a road-worn Feeney was promptly roped by Amos onto the starship, headed back for Holy Cas.

They hadn’t brought many people, and left a good number for the aftermath—after all, the former Boel Alliance region was too chaotic. This outing was rather light—only two warships set off together.

With the Crown Clan’s combat strength, and with His Majesty Amos and Prince Feeney aboard, there was little concern.

Thus, the warship bearing Zhong Zhiyi and other wounded, all pumped full of various drugs, sped back.

Just a day remained in the journey.

Today’s space warp had just ended. By Holy Cas standard time, it was morning. They’d reach Imperial Star by midnight at the latest.

Amos sat in the command room, going over the mission data with Feeney.

“Isn’t Zao Zao about to come over?”

Feeney, scowling miserably as his second brother made him write up files, occasionally glanced at the door.

Though the cub had woken up around the same time as the rest, he would be tucked into special equipment during warp trips to shield him from the effects.

Now with the warp over, the device should’ve automatically released.

“Mhm, should be—”

Amos glanced at the warm bottle of cub milk that had just been delivered to his side.

Yes, the cub was still drinking milk.

But unlike before, he could now eat many other foods as well.

And these days, the little one had been burning huge amounts of energy—clearly, using those black arrows drained him at this age, leaving him exhausted and perpetually hungry, stretching out his little wings, clinging to you, and tipping his head up to say—Zao Zao’s hungry.

Time to feed Zao Zao!

Raise him or not, feed Zao Zao!

Just then—

A lively psychic presence drew both Amos and Feeney’s attention.

Feeney instantly straightened, mask of gloom vanishing, face blooming into a grin—the creepy guy now bright and sunny in a flash.

“Zao Zao’s here! Zao Zao learned our archer’s secrets—must be stylish! Today I’ll praise Zao Zao! When we’re home, I’ll take Zao Zao for a royal palace adventure!”

Amos: …

Amos picked up the bottle, laughed, and kicked Feeney in the backside.

“Ow—!”

Feeney staggered, aghast, staring at cold-faced Amos.

“You’d better pack away your ‘wild ideas.’”

If he corrupted his cub, Amos could righteously kill his own brother.

Right then, the starship’s sensors detected Little Chu Zao’s ID and the doors opened.

Wearing fuzzy pajamas, soft black hair, a glinting halo, and fluttering little wings, the cub burst in, bouncing all the way.

He crashed headlong into Amos’s chest, rubbing his head lazily in Amos’s arms—“Baba, baba, good morning.”

Though he said so, his eyes had fixed straight on Amos’s milk bottle, soft little voice full of longing.

Barreling in and feigning affection—not even a glance for Feeney.

Feeney: Heh, didn’t even look at third uncle? Twenty minutes of silent treatment today.

Zao Zao was truly hungry.

Little Chu Zao felt hungry all the time lately. Mainly, he was digesting so fast; medical said his metabolism was in overdrive, replenishing his depleted strength.

So, these days in space—open his eyes: Zao Zao: Hungry, hungry, hungry.

Close his eyes—Zao Zao: Hungry, hungry, hungry, hungry, hungry!

Amos merely felt a warm little bundle crash into him.

He watched as Little Chu Zao stretched up his tiny hands, reached and reached.

Amos lifted him onto his lap, offered up the milk, and supported the bottle’s base with one hand.

He watched the cub gulp down a third of the bottle at once.

The cub’s eyes lit up, and he drank hungrily—Zao Zao revived!

After the milk was gone, there was other food on a side table. The polite little cub now finally noticed Feeney, sweetly greeting: “Good morning, third uncle.”

Feeney: …“Ahem, good morning, Zao Zao.”

Very well, since he greeted him so earnestly, he could be forgiving.

Little Chu Zao was set aside to have fruit and snacks after the meal.

Today’s treat was a pink donut, strawberry-flavored, wrapped in paper, not too sweet, specially made for cubs.

There were also heaps of fruit and similar things.

Given the circumstances, the area where the cub could eat was a little away from the main table—adults could reach over easily, but the cub’s little arms just wouldn’t reach. Amos and Feeney helped pass things a few times and got caught up talking, each focused on a report.

Crunching on fruit, the cub finished one, thought a bit, climbed down to get more, then crawled back.

The little one was slightly greedy, grabbing several at once. Once back up, Little Chu Zao looked at the pile of fruit in his arms.

Wait—where’s Zao Zao’s donut?

He looked around and found it on the floor.

He couldn’t reach it—

The cub considered, coronet glimmering, thought a moment, eyes drifting up.

Eh…?

After a while, Amos came to, noticed the empty big plate—no suitable container at hand, and the cub couldn’t hold the whole thing, but still. Zao Zao ate it that quickly? He froze, turning to see what the cub was doing.

Feeney also looked over.

Feeney still wasn’t quite used to Little Chu Zao’s creative halo usage—one glance and he was floored.

There, at the top of the cub’s head—where the halo was—nothing.

He’d taken the halo off, placed it in his lap, nestled inside a few fruits, and, hooked on the coronet’s notch—a plump, pink donut.

Feeney’s scalp tingled with shock.

Wait…is this…how it’s used?

Is this right?

Stuffing fruit in his face, cheeks puffed, the little cub noticed their stares and looked up, big eyes twinkling.

“Baba? Third uncle?”

He was quite pleased, swaying his little legs, wings spread, asking timidly, “Isn’t Zao Zao very smart?”