Using the coronet halo to hold food—this little cub was truly one of a kind.
“You could publish a book one day.”
Feeney finally shook off the feeling of pins and needles and looked at Amos, who seemed perfectly calm. He realized his own composure just wasn’t there yet—look at Amos, going about every day with a little tooth mark on his coronet, and nothing ever fazed him.
As he spoke, Feeney glanced at his own coronet, lost in thought.
“We could call it ‘A Hundred Ways to Use Your Coronet Halo.’ Surely there are other Crown Clan folks like third uncle—very curious.”
Having at last retrieved the donut from the coronet’s tip, unwrapped it, and taken a bite, the cub looked up at Feeney.
It wasn’t truly a donut—just a donut-shaped healthy snack for cubs—but since Little Chu Zao hadn’t eaten many nice things, it tasted wonderful, and he squinted his big eyes in delight, casting a puzzled look at Feeney.
Zao Zao, of course, knew how important the coronet was to the Crown Clan. But for the little one, he was used to using his coronet this way. Even after learning its significance, he still instinctively did what was convenient.
But as Amos was helping the cub with fruit and wiping his mouth, he suddenly paused, turned to Feeney with sharp eyes—
“If you yank on your halo and pass out again, I won’t take you to medical.”
Feeney: …
“Haha, second brother, come on, I’ve already knocked myself out with it once. There won’t be a second time, right?”
Amos was deeply skeptical.
Yes, His Majesty Amos knew just how unreliable his younger brother was.
The starship didn’t reach Holy Cas Imperial Star until well after midnight.
It was already late; outside the starship, Holy Cas Imperial Star was nearly dark, only a few night-open shops still shining.
All around was silent and peaceful.
But winter was nearly over in Holy Cas, and today’s weather wasn’t good—thick clouds veiled the sky. Perhaps this was the empire’s last snow?
That wasn’t quite accurate.
“The temperature’s steadily rising; we haven’t had that dry white snow in a while. This is sleet.”
The starship was docking, and, as the cub pressed up against the window, curiously watching the weather, Feeney explained.
“By National Day, it’ll be warming up, with spring flowers beginning to bloom.”
Little Chu Zao blinked his big eyes.
There was no snow in the Angel Realm, so before coming to Holy Cas, he’d never seen any. But the Angel Realm had rain, and Zao Zao had been soaked many times.
He hadn’t felt this particular chill of mixed sleet before.
The starship docked, and the seriously wounded were quickly transferred.
Amos and Feeney disembarked, meeting Frey, who hurried over.
In just those brief minutes, Frey quickly explained a number of urgent matters Amos would need to handle going forward.
And as for Anya?
“He went to the royal medical center this afternoon.”
Frey looked a bit heavy-hearted, too.
“A message from medical says Elder Peng’s condition isn’t good. He went over, and the Peng family’s gathered there as well.”
Amos nodded.
Suddenly, he realized the cub wasn’t by his side.
He paused, glancing back—not that he was neglectful; the cub was still nearby, and well within Amos’s protective range, merely wasn’t moving.
Amos saw the little cub hiding by the starship’s hatch, arm outstretched with curiosity, halo shining atop his head, fingers feeling at the light sleet.
This time, the cub hadn’t been carried down by Amos. He’d come down by himself, bundled thick, round as a ball, which made the adults more at ease; but he was still cold enough to breathe out a cloud of vapor.
“Baba.”
“What are you doing over there?”
Amos realized sudden temperature changes were nothing to adults, but for the cub, it could be uncomfortable. He felt a bit regretful, walked over, and simply picked up Little Chu Zao.
“It’s cold. It’s not quite like snow.”
The cub nestled into Amos’s arms, hugging his neck.
“Zao Zao thought it was like rain. If the rain didn’t hit me, I wouldn’t feel cold, Baba—but it’s still cold, and I didn’t catch up in time.”
In truth, their conversation hadn’t taken long. Amos had let the cub walk down on his own, but the brief delay was just him waiting for the little one.
That soft, childish remark instantly brought back unpleasant memories for the Crown Clan.
A drenched, shivering cub with nowhere to escape the rain, herding with his makeshift shelter, left soaked through—a little drowned chick.
He softly, with childlike innocence, told Amos—Baba, Zao Zao thought as long as the rain didn’t touch him, he wouldn’t be cold.
That soaking, helpless cub had been very cold, his tears falling, wanting to find somewhere dry. But even then, he hadn’t really known—not being hit by rain, whether it would truly be warmer.
They’d seen such scenes before, and even in the cub’s matter-of-fact, untroubled tone, Amos’s face darkened.
Frey frowned, and Feeney’s smile vanished instantly.
Amos’s wings spread behind him, folding forward to wrap the cub in white feathers.
“Cold now?”
The cub, encased in soft wings, widened his eyes and peered up through the feathers at Amos.
The wind was cut, the little flecks of snowy rain vanished, and the world seemed to quiet.
Oooh—
Little Chu Zao gazed at the vast wings enveloping him, and his own little wings sprang up, trying to do the same—but he was just a cub, his wings still growing. Little Chu Zao gave it his all, but couldn’t manage it.
Then Amos saw his little one’s wing twitch and droop.
Amos: …?
Little Chu Zao wrinkled up his bun face.
“Baba, my wing’s gone numb.”
The muffled voice drifted from Amos’s arms.
Amos, Feeney, and Frey all chuckled.
Little Chu Zao, eyes wide, nestled in Amos’s embrace, shot an accusatory look at him for laughing.
He’d wanted to poke his head out, but now he hid completely.
Meanwhile, among the last batch of transferred wounded was Zhong Zhiyi, step unsteady, face and arms bandaged, declining offers of help, but once stepping onto Holy Cas soil, couldn’t help glancing over at the Crown Clan.
It was then that Anya, just arrived from the medical center, hurried over.
He looked around, puzzled—“Where’s Zao Zao?”
Hidden in Amos’s embrace, wings wrapped tight, the little cub heard him, raised his head a bit—his hair didn’t poke out, but half his halo did, and it wobbled gently outside Amos’s wing.
Anya drew closer, and on seeing just “half” a little halo peek from Amos’s feathers, couldn’t help but reach out, instinctively wanting to part Amos’s wings—at least show the whole thing.
He’d just reached out, when Amos glanced his way, and Feeney clicked his tongue, muttering to Frey, “We shouldn’t just watch Anya walk to his doom. Looks like second brother’s about to kill him.”
Frey: ?
So?
Didn’t know you were so compassionate?
Feeney closed his eyes. “So we ought to close our eyes.”
Frey: …
Anya’s hand got smacked away fast.
He drew back with a hiss, no time to even yelp.
“Elder Peng’s not doing well.”
What?
Zhong Zhiyi, tracking their group as the Crown Clan headed to the royal medical center, paused and hurried to catch up.
“Please, please wait—Your Majesty, your Highnesses—”
She stared wide-eyed.
“Teacher, what happened to teacher?”
“Elder Peng’s student.”
Amos looked over.
“Come along.”
*
It was late, even quieter here than the last time the cub had come.
Rarely were there so many outsiders; most were members of the Peng family.
Some were crying—not just Peng family, but members of the medical staff too.
Recently, Peng Liang, with whom the cub had grown familiar, was in the ward; Peng Family head Peng Yue was there as well. Kaman, old acquaintance of the Pengs, stood by Peng Yue, murmuring something in the dark night.
Zhong Zhiyi hurried over, nearly stumbling.
“Teacher—”
Her voice trembled, but she didn’t cry. Since it was late and they were in the medical center, she dared not break down.
“You’re back?”
Peng Yue finally responded. He looked down at his father—Saint Cas’s pioneer of agricultural recovery after the pollution—Peng Shengfei.
After the cub’s last visit, Old Peng woke for a short while each day, but the periods grew ever shorter. Medical reported he was spent, all but used up. The old man had already suffered before, and forcing it any longer would be nothing but pain.
“Dad, look, your student’s come back. Their Majesties brought her back, so rest assured.”
“Is…is it because of me?”
Zhong Zhiyi asked Peng Yue in confusion.
“Did teacher—because of me—”
“No, his health was already failing for years. He’s lived far longer than first expected.”
Peng Yue’s voice was gentle as he comforted the pale, anxious researcher.
Amos didn’t enter, still holding the cub.
Little Chu Zao sensed sorrow linger in the air. He perceived Peng Shengfei’s psychic aura, now gray mist, dissipating bit by bit, but the sensitive cub still picked up on his lingering will—not willing to fully fade away.
Some medical staff quietly hid to weep.
They’d done all they could for his psychic illness, but beyond the Crown Clan’s powers, they had no way to ease it, not even for commoners’ psychic maladies. They had no tricks left.
This was the top psychic research center in the galaxy—and even they could not help.
“Your Majesty—”
Peng Yue, still relatively composed, seemingly prepared for this moment, stepped over, kneeling before Amos, his voice a little hesitant but steady.
“Last time, it was His Highness who revived my father briefly. After that, he could open his eyes each day, see his family. This time, could the little Highness try once more? Father doesn’t yet know his student is safe…please…”
Amos said nothing, moving past Peng Yue with the cub in his arms, stopping at the bedside.
This monarch—so steadfast and reliable to Holy Cas—lowered his gaze, set the cub down, and pressed a hand to his chest.
Amos still wore the chill of cold rain and snow, a bit of damp on his black uniform, and the damp curl of black in his hair.
In terms of years, Amos was much older than Peng Shengfei, but an immortal in eternal vigor quietly facing the fading elder, he spoke softly.
“In the name of Holy Cas, in honor of your outstanding contributions, I salute you. Holy Cas will continue, carrying all you have given, never ceasing, always moving forward.”
Little Chu Zao stood by Amos, sensing his father’s feelings.
He stretched out his small hand, trying to scoop up the dissipating gray psychic energy, even using his halo to catch it.
It made little difference.
He’d heard Teacher Hel tell Peng Shengfei’s story before, and now gripped the elder’s hand, thinking—if only Grandpa Peng could feel a bit better.
As the end neared, the elder was even having ‘nightmares.’
Peng Liang stood by the cub, looking at him expectantly.
And Zhong Zhiyi just stood at the bedside, frozen; despite Peng Yue’s comfort, she couldn’t come to terms.
Until, lying there, the gaunt old man slowly opened his eyes, gathering a last bit of spirit. When others gathered around, he struggled to turn his head, scanning the room, eventually seeing Zhong Zhiyi and staring, then giving a grandfatherly smile: “Home again?”
Zhong Zhiyi choked up, eyes wide, stifling tears, unable to speak.
Peng Shengfei looked at Amos, then the little one holding his hand.
“Your Majesty, Your Highness…forgive my rudeness—truly remarkable psychic power; each time, it brings such…peace.”
“No harm.”
Amos replied, backing the cub away gently.
Peng Shengfei made his last arrangements.
He made sure everything was set, thanked the Holy Cas medical staff.
He spoke of his own work, saying all must be gradual, nothing overnight. He knew everyone had tried their utmost.
The usually unflappable head clinician turned away, unable to hold it in.
“And…Little Zhong…”
Peng Shengfei smiled, “Young one, don’t be so negative all the time…you keep asking teacher what’s the point of existence—is it just for suffering? However I answered never seemed right, but now, maybe I get it—if you can’t understand, just pass on what I’ve taught you…humans may live shorter lives than many species, face more hardship, but something always endures, always passes down—”
Peng Shengfei’s eyes grew unfocused.
He looked up—
All those old friends…he was off to find them, sorry for being this late.
He’d been stubborn, bringing his team to ruin; did they still blame him?
He felt guilty every moment, nightmares relentless.
Yet in a daze, Peng Shengfei seemed to see those old fellows again.
Smiling, reaching for him.
—Come on, we’ve been waiting for you.
—That old assistant’s become a celebrity now.
—Really, can’t you forgive yourself? Don’t you know what kind of people we are?
—How could anyone blame you.
Yes.
He knew that.
He’d only been avoiding it, as if taking all blame himself gave him purpose, let him keep going.
But they never would.
Peng Shengfei slowly closed his eyes—a soft sigh dissipating in the air.
Such psychic power—
“How could it be so gentle…”
Outside the door, a few newcomers paused.
Cheng Xuan gazed in, then quietly stepped aside.
That night, official Holy Cas news dropped:
‘The founding pioneer of agricultural re-establishment and experimental restoration under pollution—Mr. Peng Shengfei, passed away today due to psychic illness at the Royal Medical Center, age 145. Thank you for a lifetime of devotion…’
At last, Amos took the cub away.
The cub hadn’t known Elder Peng well, but, perhaps because his psychic power was linked to emotion, he could manipulate psychic energy to change someone’s feelings, which also made him too sensitive to others’ emotions.
Amid the weeping, the cub clung to Amos’s neck, wings twitching, burrowed into Amos’s arms and let out little sobs.
This time, the cub didn’t say he was useless.
Some things simply cannot be stopped.
Amos wanted Little Chu Zao to understand that too.
All the more because—
Back at the Dwight Palace, Amos told his little one, Peng’s psychic force had found peace; he’d gone to his final rest, passing serenely, leaving no regret.
It was probably something Elder Peng himself never thought possible before.
Little Chu Zao sniffled, nestled deeper in Amos’s arms, lifting his head. “Really?”
A child who’s grown up lacking affirmation always needs to ask again and again if they did it right.
Amos nodded.
“Time to sleep, baby.”
Zao Zao loved being called baby by Amos.
But His Majesty wasn’t used to that word, rarely saying it.
His wings fluttered; curled in Amos’s embrace, he clung to his ghost bear.
Big, honey-colored eyes, washed with tears, still a little red.
“Zao Zao will get stronger.”
The cub was so sleepy now, he mumbled in a daze.
Curled up in the warmth Amos gave him.
At this moment, the little cub seemed to truly understand a bit more of what Amos once said about the Crown Clan’s burdens.
Elsewhere, dawn was breaking.
Zhong Zhiyi accepted Old Peng’s legacy and walked out from the royal court, feeling as if centuries had passed.
She didn’t cry. Somehow, she understood her teacher’s passing, but was also numb, as if her mind hadn’t caught up.
Her teacher had gone peacefully—more so than ever before. Anyone could tell from the Peng Family’s repeated gratitude toward His Majesty and the little prince.
She ought to feel happy for her teacher.
She walked on; ahead, the morning market was open, the city growing lively. Some quietly discussed the midnight announcement from the Holy Cas government, disbelief in their voices, a few choked up. Night-shop owners rubbed their eyes, closing shutters and chatting about attending the memorial.
National Day decorations were underway, the guards rotated, people hurried past to find breakfast—life moved on. Zhong Zhiyi, for the first time, felt the truth of this land beneath her feet: she’d been brought home—brought back by that one “don’t be afraid.”
Teacher…when did her tears start flowing endlessly?
Per Elder Peng’s wishes and the family’s attitude, his funeral was kept simple.
For days before National Day, the whole of Holy Cas lay in a somber hush.
But Peng’s research lived on—Zhong Zhiyi took the helm. Projects he’d begun on other planets now became her charge, keeping her busy.
Little Chu Zao soon resumed his daily training, full of energy in these days.
Lately, the cub was practicing evasion drills.
Hel tossed sandbags for the little one to dodge.
Seven days until National Day.
Feiman finally returned from the Boel Alliance region.
Little Chu Zao felt he’d improved a lot.
Coincidentally, Teacher Hel was away this afternoon.
The other three cubs were still doing their daily lessons.
After finishing her own work, Feiman had a short break.
She took up practice with the cub—auntie would spar in exchange for a kiss.
She tossed sandbags from a basket, adjusting her throws for the cub’s speed—not too hard, just right for progress but not impossible.
Until Feeney showed up.
He sat by Feiman, watching the little cub.
“You’re practicing nicely.”
The cub’s wings fluttered behind him.
He looked at Feiman, then at Feeney.
Feiman met his eyes impassively, slowly tapping her cheek with a finger.
That marked the end of practice—if she wanted another round, she demanded another kiss.
The cub blinked and looked at Feeney.
“Third uncle, can you help Zao Zao train?”
He gazed softly. Feeney froze, then rubbed his nose. “Me?”
The cub nodded.
Feiman paused, hesitated—Wasn’t this more like play for Feeney? The Crown Clan’s competitive streak was strong; Amos’s and Feeney’s were worst of all.
Amos was busy elsewhere, leaving the cub and Feeney ready to go.
Little Chu Zao scampered off to the practice area.
Then—Feeney lobbed a slow sandbag. The cub dodged easily.
Feiman thought—good, at least Feeney had some restraint.
But then…things went off.
Miss—didn’t hit.
Miss—Zao Zao dodged again.
Feeney: …
Feeney’s throws gradually sped up.
Faster and faster, more and more precise—he was getting in the zone.
Zao Zao was surrounded by flying sandbags; while not painful, he clearly couldn’t dodge all. He whimpered, “Third uncle, third uncle, third uncle—”
He struggled to snap his unreliable, overexcited third uncle out of it.
At last the cub flapped frantically, flying out, eyes wide, staring at Feeney.
Right as Amos arrived.
Feeney halted, looking at the cub’s angry, puffed cheeks and ruffled wings, scratching his head with a laugh, apologizing as he promised to make it up in the future with something even more fun. Then—he felt Amos’s gaze and turned, locking eyes with him. Feeney froze, stammered, and hurried to explain—“I was testing Zao Zao’s limits.”
Feeney thought he was about to get beaten up—instead, Amos nodded.
“I approve of your method.”
Feeney: I have to run…
Huh? Approve…?
Brother, what’s gotten into you.
Then he watched Amos step up, lift the little cub aside, pick up the basket, seize a sandbag, and—aim coldly at Feeney.
“So…let’s begin.”
Feeney: …
Feeney: ……!!!!!!
“Second brother, second brother, second brother—I swear I didn’t use my full strength, go easy on me!! Aaaah—”