The intense pain throughout her body—by now, Kindness could barely feel it.
The tendons and bones at every crucial point—arms, knees—had all been smashed.
Twisting around her, that so-called “divine” spirit force, supposedly from “God,” circled her twice in unwilling retreat, and slowly dissipated in the midst of her blood-mangled flesh.
The Crown Clan, following the power that charged in with Little Chu Zao’s arrow, precisely disabled every part of Kindness still capable of movement.
But by now, Kindness was nearly unconscious.
The effect from “God’s” spirit power was far stronger than anyone imagined.
Her body—her own spirit—couldn’t bear such speed or strength.
Now she was little more than a heap of ruined meat, collapsed on the ground.
Only her eyeballs still moved.
A tiny golden arrow was stuck in the bottle necklace at her throat, black flames burning on its shaft. For a moment, everything around seemed to fall still, the hush before some power erupted, seconds from ignition.
In the reflection upon Amos’s sword, Kindness saw herself—so ugly now…
Heh, heh… heh—
“O God—you lifted me from darkness. I am fulfilling your will, offering the holy rite, singing the hymn, awaiting your arrival, vowing lifelong service, hoping our sacrifice is not in vain. The immortals shall perish, and you shall grant us a new and fairer world—”
As the sound of the “God’s” blessing stone shattering echoed from inside the bottle.
She yearned for those “miracles.” Even if never once had she seen “God,” now—
So close. If only she could deal a blow to the Crown Clan before her—
Only mad believers make it to the top of the Hymn Organization; in this already twisted galaxy, such zealotry becomes even madder.
Mocking, scorning all else, blaming immortals for bringing suffering and oppressing the “God” who saved them, a high elder like Kindness—at such a young age—was madness incarnate.
Meanwhile, Lien had already routed the Hymn Organization reinforcements; sensing Kindness’s fate, the Organization began to withdraw.
Their mobile base, hidden somewhere among the stars, started shifting again.
“She exposed God’s blessing stone and lost God’s trust.”
“We must better vet new recruits—never again take risks like this generation’s Kindness, squandering the initiative.”
“Go back into hiding. We need new strategies for facing the Crown Clan. They’re probing the core of the pollution; those split-off zones devoid of immortals—we must reach them before the Crown Clan does and lay traps.”
“Pass down the order—”
Meanwhile, Sheng Hua, actively conning the boss with new schemes, read the latest secret update.
“Boss, what’s up?”
“Who knows.”
Sheng Hua narrowed her eyes, propping her chin on her arm.
She was on a barren drifter planet with no real powers, yellow sand churning behind her.
She’d grown taller from scrounging too many resources; pale skin browned by the sun. One foot rested on a huge mechanical vehicle “kindly provided” by the Hymn Organization—she looked skyward.
Everything was calm, stars twinkling in the black night.
Humans are the kind of creature that, in an instant, can decide a life direction—by a moment, a chance, a hurdle that sets the tone for their future.
“Probably the boss acting out again and making trouble.”
Sheng Hua spoke airily.
“So do we keep selling these promises?”
“Sell them, of course—why not?”
The boss making trouble doesn’t delay your paycheck, does it?
What’s that to us?
“Look at the people on these drifter planets: no belief, no ideals, just staggering by as the living dead, scattered, never uniting—such a waste of resources! If others won’t do it, we must—that’s how you show your worth!”
Make them watch the video of the five-year-old prince protecting the people a hundred times!
Isn’t that a bit much?
Sheng Hua smiled, jumped down, and was about to say more when a tremor shook her.
This place was not far from the Holy Cas border.
It really felt just like an earthquake.
How big was that commotion?
“What’s going on?”
Back on the drifter planet where Kindness fell, while the Hymn Organization quietly pulled their tentacles back…
Originally, the Crown Clan intended to leave Kindness alive to investigate what schemes the Hymn Organization was brewing.
But as the arrow stuck in Kindness’s necklace faded, a faint crackle came—the silvery, metallic, meteor-like stone shattered at that very moment.
A massive energy shock, almost like a Crown Clan destruction-level explosion, erupted.
That preceding silence was because the enormous blast hadn’t yet hit.
Holy Cas’s military reacted instantly.
Layer after layer of defensive shields sprang up.
Feiman launched her spirit, Feeney fired an arrow, neutralizing the energy.
The cub was immediately pulled behind and shielded by Feeney and Feiman.
And as for Amos?
Though at point-blank range, no one worried about Amos.
Immense mental strength, unmatched body.
To be precise, Amos himself was key to containing this eruption.
But at the epicenter, Amos and Kindness saw not just a simple explosion.
Little Chu Zao’s spirit seemed to violently clash with the power from that tiny “meteor.”
Instantly, it twisted into a colossal force.
Amos saw a familiar scene—
A mirage thrown by energy warping space.
Familiar forests, grasslands, dwellings—
“Angels” with gentle golden halos soared through the sky.
Amos saw, especially clear, the archangel he loathed most, whom he wished to tear apart even in his dreams, sitting compassionately in his white robe atop a high seat, encircled by ornaments faintly reminiscent of Kindness’s “blessing stone.”
“That’s—‘God’? Or—God’s messenger?”
Barely alive, now inhuman in form, Kindness’s gaze blazed with hope as she stared at the vision.
A peaceful, calm, just world.
“God” would create such a world for them.
The world they’d longed for.
This scene seemed to be playing out inside the Angel Realm Amos had never found.
“Is it dead?”
The archangel closed his eyes, face tranquil as ever, still gentle, compassionate—a faintly incongruous curve at the corners of his lips.
“Special beings never should exist. They should be assimilated, lose individuality, obey, be good, disappear at last—this lesson was learned at great cost.”
Amos’s grip tightened on his sword.
At that moment, the calm exterior boiled over with spirit force—indeed, just as Little Chu Zao first saw him, Amos in full fury reappeared.
—Brutal, merciless, the surrounding black spirit force warped space, raging pell-mell into that unknown realm conjured by the collision.
Amos’s form changed.
Swelling, consumed by energy and might, blood and flesh torn in the blast, the scent of gore everywhere, and for an instant—as if a rift opened between two worlds—his wild force roared through.
Kindness had wanted to laugh, laugh at the Crown Clan’s futility, their soon-to-be-dashed hopes in the face of “God.”
But in the next instant, Kindness’s eyes shot open.
With her dying gasp, she saw spirit power pierce that so-called peaceful world, and heard a Crown Clan roar.
As if saying—
—“God”?
Nothing but that.
How could this be—
In that moment of faith-shattering absurdity, Kindness’s gaze finally dimmed—she would be nothing more than a pile of shapeless meat.
Amos’s furious roar was so loud, in that instant it even drowned out the explosion.
Holy Cas’s other squads, busy containing the blast, were momentarily stunned.
Feeney hesitated for a moment.
As the only one here maybe able to suppress Amos, he felt cold sweat on his back, a shudder down his spine.
“What’s going on?”
“What’s happened to second brother?”
Feiman’s face grew serious too.
It was blinding at ground zero—so much smoke and dust, you couldn’t make out what was happening inside.
“Could it be a spirit force rampage?”
Feeney frowned.
“Is this a new Hymn Organization plot?”
“No idea—”
“Baba—Baba—”
Little Chu Zao, knocked about by the blast, was sheltered behind them.
Now hearing this, he wanted to rush out, peering down.
But the cub’s voice was too soft; even standing this close, Feeney and Feiman could barely make it out—no way Amos could, at a distance.
The cub anxiously looked down. As the blast subsided and the dust settled, a majestic mountain-like silhouette came into view—its coronet’s halo flickering: Amos’s true form.
Only when experiencing extreme emotions do adult Crown Clan reveal their true forms.
Right now—
“Don’t worry, Amos is strong, he’ll be all right.”
“Zao Zao, come on, let Third Uncle hold you, let’s take a look below.”
Talking business, Feeney’s usually cheeky face grew grave.
Elsewhere—
“Ah…”
“That—archangel—”
The high-seated archangel opened his eyes and turned his head, his smile vanishing—no longer radiant, now rather shadowed.
A streak of blood marked his cheek, scarlet dripping down to stain his white clothes.
Next to his seat, a silver-black spirit longsword was nailed tight.
Look closely—it even bore tiny teeth marks.
“Archangel—what is that—”
“A heretic, that’s an invading heretic.”
Behind him, six golden wings spread wide, glowering at the sword.
The spirit longsword was already fading; now it vanished even more quickly, leaving only its trail and the blood on the archangel’s face—his hand trembled from the force.
“We must make preparations. As before, purge the heretic.”
*
Feeney already landed, holding Little Chu Zao.
With Amos in such a state…
Feeney didn’t dare let the Holy Cas ships approach.
Dangerous—he looked crazy.
What state was Amos really in?
Feeney wasn’t sure.
Feiman followed, always alert to Amos’s status.
Though tucked in Feeney’s arms, the cub instinctively leaned forward, still softly calling out for Amos.
His Cupid’s bow was stowed away by now, big eyes blinking, anxiously watching Amos.
Amos needed to calm down.
Emotions repressed, suddenly seeing his “nemesis”—the Hymn Organization, all Little Chu Zao had endured. That was his cub, targeted as a heretic, forced to assimilate, nearly erased—if fate hadn’t brought them together, Amos might never have known he had a child—this cub had always cried alone when most in need of a parent.
So many feelings tumbled over—Amos didn’t overthink it.
He needed peace.
His spirit warped the air around.
Formidably massive, he was every inch the tyrant of the stars.
“Hiss—”
Feeney, holding the cub, peered closely.
He glanced at Feiman.
“Doesn’t seem too bad? Should we not get too close?”
“No telling, but if you bother him when he’s irritated, you’ll get whacked.”
Feiman spoke from experience, her calm, capable tone belying unreliable history.
“Oh, then let’s not get too close—he hits hard.”
Feeney, reassured about Amos, relaxed and glanced into the cub’s face.
“Maybe Zao Zao should give Amos some love and peace? Help him recover.”
The anxious cub: …?
Little Chu Zao looked up at Feeney, a bit lost.
Feiman, who heard this too: …?
Feiman stared at Feeney in shock.
King of Bad Ideas?
Only you, Third Brother!
But the cub thought it over, wiggled in Feeney’s hold, wanting down.
Feeney didn’t really know how to hold a child.
He wasn’t very comfortable; in fact, he’d just scooped Zao Zao up to get a look at Amos, so he gracelessly set the cub down.
Feeney had rarely held the cub.
His unreliability put everyone off letting him try, lest a “brilliant idea” occur.
So as the cub squirmed, Feeney just loosened his grip.
In panic he blurted, “Wait a second, Zao Zao—Third Uncle was just joking, don’t really do it—your papa will kill me if you actually shoot him with love and peace!”
If Little Chu Zao really shot Amos, he’d have Feeney’s head.
But the cub clearly didn’t intend that. The little guy hopped to the ground.
Pitter-pattering toward Amos.
Little wings fluttered behind, still in his soft pajamas: “Baba, Baba—!”
“Hey—”
Feeney and Feiman reflexively moved to stop him.
But were batted back by the wild, distorting field of Amos’s spirit.
Feeney & Feiman: …
The two were sent flying; they watched, dazed, as the cub sprinted ahead, switched into white ball mode mid-run, charging for the one who looked just like him but even bigger and more imposing—a “giant white ball.”
“So, does Second Brother really need peace and quiet, no one to bother him?”
Yet the cub could stumble in, perfectly safe.
The two of them, just a little closer, and—bam, flung away.
Talk about double standards?!
“Just based on what you said—”
Feiman reasoned.
“Second Brother only flung you two miles out of respect for family.”
Feeney: …
Little Chu Zao, now a snow-white little ball, halo sparkling atop his head.
Wings flapped as he hopped and flew onward, furry ears pressed back by the wind—true airplane ears.
Baby dragon tail wagging.
He bounced till he neared Amos.
Every bit of soft white fur ruffled by the wind.
Looking up at the behemoth just ahead.
Little head craned high, eyes on that twisting spirit force.
He blinked, then—as if meeting Amos for the first time—flattened himself to the ground, figuring it would cut wind resistance. The wind might blow Zao Zao away!
And Amos was struggling to calm himself.
He wasn’t emotional by nature.
But years of repression left him with no outlet; even his spirit and coronet felt oddly off, like a progress bar, halted by Zao Zao, now starting up again.
He didn’t know how to get control. Maybe, given a little longer, he could soothe the panic and pain of nearly losing the cub he might never have met.
And then—familiar spirit energy drew near.
Unconsciously nurturing his cub, not even aware of his surroundings, Amos froze a little.
The white ball crept up.
Reached Amos’s side, and stretched out a tiny paw.
This Zao Zao was no longer the same as their first meeting.
He reached out and tugged on Amos’s fur.
His little body pressed to the ground, eyes squinting—
The thin, furry ears flattened and popped up again, wings folding up tight, a scrappy little flower battling the wind.
“Awoo—” Baba—
Even his speech was windblown.
Mouth opened in a big “ah”—all wails and whimpers.
“Awoo!! awooo!!”
Baba!! Zao Zao’s here!!
Baba, don’t be afraid—Zao Zao’s here to help!
Zao Zao is awesome!
The cub’s voice strengthened.
The massive beast lowered its head to where the white cub had flopped onto his shaggy dragon tail.
That soft, white bundle—spitting image of Amos himself, only tiny.
The little one cried out, just as he had when he’d come to Amos’s side during the rampage at the sanctuary, reminding Amos not to be afraid—Zao Zao had arrived.
No one had ever told Amos not to be scared—yet his nearly-six-year-old cub was telling him, he’d protect his papa.
Letting this little one worry for him.
The wild spirit force began visibly to dissipate.
Amos’s crimson eyes gradually regained calm.
He uttered a low awoo.
The cub perched on his tail a soft awoo in reply.
Then, the strong, white-furred dragon tail slowly lifted, raising the little one high.
Every Holy Cas warship saw a colossal beast—one that could wipe out a civilization—lift its tiny cub by the tail, bringing him close to his face.
Little wings fluttering, the cub hugged Amos’s tail, happily awoo-awoo-ing, asking if Amos was feeling better.
Zao Zao had only heard Amos’s angry roar—powerful enough to shake the stars—never this deep awoo.
It was unlike his milky voice, deeper and richer—a surprising feeling.
Such crimson eyes, close up, looked like deep red gemstones.
Calm, devoted, gentle, nuzzling his cub against his face.
Huge wings unfurled behind the beast as its tail cradled the little one—a display full of warmth.
Utterly unexpected gentleness.
“He recovered fast.”
Feeney, watching from afar, chuckled softly.
“So, that one’s dead, right?”
“Blown to bits in that explosion, surely. But with Amos so close, there must be clues left.”
Feiman nodded, eyes fixed on the little white ball held aloft by Amos.
Its tiny paws pressed Amos’s face, seemingly unsure how to nuzzle him, unsure how to comfort.
But tilting his fluffy head to think a moment, the cub pressed close, tried a little nuzzle, and then another.
Feiman distinctly heard Amos let out a contented awoo.
Clearly, the usually reserved emperor was rather enjoying his cub’s soft cuddles and concern.
Feiman stared, eyes narrowed in thought.
Ah—did Zao Zao just kiss Amos?
Should’ve let Amos babysit and gone to pummel him herself!
The younger siblings, still excluded by Amos’s spirit, stared at him for ages.
Hey, enough already—
When are you going to let us come over??
“He’d better not get too pleased; if he forgets where he is and rolls around like that holding Zao Zao in that form…”
Now that would be one hilarious sight.
Feeney’s babyish face twisted watching the snug little white ball, coming up with all kinds of outlandish ideas about Amos.
“I think he’s about to.”
“None of that matters.”
Feiman also stared.
“What?”
Feeney glanced over in reflex.
What mattered was—
Feiman: “Why can’t I kiss him?”
Feeney: …