Little Chu Zao’s tone shifted quickly—from angry to slightly aggrieved.
Storm, who was about to break through and escape, was caught off guard for a moment.
What?
Who?
Why did this little one take off that thing from his own head and shout at it?
Was there someone else here?
Thinking this, Storm suddenly felt excruciating pain in his chest—he had just found a gap in the Crown Clan’s blockade and was about to get out of here quickly.
Confused, he looked down—a silver-black psychic longsword had pierced through his heart.
“You took Zao Zao’s candy?”
A calm, unfamiliar voice sounded suddenly at his ear.
The voice wasn’t loud, but in Storm’s ears, it was like thunder exploding. His eyes widened in terror.
He turned slightly and saw the shadow looming oppressively behind him.
Amidst countless clashing chains, the other’s wings outstretched, flying just a head higher, crimson eyes lowered, half-closed lids casting shadows, back lit, appearing like the executor at the world’s end. Black short hair curled slightly, very much like the little cub who had just confronted him—but this person gave an incomparable sense of oppression.
When, from where?
How was this possible?
The Crown Clan was strong, but Storm considered himself quick—his speed was his pride—even when encountering real danger, he believed he could always escape quickly.
But now—
The cub’s arrows were still circling, controlled by Anya’s psychic power.
Anya took the time to mutter, “Hey, shouldn’t you care about me a little, bro?”
Why’s your focus also on Zao Zao’s candy?
On the ground, the cub was still flapping his little wings, not looking quite right, wailing loudly to his little crown, heartbroken: “Yes, Baba, it’s him!!”
Amos’s eyes dropped, a cold snort in his nose.
The next second, Amos let go of the sword’s hilt.
He reached out, grasping Anya’s chains.
As the youngest brother, Anya often followed Amos.
Before Little Chu Zao, Anya used to be the youngest Crown Clan, well loved by elders, and Amos had gotten used to instructing him.
They were very much in sync.
When Amos grabbed the chain, Anya immediately knew what he meant. He clicked his tongue, the bloody chain’s spikes retracted, one end wrapped around Amos’s psychic longsword hilt—
Storm barely had time to react before Amos, treating him like a skewer, swung him around—
Amos was fast; the cub’s arrows hadn’t yet dissipated, so the once arrogant, triumphant Storm was forcibly smashed by Amos straight into the arrows.
Three more arrows stuck into him.
“Never mind the rest, Zao Zao tried so hard; you should show some respect—”
Amos said, his voice tinged with anger.
He then released his grip, letting Storm, pinned to his psychic longsword, fall to the ground.
Boom—a heavy crash.
Storm couldn’t move, nailed to the spot.
What was this?
Crazy?
How could there be beings in this star cluster stronger than those born from the contamination?
Since that person had appeared, his instincts told him—impossible to win.
Storm’s body trembled in pain.
He could see the starlit sky overhead, and there in the air between stars and sand, Amos and Anya floating.
On the Holy Cas mining planet #78, mountains piled like rising starlit vessels, flying sands cascading like stars.
Such power—he found it familiar.
Maybe he’d seen it before.
“You lot have been into the contamination?!”
Storm howled, face fully twisted into a beast’s form.
“What?”
Amos, in midair, exchanged a glance with Anya, who was about to pick up the cub, but startled by the shout.
They flapped down to the pit’s edge.
Chains rustled as Anya’s hand drew them back.
Anya casually flicked blood from his hand, lowering his gaze to the pit beast.
“Yes. I can’t be wrong—this name—those rebellious humans, flitting everywhere like flies, muttered it as they died—Crown Clan.”
Storm stared fixedly at them.
“And such a power, completely dividing the two sides—no way to cross—”
Like those chains sealing him just now.
So this was all the Crown Clan’s doing?
Amos frowned.
Power splitting two sides in the contamination?
Amos’s first thought was Morlo, whom they’d brought back.
But later research showed Morlo’s area was just the contaminated edge. To find a path, more exploration was needed, so it was impossible for him alone to block these things—
Besides, a Crown Clan like Morlo, surviving in balance inside contamination, shouldn’t exist anymore—
So what did Storm really mean?
And he had never met the Crown Clan, only the power—quite odd indeed.
And what about the divided side of the galaxy? What lay beyond? Was it the Angel Realm they’d been seeking?
All unknowns.
Before Amos and Anya could ponder more, alerts went off one after another.
He looked down at Storm; he’d wanted to keep him for questioning, but as long as Storm was alive, his psychic power would keep drawing beast troops.
“You’re few in number—my body is strong and quickly recovers—”
Storm shook all over.
“More commanders like me will find you in the future—”
This time, he’d finally bring disaster on this cursed empire!
Amos gripped his psychic sword, coldly slashing down.
Then suddenly frowned, as if sensing something, turned and left without another glance.
Anya waited a bit longer.
Confronted by such terrifying psychic force, Storm’s beast eyes were almost bulging out—completely different from before.
A powerful psychic force began to crush, shattering everything in him, not giving him a breath.
No, impossible—
He only needed to eat a few more people—or that delicious little one—
No, can’t be—
Storm gave a twisted howl. Then, everything suddenly stopped.
Anya held the chain, face emotionless, beginning to finish the job—
He only withdrew his chain after making sure there was nothing left of Storm in the pit—licking blood off his palm.
“Bro, why are you in such a rush?”
He turned to catch up.
Meanwhile, their communicators relayed news—the ferocious beast armies were slowing, some of the more intelligent beast commanders were already retreating with their troops.
Things seemed to settle down.
But both Amos and Anya knew—something had begun again.
Just like those angry roars once heard deep in the contamination, as reported by research teams.
Anya followed behind Amos.
For everyone’s safety, Amos had killed Storm far from people, so he wouldn’t crash into anyone.
Only now did Anya understand why Amos was so impatient and hurried, frowning time to time. After all, Anya knew his second brother—seemingly cold, but truly obsessed with battle, even with a penchant for messing with the enemy’s mind, always acting decisively. Even with the beast armies encroaching, Amos’s movements had been fast and smooth.
—From afar, Anya saw Little Chu Zao standing on the spot, hugging his crown, wailing loudly.
Over and over, the same lines—little uncle was bullied, Zao Zao’s candy was gone, that bad thing ate Zao Zao’s candy and thought it bad, yet Zao Zao hadn’t even tasted it himself.
The cub really was shouting at the top of his lungs.
The Holy Cas folk nearby whispered, not daring—or able—to get too close.
Little Chu Zao didn’t look right; his cheeks were red, voice hazy, little wings fluttering as he complained, psychic force circling him, making it hard for ordinary people to approach.
As for Amos’s frowns?
The cub was practically screaming in Amos’s mind, all but ear-splitting.
Amos didn’t blank out completely—he just occasionally felt rattled, which was considered very restrained.
“Your Majesty—”
“Your Majesty!!”
Not much time had passed; from the attack to now, it was just a dozen or so minutes altogether.
Everyone was still stunned, staring dazed at the ruins.
“Clear the area, settle the wounded,” Amos ordered.
“Yes!”
Then Amos picked Little Chu Zao up. “Zao Zao.”
His Majesty Amos wanted to tell his cub to stop yelling; his head was starting to buzz.
After all, when he’d just landed at mining planet #78, he’d been caught off guard by a direct scream-hail from the cub, instantly making his head ring—a memorable experience too.
But holding the cub now, Amos’s brow furrowed.
The little one didn’t feel right, body warm, temperature high, overall dazed, still clutching his crown, insisting on fussing mentally at Amos.
But His Majesty Amos wasn’t quite the same as before. Once, faced with such a cub, he might have panicked inside, rushing him to the medical center.
But after so much, Amos knew his cub was different from normal Crown Clan, and sometimes had special conditions. Like before, when the cub was ‘growing his brain’, he’d also run a high fever.
Amos sent Anya off to fetch ice water and towels while he kept giving orders.
The medical starship originally sent to the Holy Chalice Clan was diverted here; Feeney was told to come too. Amos was calm but wanted a thorough check just in case. He instructed the outside troops as well—if possible, chase and wipe out beast commanders.
Lien, who’d been urgently heading back, was also turned around.
There were tears in the cub’s eyes, but they hadn’t yet fallen.
Amos gently stroked the cub’s cheek, wiping away the bloodstains.
Little Chu Zao still cuddled his crown, muttering sleepily in Amos’s arms until Amos wiped his wound.
The cub paused, wronged, and told Amos: “He wanted to hit Zao Zao, too.”
Tears rolled at last, one finally dropping.
Only after telling everyone else of his grievance did the cub think of himself.
Pitifully, he looked at Amos with honey-colored eyes.
“It hurts a bit, Baba.”
Amos’s expression changed at once.
Cradling the cub, he examined the fine scratches on the soft white face.
He’d seemed calm, but now a dark psychic aura radiated—he clenched his fist, eyes gloomy, quickly repressing it.
Even Anya, coming over, was startled.
Actually, Amos’s emotions hadn’t been that stable just now; he just hid them well.
Now, in overprotective mode, Amos was practically a powder keg.
Anya handed over a towel—
“I really did try to keep Zao Zao safe—he reacted so fast, learns so quick. He’s an archer but charged face-on, you know? Bro, who knows what our third brother’s been teaching him—”
Anya babbled.
Amos listened to the cub’s soft mumbling, pressed the towel to the child’s head, headed for the medical starship, feeling, for once, somewhat dizzy with parental rage—this surround-sound complaint was truly overwhelming. Also, cub, how long do you have to hug your crown, let papa go, okay?
All around was rubble after the fierce battles.
Countless chains had carved out deep grooves under the ground, rocks littered, the Holy Cas emperor sat carelessly atop a stone, black uniform dusted, head low, psychic force turbulent, swirling dust drawing out his psychic traces.
But his eyes were gentle, softly cradling the dusty little cub.
Anya sat nearby, holding a bucket of cool water, muttering to himself as he wrung a clean towel.
Holy Cas people nearby looked on.
Saved—
Just like before—
Some bedraggled war reporters caught these scenes—
The other planetary refugees, still dazed after their flight.
They hadn’t really processed things.
“The beast crisis is over for now, your starship’s over there—”
Wen Qingyu had just finished bandaging unconscious Wen Qingfeng, addressing the crowd coldly.
“If there’s nothing else, please leave as soon as possible.”
Though not Holy Cas citizens, they frankly disliked those who, at crisis’s worst, received royal protection then turned and ran without hesitation.
Those people opened their mouths, seemingly wanting to say something, but in the end, said nothing.
The Holy Cas people were looking again to the Crown Clan—
Little highness had stood before them.
Made the right decision without hesitation.
Different from what they’d seen on live broadcasts—far more shocking to witness.
They’d wanted to urge little highness to flee, but the crisis was quickly resolved.
It reminded them of their miserable, desperate ancestors, huddling long ago under the Crown Clan’s protection—ostracized, bottom rung, nothing left to lose. In utter despair, pressed to the brink, they’d sought shelter within the range of Crown Clan’s protection.
And, in danger’s final hour, received the much-whispered, proud Crown Clan’s sighs and kindly hands—Majesties, highnesses, reaching out.
“All safe!”
Someone shouted.
“Holy Cas mining planet #78—”
“No deaths!”
A wind swept the windless plain, reaching mountain ranges afar—
Holy Cas people cried: No deaths—
Then looked to the Crown Clan—
The warship that came with the cub had already approached, small starships flying out.
Amos carried Little Chu Zao, Anya following, giving orders for regimental leaders to stay and finish up.
Cries came behind—“For the sacred Crown, give all!”
The soldiers landing for rescue and cleanup all saluted.
It was neat and unified.
The cub seemed to finally snap out of it, a towel on his head, leaning on Amos’s shoulder, peeking over—
Rows of saluting Holy Cas people watched them.
Amos paused.
He whispered in the cub’s ear.
“Zao Zao.”
The little one, muttering complaints, dazed by fever, blinked at Amos: “Baba?”
“Did you hear?”
Amos’s voice fell.
“All survived—because of Zao Zao.”
The cub blanked a second. High fever made him slow, lips slightly dry.
Now, hugging his crown, the little one instinctively reached for Anya—“Little uncle, little uncle…”
“Little uncle’s right here.”
Anya, still with the bucket, face strained, swapped the towel on the cub’s head.
And wiped his face, too.
The Crown Clan didn’t indulge in luxury, used to doing things themselves, yet in childcare, most of Amos’s generation were still rookies.
Anya’s movements were clumsy, frustration between his brows.
“Feverish. Used too much force? He shot two rounds of triple black arrows.”
The cub’s strength kept growing, at awe-inspiring speed.
“Seems so. He’s had similar before,” Amos replied.
“Temp’s up but not too bad, can link with medical in three hours.”
“Okay, I’ll have them prep.”
Anya leaned to let the cub see his face.
“Zao Zao, see? Little uncle’s right here.”
After all, he’s Crown Clan royalty.
Still pretty impressive, right?
Getting tossed earlier was pure accident.
Anya still had cuts on his face, arms, and palm, most serious at the shoulder—from shielding the cub, nearly all his psychic power went to defense, so his shoulder was gashed deep, bleeding through his black uniform.
He’d wiped the blood off his face, confident fevered Little Chu Zao wouldn’t notice, coming closer for credit.
“How’s that? Little uncle can protect you, right?”
So see, shouldn’t his status rise a notch?
Little Chu Zao, still holding his crown one-handed.
Porcelain cheeks flushed crimson from fever, unshed tears threatening, a chubby hand reaching out.
The small hand, hot, patted Anya’s face several times, finally landing on the wound; Anya froze, as little Chu Zao’s tears fell at last.
“Wuu, little uncle—”
“Ah, don’t cry, don’t cry—”
Outsmarted himself.
The cub who hadn’t cried before, now sobbed after Anya’s ‘comfort’.
Truly worth celebrating.
On boarding the starship, Amos helplessly kicked Anya once.
Even little scratches on his hand had been spotted instantly by the cub—if you make him cry, shouldn’t you get treated already?
The little one was still feverish, twisting in Amos’s arms, slipping down to follow Anya, staring as Anya tended his wounds.
Anya was at his wits’ end, hurrying to patch himself up.
Still—in fairness, Zao Zao obviously cared for him.
He cried at Anya’s injuries.
Gaining some comfort, Anya’s wounds were quickly stitched, medicated, and dressed—a quick recovery by Holy Cas standards.
And to the Crown Clan, it was a small wound; sparring often produced such.
Anya hadn’t minded before.
Only when the wound vanished did the cub stop following after Anya.
He curled up again in Amos’s lap, towel on forehead, a small bundle clinging to his crown, still too dazed to really process things.
But now he finally understood—because of Zao Zao, all survived.
Great.
The cub looked up at Amos, and tears instantly fell.
Amos:?
What now??
The next second, Amos watched as the cub skillfully raised the crown to his mouth—
Amos: … “Zao—”
“Baba, that was a bad guy, he ate Zao Zao’s candy, it was the newest one Grandpa Lien gave Zao Zao, Zao Zao never got to taste it—he said it was bad, wuwuwu, he tried to eat Zao Zao, looked so scary, Zao Zao’s face hurts, Baba, he made Zao Zao’s bird fly away, Zao Zao needs it to fix his wings, Zao Zao’s wings—fixing wings—bad guy, bad guy! Wuwuwu, big big bad, he let Zao Zao’s bird go, wings wuwu—”
Feverish, the cub rambled incoherently, aggrieved complaints blending into sobs, still fixated on the big bird he’d caught earlier.
Three-dimensional surround sound plus echo made Amos jump.
Amos reached out, scratching around the crown in the cub’s hug—His Majesty Amos, meanwhile, was pondering a serious question: what, exactly, does a psychic thread… look like?
Amos will become immune-tolerant to headaches atthis rate with Zao Zao rattling inside his brain XD
Also awww the way he followed Anya was so cute 🥺
Our zao zao finally learned to rant his grievance