The atmosphere in the elite class was much lighter and more cheerful than Little Chu Zao had expected.
After all the greetings, they enthusiastically started introducing things around the training field to him.
Including the training gun Teng Kelin had just used.
“It’s this one, Your Highness.”
Someone brought a gun over.
It wasn’t a live firearm, so it wasn’t very dangerous. It worked with the field’s smart system for their regular drills.
The gun’s weight matched that of the energy guns issued in the military.
So it was heavy—way too big and heavy for the still tiny Chu Zao.
It was nearly as tall as Zao Zao himself.
He hefted it, blinking his big eyes—he could lift it, but it nearly slipped from his grasp.
If his body hadn’t gotten stronger recently, he might not have managed at all.
The range’s smart system auto-detected, and a bunch of virtual targets flew out far away, still moving targets.
Chu Zao hadn’t practiced this before. Curious, he checked the gun.
The cub had seen guns, but never used one. The Crown Clan mainly used powerful psychic weapons—guns weren’t needed.
“Over there is the senior division’s first-year group. They’re just assembling as classes haven’t started yet.”
The elite class kids gathered around, quietly discussing things with him.
“That guy shooting just now is ranked number one for marksmanship in the whole school—”
There was more left unsaid.
Like how Teng Kelin was supposed to be a Ling family prodigy from the old Future Plan—he’d mostly been trained by his own family, and hadn’t mixed much with his classmates in the First Military Academy, so he wasn’t really popular.
And how, with the little prince clearly here, the kid was still shooting on the other end—not against the rules, but kind of defiant and antisocial.
But thinking of all those Future Plan family issues, this group of boys and girls swallowed their words.
Chu Zao simply glanced that way, unconcerned. With the little wings folded behind him, his presence was soft and gentle and his big round eyes were clear and kind, reflecting the whole world with their warmth. He held a heavy, ill-matched gun, a bit incongruent with his look.
The kid who’d brought over the gun got glared at by the class—just let him take a look, he’s so young and just got back to the palace, still at an age needing protection.
Besides, the prince’s bow was quite powerful already.
So why drag over the gun in front of the senior division when they were assembling?
The boy scratched his head and grinned awkwardly—
It wasn’t his fault! The prince just looked up and asked, and his body moved before he could even process it.
He wanted to take the gun back—it really was too heavy, and they’d all struggled with it at first.
And what was with Chao Huangmu grinning at him like that? Could you not smile so creepily??
Just then, Chu Zao turned curiously to Chao Huangmu and asked, “How do you use this?”
There were no guns in the Angel Realm, nor were they common for the Crown Clan; it was true these weapons were new to the cub.
Not far away, the two instructors hadn’t left yet.
Senior division instructor Pei Bing glanced at elite class instructor Xue Yifan: “Come to think of it, I’ve never seen the Crown Clan princes use guns.”
“For His Majesty and the princes, psychic weapons are far more powerful and easier to wield; guns aren’t necessary.”
Xue Yifan smiled, as though recalling a memory, then let out a soft “ah.”
He was the instructor who’d brought the three boys to the front lines for practical training.
On the range below, a gun fired—
The cub pulled the trigger. He’d never used one before and just copied Chao Huangmu’s instructions a few times. Though he held the gun steady, given his size and gentle temperament, the difference between him and the cold, hard gun made him look like he might lose his grip at any moment.
“Seems the prince isn’t familiar with firearms.”
Pei Bing said again.
“But indeed, the prince doesn’t need guns.”
“No, to be precise, the Crown Clan is good at everything.”
Xue Yifan waved a hand.
“And don’t underestimate the prince because he’s young—”
On the range, having grasped the basics, the cub squinted, aiming at the moving targets—
He held his breath, focused—
His little face was soft with youth, but now taut and serious, there was a subtle sense of pressure.
The onlooking students subconsciously tensed, defensive.
Bang, bang, bang—
The cub raised the heavy gun, squinted to aim, and moving targets fell one after another. The wind ruffled his curls and his fluffy wings.
Chu Zao set the gun down, blinking—Wow, he hit them all!
The cub puffed out his chest, quite proud—easier than sparring his third uncle.
Yes, Chu Zao hadn’t practiced on moving targets, but he hadn’t needed to.
Feeney used to throw moving targets himself—his challenges were way beyond this.
Xue Yifan saw all the targets down and the stunned Teng Kelin.
He showed an “I knew it” look.
“Not like regular students—His Highness has been to a real battlefield, and besides, the prince’s real weapon is the bow.”
He patted the equally stunned and uncomfortable Pei Bing on the shoulder.
“I remember His Highness Feeney, too—he found firearms ridiculously easy. Come to think of it, after the last beast disaster, things could get even messier in the galaxy, and new gear’s already in. Should we put in a request? We need more field exercises, not just training here. His Majesty and the princes can’t cover all of Holy Cas; we need to get stronger, keep up.”
“That’s a good idea. Before things spiral, we should push for more actual combat. I saw your last report, and you’re right, more real action is good. Let’s submit one together, see if we can do more in the next few years—who knows when there’ll be results on the pollution front.”
Time for class.
The instructors got ready to split up.
“By the way, did His Majesty bring the prince to school today?”
“I believe so, why?”
“No reason, just feels a little odd—can’t say what’s off.”
Far off on the range—
“Not bad, well done—you see, my elite class training is a total success.”
Feeney looked on at a distance, feeling smug.
“I must correct you, Your Highness Feeney. Before your return, all the prince’s early skills were taught by me.”
Hel stood further away, watching too.
“And don’t you all have jobs?”
Frey, from one end, piped up unexpectedly.
Feeney shot a look over: “Are you talking to me? You’re standing here too, aren’t you? Besides—”
Frey hesitated a moment.
Feeney glanced the other way—at a tall figure under the trees, Amos leaning coolly against the wall, glancing at his brothers, then at his own cub in the distance.
Amos was here too!
Frey sighed, “Which is why I said it…”
What, was this like parents at human kindergarten, a crowd of adults sneaking around to watch, all skipping work?
Amos was used to having the cub at his side—he felt it odd now, but the others…
It wasn’t really necessary.
But if you told him to go back?
No.
Everyone else was here, why should he leave for work?
Besides, Ayala was back, and tireless Job was starting to handle some tasks.
Yes.
Hand all that important work over to them.
*
Pollution exploration zone.
A month later.
The advance into the contamination had pressed a little farther.
They’d found plenty of clues—leftovers from before these planets were engulfed.
Even a few old Holy Cas battleship models from centuries past—enough to make you uneasy.
There were patterns to pollution. They’d detected other energies distinct from contamination, and ran more tests.
In a few more months, they’d have results.
Whether that force, or the weird mutant Chu Zao faced, or even what lay beyond the zone—possibly another star system—answers were coming.
Feiman was doing her regular sweep for beasts.
During all her time on pollution duty, a sense of strangeness nagged at her—her crown was stable thanks to little Zao Zao and the beasts around them were eliminated, but she couldn’t say what was wrong.
“Your Highness Feiman, we scanned the whole area—the mutant beasts are cleared. Shall we return to base?”
Feiman frowned.
“Do you smell blood?”
Crown Clan senses were far beyond human.
She sniffed, brows knit.
“Is it mutant beast blood?”
Her adjutant asked quietly.
“No.”
Feiman shook her head.
Not quite the same—almost like human, but not.
“Should we search again, then?”
“Leave some behind to confirm—”
Feiman’s silver-black crown flickered, scarlet eyes glinting with danger. She wielded her psychic spear, aura freezing.
But before she could act, her comm crackled.
“Your Highness Feiman! We found a destroyed battleship—by the numbers, it looks like it’s from almost a thousand years ago that was lost to pollution—the First Army of Holy Cas. The ship was destroyed but there’s no trace of psychic explosion.”
Feiman jerked her head up.
She hesitated, then lowered her eyes.
Crown Clan bodies were unique—after self-destruction, they’d slowly disintegrate to white bone.
If the First Army’s remains were found…
Grandfather…
Feiman spread her wings and shot for the base.
Had her grandfather—Ebinino, of the Dwight line—and the First Army vanished in the pollution? Would she find her grandfather’s remains?
*
Holy Cas Imperial Star.
The royal court.
Midday.
Amos checked the time, preparing to head to Dwight Palace in time for lunch with his cub.
It was the highlight of his day.
Lately, the cub had grown again and ate more—a bottle of cub milk wouldn’t even half fill him now.
A few files remained on the desk.
Amos scanned them quickly.
Anya was back from his mission and should have gotten to Dwight Palace that morning.
The other headache was trying to request another post—Ayala, ever since he noticed the cub avoiding him, hadn’t come near Chu Zao at all.
Ayala’s crown wasn’t too bad, but in this generation, his had cracked faster than most.
Stubborn as ever, Amos squinted at the request, immediately denying it.
Never mind what Ayala was feeling.
In this family, the rules were the same.
No one had time to change your mind, but when it came to the cub, you had to step up. That attitude—and with his crown so unstable, until the cub agreed to help, Amos had no plans to let him leave Imperial Star.
Replying to the documents, Amos stood, took his coat, and strode out.
Chu Zao had studied all morning with Hel and was not by his side.
Passing a window, sunlight caught his eyes and he turned.
He caught himself in a lavishly framed mirror some distance away.
A cold, calm Crown Clanner.
A little leisurely, too.
If his father Clansis had seen him as a child, he’d have been scolded for being lazy and slack.
But it didn’t matter.
Amos thought, coolly—
Clansis didn’t have a cub like his Zao Zao—those honey eyes, soft curly fur, stubborn yet clever, a bit bumbling with his feathers, always showing his wings and asking for help grooming.
Yes.
Only his cub was like this—so cute.
Amos drew his gaze away and left the office.
At Dwight Palace,
Hel had already left for the medical center.
Morlo was doing much better, but still stuck at the medical center, looking for ways to ease Hel’s pain.
Hel had to join him for lunch.
Right now, Chu Zao was in the living room, dragging a small chair over, books spread across a low table, practicing Holy Cas history and galactic language.
He was waiting for Baba, squeezing a pen and scribbling in his notebook.
On the sofa behind him, Anya, fresh off mission, was napping.
Sunlight, the scratch of pen on paper.
It made you sleepy.
Why hadn’t Baba come home yet?
Behind him, Little Uncle rolled over.
The cub was hungry, but seeing his uncle snoozing so soundly made him even sleepier. He yawned, looked at his messy, childish script, patted his wings in satisfaction, and pressed the sheet flat.
Then he got up and moved to the sofa.
The cub patted Little Uncle’s face, squishing his cheeks together in the center.
“Uncle, uncle—”
He called, babyish, whimpering.
“It’s lunchtime. You said I could wake you. If you sleep any longer, I’ll want to nap too—eh?”
He patted again, lifted his hand, then paused—looked from his uncle’s face to his own hand.
Chu Zao paused, then instinctively scrubbed the spot he’d just touched—
The cub was much stronger now.
Scrubbing like that, he yanked Anya from a deep sleep—his sleep never this solid, but the atmosphere here had been ideal.
So when Anya opened his eyes, the cub’s face was right there, gazing at him.
Honey eyes, lashes like little fans blinking, then startled back as Anya woke—“Little Uncle, you’re awake.”
The cub’s soft and sweet.
So small, so gentle.
“Mm.”
Anya sat up, groggy.
Since Ayala got back, he felt his status with the cub had soared.
He wasn’t sure why, but he was pleased, voice hoarse and tired.
“Teacher Hel gone?”
He yawned, looking around.
Chu Zao nodded.
The cub stepped back, seemingly thinking.
Then trotted over to Butler Mori, stood on tiptoe and said something softly.
Anya wasn’t paying much attention—probably the cub asking for some lunchtime treat or chatting with Mori.
It happened a lot—Amos liked to brag to him, too.
Not long after, the cub came trotting back, holding a damp towel, little wings fluttering, all serious and innocent.
“Uncle, you just woke up, wipe your face.”
Huh? Wasn’t expecting that.
Anya’s yawn cut off. He looked down at the cub, confused.
He suspiciously took the towel and wiped his face.
A bit flattered.
“Is it because I’ve been away too long? Did you miss me, Zao Zao?”
Chu Zao blinked again.
Looking at Anya, the cub dazedly patted his own wings.
Outside the Dwight Palace, Amos entered.
His first look found Chu Zao, then Anya: “Zao Zao.”
Amos called, and, about to move on, stopped, looking at Anya’s face.
A moment later, Amos blandly moved on.
He squatted and picked up the little cub who’d come trotting to him crying “Baba!”
Anya scratched his head.
“Zao Zao’s probably hungry.”
He said.
“Let’s not wait—big brother could be late, Heaven knows where Feeney’s wandered. Let’s eat.”
Amos nodded.
Everything normal, except the cub kept trying to wipe his face.
After lunch.
Feeney arrived at last.
“Anya? Are you back? Where’s Zao Zao?”
He came in, grabbed a nutrient drink, gulped it, and was about to speak when Anya turned toward him at the sound.
“Why’d you come back so late? Zao Zao’s gone with Butler Mori to get something, he’ll be back. By the way, I haven’t checked the reports, how’s Feiman doing on the pollution front, any news?”
He really didn’t know—all the reports went to Amos.
Feeney, still drinking, mumbled.
The next second, he really looked at Anya—and spat his drink all over Anya’s face.
Anya: ????
“What the hell??!!”
“Cough, cough—”
Feeney choked, then, staring at Anya’s face, cracked up.
“No, seriously—your face has ‘braised pork’ written on this side, and ‘steamed egg custard’ on that, and a line of candies under it—hahaha.”
Anya: …What?
Amos, on the sofa, looked up, a bit puzzled.
But Amos’ face, as ever, gave nothing away.
“Weren’t you just playing with Zao Zao?” —He’d thought maybe this was some new trick of Anya’s to spoil the cub. Heaven knows he’d done dumb things before.
Anya: ?????
Anya strode to the mirror. There, written across his cheeks—actually more like imprinted—were childish but neat pen marks, not even wiped away.
“Second brother, you just watched me like this…?”
Amos: ?
“So, you wanted me to wipe your face?”
Amos snorted, almost disdainfully.
Anya: …
Woken by Zao Zao scrubbing his face, the towel offered so eagerly, the cub’s awkward fiddling, the embarrassed look as he handed Anya his food—
At some moment, all the pieces connected.
He’d thought his status with the cub had risen—but actually—
Nearby, Chu Zao had just finished talking to Grandpa Mori, fluttered out, and sensed the odd air in the living room.
He took a couple of steps, tilted his head in confusion, then called softly, “Baba?”
Amos answered.
But Chu Zao didn’t see his target—Uncle.
The cub searched, finally looked at Feeney and Anya—oh, third uncle was back.
Behind him, his wings obviously trembled, his golden halo flickering guiltily.
Anya stood by Feeney near the mirror, looking at Chu Zao.
“Zao Zao!”
The cub paused. “What is it, Uncle?”
Anya, face tight with braised pork, egg custard, and a row of candies: “Uncle’s face—”
Guilty, Zao Zao flared his wings with wide eyes looking innocent: “Huh?”
——If you don’t ask, he won’t say. Ask, and he’s surprised.