In the end, Little Chu Zao didn’t erase the evidence from his uncle’s face in time, and got caught red-handed.
Butler Mori had already fetched a solution that could wipe off the marks and brought it over.
Anya sat on the sofa, watching the little one fold a handkerchief, dip it obediently in the solution, and carefully wipe his face clean. Only then was Anya satisfied.
He took the chance to reach his hand up under Chu Zao’s little armpit to tickle the spot under his wings.
“Ahh, Little Uncle!”
Chu Zao, squirming, bounced off the sofa. After he finished wiping Anya’s face, his little body quickly flipped down from the couch, wings tucked in, shrinking into a corner, his wide eyes warily on Anya.
Anya paused too—just acting on reflex.
His hair was a mess, his guilty little halo was flickering earlier, but now shone brightly, full of righteous vigor.
Amos looked on from the other end.
Feeney, eyeing the cub’s wings, seemed to discover a new game. He grinned, which only made Chu Zao clamp his wings more tightly together.
“Oh, right.”
Feeney spoke up.
“Second Brother, the live-action training report from First Military Academy is nearly approved. Big Brother says it’s feasible. This time, during the beast suppression, they wiped out a lot of mutant beast regiments—including those developing in the pollution close to Feiman’s sector. There are several suitable planets nearby: close to the contamination, uninhabited, and only inhabited by weak beasts. With detectors, even if someone gets hurt, there’s time for a quick rescue.”
Amos just listened and weighed the options, saying nothing.
In this part of the galaxy, the danger levels had dropped rapidly.
Overall, it was truly suitable for field training.
No amount of star-net battling beat real experience.
“A pilot, right? There’ll be a system-wide Holy Cas live broadcast. Several academies will participate with certain classes chosen. Originally, the idea was to include the middle division, but there were too many students—if something went wrong, it wouldn’t be manageable. So the final decision is for First Military’s senior division grades one, two, three, and this year’s elite class.”
Hearing “elite class,” Chu Zao, huddled in the corner facing off with Anya, looked up.
So, the main point was—Feeney looked at Chu Zao, too.
“Should we let Zao Zao go?”
People say Zao Zao clings to Amos, but strictly speaking, Amos clings to his cub even more.
After all, Feeney could clearly see Amos’s face change a bit—he seemed unhappy.
Sustained stress had the fierce “wolf king” reluctant to see his cub stray too far from his side.
“Zao Zao wants to go!”
The little cub froze, not realizing why everyone was debating whether he should go.
He raised his hand high.
“Zao Zao is part of the elite class too. Zao Zao wants more training and to learn, Zao Zao wants to be as awesome as Baba.”
Feeney, still aching from his earlier beating by Amos, muttered, “Ambitious.”
Then he looked at Amos.
“What do you say, Second Brother?”
Feeney’s baby face looked pure as ever.
“And there’s no need to worry about safety—hasn’t Ayala been on Imperial Star for months? I talked with Big Brother; he can lend a hand at First Military, anyway he’s got experience with student training.”
Amos got up, not even bothering to look at Feeney.
As if he were so self-centered and heartless, denying the cub any chance to grow.
Amos walked beside Chu Zao, ruffling the little one’s soft curls.
“If Zao Zao wants to go, he can go. He’ll become so strong in the future.”
He would shelter his cub’s growth, not hinder it.
So nice-sounding.
Feeney smiled, too, stepping up beside Chu Zao. Suddenly, he reached in, big hands under Chu Zao’s wings and tickled a bit, making the cub squeal and giggle as he tried to escape: “Third Uncle! Third Uncle!!”
Knew it!
Rolling to the edge of the rug, Chu Zao leaped up, fur all messy: “Third Uncle is bad!”
Feeney squatted there, laughing so hard he could barely sit up.
“When a child grows up, they need to fly. Third Uncle is helping loosen your wings.”
Amos, standing behind, looked down at Feeney.
Feeney, who never learned, forgot his pain after every beating. Now, for a moment, his back went cold.
If the child wants to fly—Feeney’s getting a beating.
Amos would be only too happy to loosen Feeney’s bones.
Just when Amos put his hand on Feeney’s shoulder and Anya gave him a “good luck” look, their communicators blared with an emergency.
From the other end, a medical staffer’s anxious voice: “His Majesty Amos—His Grace Hel has passed out.”
*
Holy Cas Imperial Star, Royal Court Medical Center.
“How is Teacher Hel, Baba?”
Chu Zao stood at the door with Amos and the others. He was too short to see inside and didn’t dare make much noise, not even flying up to look. Worried, he whispered to Amos.
Amos comfortingly patted the little one’s head.
Morlo was inside the exam room. After a while, he came out to the side.
Other Crown Clan on the star had started rushing over. Ayala arrived last, stopping at the door to gaze at the tip-toeing cub craning in.
Ever since the cub came, no one in the clan had problems with their halos or spirit, and the strong physique of the Crown Clan had made everything in the family much lighter, even the whole empire transforming from a stubborn gloom into a strange new vigor.
But Hel was different.
His halo was fine, but he was the only one to lose his wings, the only one robbed even of any hope for a fix.
So if something happened to Hel, they couldn’t sense it coming. When the news came, they were shocked.
“Your Majesty, Your Highnesses.”
After conferring with Morlo, a medical staffer emerged, his face grave.
“Lord Morlo is an expert here; in this time he’s come to fully understand all the medical center protocols and data devices. Lord Hel, not long after eating, was seized by unbearable pain. Long-term painkillers have made him extremely drug-tolerant, so he passed out from the pain. Lord Morlo’s conclusion: losing his wings has indeed severely affected his lifespan, more than we expected.”
Morlo was missing only a few years; Hel only lost his wings a few years back. He’d lived shut-in, popping tons of painkillers, changing them several times, with doses rising.
Losing his wings was always thought to cut his years, but the Crown Clan’s drug resistance made things escalate much faster than anyone expected.
Hel might not survive the pain.
The atmosphere turned tense.
“Is his condition stable now?”
Amos asked steadily.
“Yes. Our current painkillers couldn’t control it, but we combined several drugs and managed to suppress it. Lord Hel should wake up soon, it’s okay to go in.”
Chu Zao stared at the door.
He held Amos’s sleeve.
“Baba, will Teacher Hel be okay?”
Amos looked at Chu Zao, pausing, then answered softly.
“He’ll be okay.”
But everyone knew he wouldn’t.
Lost wings would never grow back—for the Crown Clan, it wasn’t just like losing a limb.
Chu Zao could sense the mood at once.
He pressed his lips together, staring into the room.
Hel was already conscious. After the pain, that scholarly, handsome face was pale and slick with sweat, lips drained of color. Only the eyes, red from a battered halo, looked even bloodier. Even the whites of his eyes were crimsoned.
Zao Zao hated seeing this.
He stared at Teacher Hel, legs a bit stiff.
Wasn’t there a way?
There had to be a way, right?
The little one struggled to think, rubbing his temples from a sudden headache.
Amos looked down, wordlessly asking if he was alright.
The little cub drooped his head, shaking it gently.
He followed Amos into the ward.
Hel was sitting up.
Post-pain, he faked his usual calm, as if the pale, collapsed figure in bed a moment ago had never existed.
“What’s with all of you coming?”
Hel paused, waving a hand, exhausted.
“Your Majesty, I’m fine, just the usual old trouble.”
Hel turned, looking at the side room: “Morlo?”
He called softly.
Morlo was there, flipping books and searching the star-net for info.
Hearing Hel, he came out in a few steps. The usually gentle, mild face was edged with sharpness; he pressed a palm on Hel’s shoulder.
Hel blinked, noticing Morlo’s red-rimmed eyes, the leashed fury like a lion in the man.
Morlo’s voice sounded like it was squeezed from between his teeth.
“You listen. Hold on. I’ll find a way—”
Be it new painkillers or something else—
“It’s nothing, no need to worry.”
Hel, snapped from his thoughts, made a weak smile, picking up his glasses from the table and perching them on his nose, patting Morlo’s hand in reassurance.
“No big problem.”
He looked at Amos and the rest, clearly wanting to calm everyone down.
“Really. Actually, it’s my fault for being careless—”
When Morlo “died,” Hel had chased after death too, only to be fished out at the last minute.
“Hel!”
Morlo barked sharply.
Hel’s words stalled, and he sighed softly.
Really, his intent was clear. He had no idea how much time he had left, but it seemed less than he’d thought.
He hoped his lost wings wouldn’t cast another shadow over the suddenly hopeful Crown Clan.
If he could be cured, wonderful, but if not, he hoped the others would understand it’s irreversible and not their fault.
As he thought this, he noticed the little cub just tall enough to peek over the bed edge. His hands gripped the covers, big honey eyes staring and halo trembling as it pressed tight to his little head.
“Teacher.”
The cub spoke softly, seriously.
On this journey home, he’d grown up a lot—not just his body and powers, but inside as well.
“Zao Zao is different. Zao Zao will think of something for Teacher.”
Zao Zao could heal halos; he would help with wings, too.
Hel was taken aback, looking at Chu Zao.
A gentle smile grew: “Is Zao Zao just humoring Teacher?”
He stroked the cub’s head.
“It’s alright, Teacher isn’t that fragile, he’s not leaving so soon as Zao Zao fears.”
And he was already so old with nothing to regret and nothing left unsaid.
“Teacher is lying.”
Chu Zao’s voice was muffled.
Wings flapping, the little one finally flew onto the bed and sat down.
Amos, nearby, frowned slightly, feeling the cub was somehow off.
The cub really didn’t look well.
Amos held back, but told the staff to prepare for a check-up.
And stayed ready to retrieve Chu Zao at once.
“Teacher is really sad.”
The cub sat at the edge, looking at Hel.
Others’ feelings, especially the Crown Clan’s, were all too clear to Chu Zao.
The only sound was the little one’s gentle voice.
“Teacher Hel clearly wants to stay for a long, long time, and to be with Grandpa Morlo for a long, long time—”
The cub looked up at Hel: “You two just met up again, didn’t you?”
Hel: …
Hel sighed.
No hiding from this cub, but there was no need to say it aloud.
“Zao Zao will grow strong and will find a way—” The cub scowled, “If Zao Zao could help Teacher once, surely he can help again.”
“Wings and halos aren’t the same thing, but Zao Zao, I’m glad. Don’t be so grave.”
All the more for the cub.
Hel didn’t want Morlo to wallow in guilt, nor to become a stumbling block in his own student’s path, not a joke for later.
Then, the cub, lips trembling, reached out and hugged Hel.
Surely there was a way—Zao Zao just forgot.
The more he thought, the worse he felt.
In this unease, some faded memory flickered by, indistinct, like the sound of ticking water, very far or very near.
The cub couldn’t quite grasp it.
But he hugged Hel, his little voice sad: “If only Zao Zao could give Teacher a pair of wings.”
The gentle, reassuring smile on Hel’s face finally faltered.
“Don’t say that, Zao Zao, don’t think that, and never do that…”
“You’re still so young, with a long journey ahead, and a world of parting ahead. Just keep walking—”
And most of all, what Hel wanted to teach this cub who came so late: you didn’t have to do so much. The reason you’re loved and cherished is not those things—Crown princes should love themselves first.
“But then Zao Zao will never see Teacher again—”
The cub mumbled in Hel’s arms.
“All knowledge refuses Zao Zao, only Teacher never did.”
Hel’s smile finally faded. He took a long breath, looking at the clinging cub and tried one more time to softly console him.
But this time, he couldn’t.
The gentle, refined, wise, calm royal tutor who lived a thousand years, always competent, always trusted with the palace children, now simply hugged the little one back.
His shoulders shook, just for a moment.
Maybe there were teardrops in a shadowed corner—or maybe not.
How could he not hurt?
How could he not be sad?
After the Crown Clan walked back from the brink, after finally reuniting with Morlo, with so much left to say, with people and things still dear, with so much he hadn’t had a chance to teach Chu Zao—
But Hel knew to do what needed doing when; his state shouldn’t become a burden for anyone—because there was…no hope.
That was his fault, for giving in to despair and giving up, for yielding to fate.
But the little cub, sensing that he’d already resigned himself to the consequences of lost wings, told him in muffled tones,
“Teacher, you must hang on—”
Chu Zao looked up, honey-tinted eyes shimmering, unblinking.
“You have to wait for Zao Zao, and Grandpa Morlo, a little longer, alright?”
No giving up.
No one had quit yet.
Morlo, jaw clenched, slammed a hand on Hel’s back, glaring fiercely.
“Heard Zao Zao? You’d better say yes. Think lowering your head hides it, you crybaby.”
Hel sniffed a little and, with face back to normal, just a bit red around the eyes, looked his refined master self again.
But he couldn’t help glancing at Morlo—How was he the crybaby?
Only now and then, just sometimes, he lost control, is all.
Morlo grinned, “What are you looking at? Think I just blew your cover? Don’t just sit there—hurry up and say yes.”
When a usually gentle person snaps, it’s scary.
Hel finally, obediently, said yes.
The room went quiet.
Ayala, standing at the door, watched everything.
Certain Hel was fine, his face never changed; he turned, ready to leave.
He ran right into Anya’s gaze.
Anya arched a brow.
“Not waiting for Teacher Hel to stabilize before heading off?”
As Dwight family kin, Hel had once briefly tutored Ayala.
But Ayala always kept people at arm’s length.
“No.”
Ayala’s voice was even, undisturbed.
“Knowing Hel’s situation is enough; I don’t need closer ties—”
He paused, thinking.
Maybe the cub’s words brought up bad memories, or maybe he just didn’t accept what the cub had said.
“Losing wings is unthinkable—Chu Zao’s different, but you can’t expect that kind of specialness from everyone. Not everything can be fixed by effort or willpower. I’ve looked into it; he can only repair psychic halos. We need to be ready for anything…”
Ayala stopped, realizing maybe he shouldn’t say this here with everyone present. He opened his mouth again, but closed it, the apology unsaid.
In Ayala’s worldview, facing everything rationally was the only way to survive this world and protect yourself from getting hurt.
But it was totally out of place.
So much so that even Anya, not known for tact, blanked for a moment before marching up and forcibly turning Ayala’s head to face the bed.
Ayala blanked, finding himself looking right at a seated, elegant Hel.
Hel, too, heard those words, but such things from Ayala weren’t a surprise.
Years ago, he’d always been like this.
But Hel did look startled—
Because the cub, little cheeks puffed, after listening for ages, suddenly scrambled down from the bed—his hand flashed, and he drew out his Cupid’s Bow.
—Golden light gathered.
Zao Zao could do more than just fix halos!
Having developed a certain “condition” at the words “love and peace,” all the Crown Clan present—including Amos—instinctively dodged at once.
Leaving, on the bed, only Hel face-to-face with Ayala.
With Ayala’s blank confusion, the little arrow thudded its mark—direct hit.
Anya let out a long breath, glancing at Feeney beside him.
“Third Brother, who was he looking at, in the end?”
“Teacher Hel, I think?”
Feeney paused.
Hel: …
Ayala, after a beat, suddenly felt his vision blur—what… just happened?
Dazed, he touched his cheek—tears streaming, he gazed at Hel. His thoughts twisted—so pitiful, so sad, how could this be, wuwuwu!! Teacher Hel!!
Hel hurried to run—Love and Peace?? Morlo was here!! That can’t be right!
The cub froze. His wings fluttered, and he quickly stepped to the side, very serious to Hel.
“Teacher, don’t be afraid, this arrow wasn’t Love and Peace.”
The cub firmly assured—this shot’s emotion was exactly fitting—
Ayala, faster than the ailing Hel, lunged at him for a bear hug, sobbing into Hel.
“Hang in there, Teacher, hang on, you’re the best, I bless you, feel it! All my compassion for you! You must keep going—wuaaah, so pitiful!”
In fact, far too fitting—Ayala, once he realized, just froze.
Sole victim, Hel: …
I’m supposed to hang on? I’m just about ready to give up right now!