In the end, the dusty little cub was carried away by Amos.
To intercept the remaining not yet destroyed Hymn Organization starships.
Meanwhile, Amos received intel—Kaman and Meilun discovered that the starship fleet seemed to be a mix of two groups.
In other words, this time there might be not only senior leaders of Hymn, but a chance to run into both at once.
After all, the orders received by these teams were clearly different, but in the end, all aimed to delay pursuit, with some charging into the pollution.
If this were before, Holy Cas might have had no way to handle these desperate, pollution-bound Hymn remnants.
But now, it was different—with Little Chu Zao present, and recent research by Holy Cas into polluted regions.
Feiman was ready to intercept at a forward base in the pollution.
Amos, carrying Little Chu Zao, followed swiftly.
Meanwhile, the Ninth Army was evacuating from the training planet.
Their attention was thoroughly drawn by the starships Feeney had chased over.
So, in the end, no one noticed another starship, which found an empty spot to land on the planet.
Xi, gasping, slumped in the starship seat. He glanced at the device trigger nearby, then turned back, expressionless.
There were too many Holy Cas troops, and apparently Crown Clan here, but maybe their attention had been diverted—Xi had managed to evade notice.
He had reached the assigned spot.
But those starships needing his cover hadn’t shown up—
Mainly because Xi didn’t know those ships had already rushed into the Crown Clan’s wide-open net, left to panic and, faced with pursuit in front and behind, bolted into the pollution.
Xi stuffed the comm into his pocket, clutching the trigger button, and closed his eyes.
But the next moment, he snapped them open, leapt up, and dashed outside.
A cannon shot, boosted by formidable psychic power, exploded against his starship.
Already worn by the pollution, the ship stood no chance—shattering in an instant.
“Eh? Dodged it?”
The ruckus was so great.
Smoke billowed; the slightly immature boyish voice rang out, lazy and bright as sunshine—yet if you listened, there was no real emotion.
Xi’s gaze darkened. He glanced once at the blown-up wreck, where the device onboard was sparking and steaming from the powerful attack.
That wasn’t Crown Clan psychic power.
Xi thought.
Because that psychic power was fused into an energy gun, blurring its signature. Crown Clan wouldn’t use energy guns like this, but—the power was real, with an odd touch of an immortal.
Xi darted swiftly through the dust; the fight had already gone through several moves before faces were even seen.
Chao Huangmu was hovering, one leg sweeping across, imbued with psychic power yet abruptly caught by Xi.
Chao Huangmu was surprised.
He had come to help handle cleanup; the instructors knew his strength, so the work was split up. No instructor was with him.
Chao wandered here on his own, saw the unfamiliar starship land, judged it not Holy Cas and more like a hostile ship unauthorized to enter Holy Cas control—he didn’t hesitate and attacked at once.
But it was unusual.
With no one else watching, Chao Huangmu didn’t bother holding back—letting out pent-up frustration and energy for once.
Surprisingly, the opponent was very strong, but the psychic power was horribly unstable—at times fiercely aggressive, at others suddenly weakening.
And it gave him a very bad feeling.
Chao Huangmu’s attack was caught; he spun in the air, then landed smoothly.
Those inky, empty eyes stared coldly at Xi.
“Aiyaa—”
Chao grinned brightly, even scratched his head.
“Did I get worse? Can’t be—so, what are you?”
He kicked off again, attacking.
This time, realizing the guy was trouble, Chao dropped his energy gun, psychic power clinging to his fists as he lunged for Xi.
He still smiled, sunny and casual, as if not in mortal combat but just saying hello.
“This makes it hard for me, you know—if I can’t handle you—”
His smile faded a bit as he closed in, power pushing Xi steadily backward.
When he was right in front of Xi, the smile vanished, black eyes cold and empty—a gaze that could send chills.
“If I can’t deal with you, how could I stand beside His Highness without question—mind giving it a rest?”
Xi dodged back, coughing blood with a raspy sound.
He glared at this strange guy before him.
“What are you—”
He bit out, psychic power surging.
Behind, a shadowy black image flickered as Xi’s aura suddenly changed.
That came from Hymn labs, forcibly imposed power on Xi.
Across the stars, few test subjects could withstand such power after experimentation.
And this was not the same as the God’s Gifted Stones the leaders used—this needed a stronger body.
So Xi had suffered insomnia and mounting irritability for years.
Chao Huangmu stepped back, sensing this aura, and said flatly, “Don’t like that smell—”
The annoyance boiled in him.
So annoying, unbelievably annoying! If not for these clowns, he’d be happily on route home with the little highness.
Their psychic powers collided fiercely.
Xi was thrown, stunned, rolling before pushing himself up—then laughed.
“They all claimed the immortal Soul Clan was extinct—”
He charged again.
“So there’s still one left?”
His tone turned hateful, eyes locked hard on Chao Huangmu.
“You’re a Soul Clan, aren’t you?”
Before Chao could answer—
Xi continued.
“No mistake—unstable psychic power, and these emotions—Soul Clan, those immortal freaks, turns out you’re not wiped out at all.”
“…,” Chao, blank about the past, just frowned faintly at the shadow behind Xi. “Who are you?”
“Me? Just another average test subject stuck suffering under immortal genes—”
Xi smiled coldly.
The black shadow behind him suddenly stretched and twined around Chao.
“Soul Clan, rivals to Crown Clan in legend—so strong, but do you know why Crown Clan have managed to survive while the Soul Clan died so quickly?”
Chao wanted to counter, but when that psychic power snared him, he froze.
There seemed a force within, writhing, trying to break a barrier, wanting to seize control of his body.
“Because Soul Clan psychic power is too unstable. Even before the pollution, you kept breaking down and freaking out—you’re an emotionless race, and when things go south, you never hesitated to drag your own down—”
These were things Xi had read about Soul Clan in the tiny lab world. He laughed, more and more frenzied. Xi couldn’t understand the existence of such a race, nor accept being forced to resemble it—he’d already gone mad in the lab.
“It’s like this—you go crazier as you grow, heading for destruction with no way back. Not like Crown Clan at all; from the moment of your birth, you were all headed for ruin.”
Xi watched as Chao stiffened, an ominous aura rising, the shadow of some powerful being looming behind him—that was the Soul Clan’s trait.
Xi coughed again, uncertain what was up with this guy, but seized his chance to break free—he couldn’t stay long.
He checked his pocket for the communicator and detonator.
He rushed off to find a means in the ship to escape by air.
He’d only just found it, and was checking over the systems—
Suddenly, he sensitively heard beeping—the devices had been triggered.
Not by him, but by the Hymn higher-ups to break the pollution barrier.
Xi cursed.
Fragments in the wrecked starship flared in that instant with explosive energy.
Meanwhile, Chao Huangmu was struggling desperately to hold his sanity, lunging toward Xi.
But the energy shockwave blasted both Xi and Chao away.
The whole sector began to rumble.
Xi managed to control his body, using wreckage and psychic power to propel himself away.
Chao remained, gritting his teeth.
The lost memories didn’t come back; the power fought him for control—he only half-remembered something.
As if someone was speaking:
‘A mongrel, an impure runt—get rid of him—they’re all monsters, so stop making more, just kill him—’
Such irritating memories triggered another emotional surge.
Now, Chao didn’t care about Xi. He struggled to rein in the dangerous, volatile psychic power—he didn’t understand his own state, only that he couldn’t keep losing it, someone’s about to arrive.
He’d always managed before—
His smile and other feelings were always perfectly managed.
Chao bit back pain, trying to find something helpful in his spatial pouch.
His hand brushed candies, and something cool and hard—candies from His Highness, the shiny crystals and stones he’d liked and been given by His Highness.
Only Zao Zao noticed how drawn he was to shiny things.
Zao Zao…
Chao’s eyes flickered with emotion.
“Chao Huangmu?!”
It was the instructor’s voice.
“What happened here?”
The instructor, with gunships following, hurried over.
Chao Huangmu, silent on the comms, finally looked up. He was battered, swaying, coughed and spat blood.
The black shadow behind him vanished cleanly.
“Strange intruder—let him get away, shouldn’t have gone far.”
“Search!”
Ninth Army commander Yemeng ordered.
“Yes!”
“You kid—”
The instructor grabbed Chao Huangmu, hauling him to medical.
“Forget cleaning duties, get some rest—what’s wrong? Got your bell rung? Told you not to act up so much, sooner or later someone would put you down—”
Chao snapped out of it, grimaced, then finally smiled, shaking out his arm, returning to normal.
“Does hurt a bit.”
“Your teammates were right about you—you’re hurt badly, you big brute.”
Elsewhere.
Having barely escaped the training planet, battered Xi floated in space.
His body was at the limit.
Xi closed his eyes, still irritable.
But it was just death, after all—
He reopened his eyes.
He didn’t fear it, he’d longed for it many times—
Just then, he spotted a small ship approaching—Xi swore, first time he ever saw a ship broadcasting sneaky, jittery vibes.
Then the ship extended a robotic arm, clamping his waist.
Xi: ?
The ship tore out of the danger zone at full speed.
Whipped so hard he nearly coughed more blood, Xi thought: Are you insane?! Can’t you make it less painful?!
Not until they shot out of the deadly area did the robotic arm pull him in.
Xi, barely conscious and eyes half-closed, heard a familiar woman’s voice nearby: “Quick, report this—we only managed to pull out the little boss before we got hit, the ship got damaged and barely got away, make sure to write that we did our utmost.”
“Boss, there’s real pursuit behind! Energy cannons firing!”
“What are you waiting for? Floor it!”
Damn.
Why is it this woman again?
Xi thought.
Not even allowed to die in peace.
Shenghua glanced over.
He was badly hurt.
Honestly, this guy wasn’t very bright—but still quite useful to Shenghua.
Luckily, he had her comm device on him; their ship had taken a hit, now limping away, but they narrowly got clear of danger.
Shenghua shoved him into the med pod, eyed his pallid, angry face, then checked the monitor.
“Came too fast and only brought biscuits. Want some?”
Xi: …
He didn’t want to respond.
Not after all that emotional turmoil and psychic exhaustion.
But after so long without food or rest, his body was honest.
Xi: …
He heard Shenghua’s laughter.
Xi: …
“…I’ll eat.”
If he couldn’t even die, then why not.
*
Elsewhere in the stars.
Starships that charged into the pollution were boxed in.
Hymn’s two leaders, Humility and Temperance, ended up cornered together.
They gritted their teeth, seeking escape, but soon psychic firepower struck their ship from behind.
Forced to land, they crashed onto a planet.
They gripped the God’s Gifted Stones.
Humility, with defensive powers, was already twisted, the stone endlessly eating his strength.
Temperance glared at the man in the distance, floating with a cub in his arms.
Someone who shouldn’t be here at all.
He snarled the name through his teeth: “A-mos—”
Though inside the pollution, the levels weren’t high.
And Amos, with the cub, had arrived fast.
Before they could plunge deeper, he intercepted them.
Temperance quickly pressed the button for the device Xi had installed.
You could hear the whole sector shudder.
Who knew if the pollution barrier had been destroyed.
But obviously, they had no time to think about this.
For Amos had blocked them off entirely; Holy Cas starships swam in like schools of fish, thoroughly sealing the area.
Amos stared at them, scarlet eyes cold in the twilight.
No emotion at all, even lower pulse than their own.
One hand held the faintly glowing psychic longsword, the other arm cradled the freshly cleaned cub.
Little Chu Zao clutched his Cupid’s Bow, golden crown turning black-flame with each breath, the firelight flickering on Amos’s face.
At this moment, the pressure from two Crown Clan crowns was terrifying.
They could finally feel what it was like to face a demon king’s crown.
“That’s the stone?”
Amos seemed uninterested in the two.
He stared at the forming barrier—Amos mused, it seemed to be an ancient psychic trait belonging to a lost immortal kind.
Probably defensive in purpose.
But that wasn’t the point.
Amos had waited long.
He’d searched long—for this so-called God’s Gifted Stone.
“I didn’t expect—we’d meet this way.”
Humility sneered.
“So, you’ve learned of God, know of that mighty, fearsome God—”
“Your irreverent Crown Clan will meet extinction.”
Amos spoke quietly to the cub in his arms.
“Target ready? Aim right there—”
But clearly, their desperate resistance didn’t interest Amos.
Compared to Hymn, there were others much more deserving of parental hatred.
And made parents that much more impatient.
Little Chu Zao drew, aimed, and loosed the arrows—
A triple salvo of pressuring arrows streaked toward Humility and Temperance.
Those two weren’t easy, either.
The child’s two arrows were blocked by Amos’s psychic power, neutralizing their impact.
Yet from the pressure and the weakening of Humility and Temperance’s warped bodies—they felt real fear.
What just happened?
“What did he just—”
What did Amos mean to do?
Humility and Temperance were rattled.
Holy Cas had never been fully able to predict Hymn’s true actions, nor the nature of so-called God.
Now, the situation was reversed.
Little Chu Zao’s wings twitched subconsciously.
He was slightly anxious.
Because he hadn’t hit the mark.
But it really wasn’t his fault—the opponents were strong, and after a full day and night of training, the cub’s power was depleted, he was dead tired.
“Baba—”
The cub called instinctively.
He didn’t even know what for, or what Amos could or would do.
But—unlike in the Angel Realm—he deeply felt, Baba would have a solution.
He called instinctively.
Amos raised a hand, holding the cub’s fingers, and overlapped them on the Cupid’s Bow.
The cub, still a little anxious, instantly calmed.
Amos’s psychic power crept in, the black-flame arrow flaring even more.
Amos showed no mercy—what terrifying power this was.
Humility and Temperance were speechless that instant.
Witnessing true Crown Clan power, for a moment, they wondered if opposing it was even possible.
Father and son released at once; an arrow, several times stronger, hurtled for one’s God’s Gifted Stone.
The cub loosed another an instant later, striking the stones together.
It wasn’t about taking lives. Amos’s goal from the start was clear—
God’s Gifted Stone.
Space around them began to warp.
The two gaped in terror; their hoods had long since been shredded by Amos’s angry psychic fire. Amos, holding the cub, now stood by them, wings folded in, calm and cold.
The two stones, under Chu Zao’s power, cracked and twisted. Before them, a world never before seen unfolded.
Storms surged, nearly sucking them in. Yet Amos, clutching his cub, strode forward steadily. He raised his hand; his psychic sword appeared again—without even looking up, blood splattered as Amos stared only at the strange, opening space.
—Unlike last time.
Little Chu Zao could tell where they were and felt uneasy.
“Baba?”
Amos stepped forward, walking into the twisted, warping space, everything around distorting and the world shifting.
The blackness suddenly brightened—they appeared, falling through the air.
Amos surveyed the scene, set up a brief buffer and landed somewhere oddly familiar.
Suddenly, all was still; even birds could be heard—someone, sensing something was off, snapped awake.
Amos looked down at the cub in his arms.
Chu Zao peeped out, rumpled and fluffy, looking up at Amos, wanting to speak.
Amos: “Are you scared?”
This place may well cast a strong shadow over the little one.
He blinked, instinctively snuggling closer to Amos. After a pause to look around, he looked up at Amos, and whispered, “Baba, why did we fall like that?”
Amos froze.
Watching the cub flap his little wings, “Baba, didn’t we know how to fly?”
Amos: …
It was rare to see such a clueless look on Amos’s face.
Besides, they had just crossed a dangerous space rift; Amos had protected the cub, so he was fine, but Amos himself was a mess.
Really, it was nothing.
Except—he’d been so angry, he’d forgotten.