On Desmond’s side.
After resting half a day and confirming his power was no longer on the verge of another violent outburst, Desmond and the others prepared to clear out the monsters near the camp.
“You’re bringing that little one with us?”
Dan was organizing for the upcoming operation when he heard Desmond’s words, his eyes showing confusion and surprise.
He raised his brows, somewhat irritable.
“Are you sure? Desmond, I can confidently tell you, this is a risky move. We barely know anything about that little one, not even his abilities. What if, during the hunt, his weird power targets us again—what then?”
“You know that’s just an excuse.”
Desmond glanced up.
“If you can’t even dodge his arrows, maybe you should quit the hunting party.”
Dan: …
Dan muttered under his breath—not that he couldn’t dodge, it’s just…they didn’t know what race the little one was or where his guardian was… Plus, he was going out to find his way home anyway.
“Annailin, say something.”
Hey, as the other victim, shouldn’t you weigh in?
Annailin, who’d long avoided appearing, staying nearby but looking disgruntled whenever the little one was mentioned, finally showed himself. Faced with Dan’s question, Annailin just snorted, unwilling to answer.
Among this race of outsiders, only a handful with clear consciousness remained, barely past double digits.
The camp’s history was long, with many rooms now vacant.
Climbing green vines twisted up weathered pillars, lush and spreading their delicate leaves, swaying in the dim light.
From the distance carried by the wind came those terrifying howls—the sound of their people who, in all these years, had fully lost themselves, yet could not die, could not be freed, and could only suffer in endless struggle, locked away.
A hush fell.
“No word from the others about coming back?” Annailin finally asked.
“Oh, Louisa said they’re not interested in the sudden appearance of Chu Zao.”
Dan replied offhand.
Packing up, Dan followed Desmond, then couldn’t help himself after a few steps.
“The kid might be capable, but honestly, he’s just a half-grown cub. Is it really okay to bring him? The monsters out there are strange, and we ourselves face danger all the time, let alone a kid.”
Who could guarantee his safety out there?
Honestly, the camp was still safer.
Plus, there was Louisa keeping watch—gentle as she might seem, she could chase him for miles if needed.
Desmond said nothing, Dan fell silent, and so did Annailin—they all turned to look at Chu Zao standing at the entrance.
It was too quiet—
Chu Zao had rarely felt such silence.
After all, his family had always surrounded him. When he grew older and the family wasn’t present, Chao Huangmu, Yun Songquan, and Peng Liang were always at his back, and earlier, even a crowd of students from military academy.
He was used to the noise, and now, quiet and alone, little Chu Zao felt unsettled—couldn’t help but wonder what his family was doing, what Brother Mu was doing, whether his dad could solve things from outside.
Ah… he’d have to do his best himself.
A faint light shone on him, brighter still the golden crown on his head. On hearing voices, Chu Zao looked up.
Seeing people, his eyes brightened a bit.
“Are we leaving?”
The young boy walked over quickly, soft curls bouncing.
The six wings behind him had, for some reason, become just two.
“Yeah.”
Desmond nodded, glancing at the boy’s wings.
“Why only two left?”
“Oh,” Chu Zao glanced back at his own wings, which fluttered along, “Six get in the way, I’m not good at arranging them.”
Because Baba wasn’t here.
A gentle breeze from those wings brushed across their faces.
Desmond eyed the little one, the fluffy head and wings, and almost unconsciously reached out, as if wanting to test if the fuzziness was as soft as it looked.
But Chu Zao remained alert, took a small step back, and looked up at Desmond.
Eh? What was that?
Desmond kept his expression unchanged, snapped out of it, pulled his hand back, and said, “Let’s go.”
Near their camp, someone was always dealing with monsters and troublemaking dragons, both groups unhesitatingly taking up a large share of resources in this space.
At first, shifts could be rotated, and though everything about the past was forgotten, the clan’s overall atmosphere wasn’t always so oppressive—until now, with only one resident staying back, all others were out hunting monsters.
This group of monsters was a bit further away.
Down in a river valley, thick swarms of them, like schools of fish, were gnawing madly at everything—living creatures, resources, ore, even rocks by the water, moving like aquatic locusts downstream, toward the camp and the captive, lost-minded clan members.
“These are the worst kind to deal with,”
Dan said, eyeing the little guy behind them.
“Dense, not strong, but annoying.”
Dan fixed his gaze on the cub—ready in case that bow appeared again.
Annailin had already hidden himself, his energy and mood unstable.
Chu Zao could sense it, but knew Annailin didn’t like to see him, always disappearing whenever spotted.
Like now.
Annailin had already launched an assault from above on part of the “fish” horde.
Spooked, the monster fish wanted to retaliate, but Desmond and company’s power overawed them, and the scent of blood among companions spread. In an instant, the forward-chomping swarm began to scatter.
Dan and Annailin each blocked a flank, Desmond joined in.
They moved fast, well coordinated, barely leaving anything for Chu Zao to do.
Chu Zao held his Cupid’s Bow.
Desmond, dragging over a still-living, wildly thrashing monster fish, tossed it down beside Chu Zao.
The fish was pitch black, with dense red shards embedded from back to tail in flesh and scales.
Apparently, anything with these red stones was labeled a monster.
“This the kind of stone?”
Desmond was very tall—only because Chu Zao’s own relatives were tall did he only now notice, as Desmond’s shadow fell over him.
His rough clothes showed solid muscle, sleeves rolled up, splashed with water—a familiar, reliable feeling.
He didn’t look young, but had an arrogant face, a light frown habit earned from frequent scowling.
Chu Zao again felt a hint of oddness, but quickly glanced down at the monster fish, studied it, then shook his head.
“No.”
This was clearly not a Stone of Divine Grace.
Desmond didn’t reveal if he was glad or annoyed at the answer, just acknowledged it.
“No? Well, this is about all you see around here.”
Dan poked his head over to look at the little one.
He actually seemed cheerful—a face usually moody breaking into a smile, humming softly, and flapping off the fish smell from his hands.
Then he checked on Annailin cleaning up at the far end.
“Desmond, I think we should head back after this is done.”
Dan said.
Desmond nodded.
“Doesn’t feel good here.”
“Right? I feel it too. And you noticed Annailin’s getting worse? Maybe we should just return now.”
Dan checked on Annailin again.
This batch of monsters had taken time to deal with. Annailin, once just agitated, now seemed genuinely unstable, apparently battling some internal urge.
A ripple of his power reached them.
“Dan.”
Desmond called sharply.
“Control Annailin.”
Dan instantly realized the problem, cursed, and dashed over.
Chu Zao stepped back two paces—
“What happened?”
He wasn’t clear about the situation and instinctively turned to Desmond.
Desmond hadn’t meant to speak, but meeting Chu Zao’s eyes and recalling his own recent fit, something compelled him to respond—his voice even sounded gentle.
“Power collapse.”
Power collapse?
“Like what happened to you before?”
Chu Zao gripped his little bow, watching as Annailin, having finished off the monsters, now turned to brawling with Dan.
Desmond turned, looking at his kin—
His eyes darkened—yes, just like his own earlier, never knowing when or why, everything would suddenly collapse. Like fate itself, while unable to die—either suffering in clarity or lost in madness.
No other option.
Nothing more tragic.
Desmond could find no words to describe it.
Or even to explain his own existence.
Once, they’d tried to find their origins and recall their lost past.
But it had been too long; time itself had passed judgment—it would never happen.
All that could be done was maintain what remained and give the lost-minded ones some dignity.
Truthfully, Desmond couldn’t even be sure when he’d lose himself and become a soulless, unredeemable shell.
Maybe…soon.
As he mused, little Chu Zao suddenly blurted, “Should I give him a dose of Love and Peace?”
Desmond: …
Desmond turned, dazed, to find Chu Zao on the bow, his earlier feelings completely scattered by confusion.
What?
“Don’t, don’t, don’t—!!!”
Dan heard that and shouted urgently.
“I don’t want him doing anything disgusting—plus, he’s out of his mind already, would your special power even work now?”
Might work—how could you not try? Chu Zao blinked wide, honest and eager.
Desmond and Dan were both a bit dumbfounded.
There was just something strange about the cub’s nature.
“Best not.”
Desmond snapped to, replying expressionlessly.
“When Annailin wakes up, wounds are one thing, but he’ll care more about saving face.”
Oh, a pity.
Chu Zao lowered his bow, though curious if Love and Peace would work on such a case.
Anyway, everyone said this place felt odd—
Chu Zao blinked his big eyes around, but still couldn’t figure out what was strange.
At the same time, in the depths of the valley—a person lay quietly; eyes shut, drenched in sweat and blood, with shadowy, twisted energy behind him trying to swallow him mouthful by mouthful.
It had already almost devoured his hand. He half opened his eyes in pain, then closed them again, as if surrendering—finally at ease, as though even being consumed at a torturously slow pace brought freedom.
High above, a squadron of massive forms was flying this way.
*
Anya and Lien had already joined up with Amos.
“Emperor Desmond?”
Anya frowned.
“What does that have to do with Zao Zao’s disappearance?”
“Not yet sure.”
Feiman, having hurried over as well, spoke.
“I didn’t tell Grandfather.”
Ebinino was still recovering, mostly unconscious.
Lien stayed curled in a corner, an aura of gloom materializing as black fog of psionic power.
“Hymn Organization… all dead?”
“Nearly.”
Feeney spoke too, for once without a smile, his baby face cold and anxious, unshaven, looking a bit worn down.
They had been searching for days, but still couldn’t find where Chu Zao had gone; only the faintest trace of a crown-bond kept them from losing their sanity entirely.
Especially for Amos.
This place really wasn’t suitable for Holy Cas’s garrison, but finally, the area was ringed in tightly.
Once the high-ranking Aberrant Beast Commanders saw the Crown Clan density rise and another high-level commander killed, they all shrank deeper into the polluted zone—nobody wanted to be the first to stick their neck out.
“How’s it at the barrier?”
The first words out of Amos at this meeting, standing silently at the front of the command center, eyes fixed on the navigational map.
“Grandpa Ebinino’s psionic power is receding, the 1st Army’s psionic barrier is starting to collapse; at this rate, it’ll vanish in two or three months. The remains of the 1st Army have been collected and are being shipped back to Holy Cas; Uncle Meilun and Uncle Kaman are verifying kin relations with the 1st Army’s remains, making further arrangements. If none can be found, they’ll be buried at the Martyrs’ Cemetery.”
Anya spoke.
“Imperial operations are being handled by Job, Joshua, and Ayala. We brought the Angel Spring Stone too, but its consciousness is still dormant, so it’s on the starship.”
What they’d expected was that, even if Ebinino’s psionic power vanished, the sudden appearance of a crown-link indicated Zao Zao was found and Ebinino’s crown had been addressed.
Bringing the Spring Stone after that would be a great help for Zao Zao.
They’d thought of everything—except losing their cub right under Amos’s nose.
Amos was calm on the outside, but everyone knew it was just a front.
His fist was clenched, veins bulging, like a storm at sea—calm above, but dark currents raging below.
“We caught one more from Hymn but she probably wasn’t a real member,”
Frey added.
“Shenghua, by her accounts, wasn’t lying and all matched up. We sensed something odd with Hymn before and left some issues uninvestigated, thinking there might be a mole; turns out this member had been expected to become a high-ranking leader, but was exposed as one during the ceremony. There’s more: she came here, and her knowledge of their workings is clear enough. The labs conducted experiments using long-lived races; we’ve identified all the dead Hymn members.”
Frey sighed.
In Amos’s fury, the Hymn members had been wiped out so completely, it was hard to ID them all.
“We’re missing one, but he was an experimental subject with some Soul Clan blood, code ‘Xi’.”
“So that’s basically confirmed, then?”
Feeney sneered.
“Like with Angel Realm—if that matched Crown Clan, then this place must correspond to some domain of the Soul Clan, right?”
Amos said nothing, just stared at the candy bag in his pocket, his expression turning ever darker.
*
Back with Chu Zao, Dan had nearly gotten Annailin under control.
Desmond was binding Annailin’s limbs.
Annailin looked crazy, eyes bloodshot, totally out of it.
He struggled in pain.
“He was this bad, shouldn’t have come out—”
Dan muttered, dropping his guard a bit.
But as he did, Annailin suddenly exploded, his wiry waist twisting to an impossible angle. Their kind were all built like weapons, and not just dangerous to others—they could hurt themselves, too.
In that instant, Dan tried to draw back but froze.
Watching as Desmond’s arm bled, he saw Desmond force Annailin back down again and pin him.
Chu Zao was already behind them.
Desmond let out a quiet breath and looked down at his arm.
“Dan.”
“Desmond? You didn’t have to shield me!”
Dan protested, about to say more.
“You take Annailin back first.”
Blood gushed from Desmond’s arm, soaking his clothes.
Dan wanted to say more, but finally fell silent. He glanced at Chu Zao; the ease the boy brought, which had started to lighten things, vanished. Dan dragged the bound Annailin and quickly turned away.
It fell quiet.
Chu Zao looked at Desmond, his young voice clear: “Are you okay?”
Truthfully a little vengeful, he still remembered how Desmond and co. had treated him with suspicion—but seeing Desmond bleeding, he couldn’t help but approach.
Desmond didn’t even raise his head.
He seemed calm, accepting fate.
“See?”
Desmond spoke.
“I told you, you can’t understand. I’m just easier to handle. True madness is what you saw just now at the start.”
Once-cool, mighty races shown now as desolate and fragile. Still half-propping himself after restraining Annailin, Desmond seemed like he scoffed.
Then he froze.
For the first time, the little cub he’d only known a few days took the initiative to come close, hugging him lightly.
For a moment his heart took a jolt, blood seemed to freeze, then rush and pound; a hazy image flashed in his mind—gone too quick to see.
Desmond looked up.
Chu Zao was frozen too, not quite understanding the resonance he felt—just saw Desmond’s gaze.
“I, I just thought—you seemed like you needed it.”
Chu Zao paused, drew back, and looked at his own arm, confused.
Desmond was about to speak when he suddenly flipped over, pinning Chu Zao and rolling them aside. At exactly the spot they’d been, a powerful force smashed down, scattering rock.
“Alone?”
“Great, alone! Take him down!”
Dragons circling in the air, sent to find beautiful gemstone mines for Chao Huangmu, spotted the scene below and dove down, releasing savage energy, eager to stir up trouble.
Chao Huangmu landed leisurely at the back, observing the event; he had no interest in the dragons themselves, only using them as tools to help build his gemstone hoard. As for what they did, he didn’t care—he only wanted his gems.
He also had no memories and no idea of this place; Chao Huangmu was studying his surroundings, the black wings of his psionic power folding up behind him as he landed atop the ridge, his shadow falling over his face. He pressed his brow.
Terrible headache—wanted to destroy something.
Destroy something golden…
Chao Huangmu pushed harder, viciousness filling his eyes—still nothing came to mind.
But looking down, he was caught by a golden light. Golden… light?
He paused, then frowned; a voice in his mind suddenly howled, as if connected screams, or soft, tempting whispers—It’ll feel good, the headache will fade… You know what to do, just as you’ve always done.
At the same time, Chu Zao looked up.
In the next second, his gaze sharpened—then stilled.
Above, in the dim glow, a few immense dragons plummeted toward them, and there, atop the cliff, leaning carelessly against the rocks, a young man with messy black hair, eyes like pools of darkness tinged with gold, coldly gazed down. Behind him, a massive, dragon-like psionic creature opened its own golden beast eyes.
There was no smile at all—only a cold, blank look. Their gazes locked for an instant.
To Chu Zao, that was such a familiar face. But the eyes meeting him, while startled and cold, felt completely strange.