Desmond stopped smiling, too. He sat up a bit straighter, the usual lazy and defiant air fading away, replaced by a steadiness born of long years.
He gazed at the little one before him, then lowered his eyelids, collected his emotions, and stood.
Chu Zao didn’t quite understand what Desmond was thinking about.
He was still angry, still thinking about how to give Chao Huangmu a good beating and make him regain his memory in the process.
Even though Chu Zao knew none of this was really Chao Huangmu’s fault, since Chao Huangmu had entered here from the start just to protect him. Maybe he’d lost his memory from injuries. Still, about the past, Chu Zao and Chao Huangmu had a huge disagreement.
It really made Chu Zao a bit sad—
After spending so much time together and so many important moments, how could he just forget, just like that?
Raised as the excellently-taught future king of the Crown Clan, Chu Zao’s heart was rather heavy at this moment.
This wasn’t something or someone he’d only encountered after growing up.
It happened when he was still messy, nervously reaching out to the world, being reshaped bit by bit, and colors and scents surged in through those fractured seams—
It was Holy Cas’s sunrise and sunset in childhood, the streets awash with rain, sunshine, and changing snow, an instant of chaos, the kitchen scents competing in the royal court, and in a warm cake shop corner always thick with sweet fragrance on a Holy Cas street.
So it was destined that all this meant something different to Chu Zao now that he had grown.
And in all of it, Chao Huangmu’s shadow was everywhere.
These… were memories that could not be forgotten.
Chu Zao withdrew his gaze, not wanting to speak, little head resting on his arm.
Zao Zao would not allow it.
So it was still Brother Huangmu’s problem.
Unable to calm down, Chu Zao let out a little groan at his coronet—but as he knew, the Soul Clan’s psionic force was different from the Crown Clan’s. Chu Zao could track Chao Huangmu’s location from the strand he’d snatched, but Chao Huangmu seemingly couldn’t hear him at all—he’d tried when Chao Huangmu first left.
Anyway, one more try with these things to restore his memory, then give Brother Huangmu a good beating. Yes, just like that.
Chu Zao placed his crown back atop his head, the little crown shining hard, entwined with Chao Huangmu’s psionic force.
He balled his fist, turned, and met several pairs of eyes.
Chu Zao jumped in fright.
His bright eyes opened round.
“Wh-what is it?”
At some point, Louisa and Dan had silently appeared behind Chu Zao—and Chu Zao really couldn’t explain why, but their power felt fundamentally different from his, yet very strong. If he relaxed his guard just a bit, he was easily startled by their silent appearances.
“No, it’s nothing.”
Louisa paused, raised her hand and gently touched her temple, closing her eyes as if to shake off the odd feeling. Her voice was always soft, but usually her eyes didn’t carry that emotion—yet now, those brilliant, warm orange eyes looked a bit dazed.
“The food is ready. Didn’t you say you’d help?”
That was true.
Although Little Chu Zao, ever since Amos brought him back, had grown up doted on, he wasn’t spoiled at all. Now that he couldn’t go back for a while, and with Desmond’s power surging those days, he’d explored this space and also helped Louisa a little. Chu Zao was pretty sharp about this, since Desmond and the others didn’t really need food, so most of the prep these days had been for him.
If Chu Zao had still been a little white fluff, his ears would have perked up now. He looked up, his childish face tilted to the sky.
“Okay.”
Chu Zao quickly stood and followed Louisa.
Louisa said nothing more, leading Chu Zao into the house.
Secretly, she flicked a glance at Desmond, quietly blocking the young boy from his view.
Once Chu Zao was far enough—
Dan finally murmured, “What was that just now?”
Desmond glanced at Dan, noting he too had seen those visions.
“No idea.”
Desmond spoke blandly, arms folded.
But there was no denying those images made him deeply uneasy.
Was there really no one who could empathize with them?
Desmond actually felt a little uncertain at this moment.
He thought of those images—
In all the darkness and pain he could sense at any moment, that bullied, sobbing cub seemed to notice him, slowly standing up, tottering toward him, almost about to fling itself into his arms.
Like a helpless little cub, face wet with tears, pitifully reaching out tiny hands for a hug.
Weird—
Really weird—
They didn’t know his identity, nor his past, and it had been millennia of only themselves, let alone something like a cub.
Yet seeing that, all he could think was—how come nobody hugged him?
Where was this little one’s lauded, peerless parent?
How could they lose their own cub, and not hug him now?
Damn it.
What kind of lousy parent?
Desmond thought.
If nobody wanted him—
“If they won’t hug you, let me do it—”
Suddenly, a voice piped up at his side, and Desmond turned to look at Dan, who was muttering to himself.
Dan realized Desmond had heard him, and only now realized he’d spoken out loud.
He stammered and scratched his head, awkwardly trying to cover—after all, he’d been the one making a fuss about “not liking that cub” before.
“Uh, I was just muttering—that reminds me, why’s Annailin so quiet—I’ll go check—”
But then—
Desmond said calmly, “We ought to be a very tolerant race.”
Even with no memory of the past or where they belonged.
Desmond nodded to himself, “Yes, we are a very tolerant race.”
Dan: …huh?
Dan looked at Desmond, full of question marks.
“How many days has it been now?”
Desmond looked at Dan.
“…About four or five days.”
“Still haven’t found the little one in four or five days? The parents aren’t very competent.”
Desmond nodded.
Sensing something off, Dan stared at Desmond, thinking hard, then realized: “If those parents never find him, I think we can afford to raise him.”
Saying this felt oddly relieving and light, as if they’d always wanted to say it, only now justifiably finding the reason and excuse.
As for those heartbreaking images—
They were probably just a fleeting memory?
After all, from Chu Zao’s state now, he’d clearly grown up pretty well—stable temperament, emotions, abilities—all excellent.
Didn’t seem like the parents’ fault, really.
But those visions were just infuriating.
Desmond said nothing else, patting Dan’s shoulder.
Over there, Louisa called that the food was ready.
After replying, they strolled silently past Annailin’s room, seeing the irritable Annailin with his head lowered for once. He still barely knew anyone, but was uncharacteristically quiet.
They couldn’t be sure what was going on.
But they soon gathered around the dinner table.
It was a big table, but only a few people around it.
There were some fruits, roasted meats, and staple roots.
Chu Zao was still thinking about Chao Huangmu, having no idea how in just a few days, the memory-lost Crown Clan had been completely cowed by the sudden appearance of a young cub.
A naturally protective race, with cubs as some sort of bloodline trigger. Normally, cubs this age wouldn’t cause such a reaction, but Little Chu Zao was born from the Angel Spring, not quite like a pure Crown Clan, and the Crown Clan hadn’t seen cubs in ages.
“I’ve stayed here long enough,” Chu Zao said, biting off half a fruit and swallowing, glancing at the others, “There’s no other problem, right? I think I’ll have to leave soon.”
The place was large, but just wandering around you’d never find the way out, and now he’d found Chao Huangmu—it was time to hammer some sense into him first.
The three at the table paused, looking at the cub clutching his food. Although a little wary, he was mostly peaceful, face soft.
“You’ve been a lot of trouble these days.”
And so polite and well-behaved.
“It’s too dangerous outside…”
“No way—”
“What if you go hungry outside—”
The three voices rose almost together.
Chu Zao, mid-bite, froze, looking up.
He blinked, thinking—actually, they were all pretty nice.
“The rainy season is coming soon.”
Desmond was first to speak.
He tapped the table.
“Endless rain will be the monsters’ best cover, and the time when the dragons are most restless. I suggest you use here as a base to search for what you want. Of course, we’ll help you as well.”
A reasonable suggestion, and their days together had been pleasant. Chu Zao felt relaxed here. He thought it over, then nodded.
This place was still too unfamiliar; haste wouldn’t help.
Dad must be searching for him, but also could sense he was okay—no need to panic.
Chu Zao resolved—just as Dad and the teachers had taught him, to act and plan step by step.
Dan and Louisa both breathed out, looking at Desmond—he really did have ideas.
Meanwhile, two other groups out exploring met up, exchanged info, and were about to split up again.
Before leaving, they double-checked a few things.
Besides Desmond’s group back at the enclave, there were about seven or eight people left here.
“You heard about the enclave, right?”
“Sure did, but it’s just some strange foreign breed, nothing to discuss.”
“Who knows, it’s the first time I’ve seen Desmond with real emotion.”
“What emotion? You’re not saying Desmond and Dan are giving strangers special treatment, right?”
“…Who knows—guess we’ll see when we get back.”
“Yeah, before the big rains start, let’s get to work, take care of some dragons, those things are making me crazy.”
In the dragon territory—
Chao Huangmu, frowning and nursing a headache, flipped through a book he’d snatched from a dragon.
Rumor was, that dragon wrote it himself, with both illustrations and commentary—on how to pursue a mate. It was very popular among dragons, as that dragon had the most suitors.
Behind Chao Huangmu, a colossal black dragon of psionic force also sat upright, dipping its head as if reading along.
In front of this fierce beast lay a pile of colorful shining crystals, previously well-kept, now just scattered around.
Chao Huangmu was studying how to act more assertive, without being manipulated, and how to hover boldly in front of a chosen mate.
So that’s how it goes.
But Chao Huangmu, late to the realization, suddenly froze—wait, isn’t something wrong?
Hey?
That mate with the pretty eyes… where does he live?
Meanwhile, the blood-red eye that now sensed a true threat surveyed everything in this world. The monsters covered in bloody crystal were marching toward Chao Huangmu—deep in Dragon Valley, a long-dormant, drained, controlled dragon abruptly opened its eyes.
Those blood-red eyes were hollow, but its roar shook the cave and its wings stretched.
In an instant, the twisted infighting within dragonkind turned with the chieftain’s edict of banishment.
Chao Huangmu sensed it and looked toward a certain direction.
—Destroy this guy’s power completely and let him lose control.
In pain so severe, he’d go crazy, like other clansmen had, descending into madness, then striking the little Crown Clan with the deadliest, most hopeless blow.
The time to devour this world wasn’t quite ripe yet—neither dragon nor Crown Clan here had fully lost their defenses. But time was running out.
The blood-colored eye, once so effortlessly plundering the stars’ power, grew anxious.
Except for the power of the Angel Realm, which he’d absorbed perfectly, the dragon domain—supposed to be the first to fall—had lasted till now because of these Crown Clan. In the stars, the pollution was everywhere, but the barrier still shielded the Crown Clan for now.
Back then, “God” had thought it didn’t matter, the rest of the power was enough, and the Holy Cas sector was just dessert.
Now, agitation was inevitable, and step by step, he began to devour the dragon realm and claim the strength of the dragons and the Crown Clan—just a bit more troublesome was all. But since practically no Crown Clan with conscious will remained, this trouble was acceptable.
The next morning.
Chu Zao readied himself, biu—yanked his little crown off, studied the psionic strand still coiled around it, explained to Desmond and the others, then left.
Chu Zao was quite thorough, following Chao Huangmu’s psionic force.
He was so focused, he didn’t notice the two heads peeking after him from behind.
“Still very cautious—but it’s dangerous. You shouldn’t let him go alone. Heard he’s a few days off his coming-of-age.”
Dan muttered to Desmond.
“You can’t lock him up forever or always hover over him,” Desmond replied, “When it comes to what he wants, we can’t rush in. Try other ways.”
Desmond could tell that Chu Zao had never really relaxed here.
“Alright, I’m just not as smart as you,” Dan muttered.
“Hey, isn’t this where we were yesterday? Why are we here again? Who’s that guy?”
Desmond paused: “The one who made Chu Zao angry—seems to be this little guy’s friend.”
They kept their distance, trailing discreetly, returning to where they’d dealt with the monster fish yesterday.
But today, there were no monster fish, only a tall youth standing by the river, deep in thought.
Dan started to speak, but Desmond pulled him back.
It’s better not to interfere—don’t want the little guy mad.
Funny enough.
Chu Zao had followed the coronet’s psionic force to this spot.
As for Chao Huangmu, he simply didn’t know where Chu Zao was, or where the foreigners lived, and those annoying dragons had already been handled, so he’d come here to look around.
He’d only just arrived when he looked up and met Chu Zao’s descending gaze.
Ah…
There he was—the “little gem” he thought most beautiful.
Chao Huangmu was thinking.
Really ran into him?
What should he do?
Oh, this skull-splitting headache must be excitement at finding the perfect mate, right?
As Chu Zao approached, and their eyes met, Chao Huangmu’s head throbbed and curses roared in his mind.
Chu Zao came closer, Chao Huangmu unmoving, listening as he said, word by word: “Chao. Huang. Mu.”
So strange.
He didn’t recognize that awkward name, but being called by it made Chao Huangmu shudder instinctively.
He snapped back, withdrawing sharply, but in an instant the six-winged Chu Zao was on him. This time Chu Zao caught him off guard, closing in instantly and clapping a hand on Chao Huangmu’s shoulder.
Chao Huangmu: ……
Chao Huangmu stared at Chu Zao’s suddenly unfurled snowy wings, eyes widening a little.
So fluffy—
High above, a black psionic dragon soared, golden eyes watching below.
Chao Huangmu leaned back, until Chu Zao pressed him to the ground.
This time, Chu Zao loomed over Chao Huangmu, eyes lowered, pinning him by the stomach, one hand on his shoulder, coronet glowing warmly and slightly blurring his silhouette.
Chu Zao calmed down a bit, but his other hand threaded into the soft black hair at Chao Huangmu’s nape, lifting his head slightly, bringing their faces quite close together.
A pretty face right in front of him, honey-colored eyes outshining any jewel, a sweet fruity scent wafting close, like he’d just eaten candy.
Chao Huangmu, dazed in pain, stared as Chu Zao asked: “Why did you run yesterday?”
“I…”
Chao Huangmu’s cold pride collapsed in that instant. He hadn’t figured out what to do when the boy appeared, and stared almost bristling at Chu Zao.
The sharper pain from closeness only convinced Chao Huangmu further—yes, precisely, this agony was special and unique to this person.
And the excitement at the thought of a mate.
Exactly right—would he like a nest full of gems?
How should he say it?
Should he ask “will you come home with me” to sound like a gentleman?
Trying to seduce Chu Zao, Chao Huangmu’s face remained blank despite the pain, thinking hard.
But clearly, Chu Zao was more interested in talking about the past.
“It doesn’t matter, if you forgot or got hurt, it’s fine. You just have to remember.”
Chu Zao held Chao Huangmu fast.
Chao Huangmu had always listened to him in everything, so Chu Zao felt no distance with amnesiac Chao Huangmu. In his understanding, Chao Huangmu’s memory loss wasn’t the result of any major external trauma.
Sitting on top, Chu Zao rifled through things in his dimensional clasp.
Chao Huangmu, his face numb and cold from pain, stared at each item Chu Zao produced.
Chu Zao kept asking him,
“Remember this?”
The past… past… past—
Again, the past!
Facing Chu Zao, about the only thing that struck Chao Huangmu now was the pain of remembering those days before Holy Cas.
He didn’t want to remember; he wanted nothing of that pain.
For a moment Chao Huangmu just went with the flow, following Chu Zao’s actions, but suddenly a gleam of gold burst in his black eyes, and the circling black psionic dragon roared, swooping down.
Chu Zao froze.
His wrist was grabbed and yanked forward.
Chao Huangmu propped himself up, those dark eyes occasionally lit with gold, and an aggression Chu Zao had never seen. Their breaths mingled.
He admitted, the person before him was truly special to him.
Even just knowing what mates do, even just looking at those red lips, Chao Huangmu felt like he would catch fire.
But why insist on the past? Every time it was like a bucket of cold water thrown over him.
“You want me to remember the past badly?”
Chao Huangmu asked softly.
“Because we have so much more to do—”
Without the past, Chao Huangmu was too strange—drifting, cold, so much more dangerous, but not human. He had worked so hard to fit into “the world,” hadn’t he? Even he would feel unwilling.
Chu Zao, speaking, noticed the cold sweat on Chao Huangmu’s brow, paused: “Brother Huangmu, what’s wrong with you? Are you hurt somewhere? Did you get injured before?”
Chao Huangmu didn’t answer, just leaned forward, lightly brushing Chu Zao’s nose with his own. His whisper was almost inaudible: “I don’t like the past.”
As if afraid to be heard in his defeat and fear, his voice was so small.
But when Chao Huangmu propped himself up again, his face had returned to icy indifference. The black psionic dragon melted into his body, and the Chao Huangmu pinned under Chu Zao turned instantly into a black shadow, slipping away like a fish.
What should he do?
What should he?
Stop talking like you know everything about me.
Chao Huangmu thought.
Never mind— that book said he ought to be more assertive, not so easily handled.
Since Chu Zao insisted on this, he’d tell his beautiful little gem, he didn’t care about the past.
The black shadow shot away like lightning.
Chu Zao, caught off guard, dropped down, glanced at the black psionic strand on his crown—aware now that something else was wrong.
Forget the memory for now—what exactly was wrong with Chao Huangmu?
No visible wounds…
He was in a cold sweat and twitched slightly under pressure, like a pain response, but his aura was normal, just with amnesia.
Chu Zao took off, checking direction, realizing Chao Huangmu’s amnesia was not something simple: it needed a better diagnosis. But then Chu Zao seemed to see something, veered off, and landed at the other end of the valley.
Behind, Desmond and Dan—having seen everything—still stared.
Dan paused.
“Is that guy really his friend?”
Why so close?
Desmond said nothing, following quietly at a distance, just keeping the little guy safe.
Meanwhile, below the valley, twisted black psionic force was still devouring flesh.
A decadent young man lay quietly, eyes closed, letting the force chew away at him.
Until a shadow fell.
This hateful world held everything he hated—now, was it finally his turn to die? But dying really… hurt…
A slap.
“Hey—”
A somewhat familiar, though not quite, voice at his ear, his cheek tapped.
“I remember you—in the Hymn Organization’s starship explosion, I saw you. Why are you here? Are you alright?”
Xi jerked his eyes open, staring at Chu Zao squatting beside him. He froze, baffled to see Chu Zao here.
The darkness around was pushed back some by Chu Zao’s crown, and the twisted psionic force devouring Xi’s body stilled, then seemed agitated and a little frightened.
“You…”
Xi’s hoarse voice rasped out, glaring at Chu Zao, fixing on the enemy he was meant to destroy.
Why come over?
Maggots like them should be devoured in darkness, disappearing forever.
He’d seen enough; he’d long been used to it.
Chu Zao’s thinking was much simpler.
He’d seen Xi fighting the Hymn Organization. With a common enemy, that meant they could be potential allies.
And the psionic force on Xi was odd, even a little like Chao Huangmu’s. Maybe he’d know something.
Xi’s thoughts spun, then he closed his eyes again—whatever.
At first he thought it was a dying hallucination, but now he could judge roughly where here was.
It didn’t matter where you died.
Right at that moment—
With Chu Zao briefly distracted by Xi, a black shadow suddenly dropped from the sky not far away.
The same Chao Huangmu who’d just decided to be assertive, who’d resolved not to be caught so easily, now showed up—no one knew from where.
Chao Huangmu’s headache still pounded. His eyes landed on Chu Zao’s fingertip. Stepping forward, he trod on Xi’s twisted psionic force, making Xi gasp.
Chu Zao looked up at Chao Huangmu.
Chao Huangmu, that same face, met his gaze. The previous fierce look had not completely faded, but he spoke: “We can talk.”
Memories, past—those could wait. What mattered was his head hurt so much, constantly reminding him—he needed a mate.
Very much. And seeing Chu Zao’s attention drawn by another made him uncomfortable—a further proof he needed a mate.
The “god” tormented at the edge of blowing up Chao Huangmu’s mind: …when you deal with a crazy one, it’s up to outside intervention.
Chu Zao, struggling to keep up with this troublesome Chao Huangmu: ?
And Xi, no longer eaten by psionic force, but struggling to breathe under Chao Huangmu’s pressure: …why is there another one?
Not long before, he’d scorned the idea of death as release and pain as constant, but now, face blank—
Could you all just let me die in peace?