If my race is fated to perish, then let me carry it forward into hope for the future.
It had always waited for this day—because it knew this meant the long night would end, and they would reach the other shore.
The moment the Angel Spring Stone’s radiance fully dissipated, the golden coronet above Chu Zao’s head shone once more.
That was the last coronation, from the angel race to its child out in the world, to its only little angel.
Still growing, little Chu Zao’s power had only just reached balanced fusion with what the angels left behind. His arrows had just begun to truly suppress and counter the pollution, but ‘God’ reacted too swiftly—before Chu Zao could grow further or undergo more trials, at the first sign of danger, ‘God’ shifted from disdainful to alert. Although unable to strike directly, he had already acted through his interstellar followers and the Aberrant Beasts.
Not until this moment did Chu Zao’s power channel smoothly, the wounds on his body from spatial instability healing, but his honey-colored eyes grew even brighter, burning with rage.
Xi’s spiritual power was still blazing a trail ahead; seeing the branching, narrowing path coming to an end, Chu Zao gripped his bow, golden flames of two hues flaring up at both ends.
Chu Zao looked up, gritting his teeth.
To call them inferior, to treat the world and everyone in it as toys and toys for easy trampling, all of it—
How dare you?
*
The suddenly awakened habitat sensed the passing of its kindred, the Angel Spring Stone, mourning the loss of most of its people—children gone, suffering, most never able to return to their homeworld, stripped of all, left to agony.
Amos had already forced his way into the collapsing Dragon Realm. At the threshold, his comms with the outside world broke, but he caught Frey’s voice—”B-broken? Hey hey hey—damn, damn,—Zao Zao’s going to cry—”
Frey, cold as ice, rarely sounded this panicked and unhinged.
Then all fell quiet. Desmond and the rest vanished. Amos truly did not understand what was happening in here, but Zao Zao—at this point, Amos had no energy for anything but finding his son.
He lifted his hand; psionic power flared from his sword, battering the tattered space of Dragon Realm, making it shudder. But the feedback dampened Amos’s eyes.
Spatial power was always the galaxy’s most mysterious force—studied and used, jump technology was invented—but many things remained unknown and dangerous.
To find Zao Zao, a thousand possible paths appeared—the entrances was here, but no clue where they exited. And those gateways kept shrinking.
Amos could not feel Zao Zao’s presence anywhere.
Charging ahead blindly was foolish.
Winds whipped around him, the force of his power warping the space, and then—he paused, sensing the homeworld, and as if in response, the centuries-old agony among the Crown Clan from coronet rupture faded instantly.
This generation of Crown Clan had always been chilly and cold, and before Chu Zao, the clan lived in a dark, indifferent mood—because almost from birth, before they even came of age, they sensed the loss of their home.
That long, bone-deep unease, long ignored by every Crown Clan, finally vanished, leaving their bodies light.
Amos only hesitated for a second—then readied to unleash his power. If he couldn’t find it, then try every one by brute-force—
But before he moved, a voice called from behind: “Amos…Your Majesty, please, wait a moment.”
It was a man from the ship that followed him in.
Amos didn’t slow, tearing open one entrance with psionics, finding nothing, only then glancing back.
The tall Spirit Eye clansman, last seen as a youth, now cloaked, sunglasses in place, every inch weathered.
“Pollution is rooted too deeply; it’s practically become part of the cosmos. It can’t be eradicated, but its source can be destroyed, and the current crisis fundamentally changed. Facing something like that, we need overwhelming force; then, maybe pollution will become just another black hole sector—aberrant beasts no longer a threat to the universe.”
Barney, the last Spirit Eye, lifted his sunglasses, eyes flashing with deep, vengeful sharpness to meet Amos’s.
“And the Crown Clan are the immortal race most likely to end it. You must not waste your power here.”
“Kid,” Amos sighed. The storm of his unleashed power kept anyone from getting close; rarely, he smiled, though his eyes stayed cold. “It’s dangerous ahead.”
“I know—”
Of course he did.
“But now, you really do resemble your father.”
Amos put away his sword and shifted form, becoming a massive beast; within the Dragon Realm now fully crumbling, he let out a low roar.
Barney blinked, then smiled faintly. Hard-traveled, the young man carried none of the immortal race’s old ease, more steadiness from hardship. Only now did he reveal a trace of nostalgia and ease: “I should greet you, on my father’s behalf, Your Majesty Amos.”
Barney’s gaze wandered every entrance, all his psionic power woven into his eyes.
He remembered everything from years ago.
His people built their ‘tower,’ but the ‘foundation’ was rotted and brought down, orchestrated by Hymn. All his idealistic kind were fed to that damned ‘God,’ never freed.
He remembered cursing traitors at the multinational meeting, being spirited away by his father’s men—
He remembered his parents’ bodies, eye sockets hollow, plundered. He’d hated, gone mad tracking down who took his father’s eyes and found a name—Shenghua, once the daughter of a Boel noble.
How laughable—immortals who gave all ended ruined by the very nation they struggled to build.
He once thirsted for revenge, but later glimpsed his father’s intent.
He knew his father’s eyes were dissected in Hymn’s labs, the Boel Alliance dissolved.
He’d visited once. The once vibrant nation crumbled into something worse than a drifter planet.
He tried to do something—dodging Hymn, always hiding, studying, recording pollution, meeting all kinds among the stars, hoping his powers might help, even briefly—comfort enough for the lost.
Unbearable that he never grew stronger.
Barney swept the gateways with his Spirit Eye power.
Spirit Eye could find a foe’s weakness, just as the Holy Chalice chief glimpsed all futures before death. At the end, when a race’s strength was burning out, they could see the thing they sought most.
All other times, there was no entrance—not now—he’d waited…too long.
“Please, follow my psionic trail,” said Barney, and from his eyes leapt a tiny fish made of spirit, diving into a closing hole. Psionic and spatial forces crashed, ripping a rift. “I’ll lead the way for you.”
Amos followed with his own power and instantly tore the rift open.
As Amos plunged into unknown space, Barney’s eyes never blinked, running flat out, his power rapidly fading. The crumbling world clawed at him, drawing blood from his eyes, darkening them.
But he was laughing, exhilarated—”Never underestimate the Spirit Eye—we waited far too long for you to die.”
*
Within ‘God’s’ domain.
‘God’ hid as ever, yet it was no longer untrodden ground.
Chao Huangmu crashed here, gripping a thread of ‘God’s’ strength, dragged into this realm. He was already suffering, now unable to resist the space-warping injuries.
Blood-smeared, Chao Huangmu slumped, breathing weakly, his head splitting so badly his very spirit dragon behind him began to roll and lash.
In this special, pitch-black space where he could see only himself, the air twisted and bulged, like a cancer cell mutating—a flesh-pink lump swelled, small granules forming until a blood-red eye opened at its center.
‘God’ would not readily reveal himself, but with Chao Huangmu—who’d survived Soul Clan weakness—he was annoyed.
Yet this was already the closest any of them had come to ‘God’, to truly touching him. But to find his true core would still take work.
‘God’ had not yet realized others were closing in.
Watching Chao Huangmu, he just seethed.
How irksome.
The sooner this one broke and was absorbed, the better. A minor gain, at least.
So he prodded Chao Huangmu’s mind on.
Chao Huangmu groaned again.
He glimpsed countless scenes from his past.
Things he’d long since forgotten, now cycling before him.
A small cub, pinned to a cold bed—
In memory, the mother-figure lacked even a name for him, holding a blade, shrieking like a mad beast.
Little Chao Huangmu sobbed and shook, terrified, fighting to flee that icy bed.
But the blade drew blood.
“Soul Clan, Soul Clan—” the hoarse, crazed voice shrieked, “Soul Clan’s fate—damn you, damn you Soul Clan, die! Die—”
Blood splattered, flesh carved away.
The small cub’s eyes widened in agony; spirit crushed by parents; fat tears fell as his body convulsed.
“No—no—”
Mama, mama—papa—no…
In his brief existence he’d never felt warmth; crying out, drugs forced into his body, his pure bloodline forcibly made hybrid.
Cold parental hands stroked his face.
That was his last memory of them.
So much pain—
So much pain——
Like reliving it, Chao Huangmu’s eyes went hollow, blood pouring from wounds, his black spirit dragon became blurry, nearly devouring its host.
On the edge of collapse, that barrage of flashbacks sapped all Chao Huangmu’s will.
But it was not enough.
‘God’ watched, satisfied—this was the expected outcome.
Dispose of this one and hide away again.
He’d evolve and then strike at the Crown Clan—timing was not a problem.
This one… always shadowed the Crown Clan cub.
Ah—
Low-dimensional beings were always so double-faced, brimming with messy feelings.
And after such torment, how could he not feel a shred of jealousy toward little Chu Zao?
The flesh-eye orb orbited, musing.
By chance, it was in trying to goad Chao Huangmu against Chu Zao that ‘God’ had failed.
So, ‘God’ drew Chao Huangmu’s mind toward other images—
Mixing fact and fiction, standard tactics for ‘God’.
Chao Huangmu saw baby Chu Zao sweetly smiling before his family, healing the Crown Clan—yet in ‘God’s’ script, all Chu Zao’s acts only prolonged their agony.
Chao Huangmu froze.
The orb drifted close, fleshly tentacle brushing Chao Huangmu’s psyche.
A flicker of hesitation—and he could spring, swallowing him whole.
Chao Huangmu saw the vision: tiny Chu Zao handed him a candy, gazing imperial from on high, that childish voice: “From now on, you’re my guard, you have to obey me. If not, I’ll tell dad to punish you!”
‘God’ could only extend the bait; the candy was real, the rest fabrication.
And then: ‘This is a bribe, a favor; he never saw you as human, his supposed healing was just for his own gain—’
‘God’ didn’t finish, for Chao Huangmu murmured dreamily: “Sweet—the candy is sweet—”
‘God’: ?
The next vision: little Chu Zao grabbed his hand then shoved him away, voice petulant: “Go away, you’re not worthy to touch me?”
—‘See? Even before losing memory you were the same as after Holy Cas took you in; why should you alone have what others—’
Chao Huangmu’s ears blushed through the haze, and he kept mumbling: “So soft—hands so soft, such a bad temper—” Love it.
‘God’: ??
Unbelievable.
Now Chu Zao had him at swordpoint, eyes fierce: “A guy like you could never belong to Holy Cas—”
“Ah…”
Surely this time—
“Ah…” Chao Huangmu whispered through pain, “So cute.”
‘God’: ?????
Okay, either his power failed, or this one was broken, crazy.
And obsessed with the very Crown Clan cub who gave even ‘God’ a headache.
‘God’ was enraged.
The floating flesh-ball abruptly swelled, stabbing straight into Chao Huangmu’s psyche, sneering in fury—
“You’re all absurd, emotions, redemption, so easily crushed—”
As before, he’d plundered such things for millennia and tasted only a setback now, but no matter; after a time, things would return and reshuffle.
He’d just steal the power from this one now—
Chao Huangmu lifted his head with effort. Through agony, memories with Chu Zao slowly resurfaced—no smile on his once-bright face now, cold and savage—he raised his hand.
Hearing ‘God’s’ mocking words, a carbon copy of his deluded followers,
“That Crown Clan cub’s naive joy is laughable, just selfishness; how could he save his kind? The Crown Clan will soon be extinct, and after all his talk, he destroyed the land that raised him—”
‘God’ relished the moment. In his home turf, relaxed, and even mockingly narrating—
“My angels cared for him for the realm’s good. They didn’t kill him as a child, merely shunned him, gave him even basic education, and he turns around and ruins the Angel Realm. An ungrateful wolf—let the new angels, my will, judge him when the realm is rebuilt—”
‘God’s’ words caught in his throat; the blood-red eye focused on Chao Huangmu.
Because Chao Huangmu had abruptly reached out and grabbed his flesh.
Whoa, what?
‘God’ wondered—this Soul Clan was not like those others destroyed before.
Chao Huangmu had been waiting for this. Suddenly, he lunged up, seized the fleshy tentacle, and in a moment was face-to-face with the orb—
He savored, one last time, the thought of little Chu Zao’s bad temper in fantasy.
What a temper—the little Highness was just incredible.
He thought—what had he even been doing in the Dragon Realm?
Chao Huangmu, what have you done?
How could you talk to the little Highness like that!
You’re lucky he didn’t flip out on you.
Chao Huangmu punched, eyes cold—But would he ever go back?
He recognized where he stood now.
But it was fine; it was what he wanted—
How dare ‘God’ show his face!
He’d lost the past, had so little, even love was learned by copying others; like math problems, solved a million times, until you were that sunny, easygoing friend.
Only Chu Zao could see the real him.
He wasn’t what others thought. He had nothing and never dreamed—liking Chu Zao meant demanding to possess him.
He was a bit envious—empty-handed and only clutching a few gems, yet he’d dared to reach out.
But the real Chao Huangmu…didn’t dare.
Just seconds passed, and Chao Huangmu laughed coldly, bloodied, smashing the flesh-ball apart and stabbing its eye—his spirit swelling out, armoring him, fingers piercing through.
A furious, ghastly chorus of countless creatures howled around him.
Utterly hair-raising.
But Chao Huangmu stared down his foe icily—
Try to steal his power to hurt Zao Zao? Dream on.
Coughing blood, the youth spat,
“The Zao Zao I don’t even dare to touch—what right do you have to judge him?”
‘God’ glared, aghast, at the supposed ant’s last struggle—as the flesh-blob shattered, another layer of his power was stripped away.
Behind Chao Huangmu, a new rift tore open, exposing that real blood-red eyeball. More opened, blinking in the dark.
Laughable, laughable—
“You think by dying you can inflict such a little harm? Doesn’t matter—no one will come here. Even if the Crown Clan cub gained power to counter me, alone he is nothing.”
He’d evolve elsewhere, strike again later—even if it meant all his efforts here came to nothing. He’d tried to kill Chu Zao to avoid such loss.
But now, let it be. Suppose this “counter” mattered at all. Let them fight their pollution.
The rift had not yet closed.
A sudden swoosh tore the silence.
A spiraling, flaming arrow shot through the darkness, blazing light into the gloom.
As Chao Huangmu fell back from rupturing the flesh-ball, he saw the rushing form of little Chu Zao.
Fiery and dazzling; in that instant, as ‘God’ realized too late that Chu Zao had invaded his realm, Chu Zao was already at the rift, bow lit, eyes fierce.
“Did you think you were only suppressed by me?”
Not at all—the vanguard Xi, the guiding angel, everyone through history who built the barrier—
The black-and-gold flaming arrow drew close to the eyeball; Chu Zao let go.
Beneath the coronet’s brilliant glow, his beautiful face was ice-cold: “Trash.”