Cub 056: The Wicked Complains First!

No one knew who laughed first.

The little cub, who had been struggling hard to get out, panicked for a moment and almost tumbled down.

He was scooped up by Amos.

Chu Zao, after crawling in and out of that narrow hole, was a ruffled mess—fuzzy hair sticking every which way, wings tangled. But the very first thing he did upon coming out was to widen his eyes and instinctively look around at them.

Crouched in the hole, he couldn’t quite tell who it was, but someone was laughing at Zao Zao—

Zao Zao had hidden for so long, and someone was laughing at him!

Feeney: “Oh my, really? Anya, how could you do this? You saw Zao Zao couldn’t get down, thought his legs were just too short, and couldn’t help but laugh out loud, right?”

An enormous black pot was dumped on Anya.

Anya turned in shock: ?????

Feiman gave Feeney a look, her usually cool face unable to keep straight.

Wait—wasn’t it you who laughed and couldn’t hold it in just now?

Don’t project your own thoughts onto Anya just to deflect!

Anya is really too tragic, hahaha—

This was the very definition of “the wicked complains first.”

Or maybe “accusatory lying.”

Your ability to spin a tale from a picture is impressive!

Chu Zao paused for a moment, making a grabbing motion in the air, and all the Crown Clan immediately felt their scalps tingle.

The little one’s Cupid’s Bow appeared.

Uh oh! Zao’s weapon is coming out!

He looked at Anya first.

Anya was so stunned he forgot to defend himself, and just as the cub glanced doubtfully over, he hurriedly explained, “It wasn’t me! I didn’t—I swear—”

Please, Zao Zao, judge true and false!

“You say it wasn’t, so it wasn’t?”

Sensing exposure, Feeney quietly retreated and cut Anya off.

The little cub glanced up at Amos.

Amos said nothing, motioning for him to decide on his own.

The cub thought for a moment.

Then aimed his little bow at Feeney.

“Third Uncle, Zao Zao isn’t a little fool!”

Feeney: …

Crap, didn’t fool him.

Anya immediately grabbed the fleeing Feeney, and the hit Feeney, grasping the just-arrived butler Mori’s hand, managed to declare his feelings just twice.

Butler Mori took a second to react, understood, then covered Feeney’s mouth with a smile: “Sorry, Lord Feeney, I know how you feel, but you’re not my type, sorry. You’re a good person.”

Feeney, finally realizing: …

The perpetually scheming Feeney was green in the face.

The others all burst out laughing.

Anya couldn’t hold it in and broke into roaring laughter.

“I can’t—my stomach hurts!”

Serves that unreliable guy right!

*

A few more days passed. Chu Zao kept up his routine of morning lessons with Hel, then afternoons watching the trio train, then archery learning with any pairing of Feeney and another Crown Clan, trying to reproduce the previous black-flamed bow and arrow.

None of it succeeded.

No matter what he thought or how he fired, it was always golden spiritual power; that once overwhelming destructive feeling was fleeting as a flash of ephemera.

That afternoon, Frey and Amos practiced with the cub.

Not at the training field—they just trained with the cub at the trio’s side.

Because of Chu Zao’s unique traits, everyone else kept well away whenever he drew his bow.

Until break time.

For the last two days, the cub hadn’t learned with Third Uncle, since Feeney had taken the Third Fleet out on assignment. Military in the Boel sector had destroyed two small labs, but no further clues; signs pointed to a link between those labs and the Hymn Organization.

Practice done and resting, the cub fluttered his wings on the bench, twiddling his golden bow.

Amos and Frey stood a few paces behind, discussing recent developments.

Though there was little progress, encouraged by his family, the cub was not anxious.

He sat, little legs swinging, mumbled quietly—

“Mori Grandpa said we’ll be able to plant potatoes in half a month.”

The cub sounded expectant.

He’d never managed to grow anything before—now he was hoping for a field of green.

After all, Baba had said it wasn’t Zao’s fault he couldn’t grow things—he just hadn’t found the right method.

“What potatoes?”

A boy’s voice called.

Chu Zao looked up to see Peng Liang approaching after training, thought a bit, “Just potatoes, almost time to plant them. Can you plant potatoes?”

He looked so small and well-behaved sitting on the bench.

Peng Liang scratched his nose.

“I can’t, but my grandpa can—he’s a famous farming expert here in Holy Cas.”

Peng Liang sat cross-legged beside the cub’s stool, smiling: “He raised me; knows every crop. They say you outgrow your admiration for adults as you grow up, but I still think my grandpa’s amazing.”

“That’s because he is amazing.”

Chu Zao blinked wide eyes at Peng Liang.

“So when Zao plants potatoes, can I ask brother’s grandpa?”

Bro… Brother?!

Peng Liang immediately straightened, suddenly aware; Chao Huangmu, watching from ongoing training, narrowed his eyes.

“Young highness, it’s fine, you can just call me by name…And about potatoes, my grandpa can, but…”

Peng Liang’s smile faded a bit.

The once-confident youth seemed a touch discouraged.

Amos and Frey, behind, watched and did not interfere.

“But right now, it’s difficult…I’m sorry, young highness.”

Peng Liang looked up, smiling lightly.

Such a sad smile.

The cub observed Peng Liang’s expression.

Sensitive already to emotion and mental fluctuations, he picked up on Peng Liang’s momentary drop.

But Peng Liang quickly brightened again.

“Say, I haven’t tried your bow yet. What’s it called…?”

“Love and Peace.”

Chu Zao lifted his bow.

“Cupid’s Bow.”

“Does it hurt if it hits?”

The cub thought—

“Maybe not much?”

“Can I try? I heard it changes your mood? I’ll face away—just want to see how it feels—”

So as Chao Huangmu finished, hot from training and strolling over, he found the cub aiming at Peng Liang, and—biu.

Chao Huangmu: ?

Already by them, Chao Huangmu grinned—and before he could speak, Peng Liang sprang up, grabbed Chao Huangmu in a bear hug, eyes blazing.

“Ah Mu…”

Without pause, Chao Huangmu socked him in the eye.

Nope, something foul’s entered!

Peng Liang howled, clutching his face.

“You could’ve just covered my mouth, not punch me, right?!”

Chao Huangmu, still grinning, deadpan: “Sorry Peng Liang, but that was freaking gross.”

And he shifted Peng Liang aside, sitting by the cub.

The cub watched wide-eyed, glancing between the two.

“He—he’s okay, right?”

“Sure, his body’s tough—don’t worry.”

Chao Huangmu smiled.

“And today your coronet is especially gorgeous and cute—praise to the holy coronet.”

Praised, the cub’s halo wobbled with pride.

Chao Huangmu’s grin faded a bit, eyes fixed on the coronet—adorable.

Peng Liang: …“Hey, don’t answer for me—and what does ‘tough’ mean? Don’t talk nonsense. I’m not even eleven yet.”

Yun Songquan, always quiet, arrived last. After standing silent for ages, he finally slotted in a single, cool “Oh.”

That cold little face got even colder—so annoying.

Amos checked his watch.

“Just about time.”

He took a few steps forward and picked up Chu Zao.

“Baba.”

The cub hugged Amos’s neck, soft little body curling close.

“Mhm.”

Amos replied, looking down, then at Peng Liang.

“Peng Liang? Come along, your grandpa’s been transferred from Medical Center Ten to here.”

Peng Liang froze, then answered quickly: “Yes, Your Majesty.”

*

Peng Liang’s grandpa had suffered an accident in his youth.

The Crown Clan’s influence wasn’t as wide back then.

His grandpa’s generation valued crop selection in fields and soilless labs; searching everywhere for suitable plants was part of the job.

It was then Peng Liang’s grandpa, Peng Shengfei, was hijacked by space pirates. The pirates tried to kill everyone with poisonous gas. Few survived, and those who did suffered lasting trauma and illness.

Already plagued by a chronic mental condition, Peng Shengfei’s state deteriorated—even the best Holy Cas care only kept him going.

He was a talent awarded a medal by Amos years ago, so upon hearing of his illness, Amos brought the cub along to visit.

Mainly, since the issue was cerebral, he wasn’t sure what a child with spiritual manipulation abilities like Zao Zao might do.

In the clean, white hospital room, a frail, gray-haired old man lay silent in bed.

Peng Yue, now head of the Peng family, stood at his bedside; Peng Liang had already visited a while.

The room was tranquil.

“The situation isn’t good—Mr. Peng’s condition was already poor, and he suffers from nightmares. The disappearance of his aide, his apprentice, triggered a chain reaction. We’ve been stabilizing his physical metrics, trying to keep his mental power level. As he ages, it’s become nearly impossible. Now even drugs and modern tech can’t help… Whether he’ll wake is unknown.”

The medic spoke quietly at the door.

Amos nodded.

“Treat as best as you can. If Mr. Peng is in pain, discuss with Peng Yue.”

Feiman, also updated, arriving at that moment.

Feeney might still be effective, but he could also get lost en route.

Having determined the Hymn Organization was involved, Amos had decided to send another squad to investigate.

Feiman appeared but stayed at the door listening.

Peng Yue said nothing, but Peng Liang, eyes red, hands clenched, looked down.

“His Majesty is right, Grandpa’s always had nightmares, always blaming himself. This time he collapsed so suddenly—I think he already…already hoped to be free of the pain.”

The cub in Amos’s arms wriggled, so Amos set him down.

The tiny cub hesitated, then toddled to Peng Yue, looking up at him, then at the bed—looking closely, he saw countless chaotic, dispersing threads of mental power, like twisted black mist—endless struggle and pain.

He had seen so much pain, both in Holy Cas and his own family.

So sad—

He himself once struggled, wishing for a helping hand that never came.

Gently, silently, the cub reached his little hand to Peng Shengfei’s, frail and covered in tape and wires.

At that instant, his little coronet flickered, and the twisted dark mist seemed to calm a bit.

Both Amos and Feiman sensed the shift and looked up; Peng Liang, closest, also saw his grandpa’s frail hand move, clasping the cub’s gentle little fingers.

Chu Zao wanted to do more—he had ways to manipulate spirit in a coronet or communicate to others’ minds, but with ordinary humans, their mental power was too scattered; he couldn’t do more.

The cub blinked and withdrew his hand quietly.

Amos glanced at the medics—they ran tests, but only shook their heads.

Amos stepped forward, scooped the cub back into his arms.

Even so mature for ten, Peng Liang broke down at the faint movement of his grandpa’s hand. Finally, he couldn’t hold it anymore, tightly clutching his grandfather’s hand.

“Are you awake?”

His voice trembled.

“You’ve suffered so much, you should really rest…I understand, I do, but—but—I just want you to call my name again. Didn’t you say you’d wait for me to come home this summer, and go see the flower-trees we planted?”

“I remember you carrying me on your shoulders to pick flowers, to pick fruit—it was my happiest childhood. At that time, I thought you’d never fall.”

Peng Yue averted his face.

Someone nearby drew a breath.

But the frail hand slowly lifted, gently stroking Peng Liang’s head.

Peng Liang’s tears fell instantly.

Clouded eyes flicked open, breath shuddering out.

“Liangliang.”

Peng Shengfei turned to him, then toward Amos—

And met Chu Zao’s bright eyes.

“Grandpa had a long nightmare—”

Dreaming again and again; had he not led all his researchers out, so many wouldn’t have died. Always trapped in this nightmare, accepting his fate, ready to never wake.

But at last, a soft, light voice called him. The dream stilled, as if a little hand gently pulled him—a first touch of tenderness inside the nightmare.

Then, his grandson’s voice.

“And finally, that nightmare became a dream of walking with little you down the field path—”

“Grandpa!”

Peng Liang rushed up.

Amos, holding the cub, stepped back, leaving them room to talk.

He and Feiman exchanged glances.

With the cub around, Feiman looked a bit heavy-hearted, but still pinched the child’s cheek.

He didn’t dodge, even reached out for a bump with auntie.

Feiman’s eyes widened—

Ah, that just means Zao wants a kiss from auntie!

Chu Zao: …

He hastily retreated into Amos’s arms.

“I’ll go on this mission?”

Feiman asked softly, forcing a smile.

“Feeney hasn’t replied, I told you he’s unreliable.”

“No telling what tricks the other side has up their sleeve,” Amos considered, glancing at the special cub in his arms, then nodded, “I’ll take Zao Zao with me, you follow, make sure there’s always an adult at his side.”

Feiman nodded, “Works for me. Frey, Anya, and the others can handle things here.”

Logistics, national day planning—plenty.

Just then, Peng Yue led still-crying Peng Liang outside to Amos: “Your Majesty, my father wishes to speak to you.”

Amos handed the cub to Feiman, then turned to the ward.

Feiman held the child; he blinked big eyes and fell into auntie’s arms.

Feiman watched a long while, then sighed softly—”Nightmares, huh?”

Made her think of her own, the ones she could never escape, always waking up in panic.

Chu Zao lay quietly in her arms, at first watching her face, then gently cuddled up, giving a soft nuzzle.

Feiman: …

Feiman and Chu Zao looked at each other.

“Auntie knows—that means you want a kiss.”

So when Amos came out, he saw the cub being kissed left and right, dazed, arms outstretched, pleading: “Baba, Baba!”

Help! Save Zao Zao!

Amos obliged, taking back the cub.

As the cub wished, Amos kept Feiman five big steps away.

He sent for the squad list; time to prepare to head for the fringes of the Boel region and deal with trouble.

Chu Zao clung to Amos, finally sighing in relief and hugging Baba’s neck.

Carried all the way home.

“Just watch out for anything unusual.”

Amos remembered Peng Shengfei’s last words before sleep.

“And message Feeney too, tell him to watch Peng’s former assistant, she’s the successor.”

“Okay,” Feiman nodded, “understood.”

Far off, observer Cheng Xuan could only watch, unable to get close, kept out of the loop. But he saw the cub’s small hand holding Peng Shengfei’s, and that softness with Feiman—adorable, yes, but not suited for Holy Cas. He quietly sighed, told an aide: “Young highness is truly too gentle, isn’t he?”

*

Boel sector, hidden facility.

Several grimy people were locked alone.

They’d been here for some time now. Unlike the other ‘specimens’—because they were Holy Cas citizens, other forms of torment were used, prying for info or trying to make them rebel.

Sleep deprivation. Constant interrogation.

“Pah, who’d betray us? Showing us Boel’s mess—if you ask me, Boel Alliance made its own bed.”

“Betray the Empire? Dream on!”

“But nobody knows where we are—will we be rescued?”

At this, silence.

In a corner, a messy-haired woman sat silently by the bars.

“Get out? If something goes wrong, you might never get out of here.”

She looked down, negative.

“Ms. Zhong, don’t be so down.”

“Someone will save us!”

“Really?”

She only looked out, gaze dim.

“My luck’s…” always been bad—orphaned, unwanted, unlucky, saved only by a teacher, years to fit in and finally earn Holy Cas citizenship.

Always setbacks, always wounded. This time was probably the same. There are no lucky people in this universe.

She was sure of it, always living every day—forlorn. Not even her teacher could pull her out.

But she didn’t say it aloud.

*

Next morning, a secret operation few knew of was set to begin; in the palace, the cub was neatly dressed.

Amos handed him the spiritual power long-sword—by now, it was reflex for Chu Zao to grab it and gnaw unconsciously.

Amos fixed up the cub before himself and, returning, was surprised to see the neatly dressed cub had gone back to lie on the soft bed.

He wasn’t fully awake—of course, the bed itself was so soft it called to him.

Chu Zao, waiting for Baba, had laid down without realizing, drifting into a fuzzy half-nap, hugging the spirit sword, rolling in bed, barely noticing Amos’s approach.

Trying to open his big eyes, dazed, his halo flickering faintly.

Amos, seeing the cub so groggy, thought for a moment, and picked up a little box nearby, giving it a gentle shake.

Chu Zao, still foggy, responded in a flash, halo flaring—if he’d been in puffball form, his ears would have shot up.

The next instant, cub still gnawing the long sword, he scrambled off the bed, dragging the overlong sword toward Amos—toward the jar of sweets in his hand.