Chapter 9: Clumsy little Zao Zao who can’t arrange wing feathers

**Chapter 9: Clumsy Little Zao Zao Who Can't Preen His Wing Feathers**

Amos finally chose a shortcut.

Flying the small starship through an area swarming with Star Beasts, he took out quite a few before returning to the Saint Cas Empire's capital planet nearly three days ahead of schedule.

The little one was adjusting to the new time zone according to the Saint Cas Empire's clock.

The Saint Cas Empire was a rare planet with four distinct seasons.

It happened to be winter now, and the temperature outside was freezing.

Amos himself wasn’t afraid of the cold, but the little one certainly wasn’t.

Amos hadn’t prepared much—he’d been too busy buying food for the little guy. It wasn’t until he saw Saint Cas’s temperature that he finally realized his mistake.

Over the past few days, the little one had basically spent his time eating, sleeping, and repeating.

He was recovering his strength and still couldn’t revert to his human form. Instead, he had gotten more and more clingy toward Amos these past few days.

Early in the morning, as the starship entered the airspace of Amos’s capital planet, the little one was awakened by an automatic announcement. The cub curled up on his side, tail bent and tucked against his body. He rolled over once, stretched like a cat arching its back, let out a big yawn, and then shook the tiny feathers on his wings.

"Meow meow—"

Like the roar of a baby dragon.

Hearing the noise, Amos walked over from the side, reaching out a hand to look at the little one’s twinkling halo. He was chugging a pack of nutrient drink, gulping it down in a few mouthfuls before tucking a fruit into the cub’s paws.

"We’ll arrive in half an hour."

Still half-asleep, the little one gave a sleepy "meow" and, despite his drowsiness, didn’t forget to argue with Amos about last night’s topic.

Zao Zao isn’t afraid of the cold, Zao Zao is very strong, Zao Zao can take care of himself!

Amused, Amos watched as the half-asleep cub crunchily munched on the fruit. He reached out, ready to take the leftover pit from the little one.

The drowsy cub blinked his big eyes in confusion, staring at Amos before shifting his head and plopping it right into Amos’s palm.

The little furball sat there, back legs splayed out, tiny front paws planted between them while still clutching the fruit pit. His round, fluffy head twitched as his ears flicked, and the halo atop his head swayed along with his dragon-like tail.

"Meow!"

Papa! Look, Zao Zao has fur just like Papa's!

If Papa isn’t afraid of the cold, then Zao Zao isn’t either!

Zao Zao is just like Papa!

Just the same!

Amos...

Amos couldn’t help looking away.

He was completely smitten.

He had already begun resigning himself to admitting it.

He looked at the small head cupped in his palm.

"Alright, you said it yourself."

Amos had kept up a calm front until now.

The little cub lifted its small head.

Yeah, Zao Zao said so!

Amos eyed the snow falling outside, then took out his spare uniform and casually draped it over the chair. He withdrew his hand, letting the little cub sit on the bed by itself.

As they entered the airspace of the Saint Cas Empire's imperial star, this small starship, fitted only with one-way long-range comms, could now receive various messages from the royal court.

Upon detecting their return, messages bombarded in like an avalanche. There was too much, and since they would arrive soon anyway, Amos couldn’t care less to sort through it.

The Crown Clan was the royal family of the Saint Cas Empire. Though their numbers were thin, they could still muster a few dozen. They belonged to the last generation, with a handful of the previous generation teetering on the edge of mental collapse, at death’s door.

Amos was this generation’s Alpha Emperor, the most powerful monarch who had achieved new glories. But precisely because his psychic power was the strongest among his peers, his mental decay was among the worst.

Saint Cas might’ve looked calm on the surface at the moment,

but underneath, turmoil was brewing. The Crown Clan was advancing toward its final downfall.

This was just the empire’s final flicker.

The clan couldn’t produce offspring anymore.

"Meow! Meow!"

So messy—I’ll yank you—ow! Hurts!

Amos thought blankly—this was how things were supposed to go.

He couldn’t help but turn his head—"Zao Zao, what are you doing?"

The little fluffball clumsily hugged its wings to its chest.

The feathers on its wings were a tangled mess from sleep. It’d clearly tried preening them forever, but its technique was so poor that after much effort, there was no improvement.

The cub’s amber eyes went wide as it stretched out its tiny paws, and began attacking its own wings.

"Meow!" It’s you sticking out and making me uncomfortable?! I’ll pluck you right out!

"Meow!" And this one! Zao Zao will pluck you off too!

"Meow!" One more—Zao Zao’s fur’s gonna be perfect!

The cub kept plucking, whimpering in pain.

Like a total goofball.

Soon, several snow-white feathers lay scattered beneath it.

Amos: "..."

Amos: ".................."

Amos was floored.

The stubborn remnants of the medical pod screen were still doing their job: Signal detected!! Initiating distress call now—someone is mistreating a fledgling—

Amos silently picked up the screen and finally snapped it in half.

You dumb AI.

Shut up!!

Anyway—

"What are you doing?!"

Amos walked to the bed, scooped up the little guy, and held him close to his face, staring into his eyes.

He couldn’t understand where this "self-harm" behavior came from.

"(Chirp)?"

Xiao Chuzao, who had been busily tugging at his feathers, looked at Amos in confusion.

"(Chirp)!"

Daddy! Zao Zao's fixing his feathers!

Chu Zao was all thumbs when it came to this—he’d never been particularly good at grooming his own feathers. In his previous world, no one had ever taught him.

He’d only heard others say—he was filthy, an unwanted little brat with messy feathers. They didn’t want to play with him.

Whether he was clean or not, whether they played with him or not, the little one didn’t really care. It was those 'unwanted' words that stung.

So the cub started trying to preen himself.

But he wasn’t good at it. He could only pluck out the stray ones. Fortunately, his feathers were dense, and the plucked ones grew back quickly—it didn’t really matter.

Over time, the little one had gotten used to it.

Amos eyed the little wings.

He cradled the little puffball in his arms, getting him situated.

The cub was so small in his original form, his wings no bigger than a pair of soft puffs. Densely feathered but days without proper care had left them fluffy, not smooth at all—now all puffed up.

Amos wanted to smooth out the little guy’s plumage, but that would take patience, taking it one feather at a time.

Xiao Chuzao lay in Amos’s embrace, his little tail swaying back and forth, until the tip got a gentle squeeze.

"Hold still."

"(Chirp)!"

Oh, okay, Daddy.

Xiao Chuzao stretched out his little wings.

Feeling Amos work each feather into place.

It tingled a bit, didn’t hurt—in fact, it felt quite nice. The cub, just woken up, started dozing off again from the gentle preening.

No one had ever preened his feathers for him before—and he’d never could get it right himself.

These past few days, he hadn’t paid much attention to his gradually ruffled little wings.

So he never realized—grooming feathers could feel *this* good?

The tiny halo above Xiao Chuzao’s head began to sway happily.

“Mew!”

His voice was high-pitched and sweet, soft as down.

Love Papa!

Amos didn’t reply. He just kept grooming the little one’s feathers, his movements deft.

After all, he had centuries of experience grooming his own feathers—though for a long-lived mythical race, such time was but the blink of an eye.

But helping someone else groom their feathers? This was his first time.

And these feathers were so thick.

How’d you get *this* fluffy?

Amos carefully smoothed them all out, and before he knew it, it was time to disembark from the starship.

Amos double-checked that he hadn’t mistreated the cub in any way—the feathers were sleek, the downy fluff soft and perfect. Only then did he pick up the little one and head outside.

Snowflakes danced in the air.

The red flag of the Saint Cas Empire fluttered high above.

Yet the moment they stepped off the ramp, the little cub—who had lived all his life in a world of eternal spring and had never seen snow—whirled around without hesitation, chocking on the icy wind. He began clawing at Amos’ clothes, his small halo shrinking into Amos’ chest.

“Mew! Mew!” he whined.

Papa, hurry! It’s so cold! Zao Zao’s gonna freeze to death!

Amos pulled out spare clothing and wrapped the white little fluffball up with a look that said, “I know you all too well.”

Hold on.

Upon receiving Amos’ message confirming his return, about five or six members of the Crown Clan who were available had already gathered here to wait.

The atmosphere among them was somber.

They were all considered siblings—some full-blooded, others more distant relatives.

This was because the birth of Crown Clan offspring was unique. Even when paired with other races, new members were born through psychic energy within their ancestral habitat. Only those born there were true Crown Clan. So after their ancestral habitat was destroyed centuries ago, no new cubs had been born.

When Amos’ message first arrived, though shocked, they assumed it was a misread—or even that Amos had sent the message to the wrong person by mistake.

There were no Crown Clan cubs left in this world. Their generation was the last, already on the brink of extinction.

Just recently, one of the few remaining elders of their clan had reached the verge of having their Psychic Crown shatter completely—likely within days.

Amos’ condition was also worsening, though no one knew when his collapse might begin. His psychic state remained mysterious; whenever his powers spiraled out of control, he always hid himself away from them, retreating directly to their ancestral habitat to unleash his energy.

The only clue they had was his increasingly eroded crown—a clear sign that things were not going well.

The outlook was grim.

"Frey, what did His Majesty mean by the message he sent earlier?"

Finally, someone spoke, turning toward a young man with a cold, expressionless face.

Frey bore a slight resemblance to Amos.

If Amos was the kind of person whose coldness was understated, lazy, and casual, Frey was like an impenetrable iceberg—his face showed no emotion, his chill absolute and unbreakable.

The late Saint Cas Emperor had five children in total. Amos was second in age but possessed the strongest psychic abilities. Frey, Amos’s elder brother, ranked among the most powerful as well.

Frey said nothing. He watched as the door opened and a figure ambled over casually—his younger brother had always been unruly and willful, and becoming Emperor of Saint Cas hadn’t changed that one bit.

Someone else chimed in, "It must’ve been a mistake, right? Even if there *was* a youngling, it couldn't possibly be one from our Crown Clan. I’ve long forgotten what a youngling even looks like, though I do run into fun little surprises every now and then. Hahaha."

"Hey, don’t say that. Our elders *went crazy* over younglings. Honestly, my memories are fuzzy—who *wouldn’t* love a cute little kid? I can’t even remember what a Crown Clan youngling looks like anymore, unless a tiny, miniature crown halo suddenly popped up in front of me—"

They had already noticed Amos—and the small bundle cradled in his arms. Instinctively, they bowed, but before they could speak, the little bundle stirred. A delicate, intricate golden halo—so very, very small, no bigger than a palm—wobbled into sight, quivering from the chill.

In the next instant, a tiny, snow-white paw shot out and snatched the little halo back inside.

Hah, so there actually *was* a tiny halo…

…A tiny halo?

Wait… what????