Chapter 24: Zao Zao wants a hug

Chapter 24: Algae Wants a Hug

This was clearly not right—what kind of idiot confesses their love at a time like this???

But if they didn’t act now, would they wait until the enemies all snapped out of it?

The squad leader made a decisive move, grabbing heavy artillery and blasting a shot toward the enemy.

The others reacted swiftly. They’d clearly worked together many times, and even with fewer members, their coordination was seamless.

While high-tech weapons had advanced across the galaxy, the overall capabilities of interstellar inhabitants had also improved, with defenses kept improving constantly. The Saint Cas Empire’s territory was vast, and though it couldn’t oversee everything, it never cut corners on protection for its mining guards.

However, compared to the well-equipped Saint Cas squad, these Thieves lacked defensive gear.

They were essentially drifters, using hit-and-run tactics—striking once and fleeing, docking elsewhere before striking again. They stole mineral resources from weakly governed planets on the empire’s prosperous fringes to sell in other nations. They specialized in offense, so they only invested in large-scale, high-damage weaponry.

Especially these underlings—before they knew what hit them, they were blasted down for good.

The new round of combat erupted so quickly that the Gang Leader hadn’t even figured out why he suddenly felt so disgusted before he was forced to deal with the incoming fire.

But they still had the numbers.

Even though the Saint Cas squad had seized the initiative early on, they were quickly suppressed.

Still, the squad leader had it easier now—because that weird “lovefest” seemed to spread like a contagion among the enemy.

During the brief exchange of fire, those wielding large cannons would raise their weapons only to be "controlled," allowing the squad to eliminate them.

For a moment, the enemy ranks were a total shitshow—swearing up a storm and shouting “I love you!” all at once.

Amid this confusion, the small squad managed to hold their own against the assault.

The actual exchange didn’t last long, and with little cover around, the Saint Cas squad had to protect the tent behind them. They were the first to realize the truth—the kid from the imperial core seemed to have freaky mind powers!

Using vehicles and makeshift barricades, they held out for over ten minutes. By now, no matter how disoriented or foolish the enemy was, they could sense something was off.

This wasn’t some infection—this was mind control, damn it!

“Damn it, get outta my way! I’ll handle this!”

The Gang Leader kicked aside a subordinate who was slobbering and confessing his love for the umpteenth time. Furious, he hoisted a cannon—only for it to droop again as the wielder started cackling like a moron before firing.

As someone who’d risen to the rank of Gang Leader, he had some skills. Realizing someone was messing with them and that the squad was oddly protective of the tent behind them, he was losing his shit.

His mission was to crush this tiny unit and put the fear of god into these locals. He’d thought surrounding a small base with so many men—especially during an interstellar disaster disrupting communications—would be a cakewalk.

Yet, not a single enemy had fallen.

In fact, the tide was turning in their favor.

Taking a deep breath, he lifted the cannon and dashed forward.

Xiao Chuzao clung to the doorway.

He held his little bow high, swaying on his feet. The golden little bow seemed to have lost its luster—Algae was wiped out.

His eyes swam with tears. He was scared, and the intense focus and repeated firing had the toddler running on fumes, both physically and mentally.

And now, with the enemy moving fast, Xiao Chuzao was completely outmatched.

The dark muzzle of the cannon was aimed at the tent.

"Papa... Grandpa Mei Lun..."

The cub's body trembled violently, his hands shaking as he gripped the little bow.

Papa had told him—he had to rely on himself more.

But Zao Zao was scared.

There was no time to aim—

The cub's psychic arrow hadn't had time to fire again.

The enemy's heaviest weapon had already fired. He could only stagger and shoot, but it was clearly too late.

Meanwhile, in the skies above Saint Cas's Mining Planet 78, a small starship hovered silently.

Kaman, who had left the battlefield, watched after spotting Mei Lun.

He'd thought he was done with the Crown Clan and had no reason to get involved, yet for some inexplicable reason, he stayed.

Kaman wanted to make sure the miners wouldn’t suffer serious harm before the Saint Cas military arrived.

But things had spiraled out of his control from the start.

What was this "I love you, you love me" crap? These guys were packing heavy artillery, cursing up a storm, and now they’re spouting love and peace?

And this feeling—something was off.

Kaman couldn’t pin it down.

Ever since earlier, something had felt strange.

The lanky man hunched in the dim control room, his pallid face lit by the screen’s glow, his fingers tapping restlessly on the control panel—an agitation he hadn’t even realized.

He’d cracked open a nutrient canister beside him, scowled at the taste, then carelessly set it aside.

Over his head, a crumbling black glow—worse than Mei Lun’s halo—flickered into view.

It hardly qualified as a halo now.

The crown-like form had long since eroded, leaving only a thin, fragile ring that looked like it might break at any moment.

The starship pinged with an update—a message from the Thieves’ boss Kaman had been planning to eliminate.

This guy was paranoid. Saint Cas had busted his ops repeatedly, yet he always slipped away. And because he treated his men well, each comeback left him hating Saint Cas more.

This man had been on Saint Cas Empire’s most-wanted list for years.

The message checked in on the mission and mentioned that, given his recent achievements, a victory bash was set for some rogue planet. The boss, always hunting for new talent, had finally lowered his guard and invited him along.

This guy was slippery—Kaman had finally gotten a lead. Kaman smirked.

Wasting these losers? The old Kaman wouldn’t have bothered. After all, the Crown Clan had too many enemies—these punks weren’t even worth the effort.

But his life was ending. He refused to die alone in some backwater, like the rest of his kin.

He’d already broken ties with the Crown Clan—he was one of their so-called 'traitors.' There was no going back—not that he really... wanted to.

Kaman hit the hatch release without hesitation.

Out in space, the Crown Clan’s physiology let them move with ease.

He got up and marched to the hatch, lifting his hand as psychic energy pooled in his palm, slowly taking the shape of a javelin. Then, like he’d just remembered something, he dialedled back the energy slightly, causing the psychic javelin in his hand to dim until it was barely visible.

Coolly, he took aim and let the energy fly at the exact moment the enemy’s cannon fired.

“Mei Lun’s fine—but what about that weird kid he’s got with him?”

Kaman grumbled under his breath.

“That kid definitely does.”

Otherwise, this mining defense squad would suffer heavy injuries.

An adult Crown Clan’s psychic energy slammed down, and Xiao Chuzao panicked and loosed his last arrow. The Saint Cas miners shook off their shock and scrambled to help.

The shell blew up mid-air, most of its force eaten up by the Crown Clan’s energy.

Right before the energy faded, a wobbly little pulse smacked into Kaman’s.

Kaman—already back in his seat after sealing the hatch—jerked his head up.

As his energy faded, it hit him with a feeling he couldn’t name—no words for it.

His heart hammered, and his pale face went pink. He sucked in a breath, hand clapping over his chest.

Thump—thump-thump—

The rhythm only picked up.

Like it was yelling at him—the thing he’d wanted forever was right there!

What the hell?!

Kaman snapped out of it. The blast didn’t hurt anyone, but it blew the shelter’s door clean off. Kaman barely had time to look before the ship’s alarms screeched.

Kaman’s eyes snapped to the scanner—a huge, shadowy blob had popped up out of nowhere, like a storm cloud bearing overwhelming pressure, rapidly closing in on the tiny blip representing his starship.

He nearly cursed aloud: “What the hell is that???”

It was a whole damn fleet from Saint Cas.

Since when were they here?

Was Mei Lun—showing up out of nowhere—really worth this kind of firepower????

Kaman didn’t understand. Kaman was baffled.

He even seriously considered—were these ships here to capture him?

But that couldn’t be!

Did they really need an entire army just to catch him???? Amos could take him solo!

Even someone as resigned as Kaman couldn’t help but grow restless and panicked.

Just then, the starship’s communicator crackled twice before the voice of the imperial army cut through: “Hello, Prince Kaman. This is the 9th Army. Commander Ye Ming reporting in—passing on His Majesty’s message. His Majesty is about to arrive…”

Shit!

Mei Lun’s getting more important, huh?!

Kaman entered the coordinates and prepared to leave. His face darkened. As a “traitor,” he had no intention of sticking around to hear more. Truth was, the moment he saw Mei Lun and sized up his situation, he knew Saint Cas would send forces.

But he hadn’t expected so many—or so fast. Even Amos himself had shown up!

Kaman didn’t have time to think about that strange feeling from earlier—he was spooked by Amos showing up.

The small starship shot away.

The 9th Army commander tracked Kaman’s escape vector and relayed it to command.

Amos kept staring at Mei Lun’s signal point. Kaman clearly didn’t want to come back, and capturing him for further treatment wouldn’t be easy.

Not to mention Amos had bigger fish to fry.

“Leave him. Punch through atmo and descend fast. Open the warship hatch once we breach.”

Amos’ 9th Army arrived first. Trusted Crown Clan operatives like Frey and An Ya had split off to search elsewhere but were also heading this way, though slower. Amos temporarily reassigned them to track the Hymn Organization’s fleeing ships.

Soon… they’d be here.

Xiao Chuzao fired off his last psychic arrow. He was running on empty, barely able to stand.

The explosion’s shockwave was massive, ripping the cover off their makeshift shelter and sending the kid tumbling onto the ground.

So the gang leader, who had just been confused by what seemed like a weak blast, suddenly saw this—

A five-year-old kid, gripping a golden little bow, blinked his wide eyes as he looked outside.

What the fuck?

They stared at the tiny weapon. You mean all that chaos came from this little brat?

“Shit!”

The squad leader’s chest ached from the blast. He shouted, nodded at his men, and signaled them to protect the kid—and his still-unconscious grandfather.

Nobody doubted him now. Without this child, they’d have been dead long ago.

Saint Cas doesn’t betray their own.

“What weird psychic vibe—grab that kid!”

The gang leader stopped short, his muscles bulging as he glared viciously at Xiao Chuzao.

Xiao Chuzao trembled slightly. He was completely drained.

He hesitated for a second—toward Mei Lun or away?

The boy tried to stagger up with his little bow, looking for cover.

The squad leader and his team held the line against the enemy’s advance—for now.

But because the cub was still young, after being exposed, he was already exhausted. Using the little bow again made his movements predictable, leaving him barely any room to fight back.

The mine defense team, which had briefly gained the upper hand, lost their advantage and was gradually surrounded by the thieves.

Wen Qingfeng and Wen Qingyu shielded the little cub, but under the fierce attacks, they were also injured and became nearly spent.

"Has the backup not arrived yet?"

"We ran quite a distance. Maybe ten more minutes—just hold on for ten more minutes."

They all knew very well that if the thieves couldn’t achieve their goal within those ten minutes, they would retreat. These cowards wouldn’t risk facing reinforcements. So, all they had to do was hold out—though every second was agonizingly difficult for their small group. Moreover, they were only a trained civilian organization, not uniformly trained soldiers.

Fortunately, after witnessing Xiao Chuzao’s psychic energy, the thieves stopped using heavy weapons on the tent behind them.

But the gang leader kept advancing.

The wind from the battle lifted Xiao Chuzao’s soft black hair. His small hands trembled, and some of his wounds reopened, fresh blood beading up.

"Haha—even if we can’t achieve our goal, capturing you should count as a win."

He swung the reinforced cannon like a club. Wen Qingfeng reached out to block it forcefully, his hands stinging from the impact.

"Fall back!" he hissed.

Seizing the opportunity, the little cub—his halo flared to life above his head, and the little bow in his hand glowed brighter. His small wings unfurled, one wing hanging limp. He pulled the bowstring, aimed at the enemy again, and fired.

Then he staggered and fell.

The cub’s round face was smeared with dust and blood, his face pale as milk, his expression young and adorable. He was shaking, but he still found the chance to strike, buying a split-second of confusion.

The gang leader first noticed Wen Qingfeng. Having been hit too many times by Xiao Chuzao’s psychic energy, his mind was slipping into delirium—though he hadn’t realized it yet. His personality had abruptly turned aggressive and erratic.

He stared at Wen Qingfeng, thinking—*Why am I fighting this decent kid?*—before violently shaking off the feeling.

But the moment the gang leader’s grip loosened, Wen Qingfeng bent his knees and counterattacked, firing again—only to be blocked by defensive gear.

Yet at this moment, neither Wen Qingfeng nor the others could focus on that. They were all staring at the flickering, tarnished halo-crown above the cub’s head.

What… was that?

A halo? Wait—that crown-shaped halo?!

"N-no, don’t come closer!"

His babyish voice cracked with false bravery.

White, soft wings bristled in panic, puffing out in disarray. The cub’s psychic energy trembled as it spread outward, proving he wasn’t nearly as tough as he’d pretended. His power whimpered pitifully, reaching out for someone—anyone—to rely on.

Inside the tent, Mei Lun’s eyelids twitched, every tendon standing rigid—yet he remained immobile.

Only the mine defense team outside shielded the cub.

The team stood frozen—

Someone breathed,

"That marking… is he Crown Clan?!"

"Is it a Crown Clan Highness?"

"Are we protecting a Crown Clan Highness?"

"No, no—it was the Little Highness who just protected us! Just like... just like..."

Just like how the Crown Clan had saved them thousands of years ago.

The Crown Clan Highness could've easily ignored them.

But does the Crown Clan even have a Little Highness?

Of course, that doesn't matter.

Especially to Saint Casians—countless young Saint Casians dream only of adding luster to the crowns of His Majesty and the Highnesses.

Just as the Crown Clan has guarded them for millennia, they in turn have stood by this volatile race, which after contamination became like a ticking time bomb. To people from other empires and planets, the Crown Clan might still hear you out—even a tyrant like Amos—but most residents of the Saint Cas Empire, when facing the Crown Clan, plunge into fanatical devotion.

Chuzao could no longer lift his little bow. Bewildered, he looked up at the few people shielding him tightly.

Their demeanor had changed; each radiated regret and fury.

Like they'd gone berserk—

"I messed up blocking... I let the Highness get hurt..."

"I thought it was within acceptable limits, but actually..."

"Highness, stay back—"

"Let's take them down!"

"Damn it!!!"

The Thieves recoiled at such ferocity.

The Boss snapped back to his senses, eyes bloodshot, mind still in chaos—seemingly filled with love and peace, but in reality, Chuzao’s psychic surge had wrecked his mind, leaving him disoriented.

In this state, he seemed to have forgotten the terror of the Crown Clan, forgotten that they’d dared cause trouble here only because the Saint Cas Empire’s territory was too vast for the Crown Clan to monitor every corner. Instead, he bellowed, unhinged.

"So what if he’s got a halo?! That prove he’s Crown Clan? There ain’t any other Crown Clan around! Kill him! As long as we—"

Before Chuzao could speak, the exhausted little one’s desperate psychic SOS received a response.

The child blinked in confusion, a single tear welling up before he swiped it away fast.

The Boss’s words choked off mid-rant—before he even realized his own psychic turmoil.

The Boss seemed fearless, but his crew was wavering.

"Boss, he really might be Crown Clan—this’ll bring hell. And their backup’s almost here. Shouldn’t we…?"

Blood sprayed across the ground, cutting through the noise—

The Boss froze in place. The cannon he’d been waving clattered down first. Then the burly man’s eyes widened as blood seeped from the wound piercing his forehead—

One moment he was raging—the next—a shadow had appeared behind him.

The Psychic Sword shimmering with an eerie glow pierced through the back of the skull. He had arrived too swiftly, moved too fast—within mere seconds, before they could even finish speaking, everyone was frozen in shock.

*Hiss—* a faint sound as the sword was withdrawn, blood dripping in slow droplets.

His dark lashes lifted, revealing a pair of calm yet crimson eyes. Above his head, a silver-black crown, intricate and ornate, suddenly appeared.

Amos was looking at Xiao Chuzao. He should’ve recognized him—on his way here, he had watched that video dozens of times.

But the little one looked far worse now—exhausted psychic energy, messy wounds, a pale and pitiful little face, his halo dulled, and most importantly—those clearly drooping little wings.

Amos’s snow-white wings snapped open behind him, his psychic energy flaring in fury. The crushing pressure came instantly, and the group collapsed under it, unable to withstand it.

Wheezing in their pitiful state, they caught a glimpse of the sky.

"What?"

"The—the sky—"

In the distant horizon,

black specks slowly appeared.

They blotted out the light above, the dense swarm of dark dots like a swarm of bees descending, rapidly closing in.

The Dwight Family’s Crown Clan emblem was emblazoned on the bodies of these colossal mechanical beasts, the center of the insignia inscribed with the ancient script of Saint Cas—a bold "Nine."

—The entire 9th Army of the Saint Cas Empire had been mobilized.

The massive warships defied landing regulations, their sheer numbers blotting out the sky. Countless weapons were trained on them—any movement, and they would be turned into Swiss cheese in seconds.

Against this dark backdrop, only Amos’s crimson eyes faintly glowed, revealing the rage burning inside him.

What had happened?

It was too fast. After the Saint Cas Empire’s forces arrived—or rather, after Amos arrived—everything ended too quickly. There was no room for resistance. They still hadn’t fully grasped it—the Crown Clan?

Was it really the Crown Clan?

Amos released his grip, the Psychic Sword vanishing from his hand. In a few strides, he closed the distance to Xiao Chuzao, shielding the little one’s view of the bloodshed.

He crouched down, meeting the little one at eye level. His lips parted—Amos wanted to say something, but for a moment, he couldn’t find the words.

Words felt hollow, useless. Amos couldn’t even gauge the little one’s emotions right now.

The little one had gone from a fluffy ball to this broken state. Amos wasn’t used to seeing him like this. He didn’t dare reach out to hold him immediately, especially with the little one’s wings drooping behind him. Uncertain of the situation, Amos only felt his chest tighten unbearably, choking him, stealing his voice.

His huge wings acted like a shield, spreading forward and gently enclosing the little one, shielding him from the surroundings.

When Xiao Chuzao saw Amos, tears threatened to spill, but he stubbornly held them back, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. His tiny voice was soft, choked with sobs.

"Papa… Zao Zao knew Papa would come. Zao Zao… Zao Zao protected Grandpa Mei Lun… Zao Zao went through tough times, right? Does that mean Zao Zao has grown up?"

Still wiping his eyes, the little one remembered what he had once heard from Amos.

He wasn’t so dependent on others, after all.

Amos froze for a moment, his hand slowly clenching.

The little one sniffled again, tentatively reaching out. "Papa, Zao Zao’s tough. Zao Zao didn’t cry—"

"Can I have a hug, please? Zao Zao wants a hug."

No one had ever answered him before. Zao Zao was always alone… even for just a tiny hug.

Amos finally couldn’t hold back and wrapped his arms around the trembling little one. He tried to soften his voice, but it came out rough: “It’s my fault—”

The cub nestled in his arms, perfectly fine just moments ago, now sinking into the warmth of the embrace and breathing in the familiar scent.

The little one who’d insisted he wasn’t crying quickly overflowed with tears, soaking Amos’s shirt. A moment later, his shoulders, held tightly by Amos, trembled slightly, and soft, hiccuping sobs broke free.

Zao Zao never said it—how scared he was… being all alone.