Chapter 33: Zao Zao is the miracle of the Crown Clan

Chapter 33: Zao Zao, the Crown Clan’s Miracle

There is no one in this world who can make Amos yield.

Unless it's Xiao Chuzao, his little one, face flushed and streaked with tears.

Amos knelt before the sobbing child who could barely catch his breath.

He remained silent for a long moment before sighing.

"Daddy’s okay."

Amos had made decisive judgments on many critical matters—like the alien beast crisis that once threatened the galaxy, or the vast empire that tried to invade Saint Cas’s borders... In the end, every crisis was resolved, and the massive empire closest to Saint Cas had long since collapsed.

But he felt a little helpless in this situation.

His little one trembled as he cried, like a lost little animal unable to find the right path, ultimately overwhelmed by fear.

"Don't cry."

Amos reached out, cupping the child's cheeks, gently wiping away his tears with his fingertips.

"We’re good babies, and good babies don’t cry."

The crown halo above Amos's head appeared as he soothed him.

Though Amos wasn’t at his best, his crown halo still appeared formidable—a sturdy base with intricate, leafy branches.

Amos held the child's face.

"Zao Zao, look. Daddy’s not going anywhere."

Amos knew he couldn't hide it, so he let the little one see clearly.

Even if the crown was shattering faster, the Hymn Organization, which had toppled many immortal mythical races, seemed to have underestimated him.

Amos had never wanted to survive more than he did now.

Especially when the little one saw his crown. Amos removed his halo crown, holding them side by side, but the child's eyes still welled up with tears as he looked at Amos.

"But—but it's still broken—here, a huge chunk is gone—Daddy..."

The little one tried to hold back, but tears kept rolling down. He placed the halo back and reached out, attempting to fix it for Amos—and that awful bitterness grew stronger. Zao Zao hated it—hated it so much. He didn’t want such a smell on Daddy.

Not even his favorite sweet fruit could cover it up. The child sobbed, his halo flickered for just a second above his head. For a moment, he felt dizzy, but it didn’t affect him much. Even Amos thought it was just because Xiao Chuzao had gotten too worked up.

But when the little one reached out again,

Amos pulled back, and the crown above his head vanished in an instant.

Amos had never seen Xiao Chuzao cry like this before.

The child used to cry quietly by himself, accustomed to acting tough to avoid being bullied. Even when Amos found him on the mining planet, he had only wept softly in Amos's arms.

Never had he been this heartbroken.

The commotion had already drawn the attention of many.

In the hallway, Butler Mori didn’t dare approach, while An Ya and Frey stood at their own doorways, not stepping out but watching closely.

"Papa—"

The little one's face was streaked with tears, his small hand held firmly by Amos.

"Listen here, Zao Zao."

Amos looked at the child intently.

"Daddy didn't think things through when he made you worry again, but you saw it too—Papa will still be with you for a long time. No more tears now. If the system picks up on your crying again, it might think about replacing Papa for you. Trust Daddy, okay?"

Amos spoke gently, his tone soft and soothing.

He wasn't used to these tender moments.

Zao Zao's sobs gradually quieted, though tears still fell.

But in that instant, he felt a fresh wave of exhaustion wash over him.

"Okay."

His tiny voice still quivered from crying.

"Zao Zao trusts... Zao Zao trusts Papa."

"Good."

Amos gave a small smile.

"Time for sleep now?"

The child peered up at him, tears still welling in his eyes.

After thinking for a second, Amos decided against taking the child back to his own room.

Instead, he carried the little one to one side of the bed.

He wasn't one to share a bed.

Only recently had he made exceptions for this little one.

Placing the child on the inner side of the bed, the little one immediately rolled toward him, blinking big teary eyes.

Still nervous, he gripped the sheets tight.

Now that he thought about it—

With everything piling up lately, they'd missed many of the child's needs.

A five-year-old from the Little Crown Clan—even Amos remembered keeping his favorite toy guns by his pillow when he was young.

But this little one had nothing.

He didn't seem to have anything that was really his own, and at night, he habitually curled into a tiny ball.

Amos remembered something.

He took one of his everyday clothes from the wardrobe, removing all the metal badges, buttons, and other hard accessories. Then, he dug out a few decorative ribbons from old clothes and, relying on a vague memory, clumsily tied them together.

In the end, following some half-remembered online tutorial about making stuffed animals from old clothes, he managed—after much struggle—to create a rather lopsided bear.

The round bear ears were tied tightly with ribbons, its head rounded out neatly—though it lacked any facial features. Amos had initially wanted to refine the body further, but finding it too difficult to shape properly, he simply left it as it was—looking like a little ghost bear.

Xiao Chuzao lay on the bed, watching Amos.

His big eyes blinked repeatedly.

Tears still glistened in them.

Amos walked to the bedside and gave the little one the ghost bear he’d made from his own clothes.

"It's too late now. Tell me what you want, and I’ll have Mori get it tomorrow, okay? Want to cuddle this while you sleep?"

The little one clutched the rough fabric ghost bear, blinking up at it with big eyes. His chubby, pale cheeks brushed against it as Zao Zao breathed in Amos’s scent. His small hands slowly tightened around it.

He was so small, and Amos’s clothes were so big—the ghost bear was huge against him.

His little feet curled around it too, hugging the ghost bear tightly.

He buried half his face in the plushie, but his gaze remained fixed on Amos.

—Guess he liked it.

Amos sighed in relief.

Amos climbed into bed as well. The little one was already hugging the ghost bear—being held might’ve been too much.

He wasn’t picky about how he slept, so he leaned sideways against the headboard, tucking the little one under the blanket. His pristine white wings stretched out, curling gently around the child, surrounding him with Amos’s warmth.

"Papa... if you’re hurt—tell Zao Zao, tell Zao Zao—"

The little one, worn out from crying, now spoke in a muffled, weak voice, his hiccups fading.

But soon, exhaustion seemed to overtake him. The tiny halo above his head flickered faintly.

His breathing steadied.

At last, he was asleep.

Amos let out a long breath.

A quiet knock sounded at the door.

Frey’s voice floated through: "Is Zao Zao okay?"

"He's fine. Go back to sleep."

Amos replied, feeling a long-absent weariness settle over him. Closing his eyes, he fell into a heavy, dreamless sleep.

The bloody scenes that often haunted his dreams did not appear this time.

Nor did the countless shattered crowns etched into his memory.

Instead, in a daze, he saw a small figure seated amidst flames.

Tousled black curls hid most of his face—

Amos instinctively took a few steps forward.

The little one sitting in the fire slowly lifted his head—it was Zao Zao. In his hands was a freshly mended halo, and around him lay scattered fragments of broken crowns and halos.

"Daddy—"

His tiny, fragile voice held a note of weakness, the small crown-like halo atop his head swaying precariously, as if it might flicker out. In the next instant, reflected in Amos’s slightly widened pupils, that delicate golden halo began to fracture—

Boom—

A psychic-energy-fueled gust blasted the window open.

Cold air rushed in, and the house’s AI system immediately detected it, swiftly sealing the window again.

"Your Majesty, do you require assistance?"

The mechanical voice sounded hollow in the silent night.

Amos instinctively looked down at the child he was holding.

For a second, he thought he’d imagined it—some strange dream.

But then he saw the feverish flush on the little one’s cheeks, his tightly shut eyes, sweat rolling down his forehead. He was burning up yet trembling, whimpering faintly—"Daddy..."

"Zao Zao!"

In the middle of the night, Dwight Palace abruptly blazed with light.

An Ya and Frey jolted awake. He sat on the sofa, watching Amos across from him.

Amos’s typically tidy black hair was a mess—Xiao Chuzao’s curls seemed to take entirely after him, both father and son having unruly locks that stuck out when untamed.

Amos wore pajamas, his collar damp with sweat from carrying the child earlier. His face was blank, gaze fixed ahead, fists slowly clenching.

In the nearby room, the emergency medical team worked frantically, the little one lying frighteningly still at the center, showing no sign of waking.

The living room was eerily silent.

But one glance at Amos’s expression revealed his barely restrained rage.

"Your Majesty."

The medical team had split into two groups—one analyzing Xiao Chuzao’s psychic energy, the other monitoring his physical condition.

Tension hung thick in the air; the child’s last health evaluation had been far from reassuring.

The psychic specialists came forward first.

They hesitated before speaking.

"Little Highness’s psychic levels appear stable overall, but the readings are climbing abnormally fast. It’s... abnormal."

Though Crown Clan psychic power naturally increases with age, peaking in adulthood, such a sudden spike was unprecedented—especially for Xiao Chuzao, who’d shown no fluctuations before.

"Could it be because I showed him the halo?"

Amos rose and strode to the doorway, his eyes locked on the feverish child inside, voice low.

"I didn’t let him touch it."

He’d taken every precaution—so why had this still happened?

Having never cared for a child before, and with this one becoming more precious by the day, Amos was more agitated than he’d ever been.

Here's the edited translation incorporating the expert suggestions:

"We can't be certain, but if there is indeed a connection, we might have some insight into the nature of Little Highness's psychic attributes—"

The psychic medical team explained.

"It could be something we've only heard of but never seen—control, perhaps even conversion."

If so, whether Xiao Chuzao can touch the psychic auras of other Crown Clan members or his Psychic Weapon can alter others' emotions, this legendary psychic ability would perfectly explain how to modify the crown—a construct of psychic energy vital to the Crown Clan's life.

"We suspect that Little Highness is simply too young. After reassembling Prince Mei Lun's Psychic Crown for the first time and repairing it with his own psychic energy, his already weakened state couldn't recover. Then, he drained Prince Mei Lun's Psychic Weapon, and later assisted Kaman, which left him utterly exhausted. The intervals were too short—he never had time to recover, pushing himself beyond his limits. No amount of recovery time could help. This time, he may have directly used his psychic energy to stabilize Your Majesty's chaotic psychic state, which pushed his limits too far."

As they spoke, they glanced toward the room.

"In harsh conditions, life instinctively evolves and adapts. Your Majesty, we've also examined you—your psychic energy is gradually stabilizing. If Little Highness's physical condition shows no issues, then we can confirm it."

This is nothing short of a miracle for the Crown Clan—no, calling it divine wouldn't be wrong.

"Your Majesty!"

Another medical team, relieved after seeing the data, quickly spoke up—

"Your Majesty, Little Highness's vital signs have improved compared to before! His body shows no damage!"

Behind them, Frey and An Ya were stunned.

Amos followed up, "So it hasn't affected his health?"

"That's correct, Your Majesty."

The medical team's hands trembled.

On this quiet night, they seemed to have witnessed a new era in the history of the Saint Cas Empire.

Outside the window, the scarlet banner, which had been lowered after nightfall, might now fly proudly once more—for a long, long time.

"Little Highness is too young. Tasks like merging auras shouldn't be done in quick succession—his body can't keep up."

"But he's feverish now."

"Given how active Little Highness's psychic energy is, this is normal. It may last for a few days. With such heightened psychic activity, he might experience memory lapses, slowed reflexes, and other symptoms. But once his psychic energy fully stabilizes, he should be fine."

The medical team hesitated slightly.

"Still, it's a bit odd. We've never seen psychic energy this volatile before."

They possessed countless Crown Clan psychic data, yet Xiao Chuzao's current condition was entirely unprecedented.

It was almost as if—

As if—

"Ugh..."

Xiao Chuzao jolted awake. Dazed and disoriented, he sat up, his little face flushed red. His wide eyes blinked helplessly as he took in his surroundings.

"I don't feel good..."

He seemed to be trying to recognize the people around him, but in the end, he cowered fearfully in the corner. Above his head, the radiant Psychic Crown flickered before giving a faint pulse.

Amos and the others felt their hearts clench.

Yet, the Psychic Crown of the Crown Clan, which should have been fixed at birth, slowly formed a new golden branch, glistening like distant stars.

Xiao Chuzao felt his mind go blank, his memories jumbled together, leaving him slow to react and even struggling to recognize people. But he caught sight of Amos—though he didn’t actually process who it was—and, driven by instinct, the little cub stretched out his hand.

"Zao Zao... don’t feel good, hug, hug Zao Zao—"

Amos paused for two seconds before striding forward and scooping the little cub into his arms, carefully examining the child’s crown. The golden branch resembled a tiny, vibrant sprout.

At that moment, Xiao Chuzao seemed to recognize Amos.

He was still dazed, his reactions sluggish.

"Daddy... Zao Zao feels funny..."

Amos took a moment to think—he, too, was struggling to process this. *Is this even possible?*

Holding the little one, he said,

"You grew a new part to your crown."

*Kid, your mind is expanding!*

The slow-reacting cub, amidst the chaotic flood of memories, also heard countless pained cries from all corners of the royal court. He felt completely out of it, and upon hearing Amos’ words, he tilted his little head very slowly, as if a giant question mark had popped up above him.

Huh?

*

After hours of restless struggling, the feverish little cub finally drifted off to sleep.

Everything was unfolding in ways they’d never dreamed possible.

But Amos remained on high alert.

He couldn’t sleep at all, choosing instead to keep watch.

An Ya and Frey were also awake, reeling from what they’d just witnessed.

*Had this little cub actually stopped the Crown Clan’s decline?*

The weight of centuries-old despair lifted slightly, leaving them with a strange, unplaceable feeling—something like relief, yet also numbness and bewilderment.

When Xiao Chuzao woke up, he was still out of it and slow.

His fever persisted, a fever patch stuck to his forehead, his pale cheeks flushed pink as he sat on the sofa, gazing vacantly ahead.

Then Amos picked him up and cradled him.

Frey and An Ya gathered around.

Xiao Chuzao’s mind was still in chaos. Amos put the bottle’s nipple to his lips, and the little one instinctively bit down, sucking weakly at the sweet cub formula before spitting it out and looking up at Amos.

"Want..."

His little voice wavered—likely due to his buzzing mental energy and the slow process of developing new mental pathways. He wasn’t very hungry, but as if remembering something, he reached out with a tiny hand and made grabbing motions toward Amos.

"That thing—"

"What?"

Amos lowered his head and asked softly.

The little boy struggled to express himself.

"This big—that—holding—"

He waved his hands vaguely, looking a bit anxious, and mumbled softly, tilting his little head up to gaze expectantly at Amos.

Holding?

Amos thought for a moment.

He had Mori bring down the Ghost Bear that had been discarded by the little one after his fever last night.

Xiao Chuzao clearly wanted this—his tiny hands stretched forward until Mori placed the Ghost Bear into his arms.

The little boy slowly hugged it tightly, snuggling into its familiar scent, which seemed to soothe him.

"What’s that?"

Frey and An Ya both looked over, puzzled by the scruffy little bear clutched in the child’s hands.

Amos, holding the boy, was trying to angle the bottle’s nipple into his mouth. Hearing the question, he flatly said, "Ghost Bear."

"What Ghost Bear? Where was this made? This scratchy fabric isn’t exactly kid-friendly, right? Let’s switch it—use this pillow instead..."

An Ya picked up a cushion from the sofa.

"I made it."

Amos’s words cut her off.

An Ya fell silent.

But Amos agreed his clothes were too stiff and not suitable for the child to hold all the time.

He took the cushion, intending to replace the Ghost Bear in the boy’s arms.

The little one seemed zoned out—his pale, fever-flushed cheeks, a cooling gel patch on his forehead—hugging the bear tight until someone tugged it.

The Psychic Crown’s halo flickered for a moment.

That tender golden psychic energy grazed his family’s psychic energy, and in that instant, their Psychic Crowns flashed into view.

Flashes of memory spilled out—

The boy had picked up a soft toy dropped by a little angel kid on the road.

He instinctively hugged it for a moment, studying it curiously, almost protectively, but—

He still slurred his words: "Not Zao Zao’s."

In the end, Xiao Chuzao strained his wings to flap forward and gave the toy back to the angel kid’s parent.

But the little one hadn’t gone far yet—he was still scavenging for food nearby.

Then they heard—

"Stop playing with this. It's already dirty, and it was returned by that little guy. We don't know if his mutation will affect normal angels. We should destroy it."

The little one peeked out from the bushes to watch.

He watched his beloved toy—though it didn’t belong to him—slowly burn to ashes under magical flames.

The little one blinked, silently watching, then slowly withdrew into the bushes.

It's alright—

It wasn’t Zao Zao’s...

...If Zao Zao hadn’t picked it up, or if he hadn’t returned it, would they have burned it...?

His little wings drooped as he continued searching for fruits in the grass.

The glow of the setting sun fell upon the lonely figure.

They suddenly snapped out of it.

They exchanged glances, realizing now—they'd all witnessed it.

This wasn't some illusion or interference from those despairing dreams.

And now, the little guy was slowly letting go.

Gazing at the ugly ghost bear.

"...Not Zao Zao’s..."

he whispered.

It's alright.

Zao Zao's okay.

The little one slowly released it.

But the next second, the bear—clearly made of fabric unsuitable for a child to hold—was pushed back into his arms.

Amos immediately countered the whisper: "It’s Zao Zao’s."

The little one looked up, repeating, "It’s Zao Zao’s?"

"Mhm, it’s Zao Zao’s."

The little one finally hugged the ghost bear tightly again, his wide eyes locked onto Amos. He stared for a long time, as if something had caught his attention.

Clutching the ghost bear, he struggled to sit up.

Amos didn’t move, allowing the feverish child to clumsily get up while still holding the bear, even reaching out to steady him.

Amos couldn't tell how aware the little one was at the moment. Ever since earlier, he'd seemed fever-dazed, barely recognizing anyone.

The little one stared at his crown halo.

As if making sure of something.

Amos remembered the little cub's crying from yesterday and lowered his head.

"See? All better now—same as yesterday, huh?"

The cub peered around clumsily, still clinging to the ghost bear, then opened his mouth—his "good little son" bite landed right on Amos's halo. He strained, pushing with all his might—

An Ya, Frey: !

Amos: ...?

He took it to the next level—now he was chomping right on the halo!!! He was literally biting into Amos's "brain" (the halo itself).