Chapter 101: The Child Is Still Young, Since You’re Here

Chapter 101: He’s Just a Kid, and You’re Already Here

Was he scared?

The little one turned his body, holding Cupid's bow in his left hand while his right rested on the bowstring. He looked up, his tiny wings bristling slightly behind him, squinting at the backlit angel as he silently asked himself.

A flicker of fear, maybe.

But it was much better than he had imagined.

After all, this place had been Xiao Chuzao’s nightmare—

"Chu Zao."

The Archangel looked down, eyes dripping false mercy.

"It really is you."

The Archangel had anticipated this.

Among those who had disappeared from the Angel's Realm over the years, only this little one remained.

Outsiders could not come here—even if there were disturbances, they were merely minor glitches.

Yet, in such a short time, this runt had wrecked so much. The Archangel truly hadn't expected it—Xiao Chuzao's rapid growth gave the Archangel a prickle of threat.

"Did the calamity magic bless you? But why have you come here? The Angel Spring Source Stone belongs to the angel race. It is not something for an individual to casually take and possess. Be a good boy and hand it over."

The Archangel sighed, extending his hand as a scepter materialized. His golden eyes tinged with orange, like a sun going supernova, as he talked down to him.

"Your ability to destroy this place proves you have the qualifications to fight me. But you're still young, half-baked, and dumb as rocks to come here while still growing, making this mess—truly foolish."

Extremely foolish—so stupid it made his day.

He had been restless and anxious about this anomaly, but due to the Angel Spring, he couldn't squash the brat—after all, he was an angel.

After Xiao Chuzao's disappearance, the anomaly slipping beyond his control had greatly displeased the Archangel.

But now, who would have thought? The little one he had been so worried about had walked right into his trap.

"The Angel Spring Source Stone is on you, isn't it? I can already sense it."

That effortless, oppressive aura—Xiao Chuzao still felt it emanating from the Archangel. However—

"No way, Archangel. And Zao Zao knows now—you're wrong. From the very beginning, you all wanted Zao Zao gone."

Xiao Chuzao's voice remained childlike.

He looked at the Archangel, feeling the threat but holding steady—only because he hadn't detected Dad.

Concealing one's presence was Crown Clan 101, learned at a very young age.

The little one was still learning, with some initial success. But Amos was undoubtedly the Crown Clan’s golden boy.

From the perspective of the cosmic interstellar realm, Amos's existence was a straight-up glitch.

No one in the cosmos came close to Amos's level of psychic power.

Standing quietly in the shadows, the Crown Clan member barely bothered to hide, yet he was naturally and completely overlooked. Amos lowered his eyes, his crown vanishing as the silver-black radiance of his Psychic Sword dissipated like ashes—like a ruined emperor’s statue standing at the center of Saint Cas's national plaza.

The corners of his lips curled into a faint, mocking smile only upon hearing the Archangel's voice.

A massive predator lurked silently in the shadows, concealing its fangs yet poised to attack.

Yet the Archangel, unaware of being targeted by this 'beast,' still wore a smile. The halo above his head shone with a golden luster like jade, brighter than Xiao Chuzao's crown.

"No, how could you think that? The angelkind would never fail to embrace a little oddity like you."

The Archangel slowly raised his scepter, gazing with pity at the little one—especially at the four wings behind him. A dark glint flashed in his eyes.

"When have we ever truly rejected you? Though you're not one of us, we provided you with proper upbringing, the privilege to barter fruits for supplies, and never once sought your destruction. Yet here you are, stealing the Angel Spring Source Stone from us. How can this be the angels' fault? The dissatisfaction and anxiety of a few individuals should not condemn an entire race."

Angels are passionate, compassionate, gentle beings—

Yes, this is what they are.

Precisely because they are such beings, the Angelic Realm is under their rule, and the Angel Spring has no choice but to acknowledge his power.

"But Zao Zao is not a monster! The things Zao Zao touches aren’t tainted—nor must Zao Zao beg for acceptance, conform, or forget the pain you caused, as you say. That’s all wrong!"

The little one was no longer the credulous fledgling from a year ago, who believed every word the Archangel spoke.

He raised his tiny Cupid’s bow, its gilded arrow trained squarely at the Archangel.

"How curious," the Archangel mused, watching the little one. "You dare raise your voice now. I’m curious—where have you been surviving this past year? No place beyond the Angelic Realm should sustain life. Ah, though I don’t know how you destroyed this place, do you truly intend to face me with that feeble toy bow?"

As the golden arrow shot forth, the Archangel sighed softly. Arcane sigils blazed to life on his golden scepter.

He had seen the power of the little one’s arrows before—without doubt, it carried the benign energy he had guided: love and peace.

How pathetic.

The Archangel, rarely diverting his attention, momentarily pondered this transformation in the little one. But impatience soon took over—he had more pressing matters. Reclaim the Angel Spring Source Stone, then purge this aberration once and for all.

Uncontrollable power, given the chance to be eradicated, proved an undeniable blessing to the Archangel.

With a light tap of his scepter, a golden barrier rose. The golden arrow struck it—then, in the next instant, dark fire engulfed its shaft, accelerating it violently.

A concussive burst detonated from the point of impact.

The Archangel recoiled, sidestepping as locks of his aureate hair scorched and curled.

An unfamiliar power.

But not strong enough.

He raised his hand again, myriad radiant shafts coalescing in the air, all aimed at Xiao Chuzao below.

With a sweep of his arm, the luminous barrage descended.

Xiao Chuzao’s small wings fluttered rapidly—

He paused. The range was vast.

Fractured rubble atomized, turning to dust with each successive strike, obscuring vision.

Involuntarily, the little one glanced toward Amos.

Amos remained statuesque, as if certain the attacks could be dodged.

But truly—

Xiao Chuzao retreated to a safe zone, gripping his bow. He had instantly pinpointed the Archangel's current vulnerability and acted on instinct.

How peculiar.

Xiao Chuzao swiftly flanked to the opposite side of the Archangel, pulling his bowstring taut—

The Archangel moved slower than Zao Zao anticipated.

The arrow streaked forward, only for the Archangel to realize its approach at the last moment. Startled, a golden barrier erupted around him. The once-relaxed Archangel was now completely on guard.

—When?

When had that little one moved to that position?

The little one’s strength still wasn’t overwhelming, but it was as if he had undergone systematic training over the past year. Every move was entirely different from before, radiating a pressure the Archangel had never felt.

—"As an archer, whether at range or up close, the key is unpredictability. Strike where they least expect it. Learn feints, mix real and fake attacks, anticipate their next move, and find the next possible opening. Though most interstellar races aren’t as strong as the Crown Clan, so these skills aren't usually needed, never let your guard down.

And Zao Zao, remember—your arrows can fly far, far away. Focus when you aim, don’t overthink. Just believe—he’s not stronger than you."

Third Uncle’s laughter seemed to echo in his ears.

Even he himself hadn’t dared to challenge Amos, instead egging on the little one to take a shot at King Amos to test his reflexes—though in the end, Finn was the one who ended up beaten by Amos.

And his wingless teacher, in the sunlight, had told him—"Learn to conceal your presence. In battle, it’s like confusing your opponent."

Including the other Crown Clan members, his other friends—

Even Baba had said—"Zao Zao is of the Crown Clan, the mightiest of the Little Crown Clan."

Xiao Chuzao had already left his previous position. He drew his bowstring again—the dust the Archangel's attack had scattered now served as the little one’s best cover. Three arrows were loaded and ready.

Xiao Chuzao’s bright eyes widened, watching the clearly rattled Archangel still staring at his former spot.

Truly.

He saw it all so clearly—the opponent’s movements matched his predictions exactly.

Amos stood in the shadows, chuckled softly.

Over the past year, the little one—repeatedly pushed beyond his limits by the long-childless Crown Clan—had now taken his place on a new stage.

Though Amos still felt a flare of anger looking at the Archangel.

But—

The parent in the shadows spoke softly.

"Zao Zao, doesn’t it feel… less scary now?"

At that moment, the golden crown atop his head erupted in black flames, trailing a long tail of fire as it shot through the dust, striking the Archangel head-on.

A deafening collision—the entire Angel Realm seemed to tremble for an instant.

The Archangel’s slightly horrified gaze, blood splattering across his shoulder.

The settling dust revealed the little one’s figure hovering within. —Two arrows were blocked. One missed, only grazing the Archangel’s shoulder.

Xiao Chuzao drew his bowstring once again.

"Come on, Zao Zao, one more time!"

Though the little one's abilities weren't enough to defeat the Archangel,

the fact that he could inflict harm on the Archangel had already filled the Archangel with dread.

The Archangel felt threatened.

His initial judgment had been correct—this runt must never mature.

No chance of recruiting him either. The best course of action was to eradicate him completely in this moment!

"You’ve gone too far," the Archangel said, his wings fully unfurled as he stared coldly at Xiao Chuzao. "This is rebellion against the God of Nature!"

The little one's arrow was let fly once more.

But the Archangel abruptly soared higher, his power swelling. "I’ll mete out the God of Nature’s judgment upon you!"

The scepter in his hand transformed, and the terrain below began to shift. Countless light arrows now filled the sky as he gazed at the little one. At the same time, numerous angels appeared behind him—they had sensed the Archangel's call and were descending from the highest floating pavilions. Their combined forces converged, all aimed at the small figure hovering midair.

The little one recognized some faces among these angels, as he had often visited the Archangel in his youth, or the Archangel had frequently sought him out for talks.

Thus, the little one had met these exceptionally skilled angels before.

Now, they looked at the little one with puzzled glances but raised their weapons nonetheless, launching their assault.

There’s too many!

The little one, still clutching his small bow, hesitated briefly.

Then he turned without hesitation, determined to flee the battlefield.

"Yikes!"

"Uncle! The Archangel is even more ruthless than you!"

This is insane—totally unfair!

"Tch."

A gleam pierced the darkness.

The Archangel lowered his gaze, watching the little one dodge frantically. Power gathered at the tip of his scepter, and as countless light arrows rained down, the energy coalesced into a massive orb, slightly distorting the surrounding space. He held it aloft, blazing like a tiny sun, his eyes fixed on the little one.

"If I’d let you live a few more years, you might have truly been beyond my reach. But—"

A runt like you was never a real threat.

In that instant, dust and radiance descended together.

The world dissolved into blinding light.

Reality itself seemed to warp.

The Archangel stood radiant at the epicenter of the brilliance, gazing down with cold satisfaction at where the little one had stood.

He murmured, voice dripping with finality.

"If you are to be reborn again, pray that you become a normal little angel. The Angelic Realm tolerates no heretics."

The Archangel's tightly wound nerves eased just a fraction.

At last, the suffocating weight on his heart and throat vanished.

"He stole the Angel Spring Source Stone. This is his punishment. Any objections?"

The angels surrounding the Archangel all shook their heads.

"Isn't that that pesky half-breed from before?"

"Wasn't he dead already? Why is he here?"

"Stealing from the Angel Spring? What was he trying to do? Letting him live was mercy enough—how could he still be unsatisfied?"

"After the punishment, I will reclaim the Angel Spring Source Stone and rebuild the Angel Spring."

As the Archangel spoke, he swung his scepter forward.

A massive sun began its descent.

But at that moment, the Archangel noticed something amiss—a murky glint, like the subdued gleam of a blade. Yet amid the all-consuming light that seemed to illuminate the heavens, it was impossible to ignore.

What was that?

The thought barely formed.

Was it some ability of that little one?

Indeed, though the little one had managed to break through his defenses unexpectedly and scratch him, wrecking the Angel Spring was out of his league. Clearly, something else was at work here.

But no matter what power it was, it was still—

The falling 'sun' halted mid-descent.

What?

The Archangel blinked in shock.

The incomplete sun began to writhe and contort, reaching a peak before abruptly collapsing with a thunderous explosion. The delayed shockwave shattered countless structures behind him, sending debris flying.

Below, the Angel Spring's location was obscured by a maelstrom of light and debris, making it impossible to discern what was happening.

But there was another force at work.

The Archangel was certain—something else stood there.

The terrible truth dawned on him too late.

Through the haze, the Archangel faintly glimpsed an emerging corona of light—ebony-dark, shot through with metallic gleams. Beneath that color, twin crimson eyes locked onto his.

Holding his stare without flinching.

For a moment, the Archangel's limbs locked.

Primordial dread, the gut-deep certainty of being prey, needled up his vertebrae.

What was that?

Who was that?

The Archangel only had time for this thought.

Because around him, angels had already begun to stand frozen in shock, and amidst the cries of nearby angels, blood sprayed as angels fell from the sky.

Amos emerged from the smoke and dust.

In one hand, he held the Psychic Sword, while the other cradled his little one. His wings snapped open instantly behind him—

He looked up at the Archangel.

"It’s you—"

The Archangel paused, finally recalling those infuriating memories from the depths of his mind.

Especially that Psychic Sword.

Once driven into his throne.

Nearly cleaving through his skull.

But how—

"Why are you here? And—who are you?"

The Archangel fixed his eyes on the Psychic Crown slowly glowing atop Amos’s head.

And then at the Psychic Crown on the little one in Amos’s arms. The two crowns were uncannily similar—different colors but matching in every intricate detail.

As if declaring their connection.

"Indeed," Amos murmured softly. "Perhaps I should follow Zao Zao's example here—hello?"

King Amos, rarely humorous, blocked that powerful attack under the panicked stares of the angels, including the Archangel.

But clearly, no one in that tense atmosphere appreciated King Amos’s humor.

Amos raised his hand again.

Overwhelming psychic energy surged forth.

The Psychic Sword arced through the air.

A pair of crimson eyes burned into them.

The little one clung to Amos’s chest.

Flailing tiny hands indignantly.

"They have no martial virtue, they’re rude, they’re worse than Third Uncle."

The little one fussed and grumbled.

"So daddy, let’s not be polite either! Zao Zao had it under control!"

The little one pouted. He could’ve done better, but the Archangel broke protocol, forcing Amos to act prematurely.

Amos soothed his little one.

"Daddy saw it—no big deal. Zao Zao will surpass them."

What the hell is happening?

The Archangel over there couldn't react fast enough.

Everything happened far too quickly.

So fast that before he could even regain his bearings, excruciating pain struck, and blood splattered before his eyes.

The Archangel was the strongest existence in the Angelic Realm—he had sensed the threat and instinctively retreated slightly, yet he still couldn’t escape unscathed. A massive gash appeared on his chest, and one of his many wings was cleanly sheared off.

He stared at the fallen wing and his fellow angels raining down.

The force just now had been blinding. Now that it was blocked, the power dissipated, but dust still hung in the air. The sky appeared somewhat gloomy at this moment, angels littered the ground like broken dolls.

At the other end, the Crown Clan member with crimson eyes was staring at him, step by step venting his rage.

Like the damn apocalypse itself—

Even the scepter gripped in the Archangel’s hand splintered instantly. Clutching his wound, the Archangel watched as the scepter’s power flickered, knitting the wound shut.

He stared at Amos in disbelief.

"Who exactly are you? It shouldn’t be... It’s impossible. Nothing in this world should hit that hard—"

In their dimension, no one should wield such overwhelming strength.

Not to mention how the other party had arrived, but also—what’s the story with that blade?

What was all this?

Countless doubts tangled in the Archangel’s heart. The ever-composed Archangel felt the first icy trickle of fear at this moment.

In the end, all his shock transformed into deep regret.

He glared at the unharmed little one, who’d barely gotten his hair ruffled, and thought—*Even under all those unfavorable conditions back then, I should have strangled this little one in the cradle. This is a lesson, a lesson for the angelic race.*

And Amos once again effortlessly raised his Psychic Sword. Xiao Chuzao could clearly see the movements, and Amos could perceive them even better than the little one. In just a few exchanges, Amos had already read the Archangel like an open book.

The parent holding his child glanced at the grumbling, pouting brat, then at the Angel Spring Source Stone tucked in the little one’s pocket. Amos brought the Psychic Sword down.

Amidst his fury, His Majesty let out a mirthless laugh, speaking far more than usual.

"Don’t be so stingy. As an angel, can’t you even part with a trinket?"

Amos’s crown gleamed, he drawled.

"The child is still young. Since we’re already here, why not let the kid have it?"

His little one was still so small, and just getting here was a pain in the ass.

So wasn’t it only right for such a tiny, perfect, and damn well-mannered little one to receive these things?

"And what you just said—say it again. Let me hear it once more."

Amos’s Psychic Sword descended once more, carrying world-ending weight behind it.

By now, the Archangel understood—exactly what force had destroyed the Angel Spring Domain.

Amos appeared calm, but his crimson eyes were literal fire.

"Before you throw your life into the bargain—"