Planet Vegeta, Royal Palace.
A magnificent palace blazing with lights.
The ivory-white stone walls were entirely unadorned. Under the illumination, alternating horizontal and vertical masonry patterns emerged. Its bold, rugged style did not look chaotic in the slightest; instead, it conveyed an overwhelming, majestic grandeur.
Saiyans were a warrior race. They disdained petty, affected ornamentation. What they needed was this kind of bold magnificence that could swallow mountains and rivers whole.
Inside the palace hall, a red carpet stretched forward from the entrance all the way to the foot of the throne.
On the throne, several steps above the palace hall, King Vegeta sat clad in a luxurious dark-red battle suit. One hand propped up his head against the throne's armrest as he sat with his eyes closed in thought. The armor over his chest gleamed like white jade, faint streams of light flickering across it, making it look exceptionally noble.
Suddenly, King Vegeta opened his eyes and summoned the aide beside him. "Putar, how are our preparations going?"
He was a burly bald Saiyan, an Elite Warrior responsible for everything inside and outside the royal palace.
"Your Majesty, we have currently gathered over two hundred thousand Saiyans. They have all answered your call and are willing to fight Frieza to the death!" The bald Saiyan named Putar had a fierce gleam in his eyes, unable to suppress the excitement in his voice.
"Only two hundred thousand Saiyans? Far too few. Have the others forgotten the pride of the Saiyans? Is Frieza someone who is easy to get along with? Look at the races that once followed him—how many are still left now? The Saiyans must not perish at his hands!"
King Vegeta abruptly rose to his feet, his voice furious and dissatisfied. His dark-brown upswept hair stood proudly upright