Cultivation

The people on this blue-green planet looked little different from Wang Yang, save for the lack of Saiyan tails. Their civilization was still in the Iron Age; they wore archaic clothing and lived in low-slung thatched huts. It all felt incredibly rustic, instantly reminding Wang Yang of the ancient societies from his past life, stirring a sense of novelty and kinship deep within his heart.

This was primarily due to their appearance. Had they been any other humans in the universe—those with black, blue, or grass-green skin—he certainly wouldn't have felt such a sense of identification.

Ever since Paragus occupied the planet, he had been living like a mountain bandit, issuing all sorts of chaotic decrees without a shred of the dignity or stability expected of a planetary ruler.

Wang Yang had no desire to concern himself with Paragus, so he simply found a place of his own to settle down.

In this Dragon Ball world, all wealth and status were meaningless compared to strength. Perhaps, in an instant, a shockwave from space could arrive and reduce the entire planet to cosmic dust.

During the day, Wang Yang would perform simple physical training and practice martial arts. In the afternoon, he would sit cross-legged on a rock in the middle of the lake, calmly contemplating the heavens and earth, letting his state of mind become as ripple-free as the water's surface.

He had basically enjoyed everything there was to enjoy in his previous life; in this one, he made cultivation and becoming stronger the most important pursuit of his existence.

I will not only become a Super Saiyan, but a Super Saiyan God. I want to stand at the pinnacle of the universe and take in the view. Wang Yang's gaze was resolute as he looked ahead.

By the lakeside, War King held a little girl, glancing toward Wang Yang in the middle of the lake from time to time.

Gurgle! Gurgle!

As hunger set in, Wang Yang opened his eyes.

"Another day finished. Time flies so fast!"

"War King, you're here." Wang Yang leaped high, landing on the shore, and smiled at War King.

"If you don't mind, call me Uncle War King! Your name is Wang Yang, and I am War King; we both have the character 'Wang' in our names—what a coincidence!" War King seized the opportunity to build a connection, pulling at even the most tenuous of threads to bridge the gap.

"Sure!" Wang Yang laughed. After all, the man had been serving him daily just to curry favor, sparing him from wasting time on the trifles of life, and he did owe him a debt of gratitude.

"I've already had the chef prepare food. Let's go eat together!" War King said with a smile.

"Alright."

The three of them sat in the carriage.

"What's the situation with Paragus?" Wang Yang hadn't seen Paragus for many days, so he asked War King, who now served as Paragus's grand steward.

"His Majesty ignores state affairs and spends every day training Prince Broly. Occasionally, if a servant is slow-witted, they are killed," War King said cautiously. Every time he served Paragus, he felt terrified; he was nowhere near as easy to talk to as Wang Yang. In his eyes, Paragus was an utterly unreasonable madman, comparable to the most dim-witted tyrants of history.

"That guy was a low-to-mid-class warrior in his tribe, someone who was always bullied. Now that he's run off here to act like a despot, just try your best to indulge him," Wang Yang said, frowning, not minding at all that he was exposing Paragus's shortcomings.

"Understood." War King nodded in a daze. He wanted to ask more, but seeing Wang Yang lost in deep thought, he swallowed his words.

It seems Paragus hasn't given up; he's actually training Broly. This is not good! Broly's combat power increased every single moment, and the faster it rose, the more likely he was to lose control.

It looks like I'll have to put a stop to Broly. If this continues, the planet will sooner or later be destroyed by his hands.

It was a long while before Wang Yang pulled himself out of his thoughts.

"Little Yang, have you encountered some problem? Can you tell me about it? Perhaps I can be of some help," War King asked tentatively.

"It's nothing, no need to worry," Wang Yang smiled.

"This little girl is truly cute. What is her name?" Wang Yang had long noticed the little girl in War King's arms. Seeing her innocent, wide eyes and chubby cheeks, he couldn't help but reach out to pinch them. With his adult mental age, he was quite fond of such adorable children.

The child, seeing someone pinching her cheeks, grabbed Wang Yang's hand with a pained expression, trying to pull it away.

"Haha! This is my youngest daughter, Little Le'er. I saw that you were always alone and seemed quite lonely. I thought since you two are about the same age, I'd have my daughter keep you company," War King chuckled, his imposing face appearing kind and approachable.

Wang Yang's mind was sharp; he instantly saw through War King's intentions.

"I don't feel lonely at all, and I don't really know how to play with such a small child," Wang Yang shook his head. His days were packed full; he never felt lonely or bored.

Besides, cute as Little Le'er was, how could he, with an adult's mind, play with her? Was he supposed to pretend to be a child himself?

Waaaaah!

The little girl, for reasons unknown, suddenly burst into tears.

Wang Yang immediately retracted his hand, looking awkwardly at War King, signaling for him to hurry and soothe her.

"..." War King looked at his daughter's flushed face, feeling a pang of heartache.

The dinner was lavish, with a table full of meat and fish, rich in color, aroma, and taste—it was clear War King had figured out Wang Yang's dietary habits.

War King ate in a measured, leisurely manner, while Wang Yang, though lacking Paragus's crudeness, ate with swift, efficient movements. The food on the table vanished at a speed visible to the naked eye.

War King's daughter, Little Le'er, watched Wang Yang eat with curiosity, her own appetite piqued. She drank an entire pot of milk, her little belly bulging out.

Once full, Wang Yang leaned back in his chair to rest.

"Little Yang, let's go sit at the Star Gazing Tower and have some tea to help with digestion," War King invited.

"There's tea here too?" Wang Yang was curious. 'Tea' was such a nostalgic thing.

"Haha, so you have tea where you come from as well?"

"Tea is an ancient part of our culture. Hearing the word feels quite intimate," Wang Yang smiled slightly.

"Haha, I see." War King laughed heartily, keeping a mental note of this.

The Star Gazing Tower was a landmark in the imperial city, standing fifteen meters tall; it was quite conspicuous among the surrounding three-to-four-meter-tall houses.

The three of them took a carriage to the tower.

Wang Yang always insisted on balancing work and rest—cultivation by day, leisure by night.

War King's method of brewing tea was different from what Wang Yang had seen before; he put a lump of black tea into a pot, then added water, sugar, salt, and other ingredients to boil it all together.

War King poured a cup of tea for Wang Yang.

Wang Yang took a light sip, feeling the taste was rather strange—a bit sweet, somewhat salty, and with a hint of bitterness.

"What is it? Is this tea not to your liking? Perhaps I should change the variety," War King asked, unable to help himself the moment he saw Wang Yang stop after a single small sip.

"The way you prepare tea is very similar to how it was done in my hometown over a thousand years ago; I'm not quite used to it," Wang Yang said with a smile.

"Oh? Then how do you drink tea nowadays?" War King asked, full of curiosity.