On the wilderness.
Sun Wuxiu, Goku, Piccolo, and the others had already gathered.
In the sky, a massive spaceship was slowly descending.
Just then, a purple figure, filled with fury and fighting spirit, crashed down onto the ground.
"Hmph! How could I, the prince, miss out on something this exciting!"
Vegeta stood beside the others, staring fixedly at the spaceship with clenched fists.
"King Cold..."
"Today is the day our Saiyan race finally escapes your shadow!"
Sun Wuxiu looked over the assembled group, especially Vegeta, who was nervous yet had still chosen to step forward, and nodded in satisfaction.
"Now that everyone is here."
"Let's send this 'King' who came from so far away to his grave."
Just as everyone braced themselves for the coming battle.
"Um... excuse me."
A gentle yet somewhat cool voice suddenly rang out from atop the rocks behind them.
"Hmm?!"
Everyone was startled and whipped around.
"Who is it?!"
Piccolo's heart jolted even more.
With his current senses, someone had actually managed to get this close without making a sound?
On a towering rock not far from them stood a slender youth.
He looked about seventeen or eighteen years old. He wore a short purple jacket over a black tank top, loose dark trousers, and yellow combat boots.
What stood out most was the ancient-looking longsword strapped to his back, as well as the wind-tossed...
Fiery red short hair.
It was not the color of dyed hair, but a natural shade like blazing flames.
The youth's features were handsome and stern, while his gaze carried a weathered resolve far beyond his years.
Most strangely of all...
The moment Vegeta saw him, he inexplicably felt a peculiar flutter in his heart.
It was like seeing something especially irritating, yet strangely familiar.
"Who are you?"
Son Goku