Dragon Ball, Saiyans Don't Just Want to Get Stronger!

He set up a crude but heavy barbell in the backyard to perform squats, deadlifts, and bench presses. He also constantly engaged in high-intensity shuttle runs, frog jumps, push-ups, and sit-ups, training until his muscles tore and his bones groaned, only stopping when he had squeezed out the very last ounce of his strength.

It had become the norm for sweat to soak through his training gear and form a puddle on the ground.

In the evening, after a brief rest, he would once again perform training to regulate and recover his "ki."

He discovered that after intense physical training, his body's perception of "ki" became even sharper.

Late at night, he would study the combat suits and scouters that had been sent to him, attempting to understand their principles. Although he could barely make sense of them, it helped him think about how to use existing conditions to improve his training efficiency.

Although the food sent by the servants still tasted indescribable, it had the advantage of being plentiful and highly nutritious.

Vitelli forced himself to swallow it in large gulps every time. He could feel the food turning into a surging torrent of heat, working hard to nourish his exhausted body and accelerate muscle repair and the accumulation of strength.

As an elite warrior, this food was a resource he was entitled to.

He rarely left his house and had no interest in the combative and predatory culture of Saiyan society.

Occasionally, fellow Saiyan warriors would pass by. Sensing that he already possessed a battle power of around two thousand at such a young age, and combined with his status as a prince's guard, most would only cast looks of awe or jealousy, and no one dared to provoke him lightly.

Vitelli was happy to keep to himself, pushing the art of "lying low" to the extreme.

In the palace of Planet Vegeta, King Vegeta sat upon his throne, his fingertips tapping against the cold armrests. His gaze swept over the officials bowing respectfully below with extreme indifference.

"That Vitelli, the child of Mete and Zol, how has he been lately?"

His voice was not loud, yet it carried an unquestionable majesty.

The official in charge of intelligence immediately stepped forward: "Reporting to my King, Lord Vitelli remains in his residence. According to the reports from the servants who observe him daily, he... almost never goes out, and spends all his time... training."

"Ha! Training?"

A cold, mocking arc curled at the corner of King Vegeta's mouth, filled with deep disdain.

"Hmph! An elite warrior born with a battle power of 500, actually dreaming of becoming stronger by using such inefficient, clumsy methods used only by low-class warriors? It's simply ridiculous! If it weren't for the great military achievements his father Mete made for the Saiyans, such a fellow wouldn't even have the qualifications to look up at my son, King Vegeta!"

He paused, his tone turning cold, "Keep watching him; he can't stir up any trouble. As long as he doesn't cause problems, let him be."

"Yes, my King." The official hurriedly complied.

King Vegeta's gaze shifted to a more important topic: "Regarding King Cold, is there still no more specific intelligence about his son, Frieza?"

When he mentioned the name King Cold, a trace of apprehension flashed deep in his eyes.

The officials lowered their heads even further, and the atmosphere grew stagnant.

The lead intelligence officer bit the bullet and replied: "King, I am very sorry. We have only managed to find out that one's name, Frieza. He is called by King Cold... a rare genius among the Frost Demon race. As for his battle power and personality... our spies simply cannot obtain any information. All those who attempted to investigate further have..."

His voice carried a trace of imperceptible trembling.

"A genius?"

King Vegeta slammed his palm against the armrest, his voice rising sharply, filled with the pride and fury of a Saiyan king, "Just because of him?! My son, the great Saiyan prince, will descend in one year with the bearing of a king! That is a true genius! Unrivaled in the universe!"

His roar echoed through the empty hall, and the officials below were as silent as cicadas in winter.

After venting his anger, King Vegeta took a deep breath and regained his outward composure: "When are King Cold and his party arriving?"

"The date has been confirmed, my King!"

Another official in charge of diplomacy hurriedly spoke up, "In just three months! King Cold will personally bring his son Frieza to visit Planet Vegeta, and... grant you an audience!"

He specifically emphasized the word "audience."

King Vegeta was clearly pleased by the term. His tense expression softened slightly, and a satisfied hum escaped his nostrils:

"Hmm. Make all preparations for the reception. We must show the spirit of our Saiyans! There must be no mistakes!"

"Understood!" The officials replied in unison.

After the officials retreated, King Vegeta walked alone into the depths of the palace, toward a massive incubation tank protected by heavy energy shields.

Inside the tank, a tiny, curled-up figure floated in pale green nutrient fluid—it was Prince Vegeta, who had yet to awaken.

King Vegeta pressed his thick palm against the cold wall of the tank, his eyes filled with fanaticism and anticipation.

He whispered in a voice that was almost a murmur, audible only to himself: "My son... Vegeta... it is almost time... the day of your birth is almost here..."

He stared at the small body, as if seeing an infinitely glorious future through it. His voice dropped even lower, carrying a near-paranoid conviction:

"You must! You are... the legendary... Super Saiyan! You will lead the Saiyans to completely conquer this starry sky! Any obstacle, whether it be King Cold... or that so-called Frieza... will crawl at your feet!"

He watched the figure of Prince Vegeta rising and falling slightly in the incubation tank, and in those cold eyes, a light called ambition now burned!

While Prince Vegeta had yet to awaken, another month of peace passed, and Vitelli's training intensity escalated once again.

He was no longer satisfied with basic physical training.

He utilized a few low-ranking alien engineers and, with their help, built a prototype of an extremely crude gravity room in a corner of his backyard.

The effect was primitive and the range was small, only covering a limited area, with the gravity multiplier fluctuating between 1.5 and 3 times that of Planet Vegeta.

But Vitelli treated it like a treasure! This thing was far more efficient than simple weighted training!

At this moment, he was shirtless, performing high-intensity training under approximately 2.5 times gravity.

Every punch and every kick was accompanied by the violent expansion and contraction of his muscles and the heavy sound of breaking wind.

His sweat had long since dried, his skin appeared deep red from the high heat, and steam rose in wisps from the top of his head.

His gaze was terrifyingly focused, the white mist exhaled from his mouth twisting and deforming under the abnormal gravity.

"Not enough! Give me... more power!" Vitelli roared in his heart, forcibly pouring more ki into every limb and bone, attempting to resist the heavy shackles while simultaneously stimulating his body to erupt with greater strength.

He could feel the power within him boiling, being frantically hammered, compressed, and refined under the high pressure!

Hum--!

The crude gravity field generator emitted an overwhelmed whine, and the gravity instantly soared to nearly three times!

"Haa--!"

Seizing this moment of extreme pressure, Vitelli concentrated all his strength and will into a single punch and struck out fiercely!

Boom!

The air seemed to be compressed and then exploded, producing a dull, thunderous sound! An invisible shockwave spread out from the center of his fist, sending tiny metal fragments on the floor flying!

At the very instant this punch was thrown, Vitelli clearly felt that an invisible "gate" within his body had been forced open by this extreme pressure and eruption!

A torrent of energy, far more vast and refined than before, surged out from the depths of his body.

At the same time, the numbers on the lens of the Scouter he had been wearing on his ear began to soar wildly like a runaway horse: 2100... 3200... 5500... 6200... 6800... 7200!

The numbers finally stopped at 7200!

"Huff... huff... huff..." Vitelli panted heavily, staring in disbelief at the glaring numbers on the lens.

Two months! From an initial battle power of 500 to 7200! Even he found this speed of growth shocking! The crude gravity chamber combined with extreme squeezing and the guidance of ki had yielded remarkable results!

"It seems my battle power won't just reach ten thousand! I should still have about ten months of free time..."

A smile tugged at the corner of Vitelli's mouth; after this period of improvement, he was confident he could raise his battle power to over fifty thousand by the time Vegeta was born!

"I'll just follow the plan for now. Once Vegeta sets off on a mission... I'll fake my death and slip away! Then, I'll head straight for Earth!"

The martial arts heritage on Earth would be a great help to him, and there was also the genius scientist Bulma—if he wanted to improve his strength rapidly, who else would he look for if not her family?

Besides... Planet Vegeta was not safe!

He had planned everything out during this time; as long as he didn't act recklessly and the plan didn't go awry, he could leave here before Planet Vegeta was destroyed and head to that remote planet called Earth.

"Age 737... It's currently Age 731, there's plenty of time!"

As for the destruction of Planet Vegeta... what did that have to do with him?

In a word: don't try to associate with me, we aren't close!

Frieza Arrives!

Another two months passed.

Amidst the sweat, the roars, and the humming of the gravity chamber, time flowed slowly by.

For Vitelli, training was not an ordeal, but a scale for measuring the growth of pure strength.

The frantically fluctuating pressure in the crude gravity chamber became his best whetstone.

With every breakthrough near his limit, a sliver of the dormant potential in his Saiyan bloodline was brutally awakened.

Boredom? Nonexistent!

Feeling his muscle fibers become tougher through tearing and regeneration, feeling the ki surging within him become increasingly refined and turbulent.

This visible, tangible growth gave him a morbid sense of fulfillment.

"Haa--!"

Under three times the gravity of Planet Vegeta, Vitelli's figure moved so fast it left afterimages, his heavy fists and kicks slamming into the specially made alloy target with a dull, thunderous roar.

The surface of the target was already covered in spiderweb-like cracks and deep fist prints; sweat flowed like a small stream, gathering into a puddle at his feet before being instantly evaporated into mist by the high heat.

Hum!

The gravity chamber let out an overwhelmed groan and completely died, wisps of acrid blue smoke rising from its control panel.

"Tch! It broke again..." Vitelli stopped, panting, and shook his head helplessly as he looked at the number on his lens, which had stabilized at 13,000.

This crude device, in the end, could no longer keep up with his current strength level and training requirements.

He had already made a request to those low-ranking aliens on Planet Vegeta responsible for logistics and scientific research:

Build a mature, stable, and more powerful gravity chamber! The core requirements were stability and adjustable gravity multipliers—the higher the multiplier, the better.

The reply came a week ago.

It could be done, but limited by the backward gravity technology on Planet Vegeta, the limit could only reach ten times the gravity of Planet Vegeta.

"Ten times?"

Vitelli had frowned at the time; this was far below his expectations.

In the original story, Bulma's family could even build one for five hundred times!

But then he thought, screw it, he was only passing through here anyway.

"Fine, ten times it is. Better than nothing, and certainly better than having none at all. As long as I can get it in a week."

He nodded in agreement, his mind constantly calculating:

"I won't be stuck in this godforsaken place for long anyway. Once I reach Earth, I'll just have that genius girl from Capsule Corporation help me out; building a gravity chamber with a few hundred times the force will be a piece of cake."

Just as he was contemplating how to utilize a new gravity chamber to push toward higher goals, a knock echoed at his door, carrying the unmistakable, authoritative rhythm of the royal palace.

Upon opening the Space Gate, a Saiyan warrior stood outside, clad in standard-issue combat armor with an expressionless face.

With cold, indifferent eyes, he stated, "High-class warrior Vitelli, by order of King Vegeta, you are to assemble at the palace plaza immediately and await the arrival of King Cold!"

King Cold?!

Vitelli felt a sudden jolt in his heart! The name instantly pulled his thoughts back to that unforgettable figure from the anime he once watched.

Frieza! King Cold... Frieza's father! Why would they come at this point in time?

"Late Age 731... Frieza's first official visit to Planet Vegeta?"

Vitelli quickly scanned his hazy memory of the timeline.

That's right! According to the original trajectory, this was exactly when Frieza first toured his forces as the heir to the empire, bringing the Saiyans their new-model scouters!

"Damn it! The scouters!"

Alarm bells rang in Vitelli's mind. The scouters Frieza brought were not the antiques used on Planet Vegeta!

They had higher precision and might even possess more complex eavesdropping and tracking capabilities!

He looked down at the old-model scouter he had been wearing on his ear, then felt the ki inside his body, which he had deliberately suppressed to around three thousand.

From now on... I must be cautious with such things! Under Frieza's nose, I cannot afford to expose even the slightest anomaly!

"Understood, I am heading there immediately."

Vitelli suppressed his racing thoughts and responded calmly.

He followed the messenger out of his quarters, his body hovering slightly as he flew toward the palace.

His speed was neither fast nor slow, his ki steadily maintained at a level consistent with a talented high-class warrior who had only recently awakened.