Red Divine Might

The third small mountain shattered with a boom.

This time, he finally came to a stop—smashed directly into a massive cliff face, creating a crater several meters wide and two meters deep.

The edges of the pit were covered in dense, spiderweb-like cracks, resembling a broken porcelain bowl, while rubble rained down incessantly with a rhythmic clatter.

Vegeta was on his hands and knees—though "kneeling" wasn't quite accurate, as his knees were buried in the debris, his hands braced against the ground, and his head bowed until it nearly touched the stones.

His golden hair was matted with dust and blood, and his complexion was ghastly.

One hand clutched his stomach tightly, his entire body convulsing violently as he retched—not saliva, but a thick stream of dark red blood mixed with stomach acid, which splattered against the shattered rock with a harsh, wet slapping sound.

The impact had come too fast; he hadn't even reacted before he was defeated so thoroughly that not a shadow of a chance remained.

He couldn't even fathom how that guy had moved.

He hadn't managed to put up a decent defense before it was all over.

The pride of a Saiyan prince, built over three hundred years, had been ground into powder by a single knee strike.

"What... what kind of power is this..." Vegeta struggled to lift his head, the veins in his neck bulging, his muscles trembling uncontrollably.

His vision blurred for a moment before he forced it to focus, staring fixedly at the figure slowly descending—the man whose red aura was fading, silent as a mountain and unfathomable as an abyss.

Jiang Che stood before him, the red light on his body receding like a tide.

His red hair slowly reverted to black, and only a faint glimmer of red remained swirling in his eyes.

His breathing was steady, his expression unchanged, and not even the hem of his clothes was wrinkled.

It was as if that strike had been nothing more than a casual stroll to him, a triviality.

Jiang Che looked down at Vegeta, his tone flat and matter-of-fact, as if stating a simple truth: "Super Saiyan God."

"Super..." Vegeta's eyes widened, his bloodshot eyeballs nearly popping from their sockets.

He stared at Jiang Che, his face a mask of disbelief and shock—it wasn't an act; the awe was rising from the very marrow of his bones.

His lips trembled uncontrollably, and though he wanted to say something, he couldn't form a coherent sound, only managing a few dry, raspy gasps from his throat.

Super Saiyan God?

What was that?

He had never heard of such a form.

He had scoured every ancient text and every record of Saiyan history, and not once had that term been mentioned.

Weren't all Saiyans golden?

Every great warrior of each generation, from the ancients to his father and himself, had only ever followed the path of gold—Super Saiyan, Super Saiyan 2, 3... all power had revolved solely around that golden light.

But how could a red form suddenly appear?

And that power—he couldn't sense any ki, yet he could feel a pressure that overwhelmed everything!

It was like facing a slumbering ancient beast—it didn't roar or bare its fangs, it just lay there, yet its mere presence made his entire body go numb.

Who exactly was this guy?

Vegeta's hands clawed into the rubble, his knuckles turning white, his nails embedding into the rock and leaving shallow gouges.

He gritted his teeth, a trickle of blood spilling from the corner of his mouth, his Golden Pupils swirling with a mix of resentment, fury, terror, and a sliver of something he dared not admit even to himself—reverence.

"Super Saiyan God..." Vegeta muttered, his voice as raspy as chewing on sand, every word heavy with bitterness and helplessness.

His gaze remained locked on Jiang Che's back, his pupils churning with shock, anger, and an indescribable longing—that power, that flash of red light he had never seen before, had pierced deep into the core of his consciousness.

Jiang Che said nothing more.

He turned with clean, sharp movements, his robes slicing through the air and stirring a faint breeze.

The rubble crunched softly beneath his boots as he took a step, preparing to fly away.

"Wait—!" Vegeta gritted his teeth and scrambled out of the crater, his legs still shaking violently, his muscles seemingly in revolt.

He wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand, the veins in his arms bulging as if they might burst at any second.

"Who the hell are you? Why did you come to Earth?" Vegeta demanded.

Jiang Che paused, his movements languid; he clearly didn't consider this self-proclaimed prince of all Saiyans worth his time.

He tilted his head to look at the sky, his gaze sweeping over the rolling clouds above, his voice as indifferent as if he were uttering a throwaway remark: "I'm just a Saiyan."

Before he even finished speaking, Jiang Che's figure suddenly blurred, leaving only a faint afterimage in the air that dissipated like smoke.

Vegeta hadn't even caught the trajectory of his movement—the man had vanished into thin air, as if he had never been there at all.

Only a cold gust of air brushed against his face, a mocking whisper in the wind.

Vegeta clenched his fists, his knuckles popping with a sharp crack.

His breathing grew ragged, his chest heaving violently.

He turned his head to glance at Gohan, his voice carrying a faint tremor: "Gohan, have you ever heard of that form?"

Gohan shook his head, his face still pale from the battle, beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead.

He swallowed hard, speaking with difficulty: "Never heard of it. Dad never mentioned a red-haired Super Saiyan either."

Vegeta's gaze drifted once more toward the direction where the figure had vanished, his teeth gritted so hard he nearly bit through his own lips.

Within those Saiyan eyes, a complex swirl of emotions made it impossible to distinguish between them—anger, resentment, humiliation, and a sliver of admiration he refused to even acknowledge to himself.

That kid's power was far beyond anything he had imagined.

He even began to wonder if, perhaps, even Goku wouldn't necessarily be able to handle this mysterious Saiyan with ease.

Meanwhile, Jiang Che had already soared high into the sky.

The world beneath his feet receded rapidly—cities looked like squares on a chessboard, mountain ranges like the spines of giant beasts, and rivers like silver ribbons winding across the body of Mother Earth.

The wind whistled past his ears, carrying the frigid currents of the high altitude, snapping his clothes loudly against his frame.

His black hair danced in the air, and the collar of his battle suit lifted slightly, revealing a scar on his chest that had yet to fully heal.

"System, where is the Hyperbolic Time Chamber?" he asked, his voice fragmented by the wind, yet clearly transmitted into the depths of his consciousness.

[Ding! The Hyperbolic Time Chamber is located at Kami's Lookout, managed by Dende. It is recommended that the host go there to borrow it.]

Jiang Che nodded, adjusted his trajectory, and locked his gaze onto a faint outline hidden within the high-altitude clouds—an ancient palace suspended between the blue sky and white clouds, floating in isolation like a forgotten chess piece between heaven and earth.

He channeled the ki within his body, his figure piercing through the clouds like an arrow, trailing a wake of white air pressure.

A few minutes later, he landed on the stone steps of Kami's Lookout.

The flagstones beneath his feet had been polished smooth by the passage of time, reflecting his silhouette.

White clouds drifted slowly all around, and occasionally, transparent currents of air passed through the stone pillars, emitting a low, mournful wail.

It was as quiet here as an island cut off from the rest of the world.

"Who goes there?" A round figure waddled forward to meet him.

It was Mr. Popo—his frame was rotund, his skin as black as ink-jade, and he was dressed in the attire of a tribal chief; his steps were heavy, yet they carried a sense of steady composure.

As he caught sight of Jiang Che, his eyes narrowed and his lips trembled slightly, clearly trying to discern who this stranger might be.