Hyperbolic Time Chamber

"I want to see Kami."

Jiang Che's answer was direct. He spoke without much emotion, yet there was a pressure to his words that made them hard to refuse.

Mr. Popo studied him, his gaze calm, but a trace of heaviness flashed in his eyes.

He nodded, his voice low as a stone hitting the ground. "Wait a moment."

Only a few seconds passed before a figure emerged from deep within the palace.

Green skin, a short stature, a white antenna atop his head, and eyes as large as lakes—intelligent and alert.

This was Dende, the new Kami.

"You're... that new Saiyan who appeared out of nowhere?" Dende stopped, his eyes fixed on Jiang Che. His tone was a little tense, and his fingers unconsciously clenched the edge of his robe.

"What is it?"

Jiang Che glanced at him, the hint of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

He stepped forward, his shoes tapping crisply against the stone stairs. "I want to use the Hyperbolic Time Chamber."

Dende's eyelid twitched slightly.

He was silent for a few seconds, his gaze carefully sweeping over Jiang Che as if trying to see through his bones, before finally settling on his eyes.

The Namekian's eyes were frighteningly deep, as if they could see right into a person's heart.

"Do you know what the Hyperbolic Time Chamber is for? Not just anyone can withstand that place."

"I know."

Jiang Che answered without hesitation. "I only need one day."

Dende looked at him, sighed, and turned toward the depths of the palace. "Come on. Follow me."

"I want to use the Time Chamber," Jiang Che said calmly, as if he were casually bringing up some trivial matter.

His gaze was as still as a deep well, not wavering in the slightest.

"I won't be in there long."

Dende didn't respond. The rare gravity on his face concealed all traces of childishness.

He stood on the steps of the Heavenly God's Palace, hands clasped, his gaze never leaving Jiang Che.

He sensed no malice from him. Jiang Che's ki was clear, pure, and resolute.

Even so, the power within him still made Dende wary—like a sleeping volcano, calm on the surface, yet searing hot within and liable to erupt at any moment.

Even the air seemed to congeal, and the wind stilled for a moment.

"All right," Dende finally agreed, his voice taking on a more solemn note. "Popo, take him there."

Mr. Popo stepped out of the shadows, his expression unchanged.

He bowed slightly to Jiang Che, then turned and headed steadily toward the back of the Heavenly God's Palace.

Jiang Che nodded, glanced at Dende, then followed Mr. Popo.

Their footsteps echoed across the spacious stone floor, each one as crisp as a drumbeat.

They passed through an old gate made of dark wood, densely carved with ancient patterns, as if the passing years had been engraved into it.

As it opened, the hinges creaked as though complaining about having been forgotten for too long.

Beyond it lay a long, narrow corridor. Its walls were built from rough stone, and the air carried a faint smell of dust.

At the far end of the corridor, a pitch-black iron door blocked their way.

Its surface was covered in scratches and dents, bearing the marks of countless impacts and trials.

Several rusted rivets were embedded along its edges, and a faint symbol in the center of the door glimmered with a dim light.

"This is it—the Hyperbolic Time Chamber."

Mr. Popo stopped and pushed open the heavy iron door.

It scraped open with a shrill sound, like a trapped beast waking up.

As the door slowly swung open, a wave of scorching air rushed toward them, carrying a hint of dust and iron.

"One year inside is one day outside," he said briefly.

"But the conditions are terrible—the gravity is ten times that of the outside world, and the temperatures are extreme. The days are as hot as an oven, and the nights are bitterly cold."

"Train in moderation. Don't push yourself to the point of death."

Jiang Che nodded, his expression calm.

Without hesitation, he stepped over the threshold.

The stone floor beneath his feet was cold and hard. The moment he crossed into the chamber, it felt like he had entered another world.

The iron door slammed shut with a boom, rattling his ears as if it had sealed off the entire outside world.

Inside was an expanse of white—the floor, walls, and ceiling were all white, without a single texture or decoration, as though they had been swallowed by an endless void.

A chaotic whiteness stretched before him, with no end in sight.

The air was terribly dry. Each breath felt like swallowing sand.

The tenfold gravity descended all at once, as if a giant hand were pressing down hard on his shoulders. His bones creaked, and his muscles tensed violently.

A small depression formed in the floor beneath Jiang Che's feet, leaving a faint footprint.

He carefully sensed the changes in his body. His blood coursed faster under the crushing weight, and his heart beat rapidly and powerfully.

He didn't frown. Instead, the corner of his mouth lifted in a barely perceptible smile—one filled with anticipation, confidence, and the excitement of a challenge.

"Let's begin."

He took a deep breath, his nostrils filling with dry, hot air.

Jiang Che slowly closed his eyes and focused, sensing the divine power dormant within him.

The power was like an underground river, flowing slowly through his meridians with an ancient rhythm.

His past battles had given him an initial grasp of the Super Saiyan God transformation—that golden flame had briefly ignited, pushing his power and perception to new heights.

But the transformation was still unstable, like a candle in the wind that could go out at the slightest disturbance.

Here, in this extreme and lonely place, he had to fully consolidate his power and slowly explore forms of a higher level.

"I'll start with the basics."

Jiang Che opened his eyes, his gaze sharp.

He lowered his hips into a horse stance, planting both feet firmly into the ground, his whole body seeming to merge with the white expanse.

He assumed a fighting stance—fists clenched, elbows slightly bent, body leaning forward, center of gravity lowered.

He began with the most basic exercise: push-ups.

His arms bent and straightened, his muscles taut as bowstrings. Every time he pushed himself up, he had to fight against tenfold gravity.

Sweat dripped from his forehead and evaporated into mist the instant it hit the floor.

Next came squats. Every downward movement made the muscles in his legs and waist tremble violently, while his bones protested in a low creak.

Then came unarmed combat techniques—straight punches, hooks, sweeps, dodges. Gravity dragged down every movement, warping his form.

He gritted his teeth and kept going, constantly adjusting his posture until his movements grew more and more fluid.

Before long, sweat had soaked through his clothes. The fabric clung to his skin, outlining the ridges of his muscles.

His breathing grew heavy and ragged. Every breath sounded like a bellows, and his chest heaved violently.

But he didn't stop.

His gaze remained resolute, his teeth clenched so hard they clicked. Veins stood out on his forehead, like tiny rivers surging beneath his skin.

Three days passed, and he had finally adapted to the tenfold gravity.

His body straightened, no longer hunched. His steps grew light, and his movements returned to their former speed.

Standing in the middle of the white space, he gradually steadied his breathing. The sweat had dried on his skin, leaving behind a thin layer of salt.

"Next," he murmured to himself, his eyes cold, "Super Saiyan."

Jiang Che let out a low shout, and the power he had built up within him suddenly exploded.

Golden flames of ki burst from him with a hiss, like the rising sun, lighting up the entire space.

The airflow swept up dust, stirring little whirlwinds.

His hair stood up strand by strand, turning from black to gold and fluttering in the flames.

A golden light flashed in his pupils, and his skin took on a faint glow.