Hyperbolic Time Chamber

"I want to see Kami."

Jiang Che's attitude was blunt. His words were devoid of emotion, yet carried a pressure that made them impossible to refuse.

Mr. Popo studied him with a calm gaze, though a hint of heaviness flickered in his eyes.

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

Within seconds, a figure emerged from the depths of the palace.

He had emerald-green skin, a short stature, a white antenna atop his head, and eyes as large as lakes—intelligent and alert.

This was Dende, the Kami.

"You are... that Saiyan who just appeared?" Dende stopped, his eyes locked onto Jiang Che. His tone was slightly nervous, his fingers subconsciously clutching the hem of his robe.

"What is it?"

Jiang Che glanced at him, a faint, ambiguous curve playing on his lips.

He stepped forward, his shoes striking the stone steps with a crisp sound: "I want to use the Hyperbolic Time Chamber."

Dende's eyelids twitched slightly.

He remained silent for a few seconds, scanning Jiang Che carefully as if trying to peer through his bones, before finally meeting his eyes again.

The Namekian's eyes were terrifyingly deep, as if they could see through a person's heart.

"Do you know what the Hyperbolic Time Chamber is for? That place isn't something just anyone can withstand."

"I am aware."

Jiang Che did not hesitate. "I only need one day."

Dende looked at him, sighed, and turned to walk deeper into the palace: "Come, follow me."

"I want to borrow the Time Chamber," Jiang Che said, his tone remarkably calm, as if he were mentioning something trivial.

His eyes were as still as a deep well, without a ripple.

"It won't take long."

Dende didn't react; the rare, grave expression on his face masked his usual youthfulness.

He stood on the steps of Kami's Lookout, hands clasped, his gaze never leaving Jiang Che.

He didn't sense a shred of malice; Jiang Che's aura could be described as clear, pure, and resolute.

Yet, even so, the power Jiang Che possessed made Dende wary—like a dormant volcano, quiet on the surface, but searing hot within, ready to erupt at any moment.

The air seemed to congeal, and even the wind paused for a moment.

"Very well." Dende finally nodded, a note of solemnity in his voice. "Mr. Popo, take him there."

Mr. Popo emerged from the shadows, expressionless.

He bowed slightly to signal Jiang Che, then turned and walked steadily toward the back of Kami's Lookout.

Jiang Che nodded, swept a glance over Dende, and turned to follow Mr. Popo.

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

They passed through an old gate made of dark wood, densely carved with ancient patterns that seemed to have etched time itself into the surface.

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

Behind the gate lay a narrow corridor with walls built of rough stone, the air filled with the faint scent of dust.

At the end of the corridor stood a pitch-black iron door.

The surface was covered in scratches and dents, bearing witness to countless impacts and trials.

Rusted rivets lined the edges, and a faint, flickering symbol glowed in the center of the door.

"This is it, the Hyperbolic Time Chamber."

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

The door emitted a harsh, grinding sound, like a trapped beast waking up.

As it slowly opened, a wave of sweltering air rushed out, carrying the scent of dust and metallic tang.

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

"However, the environment is harsh—the gravity is ten times that of the outside world, and the temperatures are extreme. It's as hot as an oven by day and bone-chillingly cold at night."

"Train with moderation; don't push yourself to the breaking point."

Jiang Che nodded, his expression indifferent.

Without hesitation, he stepped over the threshold.

The stone floor beneath his feet was cold and hard; the moment he stepped inside, it felt as if he had entered another world.

The iron door slammed shut with a boom that numbed his ears, as if cutting him off from the entire outside world.

The room was a blank void—floor, walls, ceiling, all white, without a single texture or decoration, as if swallowed by an endless emptiness.

Before him lay only chaotic white, stretching out into infinity.

The air was bone-dry, every breath feeling like swallowing grit and sand.

Ten times the gravity descended in an instant, as if a giant hand were pressing down hard on his shoulders—his bones creaked, and his muscles tensed violently.

The floor beneath Jiang Che's feet sank into a small crater, leaving shallow imprints.

He carefully sensed the changes in his body; under the intense pressure, his blood flowed faster, and his heartbeat became rapid and powerful.

He did not frown; instead, the corners of his mouth curled into an imperceptible smile—there was anticipation, confidence, and a hint of excitement for the challenge.

"Let's begin."

He took a deep breath, his nasal passages filled with dry, hot currents.

Jiang Che slowly closed his eyes, focusing his spirit to sense the divine power sleeping within him.

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

Past battles had allowed him to grasp the Super Saiyan transformation—that layer of golden flame had ignited briefly, pushing his strength and perception to new heights.

But the transformation was not yet stable; it was like a candle in the wind, flickering out if he wasn't careful.

He had to be here, in this extreme and lonely place, to thoroughly consolidate his power and slowly explore higher levels of the form.

"Start with basic training."

Jiang Che opened his eyes, his gaze sharp.

He lowered his waist into a horse stance, his feet planted deep into the ground, his entire being seemingly merging with this white expanse.

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

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

As his arms flexed and extended, his muscles pulled taut like bowstrings, each push-up requiring him to resist ten times the gravity.

Sweat dripped from his forehead, hitting the floor and instantly evaporating into mist.

Next came squats, each descent causing the muscles in his legs and waist to tremble violently, his bones groaning in low protest.

Then came unarmed combat maneuvers—straight punches, hooks, sweeping kicks, and dodges; every movement was dragged down by gravity, causing his form to distort.

He gritted his teeth and persisted, constantly adjusting his posture until his movements became increasingly fluid.

Before long, sweat had soaked through his clothes, the fabric clinging to his skin and outlining the texture of his muscles.

His breathing became heavy and rapid, each breath sounding like a bellows, his chest heaving violently.

But he did not stop.

His eyes remained steadfast, his teeth grinding audibly, and the veins on his forehead bulged like thin rivers surging beneath his skin.

Three days passed, and he had truly adapted to this tenfold gravity.

His body straightened, no longer hunched; his steps became light, and his movements regained their former speed.

Standing in the center of the white space, his breathing gradually steadied, and the sweat dried on his skin, leaving behind a thin frost of salt.

"Next," he whispered to himself, his eyes cold and sharp, "Super Saiyan."

Jiang Che let out a low shout, and the power accumulated within his body exploded violently.

Golden energy flared out with a hiss, like the rising sun, illuminating the entire space with a brilliant glow.

The air currents whipped up dust, creating small, swirling vortices.

His hair stood on end, one strand at a time, turning from black to gold and dancing within the radiance.

A flash of golden light sparked in his pupils, and a faint shimmer rippled across the surface of his skin.