Finding the Balance Point

In an instant, the two forces were no longer merely testing each other; they ignited like wild beasts, violently rejecting one another and tearing into each other with desperate ferocity.

"Tsk!"

Jiang Che's face turned deathly pale, as if he had been struck by lightning.

The red aura around his body fluctuated wildly, making him look like a candle flickering in the wind—at times surging as if about to explode, at others shrinking to a mere thread, on the verge of vanishing entirely.

A scorched scent began to permeate the air; the floor tiles beneath his feet cracked, and gravel was kicked up by the shockwaves only to clatter back to the ground.

Jiang Che gritted his teeth until his jaw ached, the veins on his forehead bulging like coiled dragons.

The excruciating pain blurred his vision, yet he kept his gaze locked forward, fighting with every ounce of his will not to yield.

He forced his internal power to surge, his arms trembling uncontrollably; his fingers were clenched so tightly that they dug into his palms, and blood began to seep out.

Inside his body, it felt as though countless blades were slicing through every meridian, the pain coming in relentless, overlapping waves that surged from the depths of his marrow to chase every nerve.

"No... this isn't right..."

He ruthlessly suppressed the power spiraling out of control, pulling his hands back toward his chest with a deliberate, steady rhythm—as if pinning down a beast about to break free from its cage.

The red aura slowly receded, and the dense web of cracks appearing on his skin began to fade.

"Haa..."

Jiang Che exhaled a breath of stale air, which formed a white mist that lingered in the air for a long time.

His shoulders slumped as if he had finally caught his breath, but his eyes remained deep and focused.

He raised his hand to examine his palm—several thin, bloody gashes were still glowing faintly.

"As expected, it's not that simple."

He muttered to himself, his voice tinged with helplessness, yet underscored by stubbornness.

The power of the Super Saiyan God was on an entirely different level than ordinary ki.

It was the ki of gods, a sublimation of one's state of being, not merely an accumulation of raw energy.

It was like a deep pool: calm on the surface, but with undercurrents capable of swallowing everything at any moment.

It was quiet, steady, and solemn, carrying an irresistible sense of oppression.

The Kaio-ken was the exact opposite—it brutally compressed and detonated ordinary ki.

Every activation was like a violent explosion, pushing his internal power to the limit before unleashing it in a frenzy.

It was wild, intense, and near-barbaric, like a hurricane tearing through everything in its path.

These two forces were fundamentally incompatible—one like a dormant volcano, the other like a raging storm.

To make them coexist?

Easier said than done.

"I have to find the equilibrium point..."

Jiang Che sat down, his movements still stiff and his leg muscles twitching, but he ignored it.

Instead of rushing to attempt the fusion again, he closed his eyes and let his consciousness sink into the deepest parts of his body.

This time, he was patient—no longer forcing the power, but acting like a meditating practitioner, carefully sensing the two distinct energies.

He "saw" them—

The power of the Super Saiyan God was quiet and steady, like a dormant volcano hidden in the deepest part of his body, covered in thick layers of rock and dust.

Yet, the magma beneath the rock strata flowed slowly, releasing a heart-stopping aura of destruction; it was not ready to erupt, but it was ever-present, its pressure suffocating.

And the Kaio-ken?

It was a relentless hurricane, swirling chaotically through his meridians, frantically churning all the ki currents.

It roared and howled like an insatiable beast, yearning to tear everything apart and shatter every barrier.

To make them coexist... he had to find the rhythm that allowed them to dance together.

Jiang Che frowned slightly, his fingertips tracing a shallow mark on the ground.

In his mind, it was as if an invisible score existed, with two melodies clashing, pulling, and tearing at each other.

He had to find the chord that would allow them to resonate in harmony.

"Then let's try this."

He closed his eyes once more.

This time, his breathing was much calmer; with every inhale and exhale, he seemed to synchronize with the world around him.

A month later.

The Hyperbolic Time Chamber was silent, time passing without a sound.

The white ceiling remained as blinding as ever, and the walls were covered in layer upon layer of battle scars, like old dust accumulated over the years.

The air was thick with the scent of blood and sweat, a testament to the countless times his body had been pushed to the brink.

Jiang Che had already lost count of how many times he had tried. One hundred?

One hundred and thirty?

Or even more?

The Super Saiyan God form flickered into existence and vanished repeatedly.

Every time he failed, the red aura would flicker like a burnt-out candle, leaving behind nothing but searing heat and scorch marks.

As for the wounds on his body, the old ones hadn't even healed before a new wave arrived.

Parts of his skin had grown increasingly rough, resembling the weathered bark of an old tree that had been scorched over and over again.

At this moment, he lay on the floor, limbs splayed out like a dismantled puppet.

Sweat mixed with blood trickled from his forehead onto the floor, dripping with a rhythmic pitter-patter.

Jiang Che stared at that unchanging ceiling, his eyes glazed over as if every ounce of his energy had been drained away.

"One hundred and thirty-seventh failure..." he chuckled bitterly, his voice as raspy as sandpaper rubbing against stone.

"Still holding up quite well."

The meridians inside his body throbbed with a dull ache, as if each one had been stretched and torn, then barely glued back together.

However, compared to the first few attempts where he had passed out from the pain, he was doing much better now.

At the very least, he could now sustain the Kaio-ken for three seconds while in the Super Saiyan God state.

Three seconds.

He raised his hand, staring at the faint red glow lingering on his fingertips, a self-deprecating smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Three seconds..." he repeated in a low voice, then closed his eyes, letting the exhaustion swallow him whole.

Under the reflection of the white ceiling, his body was covered in scars, as if he had just finished a grueling, secret war.

Three seconds.

It had taken him an entire month to go from zero to three seconds.

Jiang Che slumped on the floor, his back against the wall, sweat dripping from his temples onto the ground with a soft plop.

His fingers were still trembling slightly, the tips retaining the residual warmth of the burning aura.

He raised his right hand to look at the faint, glowing red mark on his palm—a brand left behind by the extreme compression.

His breathing was heavy, like a bellows, each inhalation carrying the lingering heat of the air.

"Not bad," he whispered, his voice as raspy as sandpaper on stone. "At least I'm not standing still."

He pushed off the ground, putting strength into his knees, and slowly stood up.

The sweat stains on the floor left a dark ring behind.

He rolled his neck, his joints popping with a crack-crack sound.

Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and dived back into the two forces within his body.

The red aura ignited instantly.

It wasn't an exaggerated, incinerating flame, but a dense, deep red that flowed beneath his skin like magma.

The air distorted instantly, and fine cracks appeared on the floor, spreading out from his feet like a shattered mirror.

His hair shifted from black to vibrant red, and his pupils were stained with the color of blood—the power of the Super Saiyan God, quietly awakening.

Immediately after, another force roared out from the depths of his body.

Kaio-ken.

Carrying a more violent, red-rimmed aura, it surged through his meridians like a wild horse, rampaging everywhere.

Jiang Che's muscles tensed, and veins bulged on his neck, but this time, he didn't rush to suppress it, nor did he rush to fuse them.