Shadow of the Metropolis

He suddenly took a step forward, and a "crack" echoed from beneath the concrete, spiderweb-like fissures spreading out in an instant.

His right arm was coiled with power, muscles taut like a fully drawn bowstring, and his killing intent erupted completely, his entire aura pressing down on Jiang Che.

Just at that moment, a golden figure lunged between them.

Gohan landed, kicking up gusts of wind, his arms spread wide like a wall of copper and iron, blocking the space between Vegeta and Jiang Che.

His palms were open, his fingertips trembling slightly, and beads of sweat from the earlier scuffle still clung to his cheeks.

"Stop, Uncle Vegeta!" Gohan's voice was uncharacteristically urgent and firm. He stared fixedly into Vegeta's rage-filled eyes, his tone low and brooking no argument. "Do you really want the entire West City to feel your Ki? It's evening, and the streets are full of people. Mother Bulma must have already sensed the commotion here—do you have any idea what she'll say if she sees you causing such a scene in the city?"

The moment the name "Bulma" was uttered, Vegeta's momentum faltered, as if a needle had pricked a balloon.

He gritted his teeth, a faint "clacking" sound emerging from the friction, his sharp gaze sweeping across Jiang Che's face.

The oppressive killing intent in the air slowly dissipated, though his chest still heaved, his breathing as heavy as a caged beast.

He glared at Jiang Che, his eyes sharp and threatening, as if he wanted to dissect him, break him down, and reassemble him.

"Kid, you're lucky," he rasped, each word bitten out. "Remember—until I figure out your trump card, don't try anything funny. Otherwise—"

He didn't finish the sentence, but the threat hanging over their heads was more real and terrifying than any words.

Jiang Che shrugged lightly, his movements casual and his face expressionless, merely glancing at Vegeta with indifference.

He didn't speak, but there was no fear in his eyes; instead, he looked calm, as if contemplating something.

Gohan finally let out a sigh of relief.

He raised a hand to wipe the cold sweat from his forehead, the droplets sliding down his temples and glistening in the sunset.

He turned around, offering Jiang Che a smile that lacked conviction. "That's good... well, Mr. Jiang Che, let's go."

Jiang Che nodded, his gaze sweeping over the surrounding ruins and cracks before settling on a gray stray cat peeking out from a corner.

The cat flicked its tail and quickly vanished behind a stack of rusted barrels.

He stepped forward to follow Gohan, his pace steady and even.

His feet crunched on the gravel, his soles making soft, rhythmic sounds, and with every step, he could feel the feedback from the ground—this body was even more sensitive than he had imagined, and the power within his muscles had yet to be truly tapped.

But the sensation of that punch still echoed in his mind.

When that blow struck Vegeta's hand, Jiang Che clearly felt his power disperse upon impact—at least a third of his strength had been wasted due to his body's lack of coordination and poor angle.

It was like holding a sharp blade without knowing how to wield it; no matter how much force he used, he couldn't deliver a clean, lethal cut.

He looked down at his own fists.

His hands looked ordinary, his knuckles prominent, his skin slightly flushed as if the warmth of the collision still lingered.

But he knew this body held vast, untapped potential.

More importantly, there was Vegeta.

In the moment their fist and palm met, Jiang Che had truly felt the pressure erupting from his opponent—that Ki was not just energy, but a precision honed through countless life-and-death battles.

If Vegeta were to truly unleash his full power, given Jiang Che's current control, he likely wouldn't last ten moves.

He had to focus on improving his combat techniques; he couldn't afford to delay.

Jiang Che calculated silently to himself.

His gaze passed over Gohan's figure ahead, looking toward the silhouette of the buildings in West City as the lights began to flicker on.

The evening breeze brushed against the fringe on his forehead, carrying the city's unique scent of life and the cold tang of metal.

While he was still thinking, Gohan gave a light push off the ground and vaulted into the air.

Jiang Che followed suit, tapping his toes, his body rising as if lifted by an invisible hand.

The three of them took to the sky, skimming over rooftops of varying heights, cutting through the dimming sky toward the center of West City.

The lights on the ground merged into a golden river, the wind whistled, and Jiang Che's clothes snapped loudly in the gale.

His gaze swept over the last remnants of the sunset on the horizon, his eyes bright and profound.

The three figures streaked like meteors across the sky above the concrete jungle of West City.

Jiang Che followed closely behind Gohan and Vegeta, maintaining his speed with precision—neither too close to be offensive nor too far to seem distant.

The wild wind blew his black hair back, his clothes fluttering incessantly.

The breeze brushed his cheeks, and the scent of the city rushed toward him—a hint of metal, a trace of dust, and the interweaving of lives.

Jiang Che closed his eyes, pushing his perception to the limit.

The city was filled with life force: the Ki of ordinary people was as weak as a stream, but combined, it became a surging ocean, at times turbulent, at times calm.

Occasionally, he could sense stronger Ki—likely martial artists on Earth—but they were like spray on the waves, vanishing in an instant.

"We're here," Gohan's voice pulled Jiang Che back to reality.

Jiang Che opened his eyes and followed Gohan's line of sight.

A magnificent complex appeared before them, crouching on the earth like a white behemoth.

The headquarters building was pure white, its design filled with a sense of technology, its streamlined silhouette possessing a futuristic beauty, every corner gleaming with the cold light of metal.

The giant sign on the rooftop read "Capsule Corp" in characters over two meters tall, each one glinting blindingly in the sunlight.

Jiang Che slowly descended, his feet landing on the wide plaza without a sound.

He looked around, his gaze quickly sweeping over every corner.

The plaza was paved with white stone, smooth as a mirror, clearly reflecting even the clouds in the sky.

In the distance, several rows of palm trees swayed gently in the wind, casting fragmented shadows.

This really is the home of the world's richest man—Jiang Che couldn't help but gasp inwardly.

The plaza alone was as large as five football fields, and the connected buildings behind it were all of varied styles.

Some resembled European castles, others were modern glass towers, but all exuded luxury and grandeur.

"Follow me," Gohan beckoned, then turned and walked into the building.

Vegeta said nothing, his arms crossed over his chest, his steps steady and powerful.

He remained vigilant, glancing at Jiang Che whenever he had the chance, like a lion surveying its territory and discovering a strange intruder.

Jiang Che followed behind, his steps light, but inwardly he was secretly observing everything around him.

He noticed Vegeta's breathing was very regular, and every step was filled with explosive power—those were the traits of a warrior.