Arriving at Bulma's Home

Jiang Che followed Bulma out, walked down the corridor, and came to a detached villa.

The villa wasn't very big, but it had a distinctive design. Vines covered the outer walls in a lush blanket of green, giving it a lively feel.

"No one usually stays here, so pick whichever room you like." Bulma pushed open the door. The hall was bright and spotless, the floor polished to a gleam, the furniture arranged comfortably, and everything was well equipped.

Jiang Che nodded, unable to stop a wave of gratitude from rising in his heart.

But honestly, he froze before he'd even stepped inside, as if lightning had struck his brain.

His eyes widened. His mouth opened, then closed again. All the words he'd prepared to handle the situation got stuck in his throat—not a single one came out.

Sunlight streamed through the windows, casting dappled shadows across the floor.

Jiang Che stood amid the light and shadow, feeling as if he were in a dream.

This was going way too smoothly, wasn't it?

He'd expected to be peppered with questions: "Who are you?" "What are you doing here?" "What's your purpose?" He'd spent the whole trip quietly preparing what to say, thinking about how to handle it.

But Bulma had merely nodded, as casually as if agreeing to a dinner invitation. Her blue eyes hadn't lingered on him; she'd simply glanced over his face and made her decision.

"Why are you just standing there?" Bulma turned around, a small smile on her lips. She tucked a lock of blue hair behind her ear. The sunlight on her profile made her look both mature and a little languid. "What? Don't want to stay? Then let me put it another way—you can leave. The front door's right there."

"No..." Jiang Che snapped back to his senses, like someone just hauled out of the water. He drew a deep breath, his voice hoarse. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it." Bulma waved a hand and chuckled. Her laughter echoed through the hall for a few seconds. "I can't stand people who drag things out. Since you were honest with me, I'm not going to make things difficult for you." She headed toward the door, her heels clicking crisply against the marble floor. "Come on. I'll show you to your room."

Jiang Che stepped after her, his feet sinking into the carpet, soft as if he were walking on clouds.

His eyes couldn't help sweeping across the hall. A huge crystal chandelier hung from the lofty ceiling, sunlight refracting through it into rainbow-colored spots that danced across the walls.

He hadn't taken a close look at the expensive paintings on the walls before. Now he saw they were all impressive works; one of them reminded him of a certain auction-house tycoon's collection.

As he passed Vegeta, the air suddenly grew heavy.

The hostility coming off him cut through the air like a blade, making every step Jiang Che took feel as though he were trudging through a swamp.

He slowed down. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Vegeta leaning against a pillar beside the sofa, arms crossed, cold light burning in his black eyes.

"Kid." Vegeta's voice was low, as if forced out of his chest, every word carrying a threat. "You'd better not be up to anything funny. Otherwise—" The corner of his mouth lifted in a cold sneer. "I'll kill you with my own hands."

The air froze.

Jiang Che's steps faltered for a moment. It felt as if a knife had stabbed into his back, and his shoulders tensed all over.

He didn't look back or retaliate. He merely nodded, then hurried after Bulma.

As they walked down the corridor, he saw several family photos hanging on the wall—Bulma, Vegeta, and a little boy with purple hair. Everyone in the pictures looked so happy.

Vegeta stood off to one side, his expression uncharacteristically gentle.

But Jiang Che didn't dwell on it. Bulma pushed open a door on the second floor.

The door creaked open, and sunlight poured in.

"Here we are." Bulma stepped aside and pointed into the room. "You can stay here for now. If you need anything, just come find me."

As soon as Jiang Che entered, his eyes swept around the room.

It was neither small nor large, about forty square meters. It was clean and tastefully decorated, with thoughtful touches in every detail.

A breeze lifted one corner of the window curtain, revealing the back garden outside—towering oak trees, a neatly trimmed lawn, and a bed of blooming roses, all lush and green in the afternoon sunlight.

Several books lay on the bedside table. One was titled Magic Spaceship Repair Manual, with other reading material beside it. Several landscape paintings hung on the walls, depicting different planets in carefully composed scenes. Warm tones dominated the room, and the bedspread had a fine, subtle pattern that shimmered in the light.

"So this is how the rich live..." Jiang Che muttered, standing by the window as his gaze wandered around the room. "Even this guest room is bigger than the master bedroom in an ordinary house."

He stretched his arms, and his joints gave a faint crackle.

The ki inside him flowed slowly through his meridians, gentle yet powerful, like a quiet river.

He moved closer to the windowsill and looked out over the greenery, where several unfamiliar birds hopped among the branches and leaves.

The distant sound of a car engine drifted over.

Come to think of it, what should he do next?

Jiang Che frowned and instinctively rubbed his chin.

According to the system prompt, his task was to grow stronger and complete system missions.

But the system had no new messages at the moment. When he'd first arrived, it had only flashed a single line: "The mission system is about to come online. Stay tuned."

"So this is a downtime period?" Jiang Che leaned against the window frame and watched a few clouds drift slowly across the sky. "In other words, for now, I can only rely on myself?"

He looked down at his hands, spreading and clenching his fingers as he felt the power surging between them.

When he'd traded punches with Vegeta earlier, the impact had traveled through his arm in an instant. His muscles had instinctively absorbed some of the force, but some of it had still traveled along his bones to his shoulder.

That lack of control was like a tiny crack in a stone: hard to notice under normal circumstances, but bound to cause trouble when pushed to the limit.

He pondered for a moment, and a hint of resolve entered his eyes.

Growing stronger was certainly important, but with no missions to complete, learning about this world was even more important for now.

Before he'd crossed over, he'd watched Dragon Ball GT, but that was only an anime, a processed version of events that still differed from the real world he was in now.

There were many details and hidden facts he could only understand by experiencing them firsthand.

Bulma's reaction just now was a perfect example. He'd expected a tense standoff, but things had gone so smoothly that he was caught off guard. The gap between reality and his expectations showed that he still knew far too little about this place.

"I'll find a chance to visit the library or look things up online..." Jiang Che muttered to himself, then glanced up at the ceiling fan. "I also need to learn about this world's technological level, the distribution of its forces, and those legendary strong fighters."

He flexed his fingers. The ki inside him trembled faintly, like a beast lurking in the dark, growling under its breath.

That power within him—the potential of a Saiyan—was slowly being tamed under his control, but it hadn't truly become a part of him yet.

It was like holding a sharp blade. Before he could swing it, he still had to master the exact force and angle.