First Visit to Bulma's House

Jiang Che followed Bulma out, walking through the corridor until they reached a detached villa.

The villa was not particularly large, but the design was quite unique; the exterior walls were covered in vines, creating a lush, vibrant atmosphere.

"No one lives here usually, so just pick any room you like." Bulma pushed the door open. The hall was clean and bright, the floor polished to a shine, and the furniture was arranged comfortably. Everything was fully equipped.

Jiang Che nodded, a surge of gratitude rising in his heart.

But to be honest, he froze before he even stepped inside, as if his brain had been struck by lightning.

His pupils dilated, his mouth opened and closed, and the prepared responses he had rehearsed were stuck in his throat—he couldn't utter a single word.

Sunlight streamed in from the windows, casting mottled shadows across the floor.

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

Was it really this smooth?

He had expected a barrage of questions: "Who are you?" "Why are you here?" "What is your objective?"—he had been silently preparing his lines along the way, thinking about how to handle the interrogation.

Instead, Bulma had simply nodded, as casual as agreeing to a dinner date. Her blue eyes hadn't lingered on him at all; she had merely swept a glance over his face before making her decision.

"Why are you just standing there like a fool?" Bulma turned around with a faint smile on her lips. She tucked a strand of blue hair behind her ear, the sunlight hitting her profile and making her look both mature and slightly languid. "What? Don't want to stay? Then let me put it another way—you can leave; the front gate is right there."

"No..." Jiang Che snapped back to reality, like a man pulled from the water. He took a deep breath, his voice raspy. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it." Bulma waved her hand and let out a light laugh that echoed in the hall for a few seconds. "I hate people who hem and haw. Since you told the truth, I won't make things difficult for you." As she spoke, she walked toward the doorway, her high heels clicking crisply against the marble floor. "Come on, I'll take you to your room."

Jiang Che stepped forward to follow, the carpet beneath his feet so soft it felt like walking on clouds.

His eyes couldn't help but sweep across the hall—a massive crystal chandelier hung from the high ceiling, and the sunlight refracting through the crystals cast colorful spots of light that danced across the walls.

He hadn't looked closely at the expensive oil paintings on the walls earlier, but now he realized they were all masterpieces; one of them reminded him of a collection belonging to a certain auction tycoon.

When he walked past Vegeta, the air suddenly grew heavy.

The hostility radiated like a blade, making every step Jiang Che took feel like trudging through a quagmire.

He slowed his pace, seeing from the corner of his eye that Vegeta was leaning against a pillar by the sofa, arms crossed, his black eyes burning with a cold light.

"Kid." Vegeta's voice was low, as if squeezed from his chest, every word laced with a threat. "You'd better not have any crooked ideas. Otherwise—" A cold sneer curled his lips, "—I'll kill you myself."

The air froze instantly.

Jiang Che paused for a heartbeat, his back feeling as if it had been pricked by a knife, his shoulders tensing up.

He didn't look back, nor did he retaliate; he simply nodded and then hurried to catch up with Bulma.

Walking through the corridor, he saw several family photos hanging on the wall—Bulma, Vegeta, and a little boy with purple hair. Everyone in the photos looked incredibly happy.

Vegeta stood to one side, his expression uncharacteristically soft.

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

The door creaked open, and sunlight flooded in.

"Here we are." Bulma stepped aside to clear the way and pointed to the room. "Stay here for the time being. If you need anything, just come find me."

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

The room was neither too big nor too small, about forty square meters, furnished cleanly and tastefully, with every detail reflecting the host's thoughtfulness.

A breeze blew the corner of the window curtain, revealing the backyard outside—towering oak trees, a neatly trimmed lawn, and a patch of blooming roses, all looking lush in the afternoon sun.

On the nightstand sat a few books, one of which was titled "Magic Spaceship Repair Manual," along with other reading materials. Several landscape paintings hung on the walls, depicting various planetary vistas with meticulous composition. The color scheme was primarily warm, and the bedsheets featured fine, intricate patterns that shimmered in the light.

"So this is the life of the wealthy..." Jiang Che muttered to himself while standing by the window, his gaze drifting around the room. "Even this guest room is bigger than the master bedroom of an average household."

He stretched his arms, his joints emitting a faint cracking sound.

The qi within his meridians flowed slowly, gentle yet powerful, like a quiet, deep river.

He moved closer to the windowsill, his eyes sweeping over the greenery outside, where he saw a few birds of unknown species hopping between the branches.

In the distance, the faint sound of a car engine could be heard.

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

Jiang Che frowned, subconsciously rubbing his chin.

According to the system prompts, his mission was to increase his strength and complete system tasks.

But the system was silent now, having only flashed a line of text when he first arrived: "Mission system coming online soon, please stay tuned."

"So, is this a downtime period?" Jiang Che leaned against the window frame, watching a few clouds drift slowly across the sky. "Does that mean I have to rely on myself for now?"

He looked down at his hands, clenching and unclenching his fingers, feeling the power surging between them.

When he had traded blows with Vegeta earlier, the impact had traveled into his arm in an instant. His muscles had instinctively dissipated some of the force, but some had still traveled through his bones to his shoulder.

This lack of control was like a hairline fracture in a stone—invisible under normal circumstances, but it would cause problems when pushed to the limit.

He pondered for a moment, a touch of determination entering his eyes.

Increasing his strength was certainly important, but without any active missions, it was even more crucial to understand this world.

Before transmigrating, he had watched Dragon Ball GT, but that was just an animation—processed and edited—and there was a gap between that and this reality.

Many details and hidden pieces of information could only be understood through personal experience.

Just like Bulma's reaction moments ago, he had originally expected a tug-of-war, but the outcome was so simple it caught him off guard—the discrepancy between reality and expectation showed how little he truly understood this place.

"I need to find an opportunity to go to the library or search online for information..." Jiang Che muttered to himself, then looked up at the ceiling fan. "And I must understand this world's technological level, power distribution, and those legendary powerhouses."

He flexed his fingers, the qi within him trembling slightly, like a beast hiding in the shadows letting out a low growl.

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; to wield it effectively, he still needed to master more precise force and angles.