Year 733 of Vegeta's calendar, four years before the clan's annihilation. This is a sure win.

"Whoa. This hellhole really is a total mess."

The moment he recognized reality for what it was, that sharply defined Saiyan face of his actually split into an involuntary grin, revealing a nearly crazed smile.

Was it really this point in time?

Who cared!

Although his mind was still full of chaotic questions, like whether his original body was dead or in a vegetative state, now was clearly not the time to get tangled up in any of that.

Since heaven had thrown him into this man-eating world and had even thoughtfully given him a Saiyan body, if he still muddled along and got blown to pieces along with Planet Vegeta, that would be far too unworthy of this transmigration perk.

The most crucial information had already been confirmed.

Planet Vegeta would soon be destroyed by that bastard Frieza, and aside from those few, the rest of the Saiyans were all doomed.

"Fuck real life. Fuck unsolved mysteries."

He cursed under his breath and forcibly suppressed the irritation in his heart.

The most urgent priority was only one thing: survive!

Planet Vegeta, which would evaporate in raging flames, and Frieza, the god of death about to descend—everything forced him to take action immediately.

As for how he would get to Earth later, how he would find the Dragon Balls, those were matters for another time.

The top goal right now was to devise a perfect escape plan.

"If I'm going to run, then I've got to make a damn good job of it."

He narrowed his eyes, a wild light flickering in them.

If he was lucky enough, and there was still some time before the day his race was wiped out, then he had to seize every second for special training.

After all, this was the world of Dragon Ball, a killing field where battle was as ordinary as drinking water or eating.

What was more, the body he now occupied was a Saiyan body, one born for battle.

Although he did not know when he would encounter a life-or-death crisis, with the Saiyans' nature, fighting was an everyday occurrence. There was absolutely no avoiding it.

Even without considering Frieza's threat, when they usually went out to conquer planets and faced those ferocious cosmic monsters, having no strength would still mean a dead end.

"If I want to keep my life in that kind of scene, brute strength alone won't be enough."

He slowly sat up from the cold metal bed and took a deep breath.

If he wanted to establish himself in this world, he first had to learn to handle this body as if he were operating a precision instrument.

Energy blasts, the Flight Technique, all kinds of combat skills—these were all fundamentals.

And in the Dragon Ball world, the use of ki was the core of the core.

Even if you possessed a Saiyan's powerful flesh, if you did not know how to use ki, you were nothing but a big dumb brute with empty strength, a living target.

Interestingly, in this universe, aside from oddities like Earthlings, other races seemed to be born knowing how to use energy, as naturally as breathing.

Was he the only "primitive" who needed to learn from scratch?

However, his mindset was fairly relaxed.

Although he was starting late, as long as he was willing to train, even if he had to squeeze this body's potential to the absolute limit, he would never admit defeat!

"Phew—"

He let out a long breath of stale air, his gaze locking once more on himself in the mirror.

"I won't die."

His voice was low, but it carried an unquestionable firmness.

"Who the fuck wants to die in a dump like this? There's a limit to joking around."

He suddenly clenched his fist, his knuckles cracking like popping beans.

His gaze was sharp as a blade, and a decision had already formed in his heart.

No matter what, he had to survive! Not only survive, but live brilliantly, live with dominance!

"Hah... hah... Mission accomplished today too..."

Several days later, inside a hidden training room somewhere.

With a heavy gasp, he viciously flung the battle suit that had long since been soaked through with sweat, so drenched it could even be wrung out, onto the floor.

His whole body looked as if it had just been fished out of water as he collapsed exhausted onto the cold resting chair.

That round of high-intensity training had practically made him cough up his lungs.

"This is seriously killing me..."

He tilted his head back and messily wiped away the soybean-sized beads of sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand, his heart pounding violently as if it were about to burst through his chest.

That set of extreme gravity training just now had nearly taken his old life.

Next time he trained, he absolutely could not wear this heavy battle suit again. Not only was it inefficient, but if he made one careless mistake and got flattened into a meat patty by gravity, that would be one hell of a joke.

He gasped for air in huge mouthfuls, his vision a little blurry from exhaustion and dizziness.

Lying on the cold floor, he stared at the gray ceiling as his consciousness gradually cooled from that state of extreme excitement.

In a daze, he remembered what it had been like when he first arrived in this world.

The confusion back then, the panic, the refusal to accept reality—all sorts of emotions came flooding back.

Although he still could not figure out the principle behind his transmigration, one thing was certain.

From the day he opened his eyes and saw the eerie sky of Planet Vegeta until now, a considerable amount of time had passed.

During that time, he had poured almost all his energy into training.

To stay alive, he had squeezed out his own potential like a madman, to the point that he had completely lost track of time and could not even be bothered to flip through a calendar.

How many months had it been exactly?

He really had no idea.

However, all the struggle and stumbling through this period had given him a brand-new understanding of this "Dragon Ball world."

Fortunately, this was absolutely a real physical universe, not some virtual illusion.

What surprised him even more was that the language barrier might as well not exist for him.

Whether reading, writing, or communicating, the language of this world came smoothly from his mouth, as fluent as his mother tongue.

It was as if his brain had been born with a top-tier translator installed; whenever he thought of a word from his original world, the corresponding universal language would automatically pop out.

This was simply the cheat code among cheat codes!

Just imagine it: if a stranger arrived in a foreign land and could not even communicate, what was the difference between that and being blind and deaf?

But he was different. Even when speaking to the local natives, his fluency was enough to make the other party mistake him for a native-born resident of Planet Vegeta.

As for why he had this bug-level ability?

He was too lazy to dig into it. As long as it benefited him, that was enough. Who could understand the joy of getting something for free?

He truly discovered the existence of this "plug-in" when he began consciously looking up information.

At first, he had still been worried about communication barriers, but when he casually picked up a Saiyan combat manual, the text inside was actually clear at a glance, flowing so smoothly it was ridiculous.

Thanks to this ability, he was able to quickly figure out the current situation. By flipping through historical records and checking the calendar, he finally confirmed the exact point in time he was in.

"It's currently Year 733 of the Vegeta calendar..."

He murmured to himself, the corner of his mouth curving into a meaningful arc.

This year, the son of King Vegeta, king of the Saiyans—that proud Prince Vegeta—had just been born.

In other words, there was still a full year before the birth of Kakarot, the protagonist known as "Son Goku."

"Whew... What a blessing among blessings."

Year 733 meant there were still four full years before Frieza destroyed Planet Vegeta in Year 737!

Four years!

For a situation where death should have been certain, this was practically heaven handing him a meal.

Although he was stuck with the miserable identity of an "about-to-go-extinct Saiyan," at least he did not have to face death immediately.

If his luck had been so rotten that he transmigrated right in time for the planet to explode, that would have been the real injustice.

He clearly remembered that Planet Vegeta's destruction happened in Year 737.

In other words, he still had roughly four years of buffer time to build up strength and plan his escape.

"If I hadn't been lucky, I'm afraid I'd already be a wisp of cosmic dust right now, not even knowing how I died."

He laughed softly, the sound carrying a trace of relief at surviving disaster and ambition for the future.

Four years was enough time for him to do many things.

As long as he handled things properly, punching Frieza's damn head apart when the time came might not be impossible!

At this thought, he suddenly sprang up from the floor into a sitting position. The exhaustion in his eyes vanished completely, replaced by a blazing fighting spirit.

"Four years is enough!"