Setting Off

The wind of Universe 6's God of Destruction Realm carried the coolness of stardust as it quietly swept across the vast temple plaza.

Qi Heng stood where he was, the hem of his black battle suit fluttering faintly in the current. He watched the round figure ahead, draped in purple divine robes—Lord Champa had his back to him and was preparing to leave.

The orange-red sunset slanted down from the horizon, stretching the temple pillars' shadows long across the ground. It also cast Champa's shadow onto the smooth jade floor, where it seemed heavier than usual.

Qi Heng's gaze settled on that back, and fragments of memories from twenty years ago surged into his mind.

Twenty years ago, there had also been ruins and dust, with broken walls all around and choking smoke in the air.

When he was little, he had nearly died beneath the rubble, almost losing consciousness entirely.

Then, a shadow had fallen over him, carrying an aura so powerful it was frightening, yet somehow indescribably reassuring.

It was Champa.

To him, this God of Destruction had been like a mountain—enormous and dangerous.

Champa's plump hands looked clumsy, but their strength was terrifying.

Those very hands had roughly yet carefully pushed aside the boulders pinning him down, pulling him back from death's edge as though lifting a kitten.

After that, Champa had given him a new name—Qi Heng. He had given him an identity that allowed him to move freely through the universe, and had brought him back to this magnificent temple.

The training had been brutal, but effective.

Champa had forcibly forged him from a dying Saiyan orphan into a warrior capable of intimidating an entire region.

This place had long since become his only home.

Champa was not very good at expressing himself.

There were things he would never say, like encouragement or tenderness.

During training, what he shouted most often was, "Trash!" and "Too slow!" Even when giving rewards, he always put on that awkward look of, "I'm just giving you this junk."

But Qi Heng understood that beneath Champa's roughness lay nothing but expectation.

The treasures, Senzu Beans, and training equipment Champa tossed his way—weren't they always exactly what he needed most? He said nothing, but every action showed his concern.

"Lord Champa." Qi Heng suddenly spoke. His voice was not loud, yet it cut through the silence of the entire plaza.

The purple figure ahead stiffened. Champa stopped and turned around, his red eyes faintly puzzled, his brows furrowed in their habitual way as if asking, "What do you want now?"

Qi Heng met his gaze, his throat shifting.

Only the wind and the distant hum of cosmic energy filled the plaza.

He fell silent for a moment, as though compressing twenty years of battle, training, and failure into this single instant.

He straightened his back further and gave a slight bow—not a deep one, but one full of respect. His black hair fell forward, concealing his eyes.

"Thank you."

The three words were clear and utterly sincere.

Champa froze.

His red eyes, usually either irritable or lazy, widened in disbelief and confusion.

His chubby cheeks seemed to twitch.

Thank you? From Qi Heng?

The stubborn Saiyan brat he had taken in for twenty years, beaten thousands of times, and who was as hardheaded as a rock, had actually said, "Thank you"?

For a full twenty years, no matter how many powerful secret techniques or precious treasures he had given him, or even how many times he had saved his life, the kid had never thanked him to his face.

Champa knew Qi Heng was not ungrateful. He simply turned his gratitude into even more desperate training and combat, repaying him through breakthrough after breakthrough and unwavering loyalty.

His thanks were bloodstained battle clothes, shattered bones, and aura bursting through its limits—anything but words.

But today, that simple "Thank you" was like a pure energy blast, striking directly at the softest place in Champa's heart.

A strange yet surging warmth rushed up, and his nose and eyes suddenly stung terribly.

It was as though he saw that little fellow from twenty years ago, pulled from the ruins, covered in injuries but with stubborn eyes, overlapping with the warrior now capable of standing on his own.

"Ugh..." A strange sound caught in Champa's throat.

He abruptly twisted his head away, the fat around his neck jiggling several times.

He absolutely could not let anyone see him! How could Champa, God of Destruction, show such an expression over one little "thank you"?

He glared fiercely at the distant nebulae, trying to force down the ache, but his eyes still reddened slightly.

"Enough nonsense!" Champa suddenly raised his voice, trying to hide his emotions with harshness, but the end of his words still trembled faintly out of his control, like a string in the wind. "Get moving! Stop dawdling!"

He practically rushed toward Vados—though it looked more like he was rolling—his movements somewhat hurried, as though afraid that if he lingered one second longer, he would no longer be able to maintain his dignity.

Vados saw it all, and the smile in her eyes deepened, as though she could see through the secrets of the stars.

Vados nodded slightly, her slender fingers brushing the crystal ball atop her staff.

Stars seemed to glitter within her pale violet eyes as she lightly tapped her staff through the air.

Hummm—

A soft pale-golden radiance spread from the tip of the staff like dawn, gently enveloping the three of them.

It was the angels' unique Instant Transmission technique, capable of crossing the barriers between universes and reaching any known location directly.

The instant the light touched his skin, Qi Heng felt a strange sense of being pulled apart, as though every inch of skin, every bone, even every thread of thought had been broken down into hundreds of millions of glowing particles.

Then, an indescribable force surged in from all directions. His consciousness was stretched and twisted in an instant, then propelled forward at a speed beyond reason.

All that remained before his eyes was a flowing river of light.

He had experienced this feeling only once before, twenty years ago—when Champa had taken him across the edge of Universe 7 and into the amber skies of Universe 6.

But this time, the sight before him as they crossed the universal barrier was even more magnificent.

Countless parallel universes floated like glowing jellyfish in the deep sea, or like soap bubbles blown by children, suspended quietly amid boundless darkness and starlight.

Each "bubble" contained a complete universe, radiating a different glow.

Universe 7 was deep blue, like a midnight sky, with the birth and death of countless stars buried within.

Universe 6, meanwhile, was a warm, brilliant amber, like a sunset frozen in time.

Farther away were universes like emeralds, like flames, like moonlight...

They slowly rotated, reflecting one another, playing out eternal birth and destruction in absolute silence.

But it lasted only a moment.

The light scattered.

Solid ground met his feet.

Universe 7 of Destruction Realm.

The scenery here was completely different from the vast, radiant landscapes of Universe 6.