Unyielding Pride
He lowered his head, panting heavily, each breath pulling at the wound in his chest, causing him to turn pale with pain, and a hoarse sound escaping from deep within his throat.
The Super Saiyan 4 form was no longer holding up; only a few wisps of golden aura remained, flickering on his body like a candle flame that could be extinguished at any moment.
Super 17 descended from the sky, landing three meters in front of him, his toes barely touching the ground, his movements as light as stepping on paper.
His blood-red eyes were devoid of emotion; he simply stared coldly at his dying opponent.
A synthesized voice echoed through the ruins, "Your energy attacks are useless against me; I can absorb and convert them. Your pride and joy in physical prowess and speed are worthless before me. Vegeta, your stamina, energy, and willpower have all reached their limits. Do you still want to struggle?"
Vegeta swayed, his teeth clenched so tightly that blood seeped from between them.
His arm was resting on his knee, his hand trembling so badly he could barely hold himself. His entire body was covered in crisscrossing wounds, and in some places, the bone was even gleaming coldly.
His legs trembled like a leaf, and the Battle Suit on his knees was worn to shreds, leaving his skin and flesh mangled.
But he still managed to pull himself together little by little.
Although he could no longer straighten his back, he still managed to stand up.
He raised his head, his face covered in blood, his golden eyes dimmed, but the flame within them had not been extinguished.
He stared intently at Super 17, his voice choked with blood, and said haltingly, "As long as... I have a breath left... the Saiyan prince... will never... bow his head... and will never... give up..."
Super 17's tone was as cold as a machine, "Stubborn to the end. Then take your laughable pride and go to hell." He slowly raised his arms and clasped them together in front of his chest.
Between his palms, space began to collapse as if it had been crumpled, and countless fragments of black energy gathered from all directions like crows returning to their nests, emitting a buzzing sound that made one's soul tremble.
The energy quickly condensed into a black energy sphere with a diameter of more than two meters.
The surface of the sphere boiled and churned, writhing like hot asphalt, and within it emanated a suffocating aura of destruction.
As soon as it appeared, the surrounding light was distorted by its absorption, the air crackled, and the pebbles on the ground floated up, defying gravity, and were immediately crushed into powder by that invisible force.
"Super Hell Missile." There was no announcement, no triumph, only a cold, death sentence.
Super 17 pushed his arms forward.
The jet-black Destruction Sphere, instead of hurtling out, pressed down on Vegeta with an irresistible weight and a slow, steady motion.
Where it passed, the ground was plowed into a deep trench, its edges melting as if burned, and ripples spread through the air like water. Even the air seemed to groan softly at the impact.
The blackness of death drew ever closer, reflected in Vegeta's pupils.
He wanted to dodge, even if it meant moving an inch to the side.
But my body has long since stopped obeying my commands.
Extreme exhaustion and severe injuries pinned him to the spot like iron chains.
He didn't even have the strength to lift a finger.
"Bastard..." He stared intently at the darkness, a faint glimmer of something—perhaps regret, perhaps resentment—flickering in his golden eyes.
Finally, he closed his eyes.
Just as the black energy sphere was about to engulf him—time seemed to have been paused.
A figure appeared without warning between Vegeta and the destructive energy.
It's Qi Heng.
With his back to Vegeta and facing the Super Hell Missile capable of destroying a city, he didn't even assume a defensive stance. He simply calmly raised his right arm, his five fingers naturally spread, palm facing forward, as if catching a ball that had been casually tossed to him.
The next moment, the black ball slammed solidly into his palm.
"Bang--!"
This wasn't an explosion, but the dull thud of two worlds colliding head-on.
The black sphere collided with Qi Heng's palm and abruptly stopped. Its surface churned even more violently, and destructive black lightning bolts darted around wildly, frantically coiling around Qi Heng's arm as if to tear apart and devour the hand that was blocking its way.
The destructive energy bit into his palm, and the space around him emitted a faint sound like glass cracking.
But Qi Heng's arm remained motionless, and the hem of his clothes wasn't even fluttered by the energy wind.
A pure golden light shone from his palm.
The light started as a tiny bean, but in the blink of an eye it spread out, transforming into a warm yet resilient golden flame that flowed out from the palm of the hand, like the strongest dam, blocking the impact of the black energy.
Gold and black clashed violently at the edge of his palm, producing a chilling "sizzling" sound, and the escaping power turned the ground into fine crystalline dust.
Qi Heng's face remained expressionless as he silently stared at the destructive energy struggling in his palm.
Then, he slowly closed his five fingers, as if crushing a fragile egg.
The energy ball exploded in his hand, turning into countless tiny black fragments that disappeared into the air like ink specks scattered by the wind.
The shockwave exploded outwards from Qi Heng, creating a hurricane-like effect.
The rubble on the ground was swirled into the air, and the dilapidated buildings in the distance groaned in pain.
The howling wind tore at Qi Heng's black hair, strands of it dancing wildly around his face, but he stood there like a mountain, not even the hem of his clothes swaying.
Super 17's pupils contracted to the size of pinpoints, and for the first time, a crack resembling shock appeared on his metallic face.
"You...!" His voice was distorted, and smoke was still rising from the muzzle of the energy cannon on his right arm.
Qi Heng didn't even glance at him.
He slowly turned around, his black combat boots making a crisp sound as they stepped on the cracked ground.
He looked down at Vegeta, who was kneeling on one knee.
That scene really made my heart tighten.
Vegeta's entire body was covered in wounds; after his Super Saiyan 4 form disappeared, his exposed body was covered in bloody cuts.
The deepest cut ran from his right shoulder all the way to his waist, blood and dirt mixed together and congealed into a thick scab.
His left arm was twisted at an odd angle, clearly indicating several fractures.
His tattered Battle Suit was reduced to just a few strips of cloth, hanging on his body and trembling slightly with his heavy breathing.
But what's most touching is his eyes.
His pupils had returned to black, and half of his face was covered in blood, but he still stared intently at Qi Heng, a fire burning in his eyes that never went out, no matter how desperate he was.
"Why... why did you attack..." Vegeta's voice was hoarse, like sandpaper scraping iron, each word dripping with blood.
He tried to straighten his back, but this small movement caused all his wounds to reopen, and blood gushed out again.
Qi Heng didn't speak, but simply knelt down, his black robe spread out on the scorched earth.
He took an old cloth bag from his pocket, untied the rope, and poured out a bright green bean.
Under the dim yellow sky, this bean shimmered with a warm light, like the essence of life.
He handed the beans to Vegeta with a steady hand, as if he were facing a stubborn friend.
Vegeta's gaze fell on the Senzu Bean. He remained silent for five seconds, his Adam's apple bobbing, his chapped lips pressed into a straight line.
He didn't reach out.
"Vegeta," Qi Heng's voice was as calm as a deep pool, yet carried an undeniable weight, "You've reached your limit." He paused, "Eat it."
"I don't need your charity." Vegeta squeezed out the words through gritted teeth, each syllable filled with stubbornness and pain.