My Combat Power is -530,000!

"Go down ten thousand meters beneath the sea to fish up an old rice cooker from hundreds of years ago?"

Bulma tossed the electronic stylus in her hand onto the table and rubbed her aching brow. Her clear, wide eyes were filled with sheer disbelief.

She turned to look at Son Goku, who was seated beside her flipping through documents, then glanced at Dr. Gero, who was bent over nearby equipment, engrossed in his adjustments.

"You sure you're not messing with us?" Bulma sighed. "Even if Capsule Corporation has money to burn, going to all this trouble just to haul some busted kitchen appliance out of the deep sea is ridiculous, isn't it?"

"That wasn't an ordinary rice cooker. What it sealed away was a nightmare from the previous era." Son Goku closed the documents, his tone firm.

As a transmigrator who knew the plot, every step he took had been planned out. He had no intention of laying bare the feud between Piccolo Daimao and Kami's Lookout. Knowing too much would only add to Bulma's mental burden.

"That thing is dangerous. As for exactly what it is, don't dig too deeply into it yet." Son Goku looked at her, his gaze brimming with unquestionable confidence.

"You only need to know that he's very important to me."

Bulma swallowed the retort already on the tip of her tongue. After spending so much time together, she understood Son Goku well. He seemed easygoing, but he always thought three steps ahead and never wasted effort on anything meaningless.

"If we're detecting a specific type of anomalous energy, the underlying principles are somewhat similar to the Dragon Radar." Bulma pulled up a holographic blueprint and furrowed her brow.

"Goku, deep-sea exploration isn't that simple."

Dr. Gero stopped what he was doing and walked over, pushing up his thick glasses. The former Red Ribbon Army chief scientist stared at the topographical map of the deep-sea trench, his eyes filled with the excitement of a technical fanatic.

"Pressure at over ten thousand meters can crush a main battle tank into a lump of iron. Highly saline seawater will corrode the hull, not to mention the complicated geomagnetic interference." Gero tapped out a string of equations on the console.

"We'll have to combine radar technology with miniature pressure-resistant casings and deep-diving thrusters. Even working around the clock, it'll take at least several months."

"No rush. We've got plenty of time." Son Goku rose to his feet and stretched, his joints crackling like popping beans.

"Perfect. I need to train properly during this time anyway. I'll leave the deep-sea work to you two. Thanks for the hard work, Bulma!"

Over the following half year, West City remained as bustling and prosperous as ever. But inside Capsule Corporation's underground gravity chamber, a relentless, brutal struggle continued day and night.

The indicator light constantly shone with a piercing red glow.

Fifty times, eighty times... until recently, when the number finally stopped at a terrifying value.

[100G]

One hundred times Earth's gravity.

Here, the air was as heavy as mercury. Every breath took dozens of times more effort than usual.

Bare-chested, Son Goku practiced basic fighting stances with precise, deliberate movements beneath the horrifying pressure. Sweat did not even have time to slide down his body; the instant it seeped out, gravity smashed it hard against the metal floor.

Bang!

A powerful roundhouse kick forcibly unleashed a sonic boom through the viscous air. Immediately afterward came the overloaded tearing of muscle fibers.

One hundred times gravity was already the current limit of this body. His internal organs were faintly bleeding, his bones creaked beneath the pressure, and even his vision had begun to blur.

Near death—this was exactly the effect he wanted.

Son Goku did not turn off the gravity field. Enduring the agony that nearly tore him apart, he pulled out a shriveled Senzu Bean and tossed it into his mouth, crushing it between his teeth.

Pure life force surged like floodwaters bursting through a collapsed dam, washing over every cell on the verge of collapse in an instant. His bleeding organs rapidly healed, his torn muscles became tougher as they reformed, and his nearly depleted stamina was restored to full.

At that moment, the Saiyan's absurd genetic ability to break through at the brink of death was completely ignited.

Boom!

A violent aura filled with destructive intent roared forth from his body.

Son Goku kept his eyes tightly shut. Relying on his calm martial arts state of mind, he forcibly suppressed that savage force. The ki within him became a vast net, tightly catching the frenzied energy as he gradually sorted it out, compressed it, and forcibly ground it into his newly formed cells.

Half a year flew by in that cycle of self-exhaustion, eating beans, and rebuilding himself.

Hiss—

That day, the gravity chamber's alloy doors slowly rose, and the hiss of depressurization rang especially clearly through the hallway.

Son Goku emerged wearing a casual jacket. After half a year of tempering, he had not turned into some hulking monster of knotted muscle. Instead, his physique had grown even leaner and more balanced. Yet with every step he took, the gathered but undispersed aura around him faintly distorted the air.

He picked up a combat power scanner Bulma had just upgraded from the table, placed it over his ear, and pressed the scan button.

Beep beep beep—

The red numbers in the lens jumped madly, so fast that they left afterimages, before finally freezing in place with a crisp chime.

[530000]

Seeing that number so heavy with destiny, a smile appeared on Son Goku's otherwise calm face.

"Five hundred thirty thousand... Heh. Now I can finally say that classic line with complete confidence. I just wonder whether the future Emperor of the Universe, Frieza, will be hopping mad when he finds out someone stole his badass line before he could say it."

Base-form combat power: the five-hundred-thousand milestone, achieved!

What did this combat power mean? The future invaders Raditz and Nappa could be crushed to death with a single finger. Even that proud Saiyan prince, Vegeta, would be nothing more than a slightly more durable high-grade punching bag.

This past half year of insane training had thoroughly solidified his foundation.

"Goku! You finally came out!"

A hurried set of footsteps approached. Wearing a specially made deep-sea diving suit, Bulma ran over with her helmet in hand and excitement written all over her face. Dr. Gero followed behind her, his eyes equally bloodshot.

"After half a year of round-the-clock searching, the unmanned submersible finally found something!" Bulma shoved a tactical tablet into Son Goku's hands. "At a depth of eleven thousand meters in the Mariana Trench, it detected the cold, dark energy band you described!"

Son Goku took the tablet and looked at the lone red dot blinking on the deep-sea topographic map, a sharp glint flashing in his eyes.

"Thanks for your hard work, Bulma!" He zipped up his jacket and strode toward the landing pad.

"Hey! Don't even think about going off to play hero by yourself!"

Bulma grabbed the hem of his clothes, lifted her chin, and said stubbornly, "The seafloor environment is brutal. Piloting a submarine through deep-sea currents isn't something a battle nut like you can handle. This time, I'm personally going!"

Son Goku stopped and looked at the determination in her eyes, then smiled and nodded. With Bulma around, searching the deep sea would certainly be much easier. Besides, as long as he was at her side, there was nothing on Earth that could hurt her.

"Then let's go, my personal navigator," Son Goku said gently.

The two soon boarded the sperm whale-shaped deep-sea submersible.

Several hours later, in the depths of the vast Pacific Ocean.

The freezing seawater had long since swallowed the sunlight. Outside the submarine, the pressure gauge needle soared as thousands of atmospheres crushed relentlessly against the titanium alloy hull, drawing faint metallic groans from it.

Bulma sat in the pilot's seat, staring intently at the attitude indicator, a thin sheen of sweat forming on her forehead. Son Goku sat cross-legged in the rear, while the external searchlights, like twin swords, barely tore through the darkness of the deep.

"Beep—one hundred meters to the target. Prepare to descend into the trench fissure." Bulma's voice echoed through the silent cabin.

The searchlight beams slowly shifted downward, illuminating a reef covered in bizarre seaweed and deathly pale coral.

Amid those lifeless rocks, an old-fashioned rice cooker, thickly encrusted with barnacles and rusted beyond recognition, suddenly came into view.

Even through ten thousand meters of water and the submarine's heavy hull, Son Goku could still clearly sense the scalp-crawling evil aura pouring endlessly from beneath that layer of scrap metal, which looked ready to rot away at any moment.

It was a nightmare that had slept for centuries, and the most crucial link in his plan.

"Found you, Demon King!"