Is There Truly Such a Heaven-Defying Youth?

A muffled roar, yet one that made the air tremble, burst forth. At first listen, it sounded like a baby elephant learning to cry, but beneath it lay the force of mountains collapsing! The Dragon Elephant Prison-Suppressing Art had been tempering him day and night, relentlessly squeezing and remolding his flesh. If not for his tender age and shallow foundation of vitality and blood, his physique would likely have already approached that of an adult low-level warrior. Even so, the foundation forged by this art meant that the force of a single bare-handed strike had steadily crossed the thousand-jin threshold—without using a shred of qi, relying purely on the explosive force of muscle and bone! On Planet Vegeta, such strength would have been enough to make the entire royal guard gasp. A thousand jin? To Saiyans enhanced by qi, that was nothing. But if it came from the hands of an infant not even a year old... if Frieza saw it with his own eyes, his eyeballs would probably pop out of their sockets, and he would be so shocked that three of his dentures fell out! Hoo—! Hoo—! Hoo—! As his blood and vitality surged ever more fiercely, his skin reddened like a cooked shrimp. The sweat that had barely seeped out was immediately steamed into white mist by the heat. If anyone happened to glance at the battle power detector in the corner—30-229! 30-230! 30-231! The numbers flickered on and off, climbing slowly like a heartbeat... Every rise represented a small yet undeniable transformation! Five months of uninterrupted cultivation had long since pushed Lin Feng's true explosive limit far beyond the detector's pitiful readings. Three days ago, he had forcibly driven the Dragon Elephant Prison-Suppressing Art to its limit, his consciousness sinking into a frenzied state—the detector had frozen at: 531! But he had resolved never to try that near-self-destructive state again. What he sought through cultivating this art was not merely the bloodline leap of a Super Saiyan. He also wanted to achieve the realm recorded within it—when the fleshly body was first completed, one palm could seize stars, and two feet could tread upon sun and moon; without borrowing qi or relying on tools, one could roam the sea of stars freely with this very body of flesh and blood! The shortcomings of the Dragon Ball world were simply too glaring: it focused blindly on piling qi ever higher while allowing the treasure trove of the physical body to gather dust and rust. Here, unless one was born as a gaseous lifeform or a descendant of the void, even Goku, as powerful as a Super Saiyan 3, could not enter the depths of space naked.

The reason was chillingly simple: he could not live without air. The excuse was so absurd it left one speechless—Lin Feng had read countless martial arts classics in his previous life and knew that truly supreme masters had long cultivated internal breathing cycles, able to hold their breath for hours as naturally as breathing! In this world, those legendary heroes, sword saints, and reclusive masters from novels would not even count as the lowest-ranking grunts in the Saiyan world! Yet after being deprived of air, they would at most gasp a few times before collapsing in convulsions. Even martial artists with a modest foundation could hold out for more than ten minutes without breathing. But this world did the opposite—thin air had become the death knell of most super-powered experts! Such a fatal weakness meant that if they encountered aliens like Frieza, who could travel freely through the vacuum of space, then should the enemy suddenly attack their home planet, even a Super Saiyan at peak condition would turn to stardust amid suffocation and despair unless they possessed a talent like Broly's innate energy shield! Lin Feng would never allow himself to bear such a fatal flaw. Powerful enemies lay everywhere ahead—who could say that some ruthless opponent would not suddenly tear through the atmosphere and launch an ambush in the desolate void of space? Just thinking about it sent a chill down his spine... Another month passed in the blink of an eye. Lin Feng still spent every day in the training room, his fists whistling through the air and shockwaves churning, never once slacking off. A year ago, he had been the prodigy admired by countless people on Planet Vegeta, a monstrous rising star the Saiyan race saw only once in a century. A year later, he was still a genius, yet his halo had quietly faded, and he had gradually sunk into obscurity amid Planet Vegeta's clamor. It was because two months earlier, the queen had given birth to a prince—his first cry had erupted with a battle power of six hundred, crushing every newborn record in the last thousand years! Compared to that, Lin Feng's 121 points were like a firefly before the full moon, and all his former glory had dimmed away. In truth, Lin Feng had buried himself in cultivation and paid no attention to the world outside. He did not know that Vegeta had been born, much less hear the mocking or wistful gossip circulating beyond his doors. Even if he had heard it, he would only have smiled calmly and brushed it aside. Six hundred points? Before Broly's heaven-defying talent of being born with over ten thousand, it was merely a fleeting glimmer. And Broly's innate divine bloodline, with its ten-thousand-point battle power, would likewise be as fragile as paper once Lin Feng's bloodline awakened to the realm of "Nine Extremes." True, Lin Feng's battle power had once fallen to 121 after his transformation. But this was not decline—it was dormancy; kindling hidden beneath blazing flames, a blade concealing its gleam. One day, that ancient Saiyan bloodline, tempered to the absolute limit, would tear apart the heavens and reveal an unparalleled edge powerful enough to shake all worlds! After all, no one could deny this ironclad truth: Lin Feng's pure-blood concentration far surpassed that of every Saiyan king in history, even exceeding Broly, the Super Saiyan who appeared only once in a millennium!

Though his starting point was low for now, once he stepped into the realm of Super Saiyans, his reforged supreme bloodline would surge like molten lava, displaying the terrifying might of the "ultimate number of heaven" inch by inch and in full splendor! As for the early stages—Saiyans inherently possessed boundless potential. Childhood aptitude did have levels, but once they broke past the thirty-thousand battle power mark, before crossing the threshold into Super Saiyan, warriors of every rank—low-class, mid-class, high-class, or elite—would be pulled back to nearly the same starting line! At that point, if one's foundation was unstable, if one was lax and lazy, mediocre in comprehension, or lacked the fearless fighting spirit to ignite the slumbering battle soul within, then even Vegeta, whose talent eclipsed all others, would still be left far behind by the lowborn Goku! Time flowed like a stream, and another month passed in an instant! Woo—! Xuesaiya, who had just returned from an interstellar mission, froze the moment she pushed open the door. A series of muffled roars came from inside, like the mournful cries of a small beast struggling at death's door. Her delicate brows furrowed slightly. Without any visible movement, she flashed to the outside of the training room like a streak of light. Inside, Lin Feng was still training with total absorption, as if completely unaware. In truth, the moment Xuesaiya's fingers touched the lock, Lin Feng had sensed her—the Dragon Elephant Prison-Suppressing Art had sharpened his five senses until they were clear as a mirror, more than ten times keener than those of ordinary people. He only pretended not to notice because his heart was in turmoil and he did not know how to face his mother in this life. In his previous life, he had grown up on the concrete floor of an orphanage. He had no father, no mother, and had never even called out the word "Mom." Suddenly gaining a gentle yet powerful mother in this life, he said nothing aloud, but his heart had long since been churning like stormy seas. For a year, he had rehearsed it again and again, trying to reason with himself. Yet when Xuesaiya pushed open the door, he realized that no amount of preparation could fill the emptiness and unease in his heart. To suppress that helpless confusion, he simply emptied his mind and drove the Dragon Elephant Prison-Suppressing Art to its limit, allowing the force within to race and crash wildly through his meridians as the energy in his body climbed madly! 463! 517! 623! 677! Xuesaiya, who was about to open the door, swept her eyes over the battle power detector in the corner and instantly stiffened as if struck by lightning! She had already heard that Prince Vegeta had reached six hundred battle power at birth. That was precisely why she had rushed home without stopping as soon as her mission ended—Lin Feng was still young, and while she was not afraid he would feel disappointed, she was eager to see whether her son was doing well and whether he was happy.

Who would have thought that the moment she entered, she would be met by such a soul-shaking shock! "Six hundred at birth?" Xuesaiya stood outside the door, staring at the numbers jumping across the screen. Then she suddenly laughed, her laughter crisp and bright, her eyes filled with starlight. In one year, his battle power had increased fivefold. Forget seeing it with her own eyes—she had never even heard of such a heaven-defying child in this world... Saiyan homes were all governed by intelligent central systems, and both mother and son had full access to the training room. Xuesaiya quietly instructed the household AI to open the hatch, a sly glint appearing in her eyes as the corners of her lips curled up. In the next instant, she shot forward like a white rainbow piercing the sun, lunging directly at Lin Feng! Her jade-like arm tensed in midair, her delicate fist gathering force as it came crashing down toward the boy in training, wrapped in a gentle force of roughly five hundred battle power. Of course, this was merely a test for her own son. There was not the slightest killing intent, nor did she hold back at all—it was simply the perfectly measured strength of a mother swatting a child who refused to get out of bed. The wind suddenly rose behind him. Lin Feng had actually been watching her presence from beginning to end. His heart trembled slightly, but he did not hesitate. Twisting at the waist, he spun around and threw a heavy, explosive straight punch directly at her! BOOM!!! A blast like a bronze bell ringing exploded through the room. Xuesaiya, who had been about to launch her sneak attack in midair, was sent flying by Lin Feng's straight punch, which carried a howling gust. Her body tumbled several meters like a kite with its string cut. Then Xuesaiya straightened her back and forcibly halted her fall in midair—Sky Dance Art! Lin Feng's eyes brightened, but he was not at all surprised. On that blue home planet, such an aerial technique might have been revered as a lost divine art, but on Planet Vegeta, it was as natural as breathing—even children could do it. Only newborns who had just landed on the ground could not fly. In the next moment, his tender little fist clenched tight, his knuckles gleaming with a jade-like chill as he shot toward Xuesaiya like an arrow released from its bow! Having already suffered from his tyrannical physique once, how could Xuesaiya underestimate him again? She understood even more clearly that the child before her was an extraordinarily rare natural-born fighter—he could see through an opponent's moves before they were even unleashed, and his offense-defense transitions were so fast that they seemed rehearsed a thousand times. She neither blocked nor retreated. Instead, she steadily suppressed her battle power to five hundred and charged straight at her son! Boom! Boom! Boom! The crisp collisions of fists and feet exploded throughout the training room, ringing as clear as clashing metal and as sharp and forceful as war drums!

The muscles and bones forged by the Dragon Elephant Prison-Suppressing Art made Lin Feng's infant body comparable to that of a three- or four-year-old child. But against an adult warrior like Xuesaiya, his short legs and thin arms were ultimately limiting—no matter how great his strength, he could not swing with a full arc. Bang!! After a hundred rapid exchanges, Xuesaiya spun and delivered a side kick, sending Lin Feng crashing into the alloy wall. The impact made the cracks in the wall hum and tremble. "Hiss—!" He rubbed his numb right shoulder and raised his head, his little face scrunched up. "Mom, are you really here to bring your son home? You look more like you came to clean house." That fierce battle had torn apart the thin layer of ice in Lin Feng's heart. At last, he was willing to truly acknowledge this woman, whose embrace was burning hot and whose gaze was sharp, as the mother who had given birth to him. Xuesaiya's smile froze, and her pupils shrank. "You... know who I am?" Lin Feng rolled his eyes, sprang to his feet, stood on tiptoe, and leaned close to her ear. His voice was childish, yet utterly self-assured. "Your wedding photo is hanging in the living room, and there are recordings of your award ceremonies in the study. Did you really think I wouldn't recognize you?" Xuesaiya froze. As she looked at his chubby baby face, hot tears suddenly welled up and rolled down her cheeks. Before Lin Feng could react, she bent down and pulled him tightly into her arms, her embrace so tight that it seemed she feared this miracle would vanish the moment she loosened her grip. A moment later, she took a deep breath, kissed Lin Feng hard on the forehead, and laughed like a silver bell. "Hehehe, my son is so clever!" Lin Feng silently rolled his eyes even harder. Women truly were impossible to understand—crying their eyes out one second, laughing carelessly the next. Once Xuesaiya returned home, she shed the cold killing aura she carried when crushing stars beneath her feet. Every day in the training room, she "fought" Lin Feng, though in reality she crushed him one-sidedly. Only after the little demon king cried for his parents and raised both hands in surrender would she plant her hands on her hips and laugh triumphantly, as smug as if she had won an interstellar war. Whenever Lin Feng lay sprawled on the floor, gasping for breath, he could not help grumbling inwardly: My real mother? More like some stray kid she picked up off the street! Just as he began to suspect that he really was some promotional freebie Xuesaiya had received after topping up her phone bill, an even bigger storm arrived—his aunt Xuesaili had come! When Xuesaili learned that her genius nephew had been surpassed by King Vegeta's son, she said nothing, but her fingers crushed spiderweb cracks into the coffee table. Battle power was fixed at birth, so no matter how anxious she was, there was nothing she could do. But when her sister casually mentioned, "That brat's maximum battle power is over seven hundred," she abruptly crushed the porcelain cup in her hand. That very night, she took her daughter Palanti to a mission planet. Overnight, every powerful being who might have threatened Palanti was wiped out. Leaving her husband Duoluohasi behind to watch their daughter, she did not even stop to rest before rushing straight to Planet Vegeta. Her first words upon entering were, "Sis, move aside—this child, I'll 'teach' him!"

Half a year passed in a flash. The sisters Xuesaiya and Xuesaili had already been numbed by Lin Feng's growth rate. In two months, he had broken down and retrained the qi blasts and practical combat techniques they had developed themselves; by the third month, he had gone from being completely suppressed to gritting his teeth and counterattacking, with their battles lasting increasingly longer; by the fourth month, whether it was Xuesaiya or the elite among elites, Xuesaili, both had begun to fall behind when their battle powers were equal; by the fifth month, the Dragon Elephant Prison-Suppressing Art broke through to another realm, and Lin Feng's physical strength nearly rivaled that of a top low-level Saiyan warrior—at the same battle power of six hundred, even the two sisters working together could barely last three minutes against him. His monstrous capacity to absorb knowledge was like a parched sponge, frantically soaking up every scrap of combat experience. Meanwhile, the two aunts had abandoned all concern for their pride, willingly serving as live targets, sparring partners, and punching bags... Half a year later, Lin Feng's battle power had steadily reached eight hundred. If Xuesaiya wanted to suppress him, she had to raise her battle power beyond two thousand—once Lin Feng burned out his potential and entered a berserk state, anything below two thousand could not even shake his steel-and-iron body! Although the current Lin Feng had never truly tasted blood or experienced the razor-thin line between life and death, in terms of practical combat ability and physical toughness, he was no weaker than an ordinary low-level Saiyan warrior. To temper this newly forged blade, Xuesaiya and Xuesaili unanimously decided to take him onto a battlefield and let him see real blood! The word battle was carved into the bones of Saiyans, and killing was as ordinary to them as breathing. In the sisters' eyes, a weak planet was nothing more than a natural training ground. Even if it meant razing every living being on the entire planet, as long as it could sharpen Lin Feng's blade, they would not so much as blink.

After gaining Lin Feng's agreement, Xuesaiya accepted a conquest mission in her own name—the target was a barren world at the very bottom of the low-level planets. In the universe, a planet's strength was measured solely by the battle power of its strongest inhabitant. Any planet whose highest battle power did not reach a thousand was branded a "wasteland planet"—its resources were poor, its civilization decayed, and even cosmic garbage stations could not be bothered to take it in! Planets with battle powers between one thousand and three thousand were classified as "bottom-tier star regions," barely qualifying as scraps worth developing. Those between three thousand and five thousand could finally be called "mid-level planets," capable of producing somewhat decent warriors and worth sending a Saiyan squad to handle. As for planets with battle power approaching ten thousand, they were listed as "high-risk celestial bodies," each hiding fierce beings capable of tearing apart fleets. And once the ten-thousand threshold was crossed? It was no longer called a planet—it was a powder keg. No one could say whether a volcano would spew lava or a madman capable of blowing up a star with one punch! For that very reason, there were only a handful of experts on Planet Vegeta truly capable of subduing high-level planets. If Saiyans failed to use moonlight to transform into Great Apes in time, then rashly entering those unfathomable worlds was nothing but using their lives to fill a pit.