The Saiyan In The Cultivation World.

The multiverse trembled, a sea of stars rippling like water as two godlike warriors clashed in a battle of unimaginable scale. Planets shattered, galaxies crumbled, and space-time itself wavered under the sheer force of their strikes. 

In the heart of this cosmic storm stood Gogito, a being of unparalleled might. His white spiky hair glowed with an ethereal brilliance, his form a fusion of two of the greatest Saiyan warriors, Gogeta and Vegito. They had come together once, but this time, a second, desperate fusion was required to face their most relentless foe. Gogito embodied perfection, a Saiyan's boundless potential combined with divine mastery over Ultra Instinct and the destructive power of the God of Destruction.

Across from him stood Broly, the Legendary Saiyan, his body radiating unrestrained power. His berserk state was terrifying; his strength grew endlessly, a storm with no calm. Each second saw his combat instincts sharpen, his power swell. But this relentless growth was also his greatest weakness. His body, though resilient, could not expand fast enough to contain the surge of energy. Left unchecked, he would self-destruct.

Despite his ferocity, Broly was not a mindless brute. His instincts were battle-honed, his movements precise. He learned and adapted with every exchange, evolving into an even deadlier version of himself. This was the ultimate warrior, a force of nature that refused to be tamed.

The battlefield quaked under their duel. Gogito's attacks came in blinding flurries, his precision honed to perfection. Broly countered with raw, unyielding power. Their strikes shattered dimensions, spilling waves of energy that obliterated entire universes in their wake.

Gogito's movements flowed effortlessly, his body guided by the divine instincts of Ultra Instinct. He weaved through Broly's attacks, landing devastating blows that would have failed any other opponent. But Broly was not just any opponent, he was the Legendary Saiyan. Each strike Gogito delivered only fueled Broly's growth, his energy rising to unprecedented levels.

Even so, Gogito had an edge. His injuries, instead of weakening him, made him stronger. The more damage his body endured, the more his power as a God Of Destruction surged with untamed vigor, pushing his power to greater heights. It was a vicious cycle. Broly's endless energy met Gogito's endless adaptability.

"You're strong," Gogito admitted, his voice steady despite the storm raging around them. "Far stronger than the other Legendary Saiyans across the multiverse. But your weakness is clear, you let your power control you. Because of that, you'll never defeat me."

Broly roared, the sound echoing across the void like thunder. His body moved with reckless abandon, each strike powerful enough to tear reality itself. Yet Gogito remained unfazed. His Ultra Instinct guided him, every movement precise, every strike calculated.

The tide began to shift. Broly's berserk rage, while overwhelming, came at a cost. The injuries piling on his body began to take their toll. His energy, tied to his life force, began to waver. Gogito, on the other hand, grew stronger with every blow he endured. His Ultra Instinct not only guided his movements but allowed his body to seal and heal wounds mid-battle, ensuring he could fight indefinitely.

Broly's glowing green eyes flickered, his clarity returning as his energy waned. He looked around at the devastation they had wrought, the shattered multiverse, the countless lives erased by their battle. Shame filled his gaze as he realized the consequences of his unrestrained power.

Before Broly could speak, Gogito raised a glowing palm, brimming with the power of destruction. 

"Goodbye," Gogito said simply. In the blink of an eye, Broly was no more.

***

That's how I died for the second time.

Oh, right, I forgot to mention. I was Broly.

Rewinding a bit, I wasn't always a Legendary Saiyan. My first life was about as mundane as they come. I was just a regular guy, the kind of person you'd pass on the street without a second glance. A background character in the story of life, necessary, but forgettable.

I died in the stupidest way possible: trying to download a shady game. You know the ones, flashy ads that make the game look like a AAA masterpiece, but in reality, it's just another cash grab? Yeah, that. My ancient PC couldn't handle it and decided to explode, taking me with it. If nothing else, I'll say this... I went out with a bang.

When I opened my eyes again, I was Broly. The Legendary Saiyan. It was overwhelming at first, but soon I found myself reveling in the sheer power, and the thrill of battle. Fighting wasn't just exhilarating, it was addictive. I became obsessed with it, hunting down the strongest opponents across the multiverse. I didn't care about the destruction I left behind, the lives lost in the wake of my battles. All I cared about was the high of growing stronger.

That obsession consumed me. And, well... you saw how that ended.

***

My death wasn't the end. When I next opened my eyes, I found myself in a familiar yet entirely new situation.

"It's a boy... with a tail? He seems to have a unique physique," a towering figure said as she held me in her arms. Her beauty was otherworldly, her presence gentle.

I blinked, struggling to comprehend what was happening. Déjà vu hit me like a brick, this was eerily similar to the moment I first reincarnated as Broly.

The woman passed me to another figure, my mother. She was just as stunning, her features radiating grace and power. Everyone around me looked impossibly beautiful like they belonged on the cover of a fashion magazine. Where was I? Heaven? Some celestial realm?

"A tail?" my mother repeated, examining me closely. "Indeed, he has a unique physique. His life force is astonishingly strong, his body brimming with untapped might. Zhou Liangchen... you are destined for greatness."

Her words were calm, devoid of emotion. But then she sighed, her tone turning cold.

"I shouldn't have had a child," she said, her voice flat. "Even more so if I'm going to abandon you."

Without another word, she removed a necklace from around her neck and placed it on me. A strange energy flowed into me as she kissed my forehead. My vision blurred, and before I could process anything, I fell asleep.

***

When I woke, I was in the arms of a man I quickly learned was my stepfather, the king of the Zhou Empire. While he wasn't my biological father, he treated me with great care, far more so than his other children. His favoritism didn't go unnoticed. His harem loathed me, and my numerous step-siblings viewed me as a threat.

Assassination attempts became a part of my daily life. Poisoned meals, ambushes, traps, you name it. But I survived, thanks to a fiercely loyal maid who shielded me from harm.

By the time I was three, I understood my precarious situation. My so-called father, the Zhou Emperor, doted on me as if I were his heir. This was no act of affection, it was fear. My mother, though absent, cast a long shadow over the Zhou Empire. She wasn't just a figure of power; she was a legend. Her mere presence had cowed the Emperor, a man who ruled over millions.

The harem, naturally, despised me. Why should a child with no biological ties to the Emperor be treated as if he were royalty? My step-siblings, numbering over a hundred, viewed me as a threat to their ambitions. I became a target. The attempts on my life were frequent and inventive, ranging from subtle poisonings to outright assassination attempts.

Of course, I never truly felt in danger. My Saiyan blood, inherited from my previous life as Broly, made me far tougher than these assassins could anticipate. Poison burned through my system but failed to kill me. Knives and traps inflicted only minor scratches, since I dodged most of them while my maid handled the rest. I endured, and my resilience only seemed to aggravate my enemies further.

On my third birthday, the Emperor declared it time for me to begin formal training.

"Alright, you two will start cultivation together," an old man announced, gesturing to me and another child, my half-sister Zhou Yu. She was only a few weeks older than me but carried herself with a maturity far beyond her years. Her upbringing had been strict, her mother had instilled in her the mindset of a warrior, not a queen.

As we sat cross-legged before the old man, I couldn't help but feel bored. Zhou Yu, on the other hand, hung onto his every word.

"The three foundational pillars of cultivation," the old man began, "are Body Cultivation, Qi Cultivation, and Soul Cultivation. Mastering these will determine the paths you walk in the future."

Zhou Yu wasted no time reciting what she had likely memorized. "Body Cultivation focuses on strengthening the physique, opening the way to body-tempering arts. Qi Cultivation involves gathering and refining Qi within the Dantian, forming a Qi sea. Soul Cultivation develops spiritual sense, enabling perception beyond the physical."

"Correct," the old man said, nodding approvingly. "However, Body and Soul Cultivation are rare paths, often kept secret by powerful sects. Even within the royal family, techniques for these paths are scarce."

He went on to explain that while children under five were too young to formally cultivate, martial arts training was crucial in preparation. Swordsmanship, hand-to-hand combat, and weapon mastery would form the foundation of our future paths.

"...I thought I'd be cultivating today," I muttered, standing up. "I'll come back in two years."

The old man froze, disbelief etched across his face. "Martial arts are an essential foundation for..."

"What's the point when I'm already better than you?" I interrupted, smirking.

A vein pulsed on his forehead. "Fine. If you defeat me in a pure martial arts duel, you may leave. But if I win, you'll owe me five favors."

"Deal."

The duel was over in seconds. The old man lay face-down in the dirt, his limbs splayed awkwardly. I strolled past him without a backward glance. He didn't move, stunned by how easily I had bested him. For someone who claimed to be a seasoned martial artist, he had clearly underestimated me.

The next two years passed quietly. I avoided combat altogether, choosing instead to immerse myself in books. The palace library was vast, filled with ancient texts on cultivation, history, and philosophy. My goal wasn't simply to avoid fights, it was to master the power within me.

In my past life as Broly, my strength had been my greatest weakness. It controlled me, not the other way around. I was determined not to repeat the same mistake. I spent countless hours meditating, visualizing my energy as a raging river and myself as its dam. Slowly, I began to exert control.

My half-sister Zhou Yu, meanwhile, threw herself into martial arts training. By the time we were five, she had already surpassed many of the palace guards in combat skills. While I admired her determination, I couldn't help but find her path short-sighted. Strength alone wasn't enough in a world of scheming nobles and secret techniques.