The Saiyan In The Cultivation World.

"Lan Mei, when a realm dies, does it leave behind a realm heart or some kind of core that I could take?" Lianchen asked, his tone casual, though the implications of his words were anything but.

The Demon Emperor's eyebrows lifted slightly in surprise, but he said nothing, waiting for Lan Mei's response.

"...Yes," she admitted after a moment, still processing his question. She found herself at a loss for words. No matter how many times she witnessed it, Lianchen's thought process always managed to catch her off guard. But what truly unsettled her was the eerie feeling creeping up on her—was this moment yet another piece of his mother's grand plan?

Lianchen, oblivious to her inner turmoil, grinned. "Good. I want it." His eyes gleamed with excitement. "I want to see if I can absorb that realm into my Dantian and recreate the Big Bang."

The Demon Emperor's expression shifted ever so slightly, the weight of Lianchen's words settling over him.

A realm was essentially a self-contained universe—far smaller and weaker than those in the Dragon Ball world, but a universe nonetheless. If he could absorb an entire realm… then what would stop his Dantian from expanding, growing, and evolving into a universe of its own?

"Young Master… that could kill you." Lan Mei's frown deepened, her disapproval clear. The very thought of absorbing an entire realm into one's Dantian was beyond reckless—it was unprecedented. No one had ever attempted something so outright suicidal. The sheer energy involved would be enough to tear Lianchen apart, shattering his Dantian and leaving him either crippled or dead.

But Lianchen simply grinned. "I have time to figure it out," he said, completely unfazed. "That explosion alone would release enough energy to kill me trillions of times over, sure… but what if I fuse it instead? Integrate the concepts of space and time directly into my Dantian?"

Lan Mei's expression darkened. "No," she said firmly. "Even you don't have the capability to pull something like that off."

Lianchen raised an eyebrow, but before he could argue, she continued, "However, there is another way to utilize the realm heart."

That caught his attention. He frowned slightly, considering her words, before nodding. "Fine. I'll shelve this discussion for now."

"What a pain," Lianchen muttered as the telescope glitched again, its form shifting until it transformed into a massive, human-sized telescope.

"This one should work," he said, stepping back to inspect it. "It'll let you see planets more clearly even if they are in another galaxy, but keep in mind, you'll only be looking into the past. Find some galaxies that are devoid of life, and I'll start teleporting you there."

Although light was the fastest thing in the universe, it didn't travel instantaneously.

For instance, in this world, the light from the sun took twelve minutes to reach the planet. That meant whenever Lianchen looked at the sun, he wasn't seeing it in its current state—he was seeing it as it had been twelve minutes ago. If the sun were to suddenly explode, he wouldn't witness it until twelve minutes after the fact.

The nearest galaxy was over a million light-years away, meaning any light reaching them from it was already a million years old. And since that galaxy and this one were gradually drifting closer, they were on a trajectory to merge in the distant future. When the Demon Emperor gazed into that galaxy, he wouldn't be seeing its present state—he'd be looking back a million years into its past. In that span of time, entire civilizations could have risen and fallen.

Lianchen wanted to move them to a galaxy devoid of life, ensuring that their presence wouldn't disrupt any existing civilizations. But as he pondered the logistics, another thought took root in his mind—a vision so grand it made him smirk.

Galaxy real estate. If he could transport entire civilizations, what was stopping him from selling galaxies?

As soon as the Demon Emperor departed, Lianchen turned his attention to Lan Mei, his sharp gaze seeking confirmation.

"That was the fifth thing, right?" he asked, knowing he had secured yet another crucial piece in this game.

Lan Mei nodded slightly. "It would be... if you had obtained the realm heart. But since you haven't, it doesn't count. Speaking of which, the realm heart can be used to establish an inner world within your Dantian. The sooner you cultivate one, the greater its potential. It's best that you don't make any breakthroughs until you acquire it and shape it properly."

His mind shifted to the next target. "The sixth thing… it's the mirror, isn't it?" he asked, watching her closely.

Lan Mei gave another small nod. There was no need to hide that fact—Lianchen had already pieced it together.

He leaned back, contemplating. Finding a mirror fragment on such a vast planet would be no easy feat. There were seven in total, and so far, he had only come across one. Tracking the rest would require more than just luck.

"Prepare my carriage," he ordered. "I want to speak with the Beast King. After that, the King of the Sea."

With that, he turned back to the puppet he had been working on, his fingers already moving with mechanical precision.

***

While the human population barely reached the billions, the beast race's numbers stretched far beyond the septillions, largely due to the overwhelming presence of insects. These creatures made up an enormous portion of their ranks, existing in numbers so vast that even Lianchen had to admit it was difficult to fully quantify.

Yet, despite their superior numbers, the beast race was shackled—bound by their bloodlines. Unlike humans, who could forge their own paths despite their initial limitations, the beasts were confined to whatever talents or instincts their lineage provided. This inherent restriction placed a natural ceiling on their growth.

But that wasn't their only weakness.

Disunity plagued the beast race. They were constantly warring among themselves, too fragmented to ever be a true force against humanity. The Beast King, for all his strength and authority, could only unite a portion of them. His reach did not extend to the insect races, which functioned almost as an entirely separate entity.

This was one of the key reasons an all-out war between the beasts and humans never occurred. Even though the beasts held numerical superiority, humans had unity and intelligence on their side. They were cunning, strategic, and knew how to manipulate situations to their advantage—qualities that the demonic beasts, in their reliance on brute strength and instinct, severely lacked.

The Beast King also had another problem to consider—the ever-growing insect horde.

Unlike other demonic beasts, insects constantly sought to increase their numbers. Many species, particularly the lesser ones, had to cannibalize their own kin simply to survive. This created a constant internal struggle among them, as they competed for food and territory. One of the easiest ways to reduce these tensions? War.

It was an old, time-tested cycle. Whenever the insects' numbers grew too large, they would spark a conflict to cull their own kind while simultaneously feeding their ever-growing hunger. But with the recent earthquake reshaping the continent, the old balance had been thrown into disarray. The powerful insect races, many of which had once been contained in the depths of the demonic beast continent, had likely been displaced.

Lianchen leaned back in his carriage, watching the passing scenery with mild interest. His mind was filled with questions, yet one in particular stood out.

"Are there ants that gain the abilities of those they eat?" he mused aloud.

Lan Mei, who had been quietly observing him, nodded. "Y-yeah. They're called Devouring Ants. Insects are unique in that they inherit the Dao comprehension of their parents. Queens that have walked the Dao of Devouring pass this ability on to their offspring. When they consume a creature, they gain its traits, adapting to their prey's strengths."

Lianchen raised an eyebrow. He let out a thoughtful sigh, his mind drifting toward the possibilities. The Immortal Realm sounded more and more like a playground of endless potential.

Insect queens, particularly those of bees and ants, only mated once in their entire lives. During that single event, they gathered sperm from multiple males—sometimes a dozen or more—before retreating to lay eggs for the rest of their existence. Normally, there were designated locations where queens would seek out males of their species, ensuring the continuation of their lineage.

But the recent earthquake had shattered the world's natural order. Territories had been displaced, and ecosystems had been thrown into disarray.

The Queen Bee hovered in the air, her delicate wings vibrating with anxious energy. She had just left her nest, embarking on the most crucial journey of her life—to find the male bees and collect the sperm she would need to lay eggs for the rest of her existence.

But something was wrong.

The location where the males should have been gathering was empty. The distinct pheromones that should have guided her were nowhere to be found. The land had shifted, the earthquake having rewritten the very geography of her world. What should have been a straightforward mission was now a desperate search.

Bees, despite their regal titles, led brutal lives. For the males, it was especially cruel. After mating, they perished—their reproductive organs violently torn from their bodies in the process. Their first and only moment of ecstasy was also their last. It was the ultimate sacrifice for their species.

In other words, every single male bee ever killed by humans had died a virgin. What a tragic existence.