The Saiyan In The Cultivation World.

"We beg the young master for peace and forgiveness!"

The voices of the Song Clan filled the air in unison, their tone lifeless and robotic.

"We slaves shall work tirelessly to carry out the prince's will, for the prince's will is the only will we have."

It was a terrifying sight—an entire clan of hundreds of thousands of people stood before me, their eyes devoid of any spark of life. The horrors they had endured over the last ten minutes had left a mark too deep to erase.

Even the children, no matter how young, seemed to have aged beyond their years. The innocence that should have lit their eyes was gone, replaced by a cold, hollow maturity born of trauma.

I gazed at the broken clan, my expression calm but unreadable. The Tsukuyomi had done its job.

"Good."

I spoke calmly, my voice cutting through the heavy silence. "Your clan's acts of displeasing me will still not go unpunished."

I stopped for a moment, turning slightly to glance at the broken Song Clan.

"Give me all of the clan's treasures from your vaults," I commanded. "On top of that, I will require 65% of the clan's income."

I let the weight of my words settle before adding coldly, "And remember—anything your clan does reflects on me. Go ahead and act up. Even death will not be enough for you to escape from my grasp."

Without waiting for a response, I turned and began walking back toward my wheelchair, each step slow. The Song Clan members didn't dare speak, their eyes following me with a mixture of fear and complete submission.

Their silence was the only confirmation I needed.

"I need my stuff before the end of the day," I said as I climbed into my wheelchair. My tone remained calm, but the weight of my words was unmistakable.

"And return the kids you kidnapped," I added, my eyes narrowing slightly. "For every child who can't be returned, or if their condition is... unsatisfactory, the people responsible will be thrown back into that hell."

I paused, letting the threat hang in the air.

"And this time, it'll be for much longer. Everything they did to those kids will be thrown back onto them—billions of times worse."

The Song Clan members visibly trembled, their broken forms unable to hide their fear. Satisfied, I leaned back into my wheelchair.

The white cat jumped into my lap, settling comfortably as if it belonged there. Lan Mei began pushing me away from the estate, heading toward my home.

I let my eyes drift shut, exhaustion finally settling over me. I needed my nap. After all, I was still a growing young man, and sleep was as important to me as eating. Three naps a day was the bare minimum for someone like me.

***

"From the investigation we conducted…" a young woman reported, her voice steady and professional, "…Zhou Lianchen became enraged over the Song Clan's young master showing disrespect while the prince was eating. From what we've gathered, special rules are in place around those near the prince to ensure his meal times remain peaceful and relaxing."

Her words carried weight as she addressed a blonde-haired man, his sharp features reflecting both curiosity and concern. The man turned his gaze toward an elderly figure seated at the head of the room—their clan ancestor.

The old man's eyes were closed, his face unreadable as he absorbed the information. The room fell into silence as everyone waited for his response.

"This kid… for a six-year-old, he's both extremely powerful and ruthless," the old ancestor said, his deep voice laced with caution. His frown deepened as he leaned forward slightly, resting his hands on his cane. "Our Feng Clan should take great care to avoid making that boy our enemy."

He paused for a moment, his sharp eyes sweeping across the room.

"Now, tell me," he said firmly, "what does this boy do on a daily basis?"

The room grew tense as the young woman, still standing, glanced at the blonde-haired man for confirmation. When he gave a slight nod, she cleared her throat and began to speak.

Zhou Lianchen's daily life is simple," the young woman began, her tone calm but laced with an undertone of disbelief.

"After waking up, he prepares for the day, starting with a meal fit for more than ten cultivators just to feel full. For a six-year-old, the sheer amount of food he consumes is… terrifying."

She paused, her expression serious as she continued. "Throughout the day, his total consumption can easily exceed what would feed thirty cultivators, and on some days, more than fifty."

Her words hung in the air like a thunderclap, and both the blonde-haired man and the old ancestor were visibly stunned.

"Cultivators of what level?" the blonde-haired man asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. This detail might not have been important, but he couldn't help but wonder how much a six-year-old could possibly consume. After all, cultivators often went long periods without food, relying on pills and minimal sustenance to maintain their energy.

"Cultivators at the Foundation Establishment Realm," the young woman replied firmly.

The words hit like a hammer, causing both men's eyes to widen in shock.

They quickly did the math. A Foundation Establishment Realm cultivator typically consumed the equivalent of 15 to 20 normal humans' worth of food to feel remotely full. If Zhou Lianchen was consuming enough food to satisfy over 30 to 50 cultivators, that meant he was eating what could feed more than 450 normal humans on a daily basis.

"That's… not normal," the blonde-haired man murmured, his voice laced with disbelief.

The young woman continued her report, detailing everything the Feng Clan had managed to learn about Zhou Lianchen. While they were already well aware of his strength—and the fact that making an enemy of him would be akin to courting death—they needed a deeper understanding of his character.

What kind of prince was he?

Was he inherently twisted, or was he someone who only became monstrous when enraged? Did his actions stem from malice or a warped sense of justice?

The woman laid out every detail they had managed to gather.

"The prince's birthday is 28 days away," the old ancestor said, his words coming rapidly as if every second mattered. "Go hunt for the best demon beast you can find. This prince pays attention to his food. We can win him over through his stomach."

He paused only long enough to let the weight of his words settle before continuing. "Make sure the demon beast is captured alive and in perfect condition. I have a gut feeling that this kid wouldn't enjoy cruelty toward life that hasn't bothered him… but at the same time…"

The ancestor's gaze darkened as he shifted toward the blonde-haired man, his voice turning cold. "…Make sure the members of the Feng Clan behave. If those good-for-nothings do anything to land in Zhou Lianchen's bad graces—if they become the reason for one of his nightmares—then even death won't save them from my wrath."

The blonde-haired man, the current clan head, nodded quickly, absorbing every word his father said.

"Understood. We will not become the second Song Clan," the clan head said seriously, his tone firm and resolute.

The weight of his words was palpable. Everyone knew what had happened to the Song Clan—how easily a six-year-old had dismantled them.

The fall of the Song Clan wasn't just a scandal; it was a warning to the entire empire. A once-proud noble clan was reduced to slavery, stripped of their treasures and taxed so heavily that their future was bleak.

Their dignity was gone, their independence stolen, all to appease their new master.

The Feng Clan wouldn't let such a fate befall them. To cross Zhou Lianchen was to court utter ruin, and they knew better than to take that risk.

Anyone could look at any member of the Song Clan now and see the haunting emptiness in their eyes. It was a truly terrifying sight—an entire clan reduced to lifeless shells, functioning like robots, their every action dictated by the will of Zhou Lianchen. They had lost all semblance of free will, existing only to serve their new master.

The Feng Clan Head shifted uneasily at the thought.

"What about the Radiant Sun?" he asked suddenly, his voice tinged with concern.

The question caused the Feng Clan ancestor to pause mid-step, his expression tightening. The mere mention of the Radiant Sun—the most powerful organization in the world—had a way of unsettling even the most steadfast of men.

After a moment of heavy silence, the ancestor turned slightly, his eyes sharp and calculating as he considered the implications of the question

"The prince caused a level 9 Nascent Soul realm expert to be rendered completely helpless without even needing to make a move…" the ancestor said lightly, his tone calm but carrying weight.

He glanced at the Feng Clan Head, his eyes filled with quiet certainty. "I'd wager that the prince's strength is at least on par with a level 10 Nascent Soul realm cultivator—perhaps even greater. And with his seemingly endless potential, not even the Radiant Sun would be able to control him."

The ancestor's words left the room in silence, the implications settling heavily on everyone present.

"But we must proceed with caution," the ancestor said softly, his voice low but resolute. "In all your actions, leave a backdoor for our clan. The Radiant Sun will undoubtedly make an appearance at the birthday party... and they are bound to clash with the prince."

He paused, his gaze sharp as he looked at his son one final time. "Whoever emerges victorious is the one we will back."

With those parting words, the ancestor's form flickered and then vanished, leaving the Feng Clan Head.

The clan head sighed deeply, the weight of responsibility settling heavily on his shoulders. Preparing for the prince's birthday party was no longer just about presenting an offering; it had become a game of survival.