Pu couldn't raise his stats by simply shouting "add points"; he needed time to train.
In this regard, he found that the two sons he adopted were leagues ahead of him.
Little Broly, of course, was a natural-born Super Saiyan—every second of growth made him stronger.
Little Koz, though destined to lag far behind his big brother in raw power, was still outgrowing Li Pu, their Old Father.
A week after being brought home and fed like a prince, the boy had already overtaken little Broly in height.
He could out-eat even Broly as a toddler, his body extracting every last calorie with terrifying efficiency.
And while his height and weight soared, Koz's intellect climbed even faster.
One day Li Pu stepped out on an errand, leaving the pair alone; when he returned, Koz had Broly beside him, both glued to the TV, happily streaming Tom and Jerry.
Remember, the millennium hadn't arrived yet—there were no wireless routers on the market.
Little Koz had taken the scouter from dragon ball, tinkered with it, and turned it into a network adapter.
Then, through some inexplicable wizardry, he'd jacked into a university campus network and pulled cartoons from the server for his brother.
Ridiculous?
Li Pu thought so too.
Yet he knew this wasn't even the boy's limit.
Had the World remained as cruel as the original Warhammer setting, the Primarch Konrad Curze might have "grown up" overnight.
A three-metre titan with a Mortal's wisdom and strength, all within months of birth—stimulating thought.
Some might call it a gift, the biological "Old Father," the Emperor, bestowing upon his progeny.
But every gift has a price: the Primarchs were denied an ordinary childhood.
As the saying goes, some spend a lifetime healing that wound.
Li Pu wouldn't let Koz repeat that tragedy.
He had no grand design like the Emperor, no burden of "carrying all humanity."
As a father, he wanted Koz to know what a normal childhood felt like.
"It may not last, but we have to try."
So when the two kids frantically shut off the TV as he walked in, Li Pu didn't scold them.
"Oh-ho, watching cartoons?"
He ruffled each boy's hair, grinning. "Why didn't you invite me?"
Broly elbowed his even-taller little brother, smug. "See? Dad's not mad. Any more shows? Find us lots!"
Koz still struggled to speak, but he understood every word.
He nodded excitedly.
With tiny, practiced fingers he poked the dismantled scouter and summoned his latest discoveries from the university server:
Child's Play, Sleepy Hollow, The Silence of the Lambs, A Nightmare on Elm Street, Scream… Li Pu: ＞_＜|||
Open-minded or not, Dad banned horror flicks—and anything "colorful."
Some rules have to be set early; otherwise… Li Pu shuddered at the thought.
Imagine two ultra-powered "brats" running wild; the already fragile Marvel Universe wouldn't survive their mischief.
After the lecture, Li Pu watched cartoons with them, then announced good news: "Boys, our family business is about to open!"
He'd slipped out that day to file paperwork.
Though he'd recently "robbed the rich" of Deacon Frost the Vampire, plus leftover house money, he still had only a few hundred thousand in cash.
But planning ahead is in the Chinese blood; even transmigrated, Li Pu hated eating savings.
Besides, all three were bottomless pits; the Engel coefficient at home was terrifying—he had to earn.
So he bought a food truck and today picked up the health permit and vendor license.
Hands on hips, he flashed the papers and told his sons they could now relax as rich second-gens.
Little Broly scratched his head. "Dad, what's a rich second-gen?"
At that moment the news showed Stark Industries' spokesman denying rumors: Mr. Stark and the starlet were "just friends."
Li Pu pointed at the sunglasses-wearing, middle-finger-flipping Tony Stark on screen. "That mustache? Richest rich second-gen on Earth."
Broly still puzzled; the guy looked so weak—why aspire to that?
And wasn't that finger gesture an insult? Dad said good kids don't curse; real men fight, not chatter.
Little Koz, precocious, grasped the term—but seeing Tony Stark, he giggled as if foreseeing something.
Clapping, he lisped, "His legs are so short he kneels when he lands."
Honestly, Li Pu had liked Iron Man Tony Stark in his past life.
But the playboy really did have short legs, and landing in armor wrecked his knees.
So whatever—Li Pu shamelessly agreed with his son.
The house filled with cheerful laughter.