"Haah!"
King Chappa lunged like a ferocious tiger pouncing on its prey, his attack aimed squarely at Yamiru. But his expression shifted to one of utter bewilderment — he didn't feel the impact of his strike landing.
Turning his head toward the dissipating afterimage of Yamiru, he gasped in shock. "Is this... the Afterimage Technique!?"
King Chappa had every reason to be stunned.
The Afterimage Technique was an advanced martial arts skill — not because of its complexity but because mastering it required an extraordinary foundation in martial arts. The practitioner needed unimaginable control over instantaneous acceleration and deceleration, coupled with incredible speed. Without these, the technique was impossible to execute.
Among ordinary martial artists, there was even a saying: "If your opponent uses the Afterimage Technique, just surrender."
Even King Chappa's famed "Eight-Hand Fist" was somewhat similar in principle to Mutaito's legendary Afterimage Technique. However, King Chappa could not achieve the extreme bursts of movement or rapid halts that the technique required. His Eight-Hand Technique was, at best, a diminished version of it.
Sure enough, the experts among the spectators marveled as they recognized Yamiru's display of the Afterimage Technique.
Suddenly, King Chappa felt a tap on his shoulder.
"Damn it!"
He spun around, retreating instinctively, only to find Yamiru behind him, performing his own Eight-Hand Fist!
No — it wasn't just eight hands. Two became four, four became eight, eight became sixteen... Countless fists and palms seemed to materialize, creating an overwhelming illusion of attacks pressing down on King Chappa.
"Using my own technique against me? Don't underestimate me!"
Enraged, King Chappa lashed out with a powerful kick — only to strike yet another afterimage. Yamiru, still employing the Afterimage Technique, remained untouchable.
Shhh... shhh...
King Chappa looked around frantically, realizing he was surrounded by over a dozen Yamiru afterimages. Each one was lifelike, with distinct expressions, making it nearly impossible to tell which was real.
To Yamiru, the Afterimage Technique and its enhanced multi-image variant were akin to the Shadow Clone Jutsu. The primary challenge lay in whether the practitioner could adapt the concept and sustain it with their stamina and energy reserves.
And Yamiru had both the skill and the strength.
King Chappa finally grasped the immense gap between their abilities. Sweating profusely, he panicked as Yamiru silently appeared behind him.
With a soft 'thud', Yamiru delivered a precise chop to the back of King Chappa's neck.
Thud...
King Chappa collapsed face-first onto the platform, his eyes rolling back.
The crowd erupted in disbelief, and even the monk acting as the referee was stunned. None of them had expected King Chappa to be defeated so effortlessly by such a young man.
"You're strong," Yamiru said to the paralyzed King Chappa lying on the platform, "but not strong enough."
His words weren't meant to mock or insult.
King Chappa's martial arts skill was equivalent to ten times that of an ordinary person — a veritable superhuman. If this had been the Yamiru who first arrived in this world, he wouldn't have stood a chance against King Chappa. Back then, with a combat power of only ten, Yamiru would have been effortlessly crushed by someone like King Chappa, who had a combat power of fifty.
Initially, Yamiru had viewed this world through the lens of his past life, assuming he was automatically part of the protagonist group. He had believed that only powers on the level of Super Saiyans were worth acknowledging. This mindset was why he had struggled to make progress; his gaze was always fixed on unattainable heights, blind to the path at his feet.
Now, Yamiru thought differently.
He had become a true martial artist, one who respected anyone with strength. King Chappa's defeat wasn't because he was weak but because Yamiru was stronger — nothing more, nothing less.
Gohan had once taught Yamiru that practicing martial arts wasn't about defeating others; it was about living healthily and never losing to oneself.
"Never losing to oneself."
This didn't mean becoming stronger every day but rather living a life without regret. It meant looking back on yesterday without shame, cherishing every moment, and staying true to one's heart.
Enjoy life, savor every moment.
This was the core philosophy of the Turtle School.
Yamiru had long realized that the essence of the Dragon Ball world's power — ki — was closely tied to the practitioner's state of mind, especially among Earth's martial artists. The rapid growth Goku and Krillin achieved under Master Roshi's guidance came from harmonizing their physical and mental states with the Turtle School's teachings.
Even in the manga, Goku never pursued strength for its own sake. Aside from defeating malevolent enemies, he devoted himself to nurturing the next generation to surpass him. By the Android Saga, the aging Goku found joy in seeing his son Gohan and others grow stronger, and this continued into the Buu Saga with Gotenks and Ultimate Gohan. Witnessing others surpass him brought Goku a unique satisfaction, reflective of his true happiness in life.
The mere pursuit of power is considered the lowest approach in the Turtle School.
Living life to the fullest, staying true to oneself, training with joy, playing freely, and resting completely — simple, carefree, like a hermit or an old turtle... This is the true essence of Turtle School martial arts. It forms the solid foundation upon which people like Son Goku grew stronger at an incredible pace. Yamiru couldn't fully embrace this yet, but he often reminded himself of this principle, using it as a guide.
This sentiment seemed to align with the essence of the Golden Veil — constantly urging him to be an outstanding martial artist, rather than a narrow-mindedly strong one.
As Yamiru walked off the stage, lost in thought, he completely ignored the vengeful glare King Chappa cast at him as he departed.
Soon, it was his turn again. One match after another, there was little suspense. Yamiru easily secured one of the two qualifying spots from Plataform Two, advancing to the quarterfinals.
Leaving the arena, he figured the other matches must have wrapped up by now.
Sure enough, Jaco was already waiting in a quieter area, bored enough to be tugging at his hair… Oh, right, he didn't have any.
Son Goku came bounding over, flashing a peace sign with a bright grin. "I made it to the next round!"
"Well done!" Yamiru glanced around. "What about the monk and Delat? They're both pretty strong; they should've made it too, right?"
However, only the monk came over with a gloomy expression.
"All quarterfinalists, please come forward to draw lots!"
The announcer's voice echoed from the board displaying the tournament brackets.
"Where's Delat?" Yamiru asked Fourteen as they made their way over. Even if he didn't qualify, it wasn't like he'd just disappear, right?
Fourteen replied solemnly, "He lost. His opponent broke his arm, so he's been sent to a nearby hospital."
Son Goku exclaimed, "That guy's really strong! Delat's tough; his opponent must've been even tougher!"
Fourteen sighed. "Indeed, a very formidable young fighter! Far stronger than you were back then, Yamiru. And far more ruthless…"
When the remaining eight contestants gathered around the announcer, he began explaining the rules and called each person forward to draw lots. Yamiru recognized the announcer — a sunglasses-wearing man in a suit — from a tournament five years ago, though back then, Yamiru hadn't made it far enough to meet him.
"Next up, Chiaotzu…" The announcer checked the list repeatedly, thinking the name might be a mistake.
Yamiru paid little attention at first but froze at the sound of the name. His gaze sharpened as he turned to see a pale, red-cheeked, zombie-like boy step forward.
"Such a strange guy…" Son Goku muttered, tilting his head.
Jaco added, "He's the creepy one from my Plataform! Didn't think he'd make it."
"Chiaotzu…" Yamiru frowned and scanned the other quarterfinalists. Among them, he quickly spotted a three-eyed teenager.
"Tien Shinhan…" he muttered, clenching his fists.
"Next, Yamiru," the announcer called.
Yamiru took a deep breath and drew his lot: Number 1.
The old monk assisting the announcer filled in Yamiru's name on the first match bracket.
Returning to the group, Yamiru's face was expressionless as he stared at Tien Shinhan and Chiaotzu.
Tien Shinhan, noticing his clenched fists and slightly trembling steps, smirked. "What's wrong? Remember something? Are you afraid?"
Yamiru's expression darkened for a moment. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before opening them again. Yet every time his eyes shut, memories of a bloody past flooded back — severed limbs, corpses, and the anguished screams of the dying. His hands trembled slightly as he murmured to himself, "You think this is fear?"
Tien Shinhan's face returned to its usual calm as he looked away, uninterested in further provocation.
"That three-eyed guy is the one who beat Delat," Fourteen informed Yamiru.
Jaco, curious about Tien Shinhan's third eye, touched his own forehead as if testing something. Son Goku looked up at Yamiru and asked, "Do you know them?"
"Yeah… we've got some history," Yamiru replied, forcing himself to stay composed. "Monk, if I remember correctly, you and Delat came here thinking I might join Master Gohan's school and not miss this tournament, right?"
"Yes, that's right. Why?" He asked, puzzled.
Yamiru cast a cold glance at Tien Shinhan and Chiaotzu, who seemed unsurprised by his presence. "Oh, nothing. Just that two old acquaintances I've been wanting to see also guessed right."
The quarterfinal draw concluded quickly.
Match 1: Yamiru vs. General Hunger Tiger — a muscular humanoid tiger in a modified military uniform.
Match 2: Tien Shinhan vs. Fourteenth Monk.
Match 3: Son Goku vs. Jaco.
Match 4: Chiaotzu vs. a mysterious werewolf.
"You didn't have to break his arm," Fourteenth told Tien Shinhan.
(I will start calling him Fourteenth).
"Ridiculous." Tien Shinhan turned away.
Chiaotzu followed, looking up at him. "Tien, is that Yamiru the one Tao Pai Pai said must be killed at all costs?"
Tien Shinhan didn't reply. Instead, he muttered to himself, "I didn't expect you to grow so strong. Let's see if you can survive. Though I doubt it."
With some time left before the quarterfinals on the open-air main stage, Son Goku's stomach began to growl loudly.
"I heard hungry young Saiyans lose a lot of strength," Jaco teased. "Better fill up, or I won't hold back!"
"Heh, I don't need you to go easy on me," Son Goku said with a wide grin before dashing off to ask the monks at the martial arts temple for some food. "Jaco, Yamiru, Monk, aren't you eating?"
Tien and Chiaotzu were nowhere to be seen. Yamiru followed the monks, who led him to the dining hall.
The temple offered a variety of vegetarian dishes, such as stir-fried noodles and bean-based meals. Fortunately, the diverse ingredients on Dragon Ball Earth made the food quite palatable. Master Roshi seemed comfortable, eating at a steady pace. Son Goku, on the other hand, devoured his meal with the voracity of a true Saiyan, treating everything as delicious as long as it was reasonably edible.
Jaco, unwilling to be outdone, ate enthusiastically as well. Earthlings certainly had a knack for cooking, and the temple chef was especially skilled.
Yamiru, however, barely touched his food, his brow furrowed in thought.
---
The first match of the quarterfinals was about to begin. The open-air arena entrance was spacious, yet the incoming flood of spectators quickly packed the area. People poured in, eager to watch the event.
It wasn't so much that the World Martial Arts Tournament was particularly famous; rather, the tournament's venue, Papaya Island, was a popular tourist destination. Many visitors, upon hearing about the tournament and its affordable tickets, decided to attend for the novelty. After all, it only occurred once every five years.
Master Roshi, Dr. Omori, Bulma, and Tights were among the crowd entering the arena. The sisters were munching on ice cream, excited by the lively atmosphere.
"Heh heh, didn't expect you to show up, old turtle!"
A snide, grating voice suddenly came from the crowd. It sounded quite aged.
Master Roshi immediately recognized that voice. Turning around, his sunglasses reflected the familiar figure of Master Shen, clad in his dark green attire.
"What are you doing here?" Roshi asked coldly. "I thought you'd kicked the bucket by now."
Master Shen twirled his thin mustache and smirked. "I wouldn't dare die before pissing you off one last time, you old fool!"
"Don't flatter yourself," Roshi retorted. "You're not worth my anger. My patience and maturity far surpass yours. It's just as well you haven't died yet. If you went to the afterlife, you'd give our master a headache. Then again, Mutaito-sama is probably enjoying paradise, while you, on the other hand — heh — are definitely destined for Hell!"
When it came to sharp-tongued banter, few could rival the centuries-honed wit of the Turtle and Crane brothers.
As expected, Roshi's verbal jab struck a nerve. Master Shen's face twisted in fury as he pointed at Roshi, shouting, "You — you decrepit turtle! Just wait! You'll regret this later!" He stormed off in a huff, not even sparing a glance at the others.
Roshi snorted and ignored his old rival, though Master Shen's ominous parting words lingered in his mind. He mused silently, "What mischief is that old buzzard planning now?"
Dr. Omori looked on, baffled by the exchange. Meanwhile, Bulma and Tights continued to eat their ice cream in sync.
Suddenly, Tights paused. "Master Shen? If I remember correctly, that's bad news…"
Before she could elaborate, the bustling crowd pushed them forward, preventing further discussion.
---
The arena grew increasingly lively, the noise reaching a crescendo as spectators filled the stands. On the stage, the sunglasses-wearing host in a sharp suit grabbed his microphone and began explaining the tournament rules and providing Omori introductions to the eight quarterfinalists.
When the time was right, the host invited the representative from the Martial Arts Temple — the organizer of the event — to announce the official start of the 19th World Martial Arts Tournament. The representative turned out to be an elderly man with the face of a pug.
Holding the microphone, the pug-faced elder paused for a moment, surveying the eager eyes of the hundreds of spectators. Then, to everyone's astonishment, he barked, "Woof!" The amplified sound echoed throughout the arena.
The audience collectively collapsed in laughter.
The elder, unfazed, handed the microphone back to the host with an expressionless face, and walked off just as impassively as he'd arrived.
From the front rows, Master Shen stroked his mustache and sneered, "The monks of the Martial Arts Temple are as stubborn as ever. No wonder this tournament has turned into such a pathetic spectacle. Especially that little dog — still as foul-tempered as before. What, prejudice against anthropomorphic animals? So now he barks in front of everyone to spite them? Hah! I must say, I appreciate his attitude."
Meanwhile, in the corridor behind the arena's archway that connected to the competitors' waiting area, Yamiru and Son Goku were walking out. Yamiru was up first, while Goku and Roshi had come to spectate.
Yamiru, however, remained silent, clearly preoccupied with his thoughts.
Son Goku, his stomach visibly full, asked, "Yamiru, are you okay? It's your turn to fight."
Startled by the raucous cheers from the audience beyond the archway, Yamiru realized he couldn't even remember when he'd left the dining hall with Goku and the others. Something was definitely off. Slapping his cheeks, he nodded firmly and said, "I got it."
His opponent, a burly man known as General Hungry Tiger, stood nearby, waiting for the host to announce their names.
"Scared, little guy?" General Hungry Tiger mocked. When Yamiru didn't respond, his annoyance grew. "Fine, I'll teach you a lesson soon enough."
Looking around, Yamiru suddenly asked, "Where's Jaco?"
The monk sighed, "For some reason, Jaco suddenly got an upset stomach while eating. Perhaps the food didn't agree with him."
Finally suffering from Earth's cuisine? Yamiru thought, bemused. He hadn't noticed any issues earlier, but perhaps there was something in the vegetarian food that didn't sit well with Jaco.
"I hope Jaco recovers by the time it's his turn to fight," Goku said. He didn't mind winning due to his opponent being unwell, but he'd feel disappointed not to face them at their best.
"...Now, let's welcome the first competitors of the quarterfinals of the 19th World Martial Arts Tournament: General Hungry Tiger and Yamiru!"
The host's voice, amplified by the microphone, boomed across the arena.
The audience erupted in cheers. Tights, particularly enthusiastic, clapped and shouted loudly, drawing curious looks from Master Roshi and Dr. Omori.
General Hungry Tiger flexed his massive fists — each larger than Yamiru's head — making audible cracking sounds. "Don't worry, kid. The rules won't let me kill you."
Yamiru didn't respond, walking around the archway to find himself on the open stage.
Beyond the spacious platform, he saw the hundreds of spectators packed together, their cheers and shouts creating a deafening din. His gaze quickly found Dr. Omori and the others in the front row, who were cheering him on.
Bulma, seated on the railing, waved her small fist in encouragement when she noticed his eyes on her. Tights, meanwhile, was pointing fervently toward another part of the crowd, her shouts drowned out by the noise. Following her gesture, Yamiru's gaze landed on none other than Master Shen, standing prominently in the front row.
"Heh…" Master Shen, noticing Yamiru's stare, sneered. "So you came to the tournament after all. Not bad — you've grown quite a bit over the years."
The host, seeing both fighters ready, raised the microphone again. "Now, the first match — begins!"
"Heh…" General Hungry Tiger sneered as he noticed Yamiru suddenly glance sharply in another direction. "What a fool! If you think such tricks will work on me—"
Boom!
Before he could finish, his head exploded like a watermelon!
Crimson and white sprayed across the stage as Yamiru's eyes glowed with furious golden light.
Almost simultaneously, a dark shadow shot from the direction of the audience and landed in the Plataform. A tall figure appeared, leaping onto the stage. The sudden chaos made it impossible to tell whether the intruder had jumped in before or after General Hungry Tiger's gruesome demise.
The arena fell silent, stunned by the abrupt turn of events.
"Hmm…" Tao Pai Pai flicked his braid, kicking the headless, twitching corpse aside as he coldly locked eyes with Yamiru. "Another one dead because of you. Keep running, won't you? Heh…"
The crowd erupted in pandemonium, the once-excited atmosphere descending into chaos.
---
Hungry Tiger General: 13
Master Shen: 120
Master Roshi: 120
Tao Pai Pai: 115
Sato Yamiru: 111