Although he couldn't sense any particularly strong ki from the living person, the very lack of such an overwhelming presence made Duan feel that this individual was far from ordinary. The reasoning was simple: the Grand Kai's unusual decision to allow a living person to compete, and the fact that this person was the only living participant present, suggested there was more to him than t the eye.
Hathaway, delicate and seemingly fragile, was completely ignored by Duan. He couldn't imagine any participant capable of concealing their true strength so flawlessly as to appear entirely ordinary. Such a feat would defy even his confidence and awareness as a seasoned warrior.
On the other hand, Jiam had far less on his mind. His singular focus was on reaching the finals as quickly as possible and reclaiming the championship from Duan in a spectacular fashion. To him, Taro posed no threat at all. After all, Taro was associated with the Northern Kai — whom Jiam had always dismissed due to his years of exposure to the flamboyant and absurd nature of the Western Kai's antics.
While Duan and Jiam processed their thoughts, Taro continued catching up with Bam nearby.
"Alright, make sure to give it your all," Taro finally said with a faint smile.
After 50 years, Taro could see Bam's progress at a glance using his ki-sensing technique. The young warrior's power level had risen to about 200,000. This technique, which revealed the true extent of an individual's energy regardless of concealnt, had been one of Taro's most valuable acquisitions during his ti on Planet Yardrat.
Progressing from over 10,000 to 200,000 in five decades was a remarkable feat, even if it seed modest compared to the teoric rise of the Z Fighters in the original story. Those characters had benefited from unique circumstances, peer competition, and a training environnt tailored to their needs.
Taro, by contrast, owed his own achievents not to raw talent but to the wisdom accumulated over three lifetis, his Sharingan from the Shinobi World, the three wishes he made on Nak, and the potential unlocked by the Holy Mage years ago.
That potential unlocking process, perford when the sorcerer's spell was still experintal, had its rough edges, with certain harmful side effects unrefined. Yet Taro had erged unscathed, as though the drawbacks had simply passed him by—a mystery that had remained unresolved even years later when he left Planet Yardrat.
Even so, Taro had reached a bottleneck with the Muken, unable to break through despite his imnse knowledge and experience. Reflecting on this, he wasn't envious of Bam's progress but rather appreciative of the young warrior's natural talent, which had been evident when they first t and later during their journey to the Asura Caverns.
Personal growth, Taro mused, was a matter of destiny. His foresight as a traveler, the advantages granted by the Sharingan, and his ability to manipulate circumstances in his favor were as much a part of his "talent" as any innate aptitude.
Bam, with his unchanged youthful appearance, smiled back. "If you're competing, then surely the championship is yours, Master Muten." His words brimd with confidence — not in himself but in the man he regarded as a living legend.
This confidence was well-founded. After all, Bam had witnessed firsthand the sheer power of Taro's and his monuntal Ki construct that had seed to descend like the hand of a god, shattering everything in its path. That display of unparalleled ki manipulation still lingered vividly in his mind, unmatched by anything he'd seen since.
Even if the Taro from fifty years ago were to participate in this tournant, Bam didn't believe that anyone present could withstand that unparalleled strike — the invincible palm that once seed to shake the heavens.
Let alone the Taro of today, fifty years further along in his journey.
If soone like Bam could make such drastic strides in strength over these fifty years, what of Taro, who already stood as a figure akin to a god back then?
Seeing the unwavering confidence Bam had in him, Taro couldn't help but shake his head. "You're quite optimistic about , aren't you, kid?"
Despite appearing to be in his early twenties, Taro addressed Bam, who looked like a man in his thirties, as "kid" with a natural ease. Bam, in turn, adopted a respectful deanor, smiling sheepishly. "It's not just — Lord Kai also seems pretty confident that the championship is already yours."
Hathaway watched their interaction from the side, finding it amusing. The contrast was striking: one who looked older but was actually a junior, and another who appeared as young as herself but carried the air of an elder. For the first ti, Hathaway was acutely aware of the fact that her husband was a man over a hundred years old.
Raising her eyebrows slightly as the thought amused her, Hathaway's gaze softened as she looked down at the sleeping child in her arms. They had wandered around Grand Kai's planet earlier, and now, after waiting in the crowd for so long, Tam had dozed off in her embrace. The serene sight filled her heart with a deep tenderness.
At that mont, the relentless music ca to an abrupt halt.
All eyes turned in unison toward the elderly man with a white beard standing by the sound system. His finger rested on the speaker's power button, and a sense of anticipation filled the air.
"Finally, it's starting!"
"I was getting impatient!"
"This ti, I'll defeat more opponents for sure!"
Over a hundred martial artists, all bearing golden halos above their heads, exchanged fiery glances. So were eager to test themselves against the reigning champions, while others had no such ambitions. Many had never even participated in a tournant before, making their motivations varied.
Taro, however, harbored no such desire for challenges. He wasn't here to prove himself but to seek guidance from the Grand Kai. Winning the championship was rely a matter of course — a stepping stone to fulfilling the Grand Kai's conditions to teach him.
The Grand Kai rose from his reclining chair, his reflective sunglasses catching the light as he scanned the crowd of whispering contestants. Wherever his gaze landed, silence followed.
"One hundred and twenty-eight contestants," he announced. "It's ti. The arena is prepared, and the audience has begun entering. Follow ." His deep, resonant voice reached every ear effortlessly.
He turned, pushed open the Mansion's large doors, and stepped inside.
The reigning champion, Duan, was the first to follow. His white-haired figure moved with calm confidence, bandaged arms crossed over his chest as he strode forward. Not far behind him, Jiam, unwilling to be outdone, hurried after.
The rest of the crowd surged forward with equal enthusiasm, including Mitsurugi, each eager to demonstrate the fruits of decades — or more — of relentless training. For martial artists who had devoted their afterlife to their craft, this tournant was the ultimate stage.
"Master Muten," Bam turned to Taro, then glanced at Hathaway and the child in her arms. Taro had already introduced them as his wife and son earlier. Although puzzled as to why Taro had brought non-combatants, Bam refrained from comnting.
"Go on ahead," Taro gestured with a slight nod.
Bam didn't press further and quickly joined the others.
At the Mansion's entrance, the Northern Kai remained behind, his short, stout figure standing in contrast to the tall contestants streaming inside. The Western Kai had already left with Jiam.
Taro approached, holding Hathaway's hand as she cradled the sleeping Tam. Seeing them, the Northern Kai sighed, rubbing his head. "Fine, fine. I'll look after your wife and kid. Happy now? Honestly, I'm the Northern Kai, not a babysitter..."
Hathaway, slightly embarrassed, whispered, "There's no need. I can take Tam to the audience area myself."
"Don't decline his rare act of kindness," Taro said teasingly.
The Northern Kai rolled his eyes. "Don't think I didn't notice! If Bam hadn't co over earlier, you'd have asked yourself!"
Having shared over eighty years of friendship, the two spoke without pretense, their banter lighthearted.
Eventually, the four of them stepped through the doors into the dimly lit corridor beyond.
Boom. The Mansion's massive doors slowly shut behind them, sealing the space in shadow.
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