The tournant in Central City had paused for now. The bar patrons snatched the remote from the waiter's hands, flipped through several channels, and found the live broadcast of the West City division. Just one look and everyone was shocked:
"Huh? They actually broke the ring? And it's only the quarterfinals? A match this intense already?"
As they paid closer attention—
"Whoa, how co there's such a little kid out there?"
"He may be young, but damn he's fierce! Look at that technique, that speed..."
The patrons were even more amazed. On the screen, a long-tailed boy and a young man in Muten School martial arts garb were going at it in a heated fight. What should've been a completely one-sided match was actually back-and-forth! Who the hell was that kid?
Thinking that, soone couldn't help but glance over at the chubby kid scarfing down food nearby.
Thanks to the live broadcast's comntary, everyone finally realized—the two fighting in the ring were both disciples of the Muten Master!
Yajirobe didn't usually care about this kind of chaotic stuff. He was focused on the pile of food and booze in front of him. Despite being young, the kid had quite a taste for alcohol and always snuck a bit when he could. But when he heard people around him ntioning "Muten Master", his chopsticks froze mid-air.
"Muten Master..." Yajirobe reached with his other hand and grabbed one of the two blades at his waist—a sword with a texture that looked like a mix between tal and wood, just like the day he received the na "Robe" from his master. Robe was the na of a legendary divine sword said to be able to cut through anything.
This sword had been a gift from the Muten Master.
At the ti, his master had told him to never forget it for as long as he lived. To pass the blade—and the legacy—on to his own disciple one day.
"Slurp—" Yajirobe's cheeks were stuffed full as he finally turned his gaze to the TV, right in ti to see Son Goku being sent flying by a kick from Ilip, the Muten School fighter.
"Tch. What's the big deal? At that level, I could kill him with one slash from my Muten Blade..."
The chubby kid sneered to himself. But just then, on the screen, the kicked-away Son Goku rolled across the ring, agile as ever. He sprang up, clapped his palms to his waist, opened his mouth as if to shout, and pushed both hands forward. You could clearly see the air distort into a "heatwave" in front of his palms—then, from that heatwave, a faint white line surged straight toward Ilip.
In a close-up shot, Ilip looked utterly shocked. At the last second, he barely dodged the wave and white line that blasted out of Son Goku's palms. As it grazed him, a burn-like mark appeared on his exposed arm.
Right at that mont, a group of people entered the bar—bald heads and monk robes. They were clearly martial monks, judging by their presence. But the spectators inside were all glued to the match on TV and didn't notice them.
Behind the monks was a short, sneaky-looking bald kid, glancing all around like it was his first ti seeing the outside world. The tall, skinny monk in front of him smacked him square on the head. Being bald, the slap made an incredibly crisp smack that even made Yajirobe's ears twitch. He turned his head.
"What are you looking at?" the monk glared at Yajirobe, then turned and scolded the kid he slapped, "Quit looking around like a damn rat—you're disgracing Orin Temple!"
You're the disgrace, pal...
Yajirobe squinted and muttered in his mind. The little monk who'd been hit glanced over at Yajirobe, who curled his lip and turned back to the TV.
On screen, Ilip was clutching his burned arm and seed to be saying sothing to Son Goku, face full of astonishnt. If Yajirobe understood Spring Rain dialect, he would've realized Ilip was saying:
"Impossible... You saw use it once and learned the Kahaha already?!"
Son Goku grinned sheepishly. He was clearly exhausted, but excited too.
"That move was aweso!" The little guy frowned and looked at his own hands, a little regretful.
"Too bad... I don't think I brought out its full power..."
Ilip stood there dazed. Son Goku didn't attack. After a mont of complex expressions, Ilip finally sighed.
"You couldn't bring out the true power of the Kahaha because you're still too young—your ki reserves are too low. And... you don't really understand the true essence of Ki techniques yet. You just instinctively tapped into your latent inner ki thanks to your natural talent... A genius, huh. My master always said I was a genius too, but..."
He trailed off and shook his head, looking at Son Goku with a complicated expression.
"If it weren't for your surprised reaction when I used the Kahaha earlier, I would've thought Old Man Gohan had already taught you..."
Son Goku tilted his head, confused by all the rambling.
"Grandpa's never used that move before. He knows it too?"
Ilip looked at Son Goku's pure, honest face—clearly not lying or joking—and could only smile bitterly without answering.
"Um, could you two, like, keep fighting? Please?" the referee interjected. The audience couldn't hear the conversation going on in the ring, and the chatter was dragging on too long.
Ilip composed himself, took a deep breath, and stepped forward. He looked seriously at Son Goku.
"Originally, I didn't plan on using this next move against soone who hasn't even mastered ki blasts... but I can't hold back anymore. Son Goku, you'll one day beco a warrior I look up to. But right now... I won't go easy!"
Son Goku's tired eyes lit up with excitent.
"A new strong move?!"
"Heh..." Ilip couldn't help but chuckle. He was about to use a surefire trump card, yet the kid wasn't even a bit worried—only thrilled at the chance to fight a stronger opponent.
That kind of mindset... was honestly kinda enviable.
"Muken—Threefold! Son Goku, this is your loss!!"
Boom!
Ilip lowered his stance. Sothing in his body seed to undergo a qualitative change. His eyes sharpened, locking dead-on to Goku—
Then, with a sudden flicker, he vanished from where he stood and appeared right in front of Goku!
"So fast!"
Reviews
All reviews (0)