"Hey, Krillin, go chop so wood!"
"Trying to slack off from today's 'training'?"
"Senior brother's ruler won't show you any rcy!"
"Hahaha..."
Amid the jeering laughter of a bunch of tall monks, short monks, fat monks, skinny monks, big monks, and small monks, the short, bald-headed Krillin silently shouldered his basket, grabbed his wood-cutting knife, rolled up the sleeves of his monk robes, tightened his leggings, and walked out through the heavy gates of the temple.
Once he was far enough away from the chanting and the mockery behind him, Krillin let out a long breath. The scent of sandalwood faded into the distance, and the pressure in his chest lessened. Always bullied by so-called senior brothers, how could Krillin possibly be interested in Buddhist teachings? How could he feel any affection for Orin Temple?
"Ugh, it's a sha the temple forbids us from joining the Martial Arts Association's tests on our own... and I don't have the money to buy gear from Virtual Earth Network Inc. either."
With the basket strapped to his back, Krillin looked up at the cloudless blue sky and sighed deeply. Though still young, he was already heavy-hearted. At tis like this, he couldn't help but think of the chubby little swordsman he'd run into at the tavern at the foot of the mountain not long ago. That kid wasn't much older than him, but he could make those arrogant senior brothers flinch just by showing up—they were angry but too scared to do anything about it.
If only I had that kind of strength too...
Krillin sighed again. As a novice monk at Orin Temple, until he ca of age, all he could do was chant, ditate, and take on chores like chopping wood and fetching water. Real martial arts training was out of reach. And that was exactly the stage Krillin was stuck in now.
He envied those with real martial arts skills. After all, weren't his senior brothers only able to push him around because they had power?
Aside from that chubby swordsman, another image surfaced in his mind—a small boy with a tail. That match he'd seen on the live broadcast had truly blown his mind. It wasn't just Goku's extraordinary skills at such a young age—it was also who he was. The disciple of Gohan, one of the greatest martial artists alive, and the grand-disciple of the legendary Muten—who wouldn't envy that?
Like always, Krillin walked into the mountain woods outside the temple, ready to do his daily task: chopping firewood.
As a young monk without much training, he couldn't go too deep into the mountains, so he stopped at his usual spot, set down his basket, pulled out his knife, spat on the blade, and was about to pick out so saplings to chop before gathering dry branches to bring back.
Suddenly, he sniffed the air (despite having no nose)...
"What's that sll? It's so good!" Krillin put down the knife in surprise. Though born without a nose, he still had a faint sense of sll, and if he wanted to, he could shut it off completely. Right now, however, he could sll sothing thick and rich wafting through the air.
It was the sll of roasted at!
Krillin had seen those scoundrel senior brothers sneaking roasted at before, and he'd never forgotten that drool-inducing aroma.
But how could there be at roasting in this mostly uninhabited mountain forest?
Was so senior brother secretly hunting and cooking again?
Curious, Krillin picked up his knife and followed the faint aroma drifting to his nostrils, stepping through the forest, one step at a ti. After walking a long way, he arrived at a small slope. Climbing up with both hands and feet, he peeked over the top—and his jaw dropped in shock.
What did he just see?!
A bird... eating a... roasted wolf?
Krillin's worldview was completely shattered. A bird eating a wolf? Was he dreaming? How could sothing like this happen in the real world? He was so stunned that he dropped his knife, which clattered down the slope. That made him jump—would this bird that could eat wolves... eat him too?
The more he thought about it, the more plausible it seed, and the more terrified he beca. His knees began to shake. But the red bird gorging on the roasted wolf didn't seem to notice him at all.
It hadn't seen him?
Krillin breathed a sigh of relief—then imdiately felt contempt for the red bird. What kind of at-eating bird can't even notice soone sneaking up on it? How did it even manage to catch a wolf in the first place?
But as he was thinking that, the red bird—its beak slick with oil—glanced at him.
What kind of look was that?
Contempt?!
A bird, contemptuous of ?!
The Phoenix, disgusted by the tasteless wolf at it had casually hunted, had been irritated by the lack of the purple-furred bear it had been searching for. It was in a foul mood, and when it noticed a little bald human sneaking a peek at it, it beca even more displeased.
"You could ask him if he has heard anything about the purple-furred bear's whereabouts," the voice of Jarvis echoed from the silver-white necklace hanging around the Phoenix's neck.
The Phoenix wasn't lacking in intelligence—of course, it wasn't. It spent its days with Jarvis, a bird who was always scheming for ways to drink and eat at, so it couldn't be lacking in smarts. It understood human speech as well. After hearing Jarvis's suggestion, the bird rolled its eyes and, with one flap of its wing, knocked the nearby roast rack flying. With a single swoop, it turned into a red fireball and, in the blink of an eye, flew straight to the little bald-headed Krillin on the small dirt slope.
"You, you, you... I didn't an to spy on you!" Krillin stamred, trembling in fear as he looked up at the red, strange bird flapping its wings in the air. He was so scared that he nearly wet himself. He quickly dropped to the ground and kowtowed, afraid that the bird might eat him if it was displeased. Noticing the woodcutting knife still in his hand, Krillin threw it away in panic. When he looked up again, the Phoenix was rely floating in front of him, staring silently... How could a bird talk?!
Krillin, his heart filled with dread, regretted his curiosity. What had he done? He had yet to see the outside world, and now he was about to beco food for a bird? How tragic!
"Little monk, do you know where the 'purple-furred bear' appears in these mountains?"
Krillin jumped at the sound, looking around frantically—there was no one nearby! He looked back at the Phoenix and thought it might be so kind of monster that could speak human language. It wasn't until Jarvis repeated the question that Krillin realized it was the necklace hanging from the bird's neck that was "speaking."
The bird gave a few "Aung" sounds and stared at Krillin, seemingly urging him to answer Jarvis's question.
"Ah... ah? Purple-furred bear? I think I've heard the senior brothers ntion it..." Krillin replied, unsure. No sooner had he spoken, a beam of light shot out from the necklace on the bird's neck, projecting a 3D holographic map of the mountain range. Jarvis continued to press Krillin, asking where the purple-furred bear might be.
The Phoenix flapped its wings eagerly, watching closely at the map projected by Krillin and Jarvis.
At that mont, it seed that while Jarvis was projecting the map, he had also scanned Krillin's appearance, as the necklace in the bird's neck began processing information: Bald, no hair, no nose, estimated age around six or seven years old, na unknown... The information matched a person on the database.
"The purple-furred bear seems to be... it seems to be..." Krillin muttered as he stared at the holographic map of Orin Mountain, recalling what the senior brothers had talked about.
The Phoenix flapped its wings excitedly, already imagining the taste of the purple-furred bear. Suddenly, the necklace flickered again, and Jarvis's voice ca through: "May I ask, little monk, what is your na?"
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