Twenty-nine days passed, one by one, under the watchful gaze of all Earthlings.
Martial artists across the globe were staring at that number, training rigorously each day, tempering their stamina and refining their inner ki according to the cultivation thods of their respective schools—as though racing against ti itself!
Countdown: 28 days.
Up in the Lookout, Piccolo’s power had long surpassed that of the Kami. But he could clearly feel that the Kami’s martial arts comprehension was far deeper than his own. Moreover, the Lookout contained all sorts of training thods. In pursuit of greater strength, Piccolo set aside his pride and began learning from the Kami.
The gene-optimization serum now being promoted on Earth was specifically designed for human physiology—it had no effect on Nakians. Even for hybrids like Tien, who had Earthling and Three-Eyed Tribe heritage, the effect was sowhat diminished. Piccolo could not tolerate being left behind by Goku and the others.
Countdown: 26 days.
Down below, Krillin had found Tien, Chiaotzu, and Yajirobe. Including Goku, these were the sa comrades who had once trained together on the Lookout—they shared a solid friendship. Over the course of nearly a month, the group had reunited to train together once more.
Yajirobe’s sword was simply too fast, too vicious.
Initially, Krillin and Tien had assud they held the upper hand in power and didn’t really consider Yajirobe a peer. But after a round of sparring, the other man’s blade techniques—mysteriously fused with the Muken—turned out to be absolutely terrifying.
Countdown: 24 days.
Shhh—
A streak of white light sliced down from above like a silk ribbon. Krillin had closed his eyes, but suddenly a jolt shot through his heart. A flicker of light flashed through the dark surface of his mind. He narrowly dodged in ti—the sensation of death grazed past his left wrist and vanished.
Thump.
Krillin’s left hand fell to the ground. Silently, he popped a senzu bean, and his hand regenerated instantly.
Tien, who had been watching the match, looked at Yajirobe—who had just sheathed his sword and resud eating a at bun—with a stunned expression and whispered,
"Incredible... Yajirobe, your swordsmanship seems to transcend conventional martial arts. It’s like a path of its own... Combined with Muken and the Muten Blade bestowed by Master, it possesses unbelievable divine power!"
Krillin let out a deep breath and nodded with admiration.
"I’ve heard Master talk about a move called the Destructo Disk. Goku and I even practiced it together. It’s fierce—capable of cutting down foes much stronger than the user—but it’s slow and the trajectory is obvious. Against ki masters, it’s like tossing a glowing balloon at your enemy in the dark. Not very practical, so we stopped training it."
"But your Muten Slash is different. Though it incorporates ki and Muken, at its core, it’s still your swordsmanship. However fast your blade is, that’s how fast the slash is—that’s practically a powered-up version of the Destructo Disk!" the bald little monk exclaid in awe.
Mouth still full of at bun, Yajirobe mumbled,
"Oh, really? Destructo Disk... what’s that? Can you tell about it?"
Countdown: 20 days.
Wearing casual Earthling clothes, Vegeta stepped out of a branch of the "Martial Arts Exchange Association" in the city. He had already inquired about the conditions for joining and decided to officially enroll during this year’s annual assessnt. Then, he returned straight to Launch’s ho.
Having stayed on Earth for nine days now, he spent every day absorbing this "low-level" planet’s information online. At first, each discovery shocked him, but gradually he beca numb to it, even accustod. In ti, he ca to understand more and more: this place called Earth was unlike any other planet in the universe. It held unmatched martial philosophies and cultivation experiences. It was destined to beco the cradle for the universe’s strongest warriors.
And it was all thanks to the one known as the Muten Roshi.
During these nine days, he had researched everything available online about the Muten Roshi. Though information was sparse, by connecting it with the encounter he’d had more than twenty years ago on Planet Vegeta with soone nad "Muten Roshi," and the confrontation nine days ago on Muten Island... it was clear: this was a being shrouded in mystery and power beyond comprehension.
A being capable of conversing with Lord Beerus, the God of Destruction, yet living in quiet seclusion on a backwater planet like Earth.
And then there was Frieza, boasting across the galaxy as so self-proclaid "Emperor of the Universe."
What a joke.
Aside from that, Vegeta also looked up everything about Son Goku and Kakarot. For the latter, there was only so data from the "Muten Tournant" five years ago, plus a few records from the Muten Tower afterward—not much to go on. But the information about Son Goku? That was endless...
At first, Vegeta didn’t understand. He even got hooked on one of the fan websites built by Goku’s admirers. It took him a while to realize what he’d been reading, and when he did, he was furious. But in the end, he stayed and gathered all the available intel on Goku from that site.
The die-hard fans had compiled far more reliable data on Goku than anything Vegeta could dig up himself.
Fifteen years ago, at the 20th World Martial Arts Tournant, Goku first appeared before the people of Earth. In the videos and photos from that ti, Goku looked very young—smaller and more delicate than other martial artists of his age. This made Vegeta nod quietly to himself. Saiyans had a long childhood before entering their extended pri, but once they hit puberty, their growth was explosive.
As Vegeta continued reading Goku’s records, his heart grew heavier. Who could have imagined that a low-class warrior, born with pitiful battle power, would achieve so much on this distant planet?
The Muten Tower...
Walking through the streets, brushing past all sorts of city dwellers, Vegeta kept thinking about that na. He now understood why Earthlings could display such extraordinary combat power. It was all because of that supre technique learned in the Muten Tower—Muken.
And again, it all led back to that Muten man.
He was terrifying—and far too mysterious.
A martial art that could directly multiply battle power? Double it? Multiply it tenfold? Even dozens of tis?
Every ti Vegeta thought about it, a chill ran down his spine. No wonder his team had been completely annihilated! No wonder the Ginyu Force had been defeated so easily! No wonder the Earthlings, even knowing Frieza’s army would descend upon the planet soon, weren’t in total despair!
Suddenly—
"Hm?" As Vegeta passed by a park, he abruptly stopped and turned toward a grove of trees. His pupils narrowed sharply. "That old man?! The one Muten ntioned... his junior disciple?" At that mont, Tsuru glanced his way, then disappeared into the woods.
Vegeta recalled what Taro had said on the island that day.
His expression shifted several tis before he let out a grunt and changed course. With a light step, he soared into the air, heading toward the woods.
Countdown: 18 days...
Countdown: 12 days...
10 days...
9 days...
8 days...
It wasn’t just martial artists anymore—ordinary people, too: office workers, civil servants, part-tirs, waiters, even housewives and students were all watching the countdown. So prayed in secret. So prayed to gods or clung to their beliefs. And so... simply prayed to the Muten man.
Earth would not lose.
Earth could not lose.
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