I Will Make You Die With Rhythm!

"You... what did you say?" The smile on King Piccolo's face froze instantly. He even wondered if his ears were playing tricks on him, completely caught off guard.

This insignificant human actually dared to call me... weak?

Master Roshi, however, glared at Broly with a dark expression.

The pain on his face made him wince through gritted teeth.

But what truly set Roshi's blood boiling was Broly's traitorous move just now.

"What the hell are you doing, Broly?! You nearly scared the crap out of me!!!" Roshi fumed, abandoning all pretense of a dignified master. He jabbed a finger at Broly's nose and bellowed at the top of his lungs, his beard bristling with fury.

"If I hadn't done that, you'd have died using that thing called the Evil Containment Wave, wouldn't you?" Broly faced Roshi's rage without a shred of guilt or fear, instead countering with a dead-serious expression.

His clear eyes locked straight onto Roshi.

Master Roshi: "..."

Like a bucket of ice water dumped over his head, Roshi's fury evaporated in an instant. He opened his mouth but found himself utterly speechless, sinking into an awkward, heavy silence.

The Evil Containment Wave consumed the user's entire life force—that was an ironclad truth proven by Master Mutaito's own death.

"So I guessed right. Good thing I stopped you!" Seeing Roshi's reaction, Broly sighed in relief as if he'd solved a huge problem, then took another happy bite of his chicken leg.

"You... you little brat!" Roshi's face flushed red and pale by turns, his chest heaving violently. "I don't know whether to be touched or to beat the crap out of you! Yes! You saved my life! But we've lost our only chance to seal him! Not only that, you crushed the only Rice Cooker we had! What are we supposed to use against him now?!"

"If I hadn't crushed it, you wouldn't have given up and kept looking for a chance to use that Evil Containment Wave, right?" Broly blinked, countering with clear logic once more.

Roshi was choked silent again, left to glare and huff with ragged breaths.

"I don't want you to die. Even if it seems like you can be revived with the Dragon Balls..." Broly pouted, his face showing clear displeasure as he muttered under his breath, "But while you're gone, who's going to cook for me? Who's going to prepare my food? I'll go hungry."

Roshi's forehead bulged with veins, his teeth grinding audibly. He couldn't hold back anymore—he stepped forward, jumped up, and slammed a solid headbutt right into Broly!

And here I was, almost touched by your damn words just now!

But no—you little bastard just want me as your personal chef!

You just want my food!

"And another thing," Broly rubbed his forehead as if nothing had happened, then suddenly remembered something important and added, "Before you die, make sure to leave me your inheritance. Put my name in your will early. The house, the food stock in the Hoi-Poi Capsules, and your savings..."

"Even if I put your name in now... I doubt we'll leave here alive to enjoy any of it." Roshi let out a long, helpless sigh, slowly turned around, and stared with grave intensity at the increasingly furious King Piccolo across from them.

The air reeked of murder.

"Are you two... done talking?" King Piccolo watched the absurd farce between Roshi and Broly with keen interest, his gaze at Roshi dripping with venom and malice. "That old bastard, weren't you so cocky just now? I never thought anyone besides that old ghost Mutaito would know the Evil Containment Wave! Too bad—your only chance has been ruined by your fine grandson here! Next, I'll make you old geezer deeply understand what it means to wish you were dead! I'll torment you slowly, rhythmically, until you regret ever being born!"

"Broly... listen to me!" Knowing there was no way out, Roshi took a deep breath, suppressed his fear and despair, and lowered his voice to a deadly serious, almost pleading tone as he quickly instructed, "In a moment, I'll throw this old life of mine into holding him off as best I can! Don't worry about anything else—turn around and run as fast as you can! Get as far away as possible! Never come back!"

"Got it." Broly remained as carefree as ever, nodding readily.

At the same time, he pulled the leftover chicken bone from his mouth, pinching it between his fingers as if considering what to do with it.

"Now then... let me think carefully about how to take you old bastard apart piece by piece! Hahaha! You'll die with style! That's the price for daring to use the Evil Containment Wave on me, King Piccolo!!" King Piccolo opened his gaping maw and let out a wild, twisted laugh, brimming with vengeful glee and cruel anticipation.

But just as King Piccolo threw his head back in that moment of utter arrogance—

"Whoosh!"

A faint whistle cut through the air!

Broly flicked his finger lightly, and the chicken bone, still slick with his saliva and grease, shot out like a bullet from a barrel. Defying all reason, it tore through the air and slammed straight into King Piccolo's laughing face with pinpoint accuracy!

Incredibly fast!

Fast to the extreme!

King Piccolo didn't even have time to react. He only saw a blur, an unknown object rapidly growing in his pupils, and then—he took a direct hit!

"Smack!"

A crisp, slightly sticky sound rang out.

The chicken bone, like a tiny battering ram, struck King Piccolo's high-bridged nose square in the center with brutal force!

"Crack!"

King Piccolo's nose let out a sickening crunch.

The nasal bone had clearly given way—fractured!

A searing pain shot through his entire body like an electric current!

At the same time, King Piccolo's arrogant grin froze solid on his face, like a cheap green mask plastered on.

No, to be precise, his smile didn't vanish entirely—it instantly transferred to Broly's face across from him.

Broly watched King Piccolo clutching his nose, his face twisted in agony, and laughed even brighter and happier than the demon king had, flashing a row of neat white teeth.

It was Broly who had casually flicked the leftover chicken bone as a weapon, hitting his target with perfect precision.