Under everyone's gaze, Piccolo and Kami, disguised as Mr. Shen, slowly stepped onto the ring, where a fierce battle had just ended.
They stood facing each other, their eyes meeting in midair.
There were no polite pre-match greetings. The air filled with a cold, murderous tension, utterly unlike the atmosphere during Son Goku and Tien Shinhan's match.
They exchanged a few brief words that sounded full of hostility to the onlookers, yet made no sense to them. The animosity in their eyes seemed almost tangible.
At the referee's signal, the battle began!
Their clash heated up in an instant!
Their fighting styles were unlike those of ordinary martial artists. Their movements were bizarre and unpredictable, their speed astonishing, and their strength even more incredible. Every collision boomed like a muffled explosion, while the ring cracked and crumbled beneath their feet.
After a few exchanges, both seemed to sense something familiar in the other's techniques—a quality that came from the same source.
Piccolo suddenly leaped backward, putting some distance between them. His green face was filled with uncertainty.
Piccolo stared fixedly at Kami, whose breathing remained steady. Then he shouted in the ancient, obscure language of the Namekians, "I finally know your true identity. No wonder your fighting style is so much like mine! What are you doing down here, you old Kami?"
Kami wore an expression that suggested he'd expected this. With a soft chuckle, he replied in the same ancient language, "So you finally figured it out, King Piccolo! Do I really need to explain why I came down here?"
"Are you trying to kill me?" Piccolo gritted out through clenched teeth.
The two argued fiercely on the ring in a language no one else could understand. The tension between them was palpable.
The referee could only stare in