One Finger

The preliminary-round hall had been crudely divided into four sections, where brutal elimination matches were underway simultaneously.

There were no referees counting anyone out here, only winners and losers.

Shouts and cries of battle rose and fell amid the noise.

The dull thuds of fists hitting flesh, the sharp snaps of breaking bones, and the unwilling wails of the defeated mingled together, forming a violent symphony.

"Section Four, first match! Goku versus King Chaba!"

The moment the referee's voice fell, a commotion broke out in the crowd.

"King Chaba? The guy who once won the World Martial Arts Champion title?"

"Good heavens, the very first match is a heavyweight showdown like this?"

"I heard he was eliminated in the preliminaries three years ago. He's been training like a madman for the past three years, saying he's going to get his revenge."

"That kid named Goku looks kind of dimwitted, and he's not very tall either. He's probably in for a terrible time. He might even get beaten to death."

In the arena.

King Chaba wore a bright yellow training outfit, his muscles bulging like granite.

His face was thick with muscle, and he bared a mouthful of gleaming white teeth. A bloodthirsty excitement shone in his eyes.

"Heh heh heh, Goku..."

King Chaba clenched his fists, his knuckles cracking loudly.

"I've waited three whole years for this day!"

"For the past three years, I've stood beneath waterfalls to toughen my body and honed my fists in thorny forests!"

"To beat you, I mastered the ultimate Eight Hand Fist!"

"I've seen through every move you make!"

Compared with King Chaba's murderous intensity, Goku seemed far too relaxed.

He stood where he was, his hands hanging naturally at his sides. He hadn't even assumed a fighting stance.

He merely blinked and looked at his opponent calmly, as if he were watching a frog croaking by the roadside.

"Oh."

Goku replied indifferently.

"Then let's get started. I'm in a hurry to go eat."

That dismissive attitude instantly ignited King Chaba's fury.

"You bastard! Don't underestimate me! Go to hell!!"

King Chaba roared and sprang into action.

He moved incredibly fast, appearing to ordinary people as little more than a streak of yellow lightning.

"Eight Hand Fist Secret Technique: Thousand Hand Asura!!"

In an instant, King Chaba's arms whirled like a high-speed windmill, leaving countless afterimages in the air.

It was as if he'd grown eight arms—or even more.

His fists lashed out with a piercing whistle, tearing through the air and sealing off every avenue of escape.

Faced with the overwhelming assault, Goku moved.

No, to be precise, everyone thought he "seemed" to move.

There was no fancy dodge or fierce counterattack.

Goku simply raised his right hand slightly, fingers together like a sheathed blade.

Then, facing the charging King Chaba, he gave a light, casual wave.

"Whoosh..."

The motion was as gentle as shooing away a fly.

But the next moment, something terrifying happened.

The edge of his hand instantly cleaved through a visible current of air.

The compressed air became an invisible wall, crashing into King Chaba with the force of an avalanche.

King Chaba's countless fist-shadows vanished in an instant.

He felt as if he'd collided with a speeding train.

"Wh—"

King Chaba's eyes bulged. Before he could even scream, he fell straight backward, still frozen in his punching stance.

"Thud."

The heavy sound of his body hitting the ground echoed through the hall.

The entire place fell silent.

King Chaba, who had been shouting about revenge moments earlier, now lay unconscious, foaming at the mouth and rolling his eyes as his limbs twitched involuntarily.

The referee stood stunned for a full half minute. The whistle in his hand even fell to the ground.

Trembling, he walked over to check on King Chaba, then stammered as he raised his hand:

"Th-the winner is Goku!"

The crowd erupted.

"W-what kind of joke is this?"

"What just happened? Did he even touch King Chaba?"

"It looked like... he just waved his hand? Was that air pressure?"

Goku hopped happily and brushed the dust off his hands.

"All right! I won! Krillin, what did you think of that move?"

Behind a pillar in the distance.

Piccolo (Demon Jr.), wearing a white cape and a huge turban, suddenly clenched the hands he'd had folded across his chest. His nails dug deep into the muscles of his arms.

"That move just now..."

A trace of disbelief flashed in Piccolo's sharp eyes.

"He didn't use any burst of ki or advanced technique. It was purely the air pressure created by his body's speed and strength."

"Can physical prowess alone really take someone that far?"

"Goku, you've certainly gotten stronger. But..."

He gave a cold laugh and turned to leave, his cape billowing behind him.

Elsewhere.

"Section Two, Krillin, take the arena!"

Krillin's opponent was a gigantic sumo wrestler over two and a half meters tall and weighing at least four hundred pounds.

With every step he took, the arena floor groaned in agony, as if it might collapse at any moment.

"Baldy!"

The sumo wrestler smacked his mountain-like belly hard, producing a series of loud slaps. His voice boomed like a bell.

"You're unlucky to have run into me, Yokozuna the Bulldozer! I'll squash you into a meat patty!"