The Tragic Desert Bandit

Bulma immediately walked over to Sun Mo and asked, "Wait, now that you're my boyfriend, aren't you coming home with me after we find the Dragon Balls?"

Sun Mo thought for a moment and said, "When we get back to West City, you'll have school, and I can't go with you. How about I come visit you in West City whenever I have time outside of training?"

"But Kame House is thousands of kilometers from West City..." Bulma protested reluctantly.

Sun Mo smiled. "Don't worry, my Log-Riding Flight takes less than an hour round trip."

What Bulma really wanted by bringing Sun Mo back was to show off to her classmates that she had a boyfriend. Since Sun Mo agreed to visit occasionally, taking him shopping would be more than enough to brag. That way, no one could call her a lonely single anymore.

Just hearing Sun Mo mention Log-Riding Flight still made Bulma's legs go weak. Still, that speed was incredible—faster than a plane. So she nodded and said, "Fine, it's a deal then. But whatever you do, don't pick up any bad habits from that old man..."

Once inside the castle, Ox-King quickly found the Dragon Ball and handed it to Bulma. Since Goku had blown up the car, Ox-King gave them an old clunker to get around.

Bulma drove, Sun Mo rode shotgun, and Goku chose to ride Flying Nimbus since he found it more comfortable. Chi-Chi watched Goku soar away on Flying Nimbus, waving goodbye reluctantly.

"Goodbye, Goku! Don't forget to come marry me when you grow up!"

Only one Dragon Ball remained to complete the set of seven. Not until Bulma and her group had vanished from sight did Master Roshi and Ox-King finally look away.

Ox-King said, "I'm sorry to have troubled you, Master, to come all this way! Look, the fire's out, Mount Frypan isn't hot anymore, and the castle's livable again. Why not stay at my place for a few days?"

Master Roshi waved his hand. "No, no, I appreciate the kind offer. But I prefer living alone—free and easy. Alright, Ox-King, I'll be off now. I have a yoga class this afternoon..."

"Very well, Master!"

Master Roshi opened a Hoi-Poi Capsule, released his plane, and flew away from Mount Frypan.

On a desolate Gobi desert.

Puar lowered his binoculars and excitedly reported to Yamcha beside him. "Young master, young master, I spotted a plane flying this way..."

Yamcha's face lit up at the news. "A plane? Great! Anyone who can afford a plane is way better than those broke merchant caravans!"

With that, he took the binoculars and looked through them. Master Roshi was leisurely piloting a civilian plane straight toward them.

Yamcha chuckled. "A flying-submarine hybrid too—definitely loaded. Puar, hand me the rocket launcher!"

"Young master, that plane's worth a fortune—don't blow it up!"

Yamcha nodded. "Relax, I've got this!"

A moment later, a rocket struck the plane's tail fin, and Master Roshi frantically wrestled the controls to land. Once on the ground, he let out a sigh of relief. "Whew, that was close—almost crashed..."

Just then, Yamcha appeared before him, rocket launcher slung over his shoulder. "Hand over everything valuable! Or else, you'll taste the power of the Desert Bandit, Yamcha!"

"Huh?"

Master Roshi blinked, then wore a helpless, amused expression. "Good grief, I've run into a highwayman."

Yamcha snapped, "No more talk! Get down here and hand over all your Hoi-Poi Capsules!"

The hatch opened, and Master Roshi hobbled out slowly, leaning on his cane, brushing dust off his clothes. But he didn't hand over any capsules.

Puar put on a brave front and said, "Hey, old man, didn't you hear? The young master told you to hand over all your Hoi-Poi Capsules. Hurry it up!"

"Heh, this young fellow, trying to rob me. Let me check your skills!"

Master Roshi beckoned to Yamcha with a finger, his expression full of the scrutiny one gives a junior.

But in Yamcha's eyes, it was contempt.

He was provoked by that dismissive attitude, planted his feet, and threw a punch at Master Roshi.

"Smack!"

Yamcha didn't see a thing, only felt the back of his head get tapped—not hard, but not soft—by something solid.

Stars exploded in his vision, and he flopped to the ground.

"Young master!" Puar cried out, then rushed to check Yamcha's injuries.

Master Roshi still knew how to hold back.

Yamcha rubbed the back of his head as he stood up, glaring furiously at Master Roshi.

"Damn it, old man, I just let my guard down. Taste my Wolf Fang Fist!"

With that, Yamcha used his real skill, lunging at Master Roshi like a starving wolf.

But Master Roshi merely sidestepped to dodge or gently blocked, occasionally poking Yamcha's joints or pressure points with his staff. Every one of Yamcha's attacks missed completely.

Yamcha, on the other hand, was panting heavily, with several sore and aching spots on his body.

He realized—this old man hadn't even moved his feet much the whole time!

Cold sweat instantly ran down his spine.

He'd run into a master!

Puar immediately checked Yamcha's injuries: "Young master, are you okay? Are you hurt..."

Master Roshi casually dusted off his clothes and said, "Hmm... your foundation's not bad, actually, but your path's all wrong..."

This old man was too strong; he really couldn't win. Yamcha was at a loss for a moment.

Master Roshi glanced at his watch and said, "Oh no, I've got to go, or I'll miss today's yoga class!"

With that, he quickly packed up the plane and stepped onto the spinning turtle he'd ridden in on.

Before leaving, Master Roshi gave one more piece of advice: "Young man, stop thinking about getting something for nothing. Wasting your strength and talent on robbery is just throwing your life away."

As he finished, the turtle beneath his feet began spinning at high speed, kicking up clouds of yellow sand. Master Roshi and the turtle were swept up in the sandstorm, a violent coughing sound rang out, and then they flew off without looking back.

The sky was thick with yellow sand, and Master Roshi's figure was already fading from sight.

Yamcha immediately shouted after him, "May I ask your name?"

A faint voice drifted down from the sky: "Everyone calls me Master Roshi, or Master Roshi..."

Yamcha's pupils contracted.

"Master Roshi!!"

At that very moment, an old clunker of a car burst through the swirling sand and slammed straight into Yamcha.

He was sent flying several meters before the car screeched to a halt.

Puar flew over in a panic: "Young master, are you okay?"

Yamcha looked up, glaring furiously at the old car, but the sand was too thick to see clearly—only a beat-up vehicle and its windshield wipers swinging back and forth.

At the same time, Bulma and Sun Mo's voices came from inside the car.

"Did we just hit something? Is there a speed bump in the desert?"

Sun Mo said helplessly, "How could there be a speed bump in the desert? Anyway, with all this sand, I don't want to get out. Just floor it and drive over!"

"Alright, then hold on tight!"

With that, Bulma stomped the gas pedal to the floor. The engine roared as the car rolled right over Yamcha, bounced once, and sped off into the distance without stopping.

"Ugh—!"

A scream rang out, then silence fell again.

In the sand pit, only a faintly twitching figure remained.