Just a Bad Feeling

Piccolo's mouth twitched, and he remained silent.

His lips pressed into a thin line as his gaze swept back and forth across Soro's face twice.

Your previous combat power... on the surface it was only 1,000, but in reality, it was 50,000.

You want to lower your combat power to 3,000 to fight me now?

Do you think I'll believe that?

If I believed a single word you said, I wouldn't be the Great Demon King Piccolo.

Piccolo lifted his chin slightly, his expression blank.

"Sorry," Piccolo said flatly, his voice cold, "I don't have the time."

"Do you know what the consequences are for refusing someone who used a Flash Technique to blind Vegeta?" Soro teased with a smirk, tilting his head to look at Piccolo.

Piccolo's expression stiffened, and his face turned exceptionally ugly in an instant.

His pupils constricted, and a faint swallowing sound escaped his throat.

I almost forgot about such an important matter.

Piccolo shifted his gaze from Soro's face to the distant horizon.

Then he turned it back.

"In that case... I'd be happy to oblige," Piccolo quickly changed his tune, his voice a few decibels lower than before.

He pushed off the rock with his feet, his body springing backward to land in an open clearing.

Soro followed and stood still opposite him.

The two were about 15 meters apart.

The wind in the valley whistled between them, kicking up a cloud of dust.

The battle was on the verge of breaking out.

"Demon Flash!"

"Special Beam Cannon!"

"Ah—"

Accompanied by Piccolo's shouts.

In the end, Soro kicked Piccolo square in the chest.

Piccolo's body flew backward, shattering two boulders before crashing heavily to the ground.

Soro was panting heavily now, his chest heaving violently as he felt waves of exhaustion.

In this battle, without Soro activating [Combat Power ×50], his energy was nearly overdrawn.

He had even sustained minor injuries.

After all, fighting a Piccolo with nearly 4,000 combat power while capped at 3,000 was quite dangerous.

Soro didn't hesitate any longer and immediately pressed the [Combat Power ×50] skill button.

The power within his body surged instantly, and the exhaustion was swept away.

Piccolo wasn't a completely good person yet; he hadn't experienced the baptism of death.

What if he tried to counter-kill while I was weak...

Once the [Combat Power ×50] skill button lit up, a sense of security welled up in Soro, and the muscles in his back relaxed.

He straightened up and brushed the dust off his body.

"Not bad, Piccolo." Soro praised him highly, giving him a thumbs-up, "Truly remarkable."

Piccolo: "..."

Piccolo lay on the ground, limbs splayed, his chest still aching.

He didn't want to speak, shifting his gaze to the sky to watch the drifting white clouds.

"You're the 101st person to make me feel tired!" Soro gave Piccolo a thumbs-up, a sincere smile on his lips.

Piccolo was slightly taken aback.

"Who were the first 100?" Piccolo asked curiously.

"No comment!" Soro replied indifferently.

Piccolo gave Soro a deep look, his eyes rolling slightly and his lips moving, but he said nothing.

In this battle, Piccolo had felt it too.

Soro had indeed suppressed his own combat power to around 3,000 and hadn't cheated.

The force of every punch and kick had been precise, never exceeding that range.

However, what puzzled Piccolo was: why would he do such a thing?

What is the point of doing this?

Piccolo's brow furrowed, his gaze lingering on Soro's face for two seconds.

"Train hard!" Soro smiled, his tone turning serious. "Namek is by no means as simple as you imagine! If you don't want to die, you had better defeat me."

"You... what exactly do you know?" Piccolo asked hurriedly, sitting up from the ground and staring intently at Soro.

"I just have a bad premonition." Soro shook his head lightly, his gaze drifting toward the distant sky.

He said nothing more and immediately took to the air.

"Whoosh!"

Soro flew away from the scene, his figure growing smaller and smaller in the sky until he vanished behind the clouds.

Piccolo sat on the ground, head tilted back as he watched the direction in which Soro had disappeared, remaining silent.

Soro returned to the headquarters of Capsule Corp.

The first thing he did upon returning was to summarize the combat experience from his fight with Piccolo.

He sat on a stone bench in the courtyard, eyes closed, replaying every detail of the battle in his mind.

Then, he dove straight back into the Gravity Training Room to begin a new round of training.

The next person he intended to challenge was Son Goku.

Soro stood before the main console, his fingers hovering over the buttons as the corners of his mouth curled upward.

Frieza Planet 79.

It was the 18th day since Vegeta had left Earth.

At the planet's base, two aliens were playing chess.

Their fingers pinched the pieces, moving them across the board.

"Beep! Beep! Beep!"

Just then, an alarm suddenly blared, and red lights began to flash throughout the corridor.

The two aliens playing chess looked up simultaneously, immediately glancing toward the source of the alarm.

They exchanged a look.

"Who is coming?"

"Could it be Lord Frieza?"

"That can't be right, didn't Lord Frieza just leave?"

"It's a spherical spaceship; it's a combatant!"

"That signal belongs to Vegeta."

"That's strange, we didn't receive any word of his return! Something must have happened!"

As they spoke, one of them pulled out a communicator and immediately signaled outside, his thumb pressing the call button: "This is the Administration Department, Mr. Vegeta has returned, get out there and welcome him!"

On the launch platform outside the base, three aliens stood in a row, hands at their sides.

They cast their eyes toward the sky, waiting.

Before long, a spherical black shadow emerged from the horizon, growing larger by the second.

"Thud!"

Vegeta's spaceship slammed into the buffer chamber of the launch base, the metal walls vibrating with a dull, heavy sound.

The three aliens immediately stood at attention, backs straight, their demeanor respectful.

However, after the ship came to a halt, there was not a sound.

The hatch did not open, and not even the sound of breathing could be heard.

The three were stunned, glancing at one another.

"What's going on?" the alien in the middle tilted his head, his brow knitting together. "Why isn't he coming out?"

The person beside him glanced down at the scouter on his wrist, the screen flickering.

His pupils constricted sharply.

"Ah... his life signs are extremely weak!"

The three immediately stepped forward to investigate.

Through the observation window, they saw Vegeta lying in his seat, wearing an oxygen mask, with dried bloodstains around his eye sockets.

He had already activated his life-support device.

Sensing something was terribly wrong, they scrambled to open the hatch, lifted Vegeta from the ship, and immediately rushed him to a medical tank for treatment.

The lid of the medical tank closed, and green liquid submerged Vegeta's body.

Bubbles rose from the bottom, churning around him.

"Who on earth did this?" a staff member stood outside the medical tank, arms crossed, watching Vegeta float inside. "Mr. Vegeta's eyes have been blinded!"