One Year Later, Goku Again

West City, Capsule Corp headquarters.

The first rays of morning sunlight pierced the clouds and fell across the massive cluster of hemispherical buildings.

In one corner of the manor stood a separate, panoramic glass training room.

There were none of Dr. Brief's dazzling high-tech gravity devices here. Only a few simple yoga mats, a pot of clear tea, and a room full of green plants.

Sun Wuxiu sat cross-legged on a meditation cushion, his breathing slow, steady, and nearly imperceptible.

If an expert capable of sensing ki had been present, they would have been astonished to discover that Sun Wuxiu's aura had completely vanished.

He was like an unyielding stone, a blade of grass, perfectly blending into the natural surroundings.

"Phew..."

After a long while, Sun Wuxiu slowly opened his eyes.

At that instant, the previously still air seemed to be stirred by some invisible force field. The plants indoors swayed without wind, and even the birdsong outside the window seemed to halt for a moment.

But the next second, that intimidating pressure receded like a tide, replaced by a gentle, unadorned calm.

"The activity of my S-Cells should have increased significantly compared to a year ago."

Sun Wuxiu clenched his fist, feeling the surging power within him, power carrying a certain golden potential.

Over the past year, he had not forced himself to the limit as crazily as Vegeta did.

On the contrary, he had lived quite "leisurely."

He accompanied Bulma shopping, watched movies, sampled delicious food, occasionally attended university lectures, or simply basked in the sun in the garden.

But that did not mean he had neglected martial arts.

On the contrary, he had been undergoing a deeper kind of cultivation—tempering his state of mind.

Aside from anger, the source of a Saiyan's strength also lay in the quality of their ki.

And according to the expanded setting of Dragon Ball Super, the concentration of S-Cells determined the threshold for transforming into a Super Saiyan.

"Right now, without using any Talismans, relying solely on this body tempered to its peak and my command of ki, my normal battle power should have already surpassed 220."

Sun Wuxiu silently assessed himself.

After all, Tien Shinhan's battle power during the 22nd World Martial Arts Tournament had only been around 180.

And the old King Piccolo, who had plunged the entire world into terror, had a battle power of roughly 220 to 240 before regaining his youth.

"In other words, even without relying on Talismans, I could fight the newly unsealed old Piccolo on even terms, perhaps even with a slight edge."

"If I used the power boost of the [Ox Talisman], or the endless endurance of the [Horse Talisman]..."

A confident smile curved across Sun Wuxiu's lips.

"Then it would no longer be a question of whether I could beat him. It would be a question of how I wanted him to die."

As for Piccolo after he regained his youth, with a battle power of over 260, Sun Wuxiu was fully confident that, with the Talismans' power, he would not only avoid defeat but might even defeat him.

Of course, if he truly could not win, he could just trigger a round of passives. That would guarantee victory.

"This World Martial Arts Tournament is no longer a challenge for me. It is merely an exhibition match."

Click.

The training room door opened.

Bulma walked in wearing a light summer outfit and a sun hat, two plane tickets in her hand.

After a year together, Bulma had become even more radiant. The innocence of youth had gradually faded, replaced by a confident and alluring charm.

"Wu Xiu! Are you still training?"

Bulma waved the tickets in her hand. "The plane is ready! We should be leaving for Papaya Island!"

Sun Wuxiu rose to his feet. In that instant, his gentle aura shifted into the upright, heroic bearing of a towering pine.

He walked over, naturally took the luggage bag from Bulma's hand, and took her other hand in his.

"Let's go. Let's take the championship that belongs to us."

Papaya Island, a tropical island in the southern part of Earth, was also the venue of the World Martial Arts Tournament.

The climate there was hot year-round, with abundant rainfall and the exotic charm of the southern tropics.

When Sun Wuxiu and Bulma's luxurious private plane landed on the island, there was still a full day before the tournament officially began.

Unlike the original story, where everyone arrived at the last minute, Sun Wuxiu preferred taking things at an unhurried pace.

The two checked into an upscale hotel by the sea.

At night, the sea breeze was gentle.

Sun Wuxiu stood on the hotel's balcony, gazing toward the brightly lit Martial Arts Temple in the distance.

"Goku and the others should arrive tomorrow."

He still cared deeply about his foolish little brother. Though he knew Goku must have suffered plenty under Master Roshi—plowing fields barehanded, delivering milk, dodging sharks—that was precisely the foundation of Goku's strength.

The next morning.

Just as Sun Wuxiu remembered, Papaya Island was hit by a torrential downpour.

The once bustling streets instantly became empty. Most martial artists sheltered from the rain beneath the eaves or had already gone to the registration area.

"What heavy rain."

Holding a transparent umbrella, Bulma tightly linked her arm through Sun Wuxiu's. "Do you think that idiot Goku will get soaked?"

"Don't worry. With that kid's physique, what does a little rain matter?"

Sun Wuxiu was not carrying an umbrella.

Strangely, when the dense raindrops came within three inches above his head, they seemed to be blocked by an invisible shield of ki and automatically slid to either side. Not even the corner of his clothes was dampened.

This was a refined application of ki, as well as a passive protective effect of the [Rooster Talisman]'s telekinesis.

The two strolled through the rain toward the registration area.

Just then.

"Oh, come on! When is this rain going to stop?!"

An aged yet vigorous complaint came from beneath a tree ahead.

It was followed by hurried footsteps.

"Quick, quick! Otherwise, we'll miss registration!"

Sun Wuxiu stopped walking, a smile appearing at the corner of his mouth.

"They're here."

Through the curtain of rain, three figures ran toward them.

At the front was a small boy in an orange martial arts uniform, carrying the Power Pole on his back.

Even through the rain, one could sense the vigorous vitality emanating from him.

Behind him ran a small, bald young monk with six burn marks on his head, struggling along with an enormous luggage bag on his back.

Bringing up the rear was an old man in a black suit and sunglasses, a turtle shell strapped to his back.

They were Son Goku, Krillin, and Master Mutaito, Master Roshi.

"Huh? That's..."

With his sharp eyes, Son Goku spotted that familiar figure in the rain at once.

Though they had not seen each other for a year, and though that figure had grown taller and straighter, he would never mistake that familiar aura!

"Big brother!!!"

Son Goku shouted, stomped hard, and sent a great spray of water flying. He shot forward like a cannonball.

"Goku!"

Sun Wuxiu held out his arms and steadily caught his rushing younger brother.

"Wow! Big brother! It really is you!!"

Goku clung excitedly to Sun Wuxiu, not caring in the slightest whether the mud and water on him would stain his brother's clothes.

"I got super strong this year! I can push really, really huge rocks now!"

"Yes, yes, I can tell."

Sun Wuxiu rubbed Goku's still-prickly hedgehog-like hair and sensed his ki.

Sure enough, it was several times more condensed than it had been a year ago.

Although his normal battle power was still below Sun Wuxiu's current level, his rate of growth was indeed impressive.