Dragon Ball, Saiyans Don't Just Want to Get Stronger!

"Hmph! Don't act all mysterious! I don't care who you are, but since you've come to participate in the World Martial Arts Tournament, you'd better listen up! If you run into Goku and me on the ring..."

He paused, emphasizing his tone, "We absolutely won't hold back! Don't come crying to me later if you get beaten up, don't say I didn't warn you!"

He tried to use a fierce tone to mask the slight nervousness in his heart.

Vitelli looked at the little bald boy before him, who was trying to puff out his chest despite his bravado, and nearly burst out laughing.

He suppressed his amusement and nodded as if taking it seriously, his tone as perfunctory as if he were coaxing a child:

"Uh-huh, sure, sure, got it, got it. Thanks for the warning, I'll be sure to... be careful."

The drawn-out tone was filled with mockery.

Just then, a crisp, pleasant female voice cut through the noisy crowd and reached the ears of the three:

"Vitelli! How did you end up over here in the blink of an eye? You had me searching everywhere!"

Bulma pushed through the crowd, walking over quickly with her wallet in hand, a thin layer of sweat on her beautiful forehead.

She was wearing a stylish casual outfit today, her short blue hair making her look even more vibrant.

Upon seeing Vitelli, she naturally walked over and hooked her arm through his, leaning against him affectionately.

"Huh? Goku?"

Only then did Bulma notice the two little guys beside Vitelli, her face immediately breaking into a surprised smile, "You're here to participate in the tournament too?"

"It's Bulma!"

Goku was also happy to see a familiar face and immediately forgot the pain on his face, "Krillin and I came with Master Roshi! But the old man said he wanted to go look at the scenery and just disappeared."

"That old pervert Master Roshi is here too?" Bulma's expression tightened, her eyes narrowing slightly as a layer of frost appeared on her face.

But upon seeing the two little guys, she immediately regained her usual spirit and greeted them enthusiastically, "Perfect! I've already booked the best hotel on the island, and lunch time is almost here. Come on, let's go eat! My treat!"

She patted her bulging wallet with bravado.

"Really? That's great!"

As soon as Goku heard there was good food, his eyes lit up instantly, and he was practically drooling.

Krillin watched as Bulma clung to Vitelli's arm like a little kitten; the two of them standing together looked like a match made in heaven. Then, glancing at Vitelli's calm and breezy demeanor, Krillin suddenly felt a bit sour inside.

He curled his lip and muttered in a voice he thought only he could hear: "Hmph... we martial artists should prioritize the way of the fist. Indulging in romance... will only slow down my punches..."

Even he felt it sounded ridiculous as he said it, and... although the muttering was quiet, to Vitelli's super-sensitive ears, it was no different from shouting through a megaphone.

Vitelli raised an eyebrow, a flash of mischief crossing his eyes.

Heh, little bald guy, acting all high and mighty? Fine, I'll remember that. I'll definitely satisfy your request later.

At noon, the luxury hotel booked by Bulma hosted a scene that would be unforgettable for every waiter and chef.

Vitelli used his actions to define what a Saiyan's appetite was.

He ate with lightning speed, his movements not necessarily fast, but with astonishing efficiency.

The food on the plates seemed not to be eaten, but devoured by some invisible force!

Piles of steak, whole roasted chickens, mountain-like fried rice, and a steady stream of soups and desserts... all vanished into that mouth which seemed connected to a black hole.

The chefs in the back were working their ladles until they were smoking, the waiters were running until their legs went soft, and the plates in front of Vitelli continued to stack up at a terrifying speed.

Krillin watched, dumbfounded, his chopsticks dropping onto the table.

Goku could eat a lot too, but compared to this guy, he was like a drop in the ocean!

Bulma wore an "I knew it would be like this" expression, elegantly eating her salad in small bites while occasionally dotingly wiping the corner of Vitelli's mouth, all while directing the waiters:

"Bring two more of those roasted suckling pigs! Yes, the whole thing! And that seafood risotto, bring five more portions!"

After a lunch that could be called a "gluttonous feast," the four (mainly Vitelli and Goku) returned to the tournament venue, feeling satisfied.

The preliminary draw was about to begin.

A giant electronic screen scrolled through the numbers.

Vitelli drew a lot at random and glanced at it—Number Seven.

He shoved the slip into his pocket, his gaze sweeping over the fierce or composed contestants who were limbering up, a faint, elusive smile on his lips.

These small fries didn't interest him in the slightest.

His purpose in coming here was, first, to see the youthful style of little Goku, Krillin, and the future Z Fighters, and second... he just wanted to show off.

That's right, showing off was just a side benefit, a trivial little pleasure.

In the afternoon, the preliminaries unfolded in full swing across several sub-rings.

Vitelli was assigned to the C-group ring.

He leaned against a pillar by the ring, bored, his arms crossed and eyes half-closed, as if the deafening cheers and intense clashes of fists and feet around him had nothing to do with him, dozing off as if he were an outsider.

Only when a burly man, wildly cheered by the audience as King Chappa of the Eight-Hand Fist, appeared on stage did he lazily lift his eyelids just a crack.

King Chappa was a burly man with knotted muscles. Upon stepping onto the stage, he let out a strange cry and began swinging his arms wildly. His speed... well, it wasn't exactly slow; he actually managed to whip up a blur of fist shadows in front of him, which looked somewhat intimidating.

"Hmph..."

A barely audible sneer escaped Vitelli's nose as he closed his eyes once more.

In his eyes, this level of rapid-fire punching was no different from slow-motion playback. It was riddled with openings and utterly boring.

Time passed.

Finally! The referee's booming voice rang out:

"Group C, seventh match! Contestant number seven, Vitelli, versus contestant number eleven, XX!"

Only then did Vitelli slowly open his eyes. Under Bulma's expectant gaze and the curious stares of Goku and Krillin, he walked onto the ring with a leisurely gait.

His opponent was a lean, sharp-eyed man who looked like a seasoned fighter with plenty of real-world experience.

He assumed a tight defensive stance, staring at Vitelli with total concentration.

The referee announced routinely: "Match start!"

As XX let out a low growl, he pushed off the ground, his body lunging forward like a hunting leopard. His right fist, accompanied by the sound of tearing wind, struck directly at Vitelli's face!

This punch condensed all his strength; he struck fast and hard, as if he were (in his own mind) transcending time and space!

However, the moment his fist was about to touch the tip of Vitelli's nose, Vitelli moved.

He didn't even shift his feet; he simply raised his right hand with extreme casualness, as if shooing away an annoying fly, and gave a light, airy wave toward the charging Toripo.

Whoosh—!!!

There was no sound of a violent collision! Only an invisible yet overwhelming and unstoppable terrifying palm wind was suddenly generated!

The air seemed to be compressed and torn apart in an instant! The ferocity on XX's face was instantly replaced by horror. He felt as if he had slammed head-on into a high-speed train! An irresistible, massive force slapped heavily against his chest!

"Urgh—!"

With a short, sharp cry, his entire body was like a kite with a broken string. He was swept up by the violent palm wind, spinning at high speed as he traced a high arc, before landing with a precise "thud" on the sandy ground more than ten meters outside the ring, kicking up a cloud of dust and falling unconscious on the spot.

The entire Group C ring area instantly fell into a deathly silence!

All the shouting and discussion seemed to have been choked off by an invisible hand. The audience had their mouths wide open, eyes bulging like copper bells, staring in disbelief at the black-haired young man on the stage who hadn't even moved the hem of his clothes.

What happened? He just waved his hand? And the guy flew away? Is... is this sorcery?!

The referee was also stunned. After a long pause, he stammered as he raised his hand: "Uh... contestant number seven... Vitelli... wins!"

"Waaaaah—!!!"

After the brief silence came an even more deafening roar of shock and clamor!

"My god! What was that just now?"

"He... he just waved his hand?"

"XX was a quarter-finalist last year! Just like that... he's gone?"

"Monster! This guy is definitely a monster!"

Goku and Krillin stood in the crowd, their jaws nearly hitting the floor.

Goku grabbed Krillin's arm and shook it excitedly: "Krillin! Did you see that? So... so amazing! Just like a year ago! No, he seems even stronger!"

Krillin, however, looked dazed, muttering to himself: "This... are you kidding me... just waving his hand... how are we supposed to fight that?" The bold words he had spoken earlier now seemed incredibly pale and ridiculous.

Mingling among the contestants, Master Roshi, who was disguised as a participant, took off his sunglasses. His aged eyes were filled with unprecedented gravity and shock.

He saw more clearly than the others! That wasn't just a simple palm wind! That was a shockwave condensed into substance through the application of "Ki"!

Moreover, the opponent's control was exquisite to the extreme, hitting the man off the stage without causing a fatal injury!

This level of control... this power... it was simply unfathomable! What kind of background did this young man named Vitelli have? When did such a big shot appear in the martial arts world?

Master Roshi felt his worldview being shaken like never before.

The subsequent matches of other contestants, including the scenes where Goku and Krillin easily dealt with their opponents, all seemed insipid after Vitelli's earth-shattering palm strike.

Vitelli couldn't even be bothered to watch anymore; he simply dragged Bulma, who was still immersed in excitement, to leave early and enjoy their time together.

The night view and sea breeze of Papaya Island were clearly much more interesting than watching "chickens" peck at each other.

A night of joy, a night of dance~~

The next day, the morning sun once again bathed the bustling Papaya Island.

After the noise of the night had settled, an even more tense and expectant atmosphere permeated the air.

The main event of the World Martial Arts Tournament—the official competition—was about to kick off under the eyes of the masses!

The area around the massive main ring was already packed with people, and the waves of sound grew louder and louder.

In the contestant waiting area, the eight powerhouses who had emerged from the qualifiers were already in place.

Goku and Krillin were nervously and excitedly stretching their limbs, cheering each other on.

The other contestants were also making their final preparations; their eyes were sharp, and their fighting spirit was high.

Only Vitelli remained in his lazy posture, as if he were just a tourist on a beach vacation, observing the fanatical atmosphere in the surrounding audience with great interest.

Bulma sat in the front row of the spectator stands, waving excitedly at Vitelli and shouting with all her might: "Vitelli! Go for it! You have to win! Show them what you're made of!"

Hearing her, Vitelli turned his head and flashed Bulma a smile that was both reassuring and brimming with absolute confidence.

Silly girl, I actually wish I had the chance to lose just once.

Just then, the tournament announcer's booming, excited voice echoed through the stadium via the loudspeakers, lighting the final fuse:

"Ladies and gentlemen! Fighting enthusiasts from all over the world! You've waited long enough! The moment of excitement has finally arrived!"

"The 21st World Martial Arts Tournament!!!"

"Now—officially begins!!!"

With a crisp, thunderous clang of the gong, the entire Papaya Island seemed to tremble!

Every eye instantly focused on the massive arena that symbolized power and glory!

A soul-stirring martial arts tournament was about to be kicked off by a Saiyan from the distant stars!

The morning sun spilled onto the smooth arena, reflecting a blinding light. The packed spectator stands were already drowned in waves of fanatical noise, and the air was thick with the atmosphere of a powder keg.

After two days of fierce competition, the final four had been decided!

"Ladies and gentlemen! Martial artists! You've waited long enough!"

The announcer's impassioned voice rang out through the loudspeakers, "The World Martial Arts Tournament, the peak showdown—starts now!!"

"The first match! First to take the stage is the one who displayed overwhelming strength to crush his opponents in the preliminaries, Vitelli!!!"

Accompanied by lukewarm applause and some curious murmurs, Vitelli walked onto the arena with a calm gait. He was still wearing his black combat suit, his expression lazy, as if he had only come for a morning workout.

He slowly came to a stop, his gaze calm as he looked toward the entrance.

"And his opponent, the one who fought his way into the final four with superior fist techniques and a wealth of experience—the 'Eight-Hand Fist' King Chappa!!!"