The 21st World Martial Arts Tournament

One month later. Papaya Island.

The entire island was like a boiling cauldron. Colorful flags snapped in the wind on both sides of the streets, and the small island was packed to bursting with spectators and contestants from all over the world. The air was thick with the salt of sweat, the aroma of roasted meat, and something indescribable—the scent of battle.

Hundreds of martial artists gathered together, each carrying the pride of years of bitter training. That aura converged, hanging over Papaya Island like an invisible net.

Son Goku stood at the entrance of the contestant waiting area, feeling the overwhelming presence of the surrounding crowd. Some were as faint as candlelight—ordinary contestants here just to experience the atmosphere. Others were steady and restrained, clearly possessing considerable strength. Further away, there were a few intense auras that made him linger. One of them was weathered and profound, like magma buried deep underground: calm on the surface, yet scorching within.

Son Goku didn't need to turn around to know who it was.

The corners of his mouth curled up involuntarily.

This feeling is amazing.

"Hey, Goku!"

A hand slapped heavily onto his shoulder from behind.

Son Goku turned to see Yamcha's confident face. Eight months of desert training had darkened his skin by a shade, and the scar on his face added a touch of sharpness. He wore his signature desert cloak, accompanied by his inseparable little blue cat, Puar.

"Long time no see! Don't think you're going to win against me easily this time!" Yamcha grinned, revealing his iconic canine tooth. "I haven't been slacking off these past eight months—my Wolf Fang Fist is three times faster than before! Puar and I practiced against sandstorms in the desert every single day; we were buried by sand tens of thousands of times. I'm a completely different person now! I'm not the same guy you tricked with 'there's a scorpion behind you' anymore!"

"Yeah! I'll give it my all!" Son Goku nodded earnestly.

Yamcha: "...So, I was saying I'm going to beat you. Shouldn't you show a little fear? Like, 'Wow, you're so amazing, Brother Yamcha' or something..."

"But I'm going to win," Son Goku tilted his head. "If I fight with everything I've got."

His tone was flat, as if stating an established fact. Yamcha's eye twitched, and he felt as if a bucket of cold water had been dumped over him. Puar giggled behind his back.

"...You guy, try being a little humble for once."

Yamcha sighed helplessly, then laughed again. He reached out and ruffled Son Goku's spiky hair. "Forget it, I won't hold it against you. But I'm warning you—even if you win, I won't let you do it easily."

"That's the best way," Son Goku smiled too.

"Ahem."

A deliberately deepened, dry cough came from nearby. The three of them turned simultaneously, and then they saw a sight that caused their collective composure to crumble—

An "old gentleman" with a hunched back was walking toward them with trembling, unsteady steps.

The old man wore a ridiculous sun hat, sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose, and a garish, bright orange suit. Above his lip, he had pasted two mustaches that were obviously fake.

The most incredible part was that he was bald—his smooth forehead reflected the blinding glare of the Papaya Island sun, and the remaining ring of white hair seemed to have been deliberately styled into an unfamiliar shape.

Yamcha frowned as he sized him up. "Who is this..."

"My name is Jackie Chun," the old man's voice was forced into a deep, raspy tone, every word dripping with an exaggerated "elderly affectation." "I am also a contestant in this tournament. Young man, the Martial Arts Tournament is no child's play. Soon, you will learn what true..."

As he spoke, one corner of the fake mustache peeled up, wobbling as if it might fall off at any moment.

Son Goku's internal composure collapsed entirely.

Master Roshi, could you please try a little harder with your disguise?! Take off the fake mustache, change into normal clothes, and stop using that pretentious old-man voice—even doing just one of those things would keep you from being recognized! But you didn't do a single one! And yet, besides me, nobody else actually recognizes you! How does that even work?!

He recalled that in the original story, this disguise actually held up until the finals, which was a collective disgrace to human perception.

But then again—looking across the entire tournament, they were likely the only "insiders" who knew Master Roshi's true strength. In the eyes of others, Jackie Chun was just a strange old man. Who would guess that this ridiculous, stumbling old man had a volcano hidden inside him?

After silently venting in his heart, he took a deep breath, suppressed the smile on his face, and cooperatively lowered his head, trying his best to mimic the humility expected of a junior being lectured by an elder. "Yes, Senior Jackie Chun, you are right. This junior has learned much."

"Hmph, good that you know." Jackie Chun—Master Roshi—smugly touched the fake mustache that was about to fall off, then turned around with a tremble and walked away slowly, leaning on his cane. When he passed Bulma, his pace slowed by half a beat—but he quickly resumed his stumbling, elderly gait, his back view radiating an indescribable absurdity.

Once the figure was far away, Yamcha turned his head and muttered, "Who is that old guy? Such a big mouth. He looks like he's just here to fill a spot—"

"Ahem." Son Goku coughed. "Yamcha, the preliminaries are starting soon, let's go warm up."

"Oh, right! Almost forgot!" Yamcha slapped his forehead and ran off to warm up, dragging Puar along.

Son Goku stood where he was, watching the back of the figure in the garish suit disappear at the end of the corridor, and shook his head with a smile.

The preliminaries ended quickly.

Just like in the original story, Son Goku, Krillin, Yamcha, and Jackie Chun advanced to the final eight without any suspense. The opponents in the preliminaries were not weak, but in front of them—especially Son Goku, who had trained for a full eight months—the gap was already more than a grade apart.

In the quarterfinals, all four defeated their respective opponents.

Son Goku faced a burly man wielding a meteor hammer. The man swung the hundred-pound iron hammer with such force that his first strike smashed a huge crater into the ring, causing the front-row audience to lean back in fear. But Son Goku didn't even let him touch his afterimage—a sidestep, a low sweep, and one punch to finish it. The whole thing took less than three seconds.

Krillin encountered a martial monk who also hailed from Orin Temple—a senior brother two heads taller than him. The senior brother started by declaring, "Krillin, you truant little bald head, today I'm going to teach you a lesson on behalf of the Abbot," but then Krillin performed a dash and a sweep kick, and the senior brother flew out of the ring before he could even finish his sentence.

After landing, Krillin pressed his palms together and bowed to his senior brother, who was stuck head-first in the ground: "Senior Brother, the Abbot said that once we leave, we should practice on our own and no longer worry about seniority."

The senior brother climbed out of the ground, stunned for a long while, then burst into laughter.

Yamcha's opponent was a fat man who called himself the "Southland Wrestling King," who tried to use his weight to crush him. Yamcha stood his ground and only used one move—the third form of the Wolf Fang Fist—turning into a streak of white light as he passed by the man. The fat man looked down to find his belt had been undone, and his pants were slowly sliding down.

Jackie Chun's match was even simpler—his opponent was a young street fighter who rushed in with a flurry of wild punches. The old man sidestepped, parried, and gave a light push, and the young man sat down on the ground, only realizing he was outside the ring once he regained his senses.

After the four matches, the audience hadn't even reacted yet. The announcer opened his mouth at the microphone for a long time before remembering to announce the next bracket.

Immediately after, the results of the draw for the semifinals were released.

"First match of the semifinals—Contestant Son Goku versus Contestant Krillin!"

"Second match of the semifinals—Contestant Jackie Chun versus Contestant Yamcha!"