Martial Arts Hall

After signing the contract with the organizers of the World Martial Arts Tournament, Zhang Wutian began his busy schedule.

Since this was the path he had chosen for himself and the work he enjoyed, he naturally accepted it with pleasure.

Before officially starting work, Zhang Wutian visited a specific place according to the tournament's roster.

"Though I'd like to offer a compliment, to be honest, this really isn't a great place."

"You are quite right, my friend, but this is my hometown after all."

Zhang Wutian had arrived at the hometown of Nam, a former opponent in the tournament, and saw Nam and other villagers using water to irrigate the parched earth.

Nam greeted Zhang Wutian happily and invited him to be a guest at his home.

After eating a meal of radish mixed with rice, carefully prepared by Nam's wife, Zhang Wutian asked in a tone reminiscent of a pyramid scheme: "Do you want to change the fate of this village, Nam? Do you want the people here to live a good life?"

"Do you have a way?"

"Then come with me."

And so, the first teaching assistant for the martial arts school was decided.

Zhang Wutian held Nam's combat power in high regard; although not on par with the disciples of the Turtle Hermit School, for an ordinary person, someone capable of leaping over 20 meters into the air was effectively a superman. Having him help teach future disciples was more than enough.

After securing the talent, Zhang Wutian's martial arts school officially opened.

At this moment, the tournament organizers behind Zhang Wutian began to exert their influence, building momentum for him in every possible way.

Borrowing their power, Zhang Wutian secured an opportunity to appear on television.

Sitting in front of the television, Bulma, Oolong, and Puar stared at the screen, watching the pre-recorded program.

On the newly built stage of the World Martial Arts Tournament, Zhang Wutian solemnly placed a satchel in the very center of the ring.

From the satchel, Zhang Wutian took out a stack of roof tiles and piled them up one by one.

"That guy, he isn't actually planning to smash those tiles, is he?" On Master Roshi's island, Krillin, who was watching TV with Master Roshi and Yamcha, said with disdain: "Instead of going on a trip with Goku, he's doing something like this. That guy is so boring."

"Observe quietly before you speak out of turn," Master Roshi said calmly, glancing at Krillin.

"Heh, what a restless little fellow," Master Korin, who was also watching the broadcast, said with a smile.

A total of 15 tiles were stacked up, reaching about the height of Zhang Wutian's waist—a weight that would be impossible for any ordinary person to shatter.

Zhang Wutian took a deep breath, then raised his right fist to gather his strength.

The camera clearly captured an unusual glow emanating from his fist.

The human body has no light-emitting organs; the radiance at this moment made the audience in front of their TVs exclaim that this was unscientific!

At the same time, the image gripped the hearts of the viewers, leaving them anticipating what would happen next.

The light condensed into a stable sphere on Zhang Wutian's fist. The next moment, Zhang Wutian let out a roar and struck down with his fist.

The tiles were smashed to pieces, completely reduced to dust.

But that was no longer important; the audience held their breath, looking at the scene on the TV in disbelief.

Where the tiles had once been, a radius of 5 meters centered on the middle of the ring had all been transformed into a massive crater.

The tournament stage had suffered once again, as if struck by a meteorite, leaving a circular impact crater in the ground.

Zhang Wutian stood in the center of the crater, a faint halo of light still lingering on his hand.

A legend was born.

The public was stirred into a frenzy. Many questioned whether Zhang Wutian had buried explosives under the stage. Zhang Wutian's answer was simple: he ran to the yards of those who questioned him and performed the same feat on their ground. After doing this back and forth five or six times, the whole world was in an uproar.

When Zhang Wutian's martial arts school officially opened in West City, it was met with a surging, endless stream of people.

"Master Wutian, please take me as your disciple!!"

"Master Zhang, please let me be your student!!"

Beyond those who wanted to become disciples, even more came to challenge Zhang Wutian.

"I am Dan from the Eastern City. You've been very arrogant lately. The martial arts world doesn't need a performer like you. Let me show you what a real martial artist is!"

"Ora ora ora!!!"

"Ugh ahhhhh..."

The first sound was the roar of the martial artist as he struck toward Zhang Wutian.

The second was the scream of the martial artist as he was sent flying by a single punch from Zhang Wutian, head-first into the ground.

"I am Sagat from Thai Village. Zhang Wutian, come and fight me!!"

"Tiger!!!"

"Ugh ahhhhh..."

"I am the wandering martial artist Ryu. I hope to find the true meaning of life through combat. Please enlighten me, Master Zhang."

"Hadouken!!"

"Ugh ahhhhh..."

"Hehehehe, come be a subordinate of mine, Vega. In return, I can spare your life!"

"Electric Dash!"

"Arghhhhh..."

After being challenged and tested by people from all walks of life, Zhang Wutian's status in the world of martial arts was firmly cemented. In the eyes of the world, he had become the true number one, and the number of his disciples had reached 10,000 in just one week—enough to burst the dojo at the seams—with that number still rapidly increasing. It reached the point where disciples had to be admitted in batches to study at the dojo.

Naturally, Zhang Wutian had made a fortune from this.

"In short, that's the situation for now. In the future, we'll find the truly talented individuals among these disciples and make them inner-circle students."

In West City, at the home of Miss Bulma, who had now become his neighbor, Zhang Wutian sipped his juice while explaining his plans.

"You really have started an incredible business. Lately, the TV has been flooded with news about you. Is it really okay to come to my place to slack off? What about the work at the dojo?"

"Heh, the staff I hired is very diligent. I'll give him a big bonus when I get back."

At the dojo, in front of a dense crowd of disciples, Nam was meticulously teaching the techniques of punches and kicks.

"You really can't judge a book by its cover. Once Yamcha gets back from Master Roshi's place, I'll have him go work for you too. Tell him to do more work so he stops going out and flirting everywhere."

"I'm worried he'll seduce the female disciples at my dojo."

"He wouldn't dare!!" Miss Bulma glared, looking every bit the savage girlfriend.

The dojo became increasingly popular, and Zhang Wutian's business flourished. With disciples constantly increasing, the tuition fees collected were enough for him to build a house in the prime, high-priced center of West City that could rival Bulma's. At the same time, as long as this strength remained, his status would never be shaken.

When everything was on the right track, a message from Son Wukong came through Bulma's custom-made Tomato Phone.

"Zhang Wutian, I've found the Penguin Village you mentioned!"