Dawn broke.
Morning at Fangcun Mountain was as quiet as ever—bugs chirped, birds called, and a distant waterfall roared.
But today, there was another sound—not the wind, but the beating of war drums.
It came from the horizon, low and muffled, thudding again and again as if striking at everyone's heart.
Goten stood before the mountain gate, golden energy slowly flowing around him.
After a night of rest, he was in even better shape than yesterday.
The two powers within him—the Saiyan energy and Origin Energy—had fused more deeply on their own while he slept.
He clenched his fist, feeling the energy flicker in his palm.
Zixia stood to his left, her Violet-Azure Treasure Sword already drawn. Its purple glow shone especially bright in the morning light.
She hadn't slept all night—not because she was nervous, but because she'd been thinking about one thing: if she died today, would she regret it? The answer was no.
Because she had already met the person she wanted to see. Five hundred years later, she had met a boy whose soul burned as fiercely as Sun Wukong's.
Zhi Zun Bao stood to the right, holding a new bamboo pole—the fourth one.
He said nothing, but his eyes were different from yesterday.
He'd had a dream last night. In it, he stood before the South Heaven Gate, with a hundred thousand Heavenly Soldiers behind him and a staff glowing gold from end to end in his hands.
He didn't know what it meant—but he wasn't afraid anymore.
Zhu Bajie stood behind them, holding his Nine-Toothed Rake—the only thing he'd brought with him from the Axe Gang.
He usually never used the rake because he thought carrying one looked too embarrassing. But today, he had brought it out.
Sha Wujing stood beside him, holding the shoulder pole he'd spent all night polishing. It shone so brightly that it reflected their faces.
Patriarch Bodhi wasn't standing before the mountain gate. He sat in a pavilion atop the mountain, an ancient zither resting on his knees, eyes closed, as if waiting for something.
In the distance, the golden light grew brighter and brighter. The formation of twelve hundred Grass-Head Gods emerged in the morning light—silver armor like a forest, banners blotting out the sun.
At the front of the formation stood a lone figure—Three-Pointed Double-Edged Spear in hand, clad in silver armor and white robes, the third eye on his forehead slowly opening.
Yang Jian had arrived.
Yang Jian didn't attack at once. He walked alone to the mountain gate and stopped ten zhang from Goten.
All three of his eyes looked Goten up and down. Then he said something no one had expected.
"The powers within you—they've fused."
Goten froze. He hadn't expected Yang Jian to see it, let alone at a glance. "You—"
"My third eye can see through the nature of all powers." Yang Jian's tone was calm, as if stating a fact. "Three days ago, I saw two unrelated powers fighting inside you. Today, they're no longer fighting."
Goten didn't know what to say. Yang Jian's attitude wasn't what he'd expected—he hadn't come to declare war. It was as if he'd come to confirm something. "Yang Jian, are you here to fight or chat?"
Yang Jian fell silent for a moment, then did something no one had expected: he planted his Three-Pointed Double-Edged Spear in the ground. "I'm not here to fight."
The whole crowd fell silent.
"I'm here to see whether the Jade Emperor made the wrong choice."
Yang Jian's words struck the still waters like a stone. Zhu Bajie nearly dropped his rake.
Zixia tightened her grip on her sword. Zhi Zun Bao stood frozen in place. He'd thought he was in for a tough fight today, only for the other side to say, "I'm not here to fight."
Yang Jian's gaze passed over Goten and turned toward the mountaintop, where an old man sat playing the zither in a pavilion. "Patriarch Bodhi, someone asked me to bring you a message."
The zither fell silent.
Yang Jian's voice was neither loud nor soft, but everyone present heard him clearly. "The Jade Emperor says: hand over the boy from another world, and Fangcun Mountain will be spared. Refuse, and he'll level Lingtai Square Inch Mountain."
Patriarch Bodhi didn't answer. He simply plucked a string.
Ding—a clear note rang down from the mountaintop, passing through the morning light and the ranks of twelve hundred Grass-Head Gods, then carrying far, far into the distance.
Then he spoke. His voice was quiet, but everyone heard him. "Let him try."
The battle began.
Yang Jian didn't move, but the twelve hundred Grass-Head Gods he'd brought did. They didn't charge—they began to encircle the mountain.
The twelve hundred soldiers spread out at once, laying down a massive trapping formation with Fangcun Mountain at its center.
Golden light gleamed beneath each Grass-Head God's feet, joining together on the ground into an enormous net—similar to the Heavenly Net, but far more intricate.
Goten didn't wait for them to finish the formation.
He charged forward, golden energy erupting around him. He was many times faster than he'd been three days ago.
With the two powers inside him now joined, his speed had finally reached the normal level of the Dragon Ball World—not while suppressed, but his true speed.
Boom!
He crashed into the Grass-Head Gods' formation and sent three men flying with a single punch!
Golden light burst. The three Grass-Head Gods somersaulted through the air several times before landing, leaving a gap in the formation.
But the gap was filled immediately. More Grass-Head Gods rushed in—not to gang up on him, but to surround the area around him and trap him in an ever-shrinking space.
Goten understood their strategy. They weren't trying to defeat him; they were trying to trap him.
He dug in with both feet and shot into the sky, but a layer of golden light blocked his way overhead. He was trapped beneath a golden dome.
Zixia drew her Violet-Azure Treasure Sword. A streak of purple swordlight slashed at the golden dome, ringing out with a shrill metallic clang.
The dome shuddered violently, but didn't break. Gritting her teeth, Zixia struck again—but it still held.
"This is the Immortal-Trapping Array, personally reinforced by the Jade Emperor." Yang Jian's voice came from outside the formation, utterly devoid of emotion. "The power of twelve hundred Grass-Head Gods, combined with a single imperial decree from the Jade Emperor, can trap any being below the Daluo Golden Immortal realm."
Goten was trapped.
The formation prevented him from unleashing his full power. Every punch struck the golden light, making it shudder, but his fists couldn't break through.
He began to pant—not from exhaustion, but from the power he was losing. The formation was draining him.
"Hold on," Zixia called from outside the dome. She was fighting a Grass-Head God commander.
Her Violet-Azure Treasure Sword flashed up and down, driving the commander back step by step. But she couldn't break the entire formation on her own.
Zhi Zun Bao didn't join the fight. He stood at the mountain gate, gripping the bamboo pole as he watched Goten trapped inside the golden dome.
His heart was racing—not from fear, but because he was seeing something.
In his vision, Goten's figure overlapped with someone else's.
Five hundred years ago, another person had stood inside golden light like this. He wore battered Chainmail Armor and held the Golden Cudgel, surrounded by a hundred thousand Heavenly Soldiers.
He stood alone in the golden light, with no one to help him and nowhere to retreat—but a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. That smile was exactly like the one on Goten's face now.
Golden light began to surface in Zhi Zun Bao's pupils.
He didn't know when he'd started walking. By the time he came to his senses, he was already standing in front of the golden dome.
He raised the bamboo pole in his hand—not like he was holding a weapon, but like he was holding a staff.
His grip changed. It was no longer the way a bandit held a wooden stick—it was the way Sun Wukong held the Golden Cudgel.
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