Reunion and Decision

"Because he's strong."

Son Goku suddenly cut in, sitting cross-legged on the ground without a care, his hands resting on his knees.

His expression was unusually serious, as though he were analyzing battle tactics. "Strength is attractive. Look, whether it's men or women, when they meet someone stronger than themselves, something inside them always gets stirred."

The moment he finished, everyone turned to look at him in unison.

A breeze blew in from afar, lifting Goku's black hair.

He met everyone's gaze with a bewildered expression.

"Goku, since when did you understand this stuff?" Krillin's jaw nearly dropped.

"I don't," Goku said matter-of-factly as he got to his feet and brushed the dirt from his pants. "But I just think that's how it is." He scratched his head and added, "Whenever I meet a strong opponent, I get pretty excited. I guess everyone else is the same."

The air fell quiet for a moment, broken only by a few soft chuckles.

Piccolo had been standing off to the side with his arms crossed. He snorted. "You really are impossible to figure out sometimes." He did not dwell on Goku's words and instead turned to Dende. "Chen Hao's wish has been granted. What wishes are left?"

Dende nodded.

He stood there, small and thin beside the enormous Shenron, nearly like a speck of dust.

But he remained calm. Tilting his head up at Shenron, he said, "There are two wishes left."

"Bring back everyone Cell killed," Goku said, his voice suddenly steady. "That includes those who died at the martial arts tournament, and ordinary people too. They shouldn't have died for nothing." As he spoke, his gaze swept over the surrounding area, as if bidding farewell to the departed souls. "Give this world a chance to be whole again."

"Understood." Dende called out to Shenron, "Shenron, please grant this wish!"

Shenron's eyes lit up, the red glow pulsing like a beating heart. "This wish can be granted, but it will consume one wish."

"Fine." Goku nodded, his hands planted on his hips, decisive and direct.

"Bring back everyone Cell killed!" Dende shouted, his voice piercing through the wind and dust.

Shenron's eyes flashed again. The light abruptly contracted, then burst outward, illuminating the entire sky.

A stream of golden light surged from Shenron's body, like a vast net woven from countless golden threads. It descended from the heavens, slowly spreading until it enveloped the entire Earth.

The radiance swept over the land, mountains, rivers, and towns with a gentle rhythm.

Those who had died in the battle against Cell—martial artists, reporters, innocent civilians—reappeared one after another.

They emerged from the void, opened their eyes, breathed the air again, and their hearts began to beat—but they were all merely ordinary people.

Those powerful figures who had completely vanished—the warriors reduced to dust, the fighters whose souls had disappeared—never returned. It was as though their time had already come to an end.

"There is one final wish remaining," Shenron said. His massive body trembled slightly in midair, his voice ringing in everyone's ears.

He looked at them as if asking a question, yet also waiting for an answer.

Everyone looked at one another.

The setting sun cast long shadows across their faces.

The wind rustled Chen Hao's red hair. Android 18 brushed the loose strands by her ear with one hand and secretly glanced at Chen Hao. Gohan and Trunks exchanged a complicated look. Krillin scratched his bald head and muttered to himself, while Piccolo stood silently, his gaze as deep as the night.

The air seemed to freeze, like the brief stillness before a storm.

The wind at Kami's Lookout carried a hint of high-altitude chill, making everyone's clothes flutter.

Trunks took a deep breath and was just about to speak. "Wish for—" Before he could finish, Vegeta abruptly raised a hand, his voice sharp as a blade. "Don't waste a wish on something meaningless." He paused, lowering his voice. "This world doesn't need any extra wishes." The clouds beneath their feet slowly churned, and the sunset outlined him, making him look as resolute as a stone statue.

Everyone fell silent for a while.

Son Goku scratched his head, staring at Shenron's golden eyes. "Then... let's save the last wish." His fingers unconsciously rubbed his belt, as though weighing the significance of those words.

Shenron slowly lowered his head, his whiskers drifting in the wind. The light in his eyes flashed again. "That is acceptable." His voice was as deep as thunder. "Summon me again once you have decided. As long as the Dragon Balls remain."

As soon as he finished speaking, Shenron's enormous body began to fade, transforming into seven dazzling pillars of light.

The pillars shot skyward, tearing through the clouds.

Faint energy stirred in the air as all seven streaks of light rose together, like flames upon an altar.

Then they flew off in different directions—some plunged into the distant ocean, raising enormous waves; some crashed into forests, leaving massive craters; others streaked across the sky and fell onto snowy mountain peaks.

As the light faded, the sky grew quiet again, leaving only a trace of golden afterglow.

"All right." Chen Hao clapped his hands twice, the sound crisp.

He stretched, his shoulder blades jutting out, then turned around. "Everything's taken care of, so I'm heading out." He started walking away, his boots scraping softly against the stone slabs.

"Wait!" Trunks took three quick steps to catch up and reached out to stop Chen Hao.

His breathing grew hurried, his hair fluttering in the wind. "Mr. Chen Hao, about the one billion you mentioned... I'll have someone prepare it. Where should we send it?"

His expression was intensely serious, as though afraid the debt might be forgotten.

Chen Hao turned around and stopped.

Tilting his head, he tapped his chin with a finger and thought for a moment. "Send it to West City. I'll be staying there for a while."

His voice was calm as his eyes swept across the distant mountains.

"Okay!" Trunks nodded, clenching a hand against his chest. "I'll have the company arrange it as soon as I get back." His tone carried a promise.

Chen Hao casually waved a hand, his movements easy and carefree.

He turned and took Android 18's hand—her fingers were slightly cold, trembling faintly.

Without saying anything else, the two of them leaped straight off the edge of Kami's Lookout.

The wind howled as their clothes fluttered. Their figures traced an arc through the air before vanishing into the clouds in the blink of an eye.

Piccolo stood at the edge of Kami's Lookout, his green skin glinting faintly beneath the sunlight.

He frowned at the direction where they had disappeared, his deep voice carrying a trace of doubt. "Who... exactly is that guy?"

His hand slowly clenched, nails digging into his palm.

"I don't know." Goku shook his head, folding his arms across his chest.

Sunlight dappled his face. His smile was warm, his white teeth nearly gleaming. "But I don't think he's an enemy."

His gaze was firm, as if he had seen through some hidden truth.

"That much is certain." Piccolo nodded, relaxing his clenched hand as his expression softened. "If he were really a bad guy, he wouldn't have saved us yesterday."

He recalled that fierce battle, the other man's moves sharp and decisive.

"Then that's enough." Goku laughed, his voice clear. "No matter who he is, as long as he's not an enemy, that's fine."

He patted Piccolo on the shoulder with just the right amount of force.

Everyone nodded one after another, their shadows stretching long beneath the setting sun.

A light breeze swept past, carrying the unique loneliness of Kami's Lookout.

West City, night deepened.

The city's lights intertwined as neon signs had just begun to glow and crowds surged through the streets.

Before the floor-to-ceiling windows of an upscale restaurant, warm orange-yellow light softly illuminated two young faces.

Chen Hao sat by the window. The table was piled high with food—a medium-rare steak drizzled with black pepper sauce, its fat gleaming under the lights; lobster claws meticulously shelled, their tender white meat neatly arranged; on a sushi platter, salmon, tuna, and sweet shrimp stood in orderly rows, accompanied by delicate wasabi and pickled ginger; there was also a plate of thin sea bream sashimi, every slice translucent; a bottle of red wine bore a French label, while the wine in the decanter shone like amber, two crystal glasses resting quietly beside it.