Afterimage Fist Mastery

Krillin stepped back half a pace and readjusted his breathing. His chest rose and fell a little faster than before, and sweat ran along the edge of his brows, gathering into a small drop at his chin that glinted in the sunlight. He flexed the joints of his right hand, his knuckles cracking sharply, then spread his feet slightly and lowered his center of gravity.

"I don't usually use this move," Krillin said. "Because it tires me out afterward."

The moment he finished speaking, his body suddenly blurred. Lin Chen saw his shadow flicker in place, then two nearly identical outlines appeared on either side at once—one stepping left, the other striding right, their movements perfectly synchronized, like reflections in a mirror pulled into reality.

Afterimage Fist.

A brief gasp rose from the spectators, followed by silence. Lin Chen's gaze swept quickly between the two figures. His feet did not move, but his body turned slightly to the side, by roughly the width of a fist. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Krillin's real body closing in, but the other was too fast, leaving overlapping afterimages that made it impossible to tell which was real.

A fist wind struck from the right. Lin Chen twisted aside, and the edge of the fist grazed his shoulder, leaving a pale mark on the fabric. A second attack came from the left immediately after. He turned and blocked it with his arm—the force of the punch was real, but lighter than he had expected, as though the attacker had not used his full strength.

Before he could adjust his stance, a third attack grazed his waist, bringing a faintly hot sting. This one was faster than the first two. By the time he reacted, Krillin had already appeared roughly two steps away at his side.

[Ding! Attack received. Picked up Afterimage Fist fragments ×5. Afterimage Fist synthesis progress: 89%.]

Lin Chen turned toward the source of the sound, but after blurring for a moment, Krillin reappeared somewhere else—his outline drifted like smoke scattered by the wind, shifting several steps from its original position and landing almost without a sound.

"What you see now may not be real." Krillin's voice came from different directions, as if someone were playing the same recording through several speakers at once. "If you're still using your eyes to find my real body, you'll never touch me."

Lin Chen did not turn toward the voice. He lowered his center of gravity slightly, narrowing the distance between his feet by about a palm's width. The vibrations coming through the wooden boards let him sense Krillin moving—from the left to behind him, producing a faint creak as he stepped over a seam in the planks.

He turned to face that direction, his right arm held across his body. Krillin's fist struck his forearm from an unexpected angle—not from the front or the side, but slanting down from above with a downward driving force. Lin Chen's arm bent half an inch under the pressure, and his knees buckled slightly before he steadied himself. He could feel more light orbs dropping from Krillin and passing through the air into his chest. There were more of them this time, moving faster, as though they were being continuously released during the chain of attacks.

[Ding! Picked up Afterimage Fist fragments ×7. Afterimage Fist synthesis progress: 97%.]

[Ding! Picked up Turtle School Agile Footwork fragments ×3. Current footwork comprehension: 29%.]

His arm began to heat up after taking the repeated impacts, but he felt no obvious numbness or soreness. Krillin launched two more attacks in succession, each cutting in from a different angle, growing faster and faster, as if he intended to push the effect of the Afterimage Fist to its limit. Lin Chen noticed that while the Afterimage Fist made Krillin's position difficult to track, there was an extremely brief pause after every attack—as if he were catching his breath, or readjusting the afterimages.

After the third attack, Lin Chen did not continue defending as before. During that brief pause, he stepped forward half a pace and threw his right fist from his waist. It was not fast, but its angle was direct, driving straight toward where Krillin's body would return after attacking.

Krillin's eyes widened for an instant. He did not fully evade it. The punch brushed past the outside of his shoulder, lacking much force but turning his body a few degrees. The afterimage effect broke for a moment—the phantoms on both sides flickered like an unstable television signal, then vanished.

"You saw through it?" Krillin landed and regained his footing, clear surprise in his voice as he breathed lightly. "That punch just now... it landed right in the gap when I was catching my breath."

Lin Chen withdrew his fist. The cuff of his gi had come loose during the consecutive blocks, exposing part of his wrist. The abrasions on the back of his hand had mostly healed during the rest period, leaving only a faint red mark, while the skin had become much smoother. "The gaps between the afterimages are half a beat longer than the intervals between your normal attacks."

Krillin looked at Lin Chen in silence for a moment, then lowered his hands. "I concede."

The referee's whistle and announcement sounded immediately afterward, but Krillin did not leave the arena at once. He stood where he was, as though still thinking about how the final blow had hit him. "Your defense really is different from everyone else's. It took me months to train the Afterimage Fist to this level, but you found its weakness after watching a single match."

Lin Chen rolled up his loosened cuff again. "It was also thanks to your demonstration that I could see the complete sequence of movements."

Krillin nodded, then shook his head. "You make it sound like I taught you... forget it. Good luck in the finals tomorrow."

He jumped down from the ring and headed for the competitors' passage. As he passed its entrance, the young man in the orange gi was standing there with a cup of water in his hand. He patted Krillin on the shoulder. "Those moves just now were pretty fast."

Krillin paused to take a sip. "He's a lot tougher than he looks. Be careful when you face him tomorrow. You won't beat this guy with brute strength alone."

After hearing Krillin's words, Goku smiled. He finished the remaining half cup of water, crushed the paper cup in his hand, and tossed it into the nearby trash bin.

Lin Chen stood on the ring, watching the referee write down the arrangements for the finals on the record sheet. Then he glanced toward the front row of the stands, where several people were seated. Among them, the elderly man wearing round sunglasses leaned against the back of his chair. Even the sunglasses could not hide the fleeting change in his expression—it paused for an instant, as if he had noticed something, before quickly returning to normal.