Turtle Hermit School

The noon sea breeze rustled the palm leaves outside Turtle Hermit House. Master Roshi stood at the door, his eyes behind his sunglasses sweeping back and forth between Talos and Goku twice. Then he took off his sunglasses, wiped the lenses with the hem of his shirt, and put them back on.

"The matter of the Saiyans is a long story." Master Roshi walked into the house with his hands behind his back. "Come in first."

The inside of Turtle Hermit House was even messier than it looked from outside. The bookshelves were crammed with yellowed martial arts manuals and unspeakable picture books. Several oversized training turtle shells were piled in a corner, while a half-finished bowl of seafood congee sat on the coffee table. Master Roshi pulled a dusty old notebook from the very top shelf, turned to a certain page, and handed it to Talos.

A Saiyan was drawn in the notebook—his signature tail, battle armor, and an unruly face. Beside it was only one line: "Planet Vegeta, Age 450. Battle power approximately 3000. This man called himself a Saiyan warrior and came to Earth seeking the Dragon Balls. He left after fighting me, but before departing, he said Saiyans would return to this planet someday. If those who come later are as he described, I hope the disciples of the Turtle Hermit School will take this as a warning. —Mutaito."

Three hundred years ago. Master Roshi had been in his prime then, and his battle power had been far greater than it was now. To fight a Saiyan with a battle power of three thousand and emerge unscathed meant that Master Roshi at the time had been at least at that level. And those words the Saiyan had left behind had weighed on Master Roshi's mind for three centuries—he knew that one day, new Saiyans would descend upon Earth.

"Your master, Zhao Tiexin, knows about this." Master Roshi closed the notebook. "That's why I had him keep an eye out for any tailed children near Mount Paozu. Never expected that he wouldn't find one, only for you to come knocking first."

"Master never mentioned it to me," Talos said.

"He's a man of few words. Back when he trained under me, the words he spoke over three years didn't add up to as many as you say in a day." Master Roshi chuckled, then his smile faded. "Now, to business. The two of you being Saiyans isn't a problem—the Turtle Hermit School judges disciples by their character, not their bloodline. But there's one thing you must remember: on Earth, you are humans. No matter what happens in the future, this planet is your home."

"Yes." Talos lowered his head in salute.

Goku had listened from the side for quite a while, scratching his head. "Teacher Mutaito, Grandpa said he found me in the mountains. So I really am one of those Saiyans?"

"You are. Your tail is proof." Master Roshi walked up to Goku and bent down to look him in the eyes. "But the name isn't important. Your grandfather named you Son Goku, so Son Goku is who you are. Whether you're a Saiyan or not doesn't affect your ability to eat seafood congee."

Goku grinned. "That's great! I'm hungry! Is there any congee left?"

"There's still half a pot in the kitchen."

"Yay!"

Goku darted into the kitchen in a flash. Master Roshi watched his retreating back and shook his head. "He's even more at home here than you are."

Just then, hurried footsteps sounded from outside. A short figure in training clothes came running over from the beach, his bald head reflecting a blinding glare beneath the noon sun—it was Krillin. He had a small bundle slung over his back and was drenched in sweat.

"Teacher Mutaito! I finally made it after traveling for three days!" Krillin rushed through the door, panting, then froze when he saw Talos sitting inside and Goku rummaging through the pot in the kitchen. "Huh? Who are they?"

"New disciples." Master Roshi pointed at Talos. "Talos, Zhao Tiexin's disciple. He's come here for further training. The one in the kitchen is Goku, from Mount Paozu." Then he pointed at Krillin. "Krillin, a former disciple of Orin Temple. He arrived yesterday. Starting today, the three of you are fellow disciples."

Krillin sized Talos up. The youth, who stood a full head taller than him, possessed an indescribable composure—not arrogance, but the calm that could only come from enduring life-and-death trials. Then he looked at Goku, who was openly showing off his tail while happily eating congee in the kitchen, and a thought rose in his heart: Neither of these two was simple.

"Krillin," Talos suddenly said, "how many years did you train at Orin Temple?"

"Five years! Why?"

"What was the temple's evaluation of you?"

Krillin's expression stiffened for a moment. "They said I slacked off in training and kicked me out."

"Someone who slacks off wouldn't spend three days traveling to Turtle Hermit House." Talos stood and walked over to Krillin. "Your ki is unusual—the total amount isn't great, but your control is extremely precise. Orin Temple said you were lazy because their training methods didn't suit you."

Krillin stood stunned for several seconds, then his eyes turned slightly red. He had spent five years at Orin Temple, mocked by his fellow disciples for being lazy and despised by his master for being slow to learn. No one had ever told him, "Your ki is unusual." Yet Talos, whom he had known for all of three minutes, had seen his greatest strength at a glance.

"H-how did you know?"

"I can sense the precision of ki. Yours is the finest of anyone's." After saying that, Talos turned and headed for the door. "Don't get emotional. Come on."

"Where are we going?"

"Training. The Turtle Hermit School's first lesson."

Master Roshi stood on the beach, watching the three boys line up before him. Talos was bare-chested, his bronze muscles gleaming in the noon sunlight. A grain of rice still clung to the corner of Goku's mouth, his tail swaying behind him. Krillin stood straight and tall; though he was the shortest, his presence was no weaker than the others'.

"The Turtle Hermit School's basic training can be summed up in one word—exhaustion." Master Roshi walked before the three with his hands behind his back. "Delivering milk, plowing fields, swimming, taking hits. Every exercise is meant to push your bodies to the limit. Those who endure will make it to at least the top eight of the World Martial Arts Tournament three months from now. Those who can't endure—well, that doesn't exist, because I won't let you quit."

He paused, a glint flashing across his sunglasses. "But before that, I need to see what level you're at right now. Talos."

"Here."

"You have the highest battle power, so—" Master Roshi curled his lips into a grin. "You'll fight me and those two together."

"Teacher Mutaito," Talos said, "are you serious?"

"More serious than ever." Master Roshi took off his turtle shell, revealing his lean frame, then rolled his shoulders. "I've lived for more than three hundred years and fought more times than you lot have eaten meals. Do you think a higher battle power means you can beat me?"

Talos fell silent for a second, then gave a slight nod. "I stand corrected."

The four split into two groups—Talos alone on one side, with Master Roshi, Goku, and Krillin on the other. The sea breeze swept across the beach, making their training clothes snap in the wind. Goku took his opening stance, so excited that his tail stood straight up. Krillin drew a deep breath. Though nervous, his gaze was steady. Master Roshi removed his sunglasses, revealing eyes that gleamed sharply.

"Begin!"

Master Roshi attacked first. The old man vanished from where he stood and, in the next instant, appeared at Talos's right side, striking toward his shoulder with an open palm. So fast—this palm strike far surpassed his normal battle power of 139. It had to be at least three hundred. Talos twisted aside, then fired an explosive punch back at Master Roshi's chest. Master Roshi evaded the fist with the smallest possible movement and swept low at Talos's legs at the same time.

At that moment, Goku charged in from the left. His fist trailed a faint white aura—this punch had improved again since his days on Mount Paozu. Its force was inferior to Master Roshi's, but it was faster and came from a trickier angle. Krillin circled behind Talos. Rather than attacking recklessly, he observed—watching Talos's movements and searching for the most precise moment to strike.

Talos blocked Master Roshi and Goku's successive attacks, spun aside to avoid Krillin's lunge, and threw a punch back through the gaps in their flurry of fists and kicks. Master Roshi was forced back three steps, Goku was knocked away, and Krillin was sent flying. But the three immediately rushed in again, this time with greater coordination—Master Roshi kept Talos occupied from the front, Goku harassed him from the flank, and Krillin attacked the instant Talos's center of gravity shifted.

Under Teacher Mutaito's direction, the two boys fought more smoothly with every exchange. Goku began to observe Master Roshi's rhythm and coordinate his attacks with it, while Krillin waited in the corners for the right moment to land a decisive blow. Their combined assault did not rely on battle power, but on Master Roshi's three centuries of combat experience polishing two rough gems until they shone.

After about twenty minutes, Master Roshi suddenly withdrew his hand. "Stop!"

Goku and Krillin halted, gasping for breath. Master Roshi looked at Talos in silence for quite some time.

"You held back just now."

"I used about thirty percent of my strength," Talos admitted.

"I'm not saying you held back—I'm saying that even while holding back, you remained this steady." Master Roshi pushed up his sunglasses. "Your fundamentals are absurdly solid. Zhao Tiexin taught you well."

"Thank you, Teacher Mutaito."

"However, while your fundamentals are solid, you have one fatal weakness." Master Roshi raised one finger. "You're too used to control. Every move and every stance is within your calculations, which is why you're as steady as a rock. But real combat isn't chess. Your opponent won't follow your rhythm. Talos, you need to learn how to lose control—when necessary, entrust your body to instinct instead of your brain."

Talos fell silent for a moment. "I've learned something."

"Ding—Master Roshi's guidance has triggered a skill breakthrough. Ki Control's sixth level has awakened a new branch—Instinct Release: actively reduce Ki Control precision by 50% in exchange for a temporary 30% increase in battle power."

"Ding—New master-disciple bond quest: comprehend the 'power of losing control' described by Master Roshi. Quest reward: Battle Power +300, passive skill 'Mutaito Style Heart Transmission.'"

Beginning the next day, the Turtle Hermit School's special training officially entered its most intense phase. Before dawn had even broken, Goku was kicked out of bed. "Deliver milk!" Krillin, yawning, helped Talos put on the five-hundred-pound Dark Iron Training Suit. The three of them flew across the sea atop milk crates for a full fifty laps. Then came plowing the fields—without oxen, using only their hands. After that was swimming—out to the island across the sea and back, ten times. At noon, Master Roshi finally spoke. "Rest for half an hour. We continue this afternoon."

Krillin collapsed onto the beach, staring blankly at the sky. "I feel like my hands aren't even my hands anymore."

"That means the flow of your ki has accelerated," Talos said. "Your body is adapting."

"You flew fifty laps wearing that five-hundred-pound hunk of iron. How are you still standing there talking?"

Talos did not answer, because he was indeed a little tired too. But he would never say it aloud. The moment he put on the Dark Iron Training Suit, the system had displayed a prompt—this equipment would suppress forty percent of his Ki Control while increasing the exertion of all basic training. This sensation of being suppressed to the limit before rebounding was exactly what he needed.

That afternoon's training involved climbing the hundred-meter cliff behind Turtle Hermit House with their bare hands. Goku charged up first, nimbly scrambling between the rocks like a monkey and reaching the top in ten minutes. Krillin climbed the slowest, but every step landed on the most secure foothold. By the time he reached the summit, his palms were bleeding, yet he had not fallen even once. Talos went up last—not because he was slow, but because Master Roshi had increased the difficulty for him. He could only use one hand.

At dusk, the three sat atop the cliff, with the boundless sea stretching out before them.

"I heard a lot of strong fighters are coming to this year's World Martial Arts Tournament." Krillin counted on his fingers. "The previous champion was someone named Tien Shinhan, a disciple of the Crane School. And there's his junior disciple, Chiaotzu. I heard they're coming this year too."

"That Tien Shinhan is strong," Talos said.

"How do you know?"

"I've sensed his ki. It's far above that of ordinary martial artists."

Krillin swallowed. "Then can I make it into the top eight?"

"Making the top eight isn't enough." Talos rose to his feet. The setting sun shone behind him, coating his entire body in gold. "Krillin, your goal is to become the strongest pure human martial artist on Earth. Not the top eight, not the top four. The strongest on Earth."

Krillin froze for a long while, then smiled. "Is that supposed to encourage me or crush me?"

"Encourage you."

"Who encourages people like that..." Krillin complained, but the smile on his face could not be hidden.

That night, the three of them cleaned up Turtle Hermit House together. Goku and Krillin mopped the floors and washed the dishes. While Talos was helping Master Roshi organize the bookshelf, he happened to spot an open martial arts journal. The page described a young man named Son Gohan—Goku's grandfather. Master Roshi had said that he was his earliest disciple. Though he had never formally accepted him as a student, he had taught him the most authentic foundational techniques of the Turtle Hermit School.

"Master Mutaito." Talos closed the journal. "You already know that the enemies of the future will be powerful. The Saiyan from three hundred years ago was only the beginning. You know full well that there was more than one Saiyan on Planet Vegeta."

Master Roshi did not answer.

"That's why you took in the three of us. It wasn't because the Turtle Hermit School lacked disciples—it was because you knew that when the true Saiyans descended upon Earth, only Saiyans themselves could stop them." Talos turned around and looked at Master Roshi's sunglasses. "The disciples you want to train aren't merely inheritors of the Turtle Hermit School's martial arts—they're warriors who can protect this planet."

Master Roshi remained silent for a long time. Then he adjusted his sunglasses, the glare on their lenses hiding his eyes.

"I've lived for more than three hundred years. My greatest skill isn't fighting—it's judging people. You and your master are both smart people. But smart people tend to overthink things. Don't overthink it—focus on the tournament first. We'll talk about everything else after it's over."

He stood up, patted Talos on the shoulder, and headed toward the door. After taking two steps, he stopped again. "You guessed right. Before that Saiyan left three hundred years ago, he said—the next time they came, it wouldn't be one person, but an army. So for the past three hundred years, I've been searching for disciples capable of inheriting this legacy. And now, all at once, I've got two Saiyans and one Earthling. How should this old man put it..."

He turned around, a rare serious smile hanging at the corner of his mouth.

"You three are the creations I'm most satisfied with in my entire life."

The sea breeze swept through Turtle Hermit House, rustling the coconut leaves.

On that night, the bond between three generations of Turtle Hermit School master and disciples quietly began to take shape. And beneath the feet of the three boys, that blue planet slowly turned—waiting for them to protect it, and waiting for them to surpass it.