Martial Arts Tournament

Summer came to Papaya Island earlier than it did to the South Seas.

Banners for the 22nd World Martial Arts Tournament hung from the docks all the way to the entrance of the Martial Arts Hall, their white letters on red cloth snapping loudly in the sea breeze. The beach was packed with martial artists from all over the world—some carrying swords, some with axes strapped to their backs, some bare-chested, some clad in armor. Hundreds of people had turned this tropical island, usually home to little more than fishing villages and coconut trees, into a bustling town. Long lines stretched before the grilled squid stalls, and the air was thick with the smell of cooking oil and salty seawater.

"So many people!" Goku stood on tiptoe as he squeezed through the crowd, his tail nearly smacking a passing sumo wrestler in the face.

"Goku, keep your tail tucked in!" Krillin grabbed the furry thing. "Did you forget how someone nearly caught you on the boat because they thought you were a monkey?"

"But Talos has his tail out too!"

Krillin turned to look at Talos, who was following behind them. Talos's brown tail was indeed wrapped around his waist, but most of it was hidden beneath the hem of his training uniform. Combined with his calm, hard-edged face, even anyone who noticed the tail would not dare ask about it. Goku, on the other hand, wore an orange gi with a tail swaying behind him, looking exactly like a monkey that had stolen someone's clothes.

"That's because he looks hard to mess with, while you look like a monkey."

"Krillin, you're insulting me!"

"I'm stating a fact, not insulting you."

Talos did not join in their usual bickering. His attention was focused on his senses—there were two presences on the island worth noting. One was on the northern side of the island: Tien Shinhan. Just like in the original story, Tien Shinhan's ki was sharp as a honed blade, cold and piercing, carrying the distinctive edge of the Crane School. Chiaotzu's ki beside him was much weaker, but pure. The other presence was in the dense woods on the island's western side. Its ki was faint, almost impossible to detect—but its nature was not human. One of King Piccolo's demon subordinates, here to monitor the tournament.

Cymbal. Talos silently repeated the name. In the original story, this demon had killed Krillin. This time, he would not even get the chance to approach him.

"Talos," Krillin suddenly said, "is that Tien Shinhan?"

Talos followed Krillin's gaze. Two young men stood in front of the registration booth. The taller one was lean and wiry, dressed in a blue training uniform. A third eye sat in the middle of his forehead, and he stood with his arms crossed, coolly surveying the crowd. The shorter one wore a small round cap, his face pale as he stood timidly behind the three-eyed youth.

Tien Shinhan and Chiaotzu.

Tien Shinhan's gaze crossed the crowd and landed precisely on Talos. It was not because of Talos's appearance—it was because of his ki. To Tien Shinhan's senses, this Turtle Hermit School disciple's ki differed from everyone else's. It was not strong. It was deep. Like an ancient sealed well, utterly still on the surface, with unfathomable depths hidden below.

The two stared at each other across the crowd for a moment.

"That three-eyed guy's ki is really strong!" Goku followed Talos's gaze, his eyes shining—not with fear, but excitement.

"Chiaotzu." Tien Shinhan withdrew his gaze, turned, and walked away, leaving behind only one sentence. "See you in the preliminaries."

He had said it to Talos.

Talos did not respond. He simply watched the two vanish into the crowd. Tien Shinhan was the pride of the Crane School, and also the greatest genius the Crane Hermit had held back. In the original story, he had eventually turned his back on the Crane School and set out on a martial path of his own. But in this world, one page in Master Roshi's notes had been left for Tien Shinhan. It bore only four words: "Crane and turtle, same origin."

"Let's go. Time to register."

The registration booth had been set up at the entrance to the Martial Arts Hall, where three staff members sat behind a long table. When Talos wrote down his name and school on the registration form, the staffer's eyes lit up. "Turtle Hermit School? Are you disciples of Master Mutaito?"

"Yes."

"The Turtle Hermit School has three entrants this year. The preliminaries should be interesting." The staffer stamped the forms and handed them three number tags. "Eight tomorrow morning, in the main arena. The preliminary rounds officially begin. They'll be an elimination free-for-all. All contestants enter at once, and the last eight standing advance to the main tournament."

"A free-for-all?" Krillin took his tag.

"That's right. So aside from strength, luck matters too."

That evening, the three stayed at a small seaside inn on Papaya Island. The room was not large, with three tatami mats laid side by side. Goku lay on the windowsill counting the lights of the fishing boats at the docks, while Krillin sat cross-legged on his mat, turning his number tag over and over as he muttered to himself.

"Krillin, what are you mumbling about?"

"I'm calculating the odds," Krillin said solemnly. "If there are two hundred contestants in the preliminary free-for-all, the probability that all three of us survive to the end is—" He counted on his fingers for a few seconds. "Well, it's not very high. Unless we team up from the start."

"We'll definitely work together. But there's no need to calculate the odds." Talos jumped down from the windowsill and walked to the center of the room. "Tomorrow's preliminaries are simple. Goku and I will clear the field. Your job is to avoid getting knocked out. It doesn't matter how you do it—dodge, defend, hide in a corner until everyone else finishes fighting—so long as you're among the final eight, you win."

"Your plan makes it sound like I'm weak."

"You are the weakest," Talos said bluntly.

Krillin choked, then sighed. "Couldn't you put it a little more tactfully?"

"Being tactful won't make you stronger." Talos looked into Krillin's eyes, his tone unusually serious. "Krillin, your greatest strengths aren't power. They're ki control and your brain. In tomorrow's free-for-all, you don't need to beat everyone. You only need to do two things: protect yourself, and observe. Watch everyone's fighting habits. Find their weaknesses. Once you enter the main tournament, that information will be your weapon."

Krillin froze for several seconds, then the corners of his mouth slowly lifted. "Observation and finding weaknesses—I'm good at that. Fine, tomorrow I'll be your scout. But if you two clear the field, won't that draw too much attention?"

"That's exactly the point." Talos turned toward the window. The western horizon was pitch-black in the night. "King Piccolo's spy is on this island. Let him see clearly—the Turtle Hermit School has arrived."

The next morning, in the Martial Arts Hall's main arena.

The stands, which could seat two thousand people, were still empty because the preliminaries were closed to the public. The ring was packed with martial artists from all over the world, at least two hundred of them at a rough count. Tall, short, fat, thin, armed with blades, armed with staffs, or empty-handed—they were all crammed onto one platform like dumplings boiling in a pot.

Talos stood amid the crowd with his hands hanging at his sides. In an instant, his senses swept over the entire ring—most contestants had power levels between 50 and 100, while a few exceeded 150. Tien Shinhan had the highest, around 250 in his normal state, though he was clearly suppressing his true strength as well. Chiaotzu's power level was around 120, but he possessed psychic abilities.

"The rules are simple!" the referee announced from a raised platform at the edge of the ring. "Everyone enters at once. There are no restrictions on methods or weapons. Falling from the ring or surrendering voluntarily means elimination. The final eight will advance to the main tournament. Now—begin!"

A gong rang out.

The ring instantly erupted into chaos. A burly man was thrown off the platform by three opponents working together. A swordsman had just slashed down one opponent when someone behind him sent him flying with a kick. Two fellow disciples held a corner back-to-back, only to be surrounded by a group of big men, lifted up, and tossed out. Ki blasts flew wildly across the ring as screams and impacts merged into one deafening din.

Goku was the first to charge out. Without even taking a stance, he punched a fat man wielding a meteor hammer flat. Man and weapon flew together, crashing into a row of people behind him and clearing a narrow path through the crowd. Krillin stood in a corner at the very edge of the ring, using his small stature to avoid most attacks while his eyes rapidly tracked every contestant's movements.

Tien Shinhan stood on the other side of the ring, his fighting style so simple it was almost indifferent—he never attacked first, but any contestant who came within two meters of him was knocked unconscious in an instant with a single palm strike. Every blow landed on the same spot at the side of the neck, with precision as exact as if it had been measured with a ruler. Chiaotzu hovered in midair, using his psychic powers to push anyone who approached him off the ring one by one.

And Talos—he stood where he was, without moving a single step.

Not because no one challenged him. Every challenger was simply sent flying away.

The first was a burly man carrying a massive axe. Before he could even swing it, Talos extended one finger and tapped his wrist. The man's entire arm went numb, and the axe flew from his grasp and smashed into his own foot. Screaming, he hopped a few steps on one leg before falling off the ring. The second was a small, speed-focused fighter who circled behind Talos, trying to sneak an attack at the back of his head. Talos did not even turn around. He merely released a faint burst of ki from his back, and the man was flung away as though he had slammed into an invisible wall. The third, the fourth, the fifth—every person who rushed him was blown away the instant they came close.

"Who's that guy in orange?!" one of the contestants who had been flung away shouted as he crawled out of the sand below the ring.

"From the Turtle Hermit School! I saw his registration form earlier—his name's Talos!"

"He didn't even move! Not one step!"

Tien Shinhan's third eye contracted slightly. To everyone else, Talos was merely knocking his opponents away, but Tien Shinhan sensed a deeper level to it—none of those sent flying had suffered serious injuries. To control ki so precisely, knocking every enemy away without moving a finger while holding back with perfect accuracy to ensure no one was hurt... he wasn't sure he could do that himself.

"So strong." Chiaotzu landed beside Tien Shinhan.

"...We'll talk after the main tournament begins."

Twenty minutes later, the referee struck the final gong. Only eight people remained on the arena: Talos, Goku, Krillin, Tien Shinhan, Chiaotzu, Pamput, one of the previous tournament's semifinalists, and two senior-junior brothers from a local martial arts school making their first appearance in the main tournament.

"The preliminaries are over! The following eight contestants will advance to the main tournament!"

The drawing ceremony began immediately afterward. The host climbed onto the arena carrying a sealed red wooden box, and the eight contestants drew numbered balls in turn.

Goku drew number two, facing number one—the senior brother who had drawn number one immediately turned green.

Tien Shinhan drew number seven.

Talos drew last. Only one ball remained in the box—number eight.

"Contestant Talos—number eight! He will face contestant Tien Shinhan in the first round!"

The entire venue erupted. The two strongest fighters from the preliminaries had collided in the very first round of the main tournament.

After the host announced all the matchups, Talos stepped down from the arena. As he passed Tien Shinhan, the two locked eyes for a second.

"You weren't hiding your strength during the preliminaries," Tien Shinhan suddenly said. "You've been hiding it all along. From the first day until now, you've never shown your true full strength."

Talos stopped walking. "Neither have you."

Tien Shinhan's third eye contracted slightly. After a moment of silence, the corner of his mouth slowly curved upward—not in anger, but with a long-forgotten excitement. "Tomorrow, in the ring, I'll force out your full strength."

"I'll be waiting."

With that, Talos continued toward the contestants' passage. Tien Shinhan remained where he stood, watching the back of the orange battle robe vanish at the end of the corridor. Chiaotzu tugged at his sleeve. "Tien Shinhan, that person... I can tell he wasn't lying. He really has been holding back."

"...I know." Tien Shinhan clenched his fist. "That's why I'll go all out tomorrow. No matter how much he's hiding, I'll force it out."

Back at the inn, the three members of the Turtle Hermit School sat together on the tatami. Krillin had already organized information on every opponent in the main tournament—Pamput's power-focused swordsmanship, the two brothers' coordinated techniques, the range of Chiaotzu's psychic powers. Every detail was recorded in his palm-sized notebook, in handwriting as neat as print.

"Tomorrow's main event is Talos versus Tien Shinhan." Krillin closed his notebook. "Tien Shinhan's Solar Flare is extremely troublesome. He never used it during the preliminaries, but in the previous tournament, he eliminated four or five contestants in one go with it. Combined with his Multi-Form Technique and Volleyball Fist, he has a very versatile offense. Talos, how are you planning to deal with him?"

"With the Turtle Hermit School's fundamentals."

"The fundamentals?"

"The principle behind the Solar Flare is blinding people with intense light. If you cover your eyes with a layer of ki film beforehand, you can filter out the glare." Talos raised a hand, gathering a nearly invisible layer of ki at his fingertips. "The essence of the Multi-Form Technique is dividing one's power among the clones, which makes the original body the weakest. As long as you find the original, one move is enough."

Krillin fell silent for a few seconds, then gave a wry smile. "You make it sound easy."

"The principle is simple. Executing it requires precision. If the ki film is too thick, it affects your vision. If it's too thin, it can't block the glare. The clones created by the Multi-Form Technique look exactly like the original and move in sync with it. You need to identify the original through the subtle differences in their ki at the instant the clones attack." Talos looked at Krillin. "But precision is your strongest skill."

"Do you want to learn Tien Shinhan's Solar Flare and the Qi Film Eye Guard?" Talos suddenly asked.

Krillin froze for a moment. "Is there enough time to learn them now?"

"There is. Your ki control is the most precise out of all of us. Learning this only requires mastering the technique; it doesn't require any additional increase in fighting strength." Talos extended two fingers and formed an extremely thin layer of ki film before Krillin's eyes. "Feel the thickness and density of this film. Imitate it with your own ki, then let me test it with a flash bomb."

Krillin closed his eyes and felt it for a few seconds, then began gathering ki film at his fingertips. The first attempt was too thick. The second was too thin. The third—was just right. It took less than ten minutes in total.

"You've really never learned this before?" Talos was somewhat surprised.

"Never. But that ki control you mentioned—I practiced it every day back at Orin Temple. My senior brothers said I was slacking off, but I was actually training this. The masters at Orin Temple didn't understand it, but you do." Krillin smiled, then turned serious. "All right, stop changing the subject. For your match against Tien Shinhan, are you going to use the Kaioken?"

Talos was silent for a second. "Depends on the situation."

"What does that mean?"

"If he's worth it, I'll use it."

The next morning, the first match of the quarterfinals began. The entire martial arts hall was packed to capacity. Some spectators held homemade support signs, one reading "Turtle Hermit School" and the other "Tien Shinhan." Cheers from supporters on both sides rose and fell in waves.

The host leaped onto the arena. "Ladies and gentlemen! The first match of the quarterfinals—contestant Talos versus contestant Tien Shinhan! Both fighters were the standout performers of the preliminaries. This battle is certain to go down in the history of the Martial Arts Tournament! And now—please welcome our contestants!"

Tien Shinhan emerged from the left passage. He wore a blue training uniform, his steps steady, his third eye gleaming coldly beneath the lights.

Talos emerged from the right passage. His orange battle robe fluttered gently in the sea breeze, half of his brown tail visible below its hem as he walked forward at an unhurried pace.

The two stood facing each other.

"Begin!"

Tien Shinhan attacked first. He did not probe or test his opponent. Instead, he directly unleashed the Solar Flare. Blinding white light exploded across the arena, drawing cries of alarm from the crowd. At the same time, his Multi-Form Technique split him into four bodies, attacking simultaneously from four different directions.

But Talos kept his eyes open the entire time. A nearly invisible layer of ki film covered his pupils—the Qi Film Eye Guard. Tien Shinhan's four bodies all froze for an instant. In that instant, Talos moved.

Just as the four clones' fists were about to strike him, he twisted sharply aside. Three Afterimages shot toward three of the clones, while his real body appeared directly before Tien Shinhan's original body. One palm strike. A basic technique of the Turtle Hermit School—Tiger-Subduing Palm. The force of the strike pierced through Tien Shinhan's defense and landed squarely on his chest.

Tien Shinhan flew backward, twisting in midair to bleed off the force. When he landed, his feet dragged two long marks several meters across the arena. He coughed, a trace of blood spilling from the corner of his mouth. But he did not fall. He rose, wiped away the blood, and resumed his opening stance.

"You broke the Solar Flare. You saw through the Multi-Form Technique too." Tien Shinhan's voice was low. "Then I can only use my final move. It isn't an orthodox Crane School technique. I modified it myself. I haven't even named it yet, but the principle is simple—gather all the ki in my body into one point, then release it in a spiral. Its penetrating power is three times that of an ordinary Tri-Beam."

A pale golden sphere of light began to gather between his palms. It was not large, only the size of a fist, but the air around it was already warping. The temperature on the arena abruptly soared.

"This move is dangerous. Even I can't control it well." Tien Shinhan raised his head, his third eye staring directly at Talos. "If you surrender now, I won't think any less of you."

Talos did not answer. He lowered both hands to his sides and abandoned his opening stance. The entire venue fell quiet for an instant before erupting into even louder cries of shock—what was he doing?! Dropping his stance was the same as standing in front of a gun and waiting to be shot!

In the stands, Master Roshi's fingers tightened slightly around the edge of his magazine.

Tien Shinhan's expression changed. It was neither anger nor the fury of someone who had been provoked, but a deeper respect that had been suppressed for a long time. He closed his eyes and focused every bit of his attention on the pale golden sphere between his hands. The sphere spun faster and faster, its core growing hotter and hotter, until the air above the arena began to emit a piercing hum.

"Then take this—!"

A beam burst from his palm, trailing a pale blue plasma tail as it blasted toward Talos like a true bolt of lightning.

Talos did not dodge.

Kaioken. Onefold.

A red aura erupted at the very last instant before the beam struck. With his arms crossed before his chest, he took Tien Shinhan's strongest attack head-on while in a twofold Kaioken state. Golden and crimson energies collided atop the ring, and the shockwave tore up the stone tiles around its edges one by one. The railings before the front rows creaked under the pressure of the blast.

The smoke slowly dispersed.

Talos stood where he was, his arms still crossed in a blocking stance. His cuffs had been reduced to scraps, and the skin of his arms was faintly reddened, but he remained as steady as a mountain. Tien Shinhan stood on the other side of the ring, his hands hanging at his sides, his fingertips still trembling slightly. That strike had exhausted all of his ki.

He looked at Talos, and the corner of his mouth slowly lifted. "You blocked it..."

Then he turned and walked off the ring. The referee stood frozen for several seconds before finally blowing the final whistle. "The winner—Talos!!!"

The entire arena erupted. Without looking back, Tien Shinhan waved a hand—not as a gesture of surrender, but as one martial artist's acknowledgment of another.

That evening, Talos found Tien Shinhan in the coconut grove behind the tournament hall. The three-eyed warrior leaned against a coconut tree while Chiaotzu stood on tiptoe, wiping the sweat from his forehead. When he saw Talos, Tien Shinhan straightened up.

"Can you accept your loss?" Talos asked.

"I can." Tien Shinhan fell silent for a second. "But next time, I'll be stronger."

"I know." Talos took a yellowed notebook from his clothes and handed it to him. Tien Shinhan opened it. On the title page was a single line—"The Crane and the Turtle share the same origin." It was signed by Mutaito.

"Master Mutaito asked me to give this to you," Talos said. "He said you aren't bad by nature. You were just led astray by the Crane Hermit. He also said that if one day you want to leave the Crane School—the Turtle Hermit School has a place for you."

Tien Shinhan's fingers trembled faintly. He lowered his head, his third eye fixed tightly on that line. After a long silence, he finally spoke. "I've killed many people. Under the Crane Hermit, I did many wrong things."

"So what? Are you going to keep doing wrong for the rest of your life, or use your future battles to make up for the wrongs of the past?"

Tien Shinhan raised his head. A faint glimmer of moisture shone in his third eye, but his voice remained cold and hard. "I don't know how to make up for it."

"King Piccolo is coming." Talos turned and looked toward the western horizon. "If you want to make up for it, start with this battle. Not as the Crane School, not as the Turtle Hermit School—as yourself."

He walked toward the edge of the coconut grove, then stopped after a few steps. "Tien Shinhan. That attack of yours today was the strongest Tri-Beam I've seen on Earth."

Tien Shinhan did not answer. But Chiaotzu noticed that the fingers clutching the notebook were slowly tightening.

The sun sank beneath the horizon, and the clamor of Papaya Island gradually quieted.

And in that brief calm, a tall black shadow quietly slipped near the lodgings of the tournament contestants. Cymbal stood in the shadows of the coconut grove, his scarlet eyes fixed on the distant inn windows. He had been ordered to kill this tournament's champion, but he had no idea that the level of power he faced was far beyond anything he could comprehend.

Just as he was about to take a step, a pale golden ki blast grazed his ear and sliced off half of it. Cymbal screamed and clutched the wound, turning to see Talos standing ten paces behind him.

"Go back and tell Piccolo," Talos said softly, yet every word drove into Cymbal's mind like a nail. "The Turtle Hermit School is right here. If he wants to come, he can come whenever he likes."

Cymbal did not answer. He only nodded frantically before turning and vanishing into the night.

Talos lowered his hand and headed toward the inn. The sea wind swept across the docks, waves crashed against the reefs, and everything looked no different from usual. But he knew that the real battle was about to begin. Not a sparring match in the ring, but a decisive battle that would determine the fate of this planet.

Back at Turtle Hermit House, Master Roshi sat at his desk and closed Mutaito's Notes. He removed his sunglasses, wiped the lenses with the corner of his clothes, and looked toward the spot on the beach where those three boys had once trained until they were drenched in sweat.

"Master, these three disciples are the works I'm most proud of in my life," he murmured. "So this time—I won't die."

He opened a drawer. Inside lay a sealed letter, with three names written on the envelope. He tucked it into his clothes, rose to his feet, slung his turtle shell over his back, and walked out the door. Moonlight fell across his graying hair, turning every white strand silver. The head of the Turtle Hermit School, the who-knows-which-generation heir, a martial arts grandmaster who had lived for three hundred years—tonight, he set out. Not to die. But to finish a war that should have ended three hundred years ago.

And behind him, three youths in orange martial arts uniforms flew through the night. They were heading in the same direction—Dark Forest. To bring their master home.