Days After the Battle

Sunlight pierced the thin clouds above Kami's Lookout plaza and fell across the newly paved stone roads amid the ruins of North City. Nearly a year had passed since Cell's destruction, and everything on Earth was recovering slowly but steadily. North City's reconstruction had long been more than half complete through Bulma's cooperation with the Saiyan Mobile Corps. Fractured overpasses were lifted back into place piece by piece by Frieza's telekinesis—once the emperor of the universe, he had now become the construction crew's most efficient crane, working daily at the site with an energy-suppressing collar around his neck, his face dark with rage yet not daring to utter a word. The Saiyan settlement had grown from a cluster of tents into a real town. King Vegeta sat in his office reviewing housing allocation plans, with the coffee machine Bulma had given him sitting on his desk—a machine he still had not learned to use.

Krillin and Android 18's wedding was held in early autumn. The beach outside Kame House was filled with flowers and ribbons Bulma had airlifted from West City. Master Roshi officiated in that gaudy Hawaiian shirt of his, and while reciting the vows, his tears smeared one lens of his sunglasses. Android 17 stood at the edge of the crowd, a faint smile at the corner of his mouth, holding a potted cactus—the wedding gift he had spent a long time choosing. Chi-Chi cried the hardest, clutching Bulma as she said, "Even Krillin got married," before turning to glare at Son Goku. "Look at your son." Ji Ming stood on the outskirts of the crowd, pretending not to hear. Dende handed him a piece of cake and whispered, "Aunt Chi-Chi just glared at you." Ji Ming took the cake and silently ate a bite.

Not long after the wedding, Son Gohan was formally selected as a judge for the first "core combat power" assessment under the Saiyans' new system. The new rules replaced the old ranking system, which had valued only combat strength and bloodline, with three standards: combat strength, character, and contribution. King Vegeta took the lead in accepting the change. The council convened in the central hall of the Saiyan settlement, where hundreds of revived Saiyan warriors filled the tiered seats. Son Goku rose from his seat, his gaze sweeping across the faces of every row of warriors.

"I'm not good at talking." He scratched his head, his voice echoing through the hall. "But I know one thing—we didn't defeat Frieza on Namek because someone could fight better than someone else. We won because people were willing to stand in front of others. From today onward, Saiyans won't be a race that only knows how to fight. We'll be a race that knows how to protect others."

The hall fell silent for several seconds. Then King Vegeta was the first to raise his fist and strike his chest. Hundreds of Saiyan warriors struck their chests at once, the heavy resonance making the crystal chandeliers tremble slightly. As the council ended, Vegeta entered through the side door, carrying the smell of sweat from the Gravity Chamber. The protective film on the shoulder of his newly replaced battle suit had not even been torn off yet. He glanced at the podium and said nothing. He merely stood beside Son Goku, folded his arms, and swept his gaze across the room, finally stopping on Ji Ming. Ji Ming gave him a small nod. Vegeta's lips moved. In the end, he still did not smile, but Ji Ming knew he was satisfied.

Compared with institutional reform, breakthroughs in training drew even more attention. The true awakening of Ultra Instinct began with an unexpected failure one early morning.

That day, Son Goku and Ji Ming were sparring in an open field behind Kami's Lookout, with Piccolo standing nearby to keep watch. Son Goku fought in his normal Super Saiyan state, while Ji Ming attempted once again to enter Ultra Instinct. Speed, strength, anticipation—everything appeared to have improved over the previous week. But when he tried to empty his mind completely, his movements suddenly faltered. Goku's fist passed through his guard and struck his shoulder, and both of them stopped.

"That wasn't right." Goku withdrew his fist and tilted his head at him. "Your mind is fighting against itself. Ultra Instinct isn't about emptying your head. It's about letting your body handle the fight on its own."

Ji Ming moved the shoulder that had been hit, his joint letting out a dry crack. After a moment of silence, he exhaled slowly. "I wanted to act before my consciousness could catch up, but that only interfered with my body's own judgment."

Goku nodded and did not continue the spar. That night, Ji Ming sat alone at the edge of Kami's Lookout for half the night, gazing up at the star-filled sky. He went over every piece of theoretical knowledge about Ultra Instinct that he had learned from documents in his previous life, comparing it from beginning to end with the sensations of every real battle he had fought in this life.

In the third month after Dende succeeded Guru, Namek's new Dragon Balls were finally completed. At their first summoning in the plaza of Kami's Lookout, all of the first generation of core combatants stood within the summoning formation. Ji Ming made his wish word by word in the Namekian language. Porunga's new dragon body was more refined than before, his crimson eyes silently watching the child finish every word. When the Dragon Balls turned gray-white and rolled across the ground, Son Goku shifted his gaze toward Ji Ming.

"Think you'll be able to sleep well now?"

Ji Ming thought about it, then nodded. That night, Chi-Chi made three huge pots of stew. For once, Vegeta did not complain about the taste, while Piccolo sat in a corner and quietly finished an entire bowl.

Chi-Chi was another person who secretly surprised Ji Ming. She still lived in the old house on Mount Paozu. The roof had been repaired once, and the vegetable patch by the wall had expanded by a full circle. After Krillin's wedding, she had taken the initiative to learn basic ki-sensing training from Bulma. By the next day, she could sense every ki within a dozen meters that exceeded the harmless threshold. Once, when Ji Ming returned from the Gravity Chamber, he found her peeling potatoes in the kitchen while using ki sensing to lock onto Oolong, who was stealing strawberries in the yard, without even lifting her head. She no longer stopped anyone from going to battle, but she had joined the fight in another way—the kitchen on Mount Paozu always knew when the next training session would begin before the meeting room at Kami's Lookout did.

The third training breakthrough came from Vegeta. He had not achieved it on his own; Bulma had forced it out of him. While upgrading the Gravity Chamber, Bulma deliberately added a new set of sensory modules. Every time Vegeta tried to break free from the gravity lock through brute force, the modules automatically doubled the pressure, until he learned to find the weak point using the least possible energy. Vegeta kept hitting a wall in the Gravity Chamber for two full weeks before finally being forced to his limit. That day, through the observation window, Ji Ming saw Vegeta suddenly go still for three seconds in Super Saiyan 2 form, then shift a full meter sideways from the center of the gravity field—not by forcing his way through, but by sliding past it. Bulma rose in the monitoring room with a coffee cup in hand, the corner of her mouth curling as she gave her assessment. "Isn't that way cooler than fighting?"

Leaning beside the observation window, Ji Ming replied, "Next time, just tell him he's handsome. He'll improve even faster." Vegeta happened to push open the door and come out just in time to hear the last half of that sentence. He snorted and walked away.

Piccolo and Nail's training was much quieter. The two of them stayed in a stone forest behind Kami's Lookout, developing variants of the Special Beam Cannon every morning. Over half a year, they expanded from compressed trajectories and silent firing to nonlethal binding techniques. The rock wall behind the stone forest became covered with formation diagrams annotated in Namekian script. Dende would occasionally sit nearby, swinging his legs as he used a small branch to copy the trajectories into the dirt.

At the edge of Kami's Lookout, Ji Ming and Dende sat side by side on a stone railing. Dende had grown more than half a head taller since first arriving on Earth. His antennae could now stand completely straight, and his voice had lost its childish softness, gaining instead some of a young Guru's steadiness.

"Brother Ji Ming, Porunga said you didn't use up the remaining power of your third wish when you made it. What are you saving it for?"

Ji Ming looked toward the first lights coming on in the direction of West City, his voice soft. "Beerus, the God of Destruction."

"The God of Destruction?"

"One of the beings in the universe far stronger than Frieza. Babidi and Buu are merely dangers Earth might face while he sleeps. The one who truly holds the power of life and death is him. His appearance comes later, but he began sleeping earlier—based on records leaked from Frieza's old database, he may awaken sooner than we expect." Ji Ming paused. "Porunga didn't avoid his name. Shenron would not avoid the name of something capable of killing him, but he gave us this hint."

After dinner, news arrived from Bulma. The synthesis formula for an ultra-high-strength new material had passed field testing by the Saiyan Heavy Armored Corps, and the first batch of samples would be delivered to the Gravity Chamber the following week for final modifications. At the same time, the Saiyans' new communications network and Bulma's satellite system had completed full orbital integration. King Vegeta and Ji Ming received the same message from the observation station: the anomalous signal from the Coil Galaxy was still intensifying. Preliminary analysis identified it as a black magic aggregation wave, suspected to be a sign of Babidi charging up. Ji Ming did not immediately order an interception. He merely raised the observation frequency by one level.

One evening several weeks later, on Mount Paozu, Ji Ming pushed open the front door. Chi-Chi was bringing dishes to the table: braised pork, stir-fried vegetables, a huge basin of rice, and a plate of steamed pumpkin that Piccolo liked. Piccolo had been coming to Mount Paozu frequently lately. Every time, he claimed he was there to discuss tactics with Son Goku, yet every time, he sat in the corner of the dining table and finished an entire bowl of rice. Son Goku was already seated, chopsticks raised in his hand, staring fixedly at the braised pork. Over the past year, his training had focused on merging Kaio-ken with his Super Saiyan forms. His usual ki had grown increasingly restrained, and the old scar on his arm had faded under his Saiyan bloodline until only a faint white mark remained.

"Did you wash your hands?" Chi-Chi called from the kitchen. Son Goku immediately set down his chopsticks, his expression solemn. "I did." Chi-Chi narrowed her eyes. "When did you wash them?" "This morning." "This morning doesn't count!" Listening to their argument, Ji Ming pulled out a chair and sat down. Outside the window, the setting sun over Mount Paozu had dyed the entire forest a warm orange. In the distance, the stone pillars of Kami's Lookout gleamed with cold light in the dusk. Dende was probably practicing his new healing technique. Vegeta was still in the Gravity Chamber. Krillin and Android 18 were strolling along the beach outside Kame House. Piccolo was probably flying over from Kami's Lookout, ready to mooch another meal.

These days were peaceful. Peaceful enough that Ji Ming would occasionally lose himself, as though the tiny rented apartment of his previous life, the Dragon Ball manga, death, and transmigration had all been nothing more than a dream. But the dark green ring on his hand and the Crimson-Gold Light Core, still not fully unsealed deep within his inner sea, reminded him—this was real. He was living here. Chi-Chi's braised pork was real. Son Goku getting caught sneaking food was real. Vegeta's cold face and Bulma's coffee cup were all real.

Ji Ming lifted his rice bowl. Thinking of his former self in that rented apartment, repeatedly pausing, rewinding, and analyzing Dragon Ball battle scenes frame by frame, he suddenly wanted to say something to that boy curled up in front of the monitor: I came to the world you chose. It's good.

He took a mouthful of rice. Outside the window, the wind blew gently, and shifting tree shadows scattered across the table. The small tree that had newly sprouted branches above Kami's Lookout was being carefully watered by Dende. The God of Destruction was still asleep. Majin Buu's sealed sphere lay at the bottom of the sea. Babidi's detection waves were still on the far side of the universe. No matter what new choice awaited him tomorrow, everything he had experienced since being reborn had already told him—he would continue standing here, together with them, protecting every ordinary sunset beneath this starry sky.