Cultivation Begins

Ji Ming lay prone on the ground, his back burning with intense pain.

When Son Goku's thumb-sized energy blast exploded against his back, he almost thought he had died again. Fortunately, that layer of white aura he had just awakened absorbed most of the impact, leaving behind only scorched skin and a few groans from his overwhelmed bones.

It hurt, truly.

But he hadn't passed out.

That was enough.

"Hey, Gohan, are you okay?" Son Goku squatted beside him, reaching out to poke the back of his head with a tone like he was prodding a fledgling that had accidentally fallen from a tree.

"Don't poke me," Ji Ming's voice came muffled from the dirt. "It hurts."

"Oh, oh." Son Goku sheepishly pulled his hand back, then scratched the back of his head. "But it seems you were right. When I hit you with that energy blast just now, I felt your ki automatically gather at your back to block it. Your body is learning on its own; it's faster than your brain."

Ji Ming slowly pushed his upper body up. His skin was stuck to his training gi, and it tore with agonizing pain as he moved. He sucked in a cold breath, gritted his teeth, and sat up to look at his arm.

That thin layer of white light was still there, more stable than before. It wasn't flickering anymore; it was continuous and uniform, like a layer of transparent flame coating his skin. His ki projection had officially stabilized after his first near-death experience.

"Your ki is probably around three or four hundred now." Son Goku tilted his head to inspect him, poking the white light on his arm with a finger. "Yeah, about that. More than double what it was this morning; it's rising fast. But it's still far from the explosion you had that day with Raditz... How exactly did you trigger that back then?"

Ji Ming did not answer the question.

He couldn't answer it. That day was the result of his initial awakening after crossing over, a brush with death, and his Saiyan bloodline being ignited by both fear and rage—it was a flash in the pan bought with his life. That kind of combat power wasn't repeatable, nor was it the direction he needed to pursue now.

What he needed now wasn't an explosion; it was a foundation.

A foundation that could turn that explosion into a constant state.

"Dad," Ji Ming spat out the blood in his mouth, looked up, and stared at Son Goku. "I need someone who can teach me how to build a foundation from scratch. You can't."

"Hey, hey, that's hurtful." Son Goku wrinkled his nose.

"Then teach me the basic theory of ki manipulation."

"Uh... well, you just, use force, and then go 'hoo—hah'—like this." Son Goku struck a pose as if firing a beam.

Ji Ming stared at him expressionlessly.

Three seconds later, Son Goku conceded first, sighing as he squatted back down to scratch his head. "I can't really explain it well. Master Roshi didn't explain it properly back in the day either. Every time he finished a demonstration, he'd ask, 'Did you feel that?'—how was I supposed to feel anything? I only learned it by watching him practice it a hundred times."

"So," Ji Ming said with perfect calm, "I need someone who can actually teach."

Son Goku thought for a moment, then slapped his fist into his palm and laughed. "That's it! Tomorrow, I'll take you to see Master Roshi! He's a master at teaching; he's the one who trained me when I was a kid. You just have to endure him possibly handing you a photo album while you're doing weighted training... and then..." He stopped smiling and pointed into the distance. "Call that person over, too."

Ji Ming followed his gaze.

Chi-Chi was rushing out from the doorway, not even having time to take off her apron, clutching a spatula in her hand. Her face was a mix of heartbreak and fury, her eyes locked onto the scorched hole in the back of Son Gohan's training gi, her eye rims as red as if she had been the one hit.

"Stop fighting—!!" Chi-Chi charged over and pulled Ji Ming into her arms, the spatula almost poking Son Goku in the face. "Look at what you've done! He's still a child! You actually used an energy blast on him! And on his back! Are you even his real father?"

"It was him who asked me to hit him..." Son Goku jumped back, his voice growing smaller.

Ji Ming was held tight in Chi-Chi's arms, his ribs aching from the pressure. His nose brushed against her apron, catching the scent of flour and scallions. He stiffened, not knowing what to say, and could only manage to blurt out, "Mom, I'm fine."

"What do you mean you're fine! The wound on your back—oh my god, it's scorched!" Chi-Chi's hands hovered over his back, wanting to touch but afraid to, tears falling in large drops. "I don't care anymore. From today on, you stay home and recover properly. You aren't going anywhere!"

"I have to go to Master Roshi's for training tomorrow."

Chi-Chi's expression looked as if she had been doused with a bucket of cold water. She looked down at her son, and her son looked up at her. On that doll-like face stained with blood and dirt, his eyes were unlike any four-year-old's; there was no acting spoiled, no crying, no fear of pain, only a calm and determined light. That light made Chi-Chi feel like a stranger, even a little afraid. But she didn't back down; she bit her lip and hugged her son tighter.

"Then I'm going too."

"Chi-Chi—"

"Shut up, Son Goku." Chi-Chi silenced Son Goku with a glare, then turned back to Gohan. "Last time you were kidnapped by that alien, you came back covered in blood, with three broken ribs and cracked bones in your legs. I didn't close my eyes for three days, terrified you'd get a fever in the middle of the night, terrified your wounds would get infected, terrified you'd never wake up again. You want to get stronger? Fine. Mom doesn't understand your Saiyan stuff, but I'm going to watch you myself. I won't let you be alone again."

Her voice dropped at the end, raspy and barely audible. She buried her face in Gohan's hair, her breathing heavy and rapid, like a mother beast dragging her cub back into the den.

Ji Ming stood stunned for a long time.

He suddenly felt a soreness at the bridge of his nose. That strange bitterness spread from his nasal cavity to his eyes. He bit his cheek to suppress it and said in a muffled voice inside Chi-Chi's arms, "Okay, let's go together."

Son Goku stood to the side watching this scene, scratching his cheek in silence for a few seconds. Then he lifted his foot and walked toward the window that had just opened in a tree in the distance—he had seen Piccolo standing in the tree's shadow.

Piccolo's right arm was already back to normal, he wore his white cape again, and he had put his turban back on. He watched Goku approach, his face expressionless.

"The kid is going to Master Roshi's tomorrow. What are your plans?" Goku asked, looking up.

A subtle but undeniable curve appeared at the corner of Piccolo's mouth. "That brat who claims to know everything—I'll teach him myself."

Son Goku blinked, then grinned brightly. "Perfect. Besides, you can't beat me right now anyway, so practicing more will be good for you."

A dull grunt came from the tree, the branches shook a few times, and Piccolo's figure was gone.

The next morning, before the sky was fully light, Ji Ming was bundled in layers by Chi-Chi and placed onto the Flying Nimbus to fly toward Kame House. Chi-Chi didn't say much the whole way, only holding his shoulders tightly and occasionally checking his back—the skin scorched by the energy blast had already formed a thin scab, the Saiyan recovery speed making her both relieved and unsettled. Son Goku sat cross-legged in front, guiding the way, uncharacteristically quiet.

Kame House remained the same. It sat crookedly on the small island in the middle of the sea. There was a coconut tree in the yard with a few turtle shells tossed under it, and starfish and seashells were drying by the door. Master Roshi stood at the entrance to greet them, wearing a training gi with the word "Martial Arts" printed on it. His eyes changed the moment he saw Gohan—not the previous casual inspection, but with a patience that suggested a re-evaluation.

"Goku told me all about the crazy things you've been doing these past few days." Master Roshi walked over leaning on his cane, squatted in front of Ji Ming, and peered out from over his sunglasses with deep brown eyes. "You say you're from another world, know the future, and were even verified by Piccolo. Then let me ask you—my Kamehameha, does the ki circulation path rotate three times or five times in the palm?"

"Three times. But the latest version adds an internal rotation, making it four. It took you twenty years to refine that." Ji Ming answered without hesitation. "This technique is later modified by Goku on King Kai's planet to two and a half rotations, which increases both power and speed. Krillin uses only two, focusing on firing frequency."

Master Roshi blinked twice, his sunglasses nearly sliding off his nose. "The internal rotation method was something I thought of while walking on the beach in the middle of the night last year... I've never told anyone."

"In the future, it will be written into your textbooks." Ji Ming's lips moved slightly.

Master Roshi stood up, paced twice with his cane, and nodded heavily. "Good. Then I'll take you as my final disciple."

Ji Ming lowered his head and stretched out his hands.

"Then teach me the Kamehameha first. Use the internal rotation method, right now."

This sentence made Ji Ming look up. His arms were still trembling, and the burns from the previous night had not yet fully faded, but there was no hint of deception in Master Roshi's tone. Ji Ming took a deep breath, pulled his hands back to his waist, and imagined the internal rotation technique he had only ever read about in "data" as he slowly interlaced his fingers—the meager amount of ki inside his body began to circulate according to the rules.

A blue point of light ignited in his palms.

It was small, but steady. The shape leaked out from between his fingertips, no longer flickering erratically.

"Ka—me—ha—me—HA!"

He pushed both palms forward, and a pale blue energy blast about the size of a baseball flew out, trailing a clear tail of light as it shot toward the sea. After flying about twenty meters, the edges of the energy blast began to tremble and dissipate, barely creating a tiny ripple on the surface of the water before vanishing into nothingness.

Chi-Chi's eyes widened like tea bowls. Son Goku whistled.

"You can fire it? At four years old?" Goku's expression finally failed to hide his shock this time. "It took me until I was six to produce my first spark..."

Master Roshi did not praise him; he simply remained silent for a moment, took off his sunglasses, and wiped the lenses with the corner of his shirt. His fingers were trembling slightly.

"At your level, you need a comprehensive improvement in muscle, spirit, and reaction speed." Master Roshi put his sunglasses back on, his voice returning to a steady tone. "Put on that largest turtle shell."

Ji Ming walked to the tree and hoisted the heavy turtle shell—its edges worn smooth and the character "Turtle" painted on the front—onto his back. As soon as he shouldered the weight, his knees nearly buckled against the ground. But he didn't say a word; he braced his hands on the earth, pushed himself back up, and straightened his back.

"Run ten laps around the island first. We'll arrange anaerobic training when you get back." Master Roshi waved his hand.

Ji Ming ran onto the beach with the shell on his back. Every step landed with a dull thud, sinking deep into the sand, only for the footprints to be immediately washed away by the tide. Sea birds startled, flapping their wings and scattering in all directions. His breathing rhythm had already fallen apart once, but he gritted his teeth and forced it back into alignment.

By the ninth lap, Ji Ming's consciousness was starting to blur. His limbs refused to obey, and his body was relying entirely on muscle memory to repeat the motion of lifting his legs. Yet, he caught a glimpse of a white, uniform aura; this time, it didn't fade away, but instead clung tightly to his skin, flickering in and out of sight.

His ki had stabilized, and he had begun to manifest it naturally.

When he reached the finish line of the tenth lap, he saw the expression on Master Roshi's face—it wasn't just satisfaction. It was a complex look mixed with disbelief, relief, and some kind of profound premonition.

"Put the shell back on, continue with two hundred squats. Eat a Senzu Bean when you're done, then perform alternating hot and cold training."

As Master Roshi spoke, he tossed a ring of keys over. "After dinner, I'll take you to the Gravity Chamber to try it out—Bulma had people deliver it overnight."

"She's that fast?" Ji Ming nearly failed to catch the keys.

"I heard that Piccolo was the one who went directly to Bulma to find someone to build the Gravity Chamber. He suddenly appeared in West City yesterday afternoon and scared the life out of her," Goku added with rare seriousness.

Ji Ming gripped the keys, looking at the Capsule Corp logo printed on them, and a strange, indescribable feeling surged in his heart. Piccolo said nothing, but every arrangement he made was at least three weeks ahead of what Ji Ming had anticipated.

He bent down, shouldered the shell again, and began to squat, rise, squat, rise—over and over, until the sunset gilded the entire island.

The Gravity Chamber had been installed on a large patch of flat ground directly behind Kame House, taking up the space where coconut trees had once grown. The silver-gray, hemispherical structure shimmered coldly in the twilight, looking like an alien artifact transported straight out of a science fiction film.

Ji Ming stood at the entrance of the Gravity Chamber, looking up at the door that stood three times his height. On the control panel next to the door, Bulma had stuck a note with a smiley face and a line of text: "Ten times is enough to make him fly, don't mess with the settings—or you'll turn into meat paste!"

He pressed the open button.

The moment the door opened, a heavy air pressure, completely different from the outside, rushed toward him. Ji Ming stepped inside and adjusted the gravity to three times normal. The air tightened abruptly, and his body felt as if it were being pressed down by an invisible giant hand; his knees buckled for a split second. The old wound on his chest throbbed with hidden pain, and every muscle in his limbs protested against this world that had suddenly grown heavy.

Three times gravity was nothing. In the original story, Goku used three times gravity before heading to King Kai's planet, later gradually increasing it to ten, and after arriving on Namek, he even spent time soaking in a chamber set to one hundred. But for this four-year-old body—

Ji Ming gritted his teeth and began to do push-ups inside the chamber.

One.

Two.

Three.

Sweat didn't drip; it was slammed directly onto the floor by the triple gravity, creating tiny, shattered water marks. His hands were shaking, trembling from start to finish.

When he finished the tenth one, he ate the second Senzu Bean of the day.

Then, he continued.

The control console of the Gravity Chamber automatically recorded the logs. When Bulma saw the numbers on her remote monitor, she sprayed all the coffee in her mouth onto her keyboard.

"He trained for a full thirty minutes under triple gravity? And no one has even taught him how to circulate his ki yet?" She turned her head to look at Piccolo, who was sitting nearby. "Are you sure this is a four-year-old child?"

Piccolo didn't answer, only staring at the lines of data jumping across the screen, the corners of his mouth curving upward ever so slightly. A moment later, he stood up and walked out of the room.

Late at night, Ji Ming lay in bed. Moonlight spilled in through the small window of Kame House, illuminating the bandages wrapped around his arms. Chi-Chi sat by the bedside, holding one of his hands, unable to sleep. She was much quieter than she had been during the day; the panic was gone from her eyes, replaced by a worry that was slowly settling deep within her. She reached out to touch the blisters on his palms, her lips trembling as if she wanted to say something, but in the end, she merely tucked his hand back under the covers.

"Mom is actually very scared."

After a long silence, Chi-Chi finally spoke, her voice sounding as if it had been carried from far away by the sea breeze.

"...But Mom will learn to adapt."

Ji Ming kept his eyes closed, pretending he was already asleep. In reality, he was mentally rehearsing tomorrow's training plan from start to finish. He caught his breath, remembering the triple pressure he had felt in the Gravity Chamber today.

It was too light.

It was too light for what was to come.

Vegeta. Frieza. Cell. Buu. Beerus. The Grand Priest. Zeno.

Triple gravity was just the first comma.

Outside the window, the sound of the tide rose and fell, one breath after another, as if the world itself were breathing. Ji Ming buried his face into the pillow and clenched his fists.

The first step had already been taken.

He had no way back, and he didn't want one.