Six Months of Hard Training, Combat Power Multiplied Tenfold, Master Roshi: You've Been Fooled by the Numbers

Day Seven.

When Chen Mo finished his twentieth lap with the turtle shell on his back, he didn't fall.

That was progress.

Seven days ago, he would have face-planted into the sand by the sixth lap.

Now, he could still stand and gasp after twenty laps, though he was panting like a stranded fish.

He had gone from breaking down after thirty-five push-ups on the first day to doing seventy without stopping today.

He gritted his teeth and forced out the last thirty. He was moving so slowly that even a passing sea turtle would turn back to look at him.

But he hadn't stopped.

"Not bad progress." Master Roshi sat in a folding chair, his sunglasses reflecting the morning sunlight. "Seven days ago, your power level was five."

"What is it now?"

"See for yourself."

Chen Mo took out the Scouter, aimed it at himself, and pressed a button.

A number appeared on the screen.

7.

Chen Mo stared at it for three seconds.

"Seven."

"Mm."

"I gained two in seven days."

"Mm."

"At this rate, to become as strong as Goku was when he first appeared, I'll need..."

"Don't calculate it. The more you do, the more discouraged you'll get." Master Roshi lifted his teacup. "Keep running."

Day Fourteen.

Chen Mo felt ki for the first time.

That night, as usual, he sat cross-legged on the beach to meditate.

The sound of waves, the wind, and the distant snores of sea turtles were all shut out.

He focused his attention on his dantian.

For the first thirteen days, he had felt nothing.

It was like staring into an empty room.

On the night of the fourteenth day, he "saw" something.

There was something in the area of his dantian. It was tiny and faint, like a match at the instant it was struck. It could go out at any moment.

But it was there.

"I felt it," Chen Mo said.

Master Roshi opened one eye.

"How big?"

"About the size of a match head."

"When Krillin first felt it, it was the size of an egg."

"..."

"Goku's was the size of a watermelon."

"Could you stop comparing me to them?"

"You need comparisons to know how weak you are. Once you know you're weak, you'll train desperately." Master Roshi closed his eyes. "Hold onto that ki. Don't let it disperse. Try to make it bigger."

It took Chen Mo three days to stabilize that match-head-sized ball of ki. Then it took another five days to grow it to the size of a marble.

Master Roshi said that it would only count as getting started once it grew to the size of a fist.

Day Twenty-Eight.

His power level had reached 10.

Chen Mo squatted on the beach, staring at the number on the Scouter.

10.

That was little Goku's power level when he first appeared. A monkey kid holding a Power Pole had been at that level back then.

Chen Mo had taken nearly a month to reach it, and that already made him a super genius.

Even the world's top boxing champions could never reach this level. Perhaps that was the secret of the Turtle School.

And the secret of ki.

A month of weighted running, push-ups, squats, sideways movement through the sea, basic boxing, and ki-control meditation.

The turtle shell had gone from twenty kilograms to twenty-eight.

He had lost three kilograms, but his arms had grown noticeably thicker.

In the Dragon Ball World, a power level of 10 was nothing.

Double Kaio-ken: 20.

Triple Kaio-ken: 30.

A power level of 30 could probably beat a dinosaur.

"Stop grinning stupidly at that number." Master Roshi walked out of the house with a dried fish in hand. "10 is just the starting fare. Even a taxi meter runs higher than you."

"I wasn't grinning."

"The corners of your mouth are up."

Chen Mo forced his mouth back down.

"Raise the turtle shell to thirty kilograms. Starting tomorrow, I'll throw rocks at you while you run. You'll have to dodge as you run."

"...What?"

"Combat awareness training. Did you think fighting meant standing still and throwing punches at each other? In real combat, evasion and judgment are the most important things. Your body can take a beating now, but your brain still doesn't know how to fight."

Five o'clock the next morning.

Chen Mo ran along the beach with a thirty-kilogram turtle shell on his back.

Master Roshi sat in a folding chair, holding tea in his left hand while picking up pebbles at his feet with his right.

When the first stone flew over, it struck Chen Mo in the back of the head.

It didn't hurt. Master Roshi had controlled the force.

But the clank was crisp, echoing across the morning sea.

"Don't keep your eyes fixed straight ahead. Use your peripheral vision to sweep both sides. Even if you can't sense ki, you should at least use your eyes."

The second stone hit his left shoulder.

The third grazed his ear.

By the fifth lap, Chen Mo had dodged one.

Master Roshi said nothing. But he started throwing stones more frequently.

A month later.

Chen Mo could dodge thirty percent of Master Roshi's stones.

Master Roshi replaced the stones with coconuts.

"Your movements are too big. Every time you dodge, your whole body jumps. That wastes stamina. A real dodge is the smallest possible shift. Tilt your head three centimeters to the left—that's enough. You moved thirty."

"You're throwing coconuts. It'll still hit me if I only move three centimeters."

"That's because your timing is wrong. Moving three centimeters half a second earlier has the same effect as moving thirty centimeters half a second later. But the former takes ninety percent less effort."

Chen Mo remembered those words.

The days passed one by one.

The turtle shell went from thirty kilograms to thirty-five. From thirty-five to forty.

Chen Mo had finally carried a turtle shell as heavy as the ones Goku and Krillin had worn back then.

His body had changed.

It wasn't the exaggerated muscular definition of a bodybuilder. His entire body had simply become more compact and solid.

His footsteps grew lighter when he ran, and his punches began to carry an audible gust.

His control of ki was improving as well. The ball of ki in his dantian grew from a marble into an egg, then from an egg into a fist.

Master Roshi taught him to guide ki into his limbs.

"Ki follows the blood. When you exert force, ki needs to flow into the part of your body exerting it at the same time. When you throw a punch, channel ki into the striking surface of your fist. When you kick, channel it into the top of your foot."

"How is that different from Kaio-ken?"

"Kaio-ken compresses and detonates all the ki in your body at once. What I'm teaching you is everyday application. The difference is that Kaio-ken is like tying a grenade to your fist before punching someone. I'm teaching you to hit them with your fist itself."

"With the first, you blow yourself up afterward. With the second, you can keep punching as long as you want."

The third month.

His power level reached 25.

Chen Mo began sparring with Master Roshi.

So-called sparring meant Master Roshi stood in place and let Chen Mo attack him.

Chen Mo threw a punch. A thin layer of white ki coated the striking surface of his fist.

Bang.

It struck Master Roshi's raised palm.

Master Roshi did not move an inch.

"Not bad. There was ki behind that punch."

Chen Mo withdrew his fist, stepped forward with his left foot, and drove his knee up.

Master Roshi casually blocked with his other hand. Chen Mo's knee slammed into his palm as if it had hit a wall.

"Your power transmission is ten times better than it was on the first day. But your combinations are still too crude. After throwing a punch, you paused for 0.3 seconds before following with the knee strike. In actual combat, 0.3 seconds is enough for you to die three times."

"Against the androids, it'd be enough to die three hundred times."

"So you need to reduce that pause to zero. Movements aren't separate from one another—they're a single line. Don't pull your fist back after punching. Use the force of retracting it to bring your knee up directly. Your waist is the axis. Every movement turns through the waist."

Master Roshi demonstrated once.

He threw a punch. Very slowly. Chen Mo could see every detail.

As his fist shot out, his rear foot pushed off the ground and his waist twisted. Before the fist had fully retracted, the knee of his front leg had already driven upward.

While the knee was still rising, the elbow of his rear arm had already smashed down.

Three movements, all within one second.

Every movement was the continuation of the one before it.

There was no opening stance, no preparation, no concept of a "next move."

It was just one line. A line that never broke from beginning to end.

"Understand?"

"I understand. I can't do it."

"Of course you can't. Train."

The fourth month. The fifth month.

The turtle shell was increased to fifty kilograms.

Chen Mo had actually lost weight, but his speed while running under load was faster than it had been on the first day without any weight.

His control over ki progressed from "being able to channel it into his limbs" to "being able to switch it between his limbs."

After his left fist struck, he could withdraw the ki from it and instantly channel it into his right leg.

Though the switch was still slow, taking roughly 0.5 seconds. At least he could do it now.

Every night, Master Roshi sparred with him for half an hour.

For the first four months, Chen Mo had been beaten one-sidedly.

Master Roshi's attacks were gentle, but every blow struck a gap in Chen Mo's defense.

Starting in the fifth month, Chen Mo could occasionally block one or two attacks.

Before Master Roshi attacked, his shoulders made an extremely subtle movement.

Before a left punch, his left shoulder dipped slightly. Before moving his right foot, his center of gravity shifted right in a nearly imperceptible motion.

After being beaten for four months, Chen Mo had finally begun to "see" these wind-ups.

"Not bad." Master Roshi withdrew his hands. "You're starting to read movements."

"Even if I read them, I can't block them."

"As long as you can read them, that's enough. You can't block because your body can't keep up with your brain. Your mind reacts, but your hands can't get into position in time. You can only fix that through training. Train until your muscles can match the speed of your neural reactions."

"How long?"

"Krillin trained for a year."

"..."

"You're not Krillin. You might need two years."

"I don't have two years."

Master Roshi glanced at him but did not press further.

Half a year.

A full half year.

One hundred and eighty-three days.

Chen Mo stood up from beside the folding chair on the beach and aimed the Scouter at himself.

A number flashed across the screen.

50.

Fifty.

From 5 to 50. Tenfold growth.

Half a year. Every day from five in the morning until nine at night.

Weighted runs, sparring drills, ki-control meditation, evasion training, lateral movement in the sea, and a baptism of rocks and coconuts.

The turtle shell now weighed sixty kilograms.

He ran with it on his back faster than an ordinary person could sprint.

His fists could shatter rocks now. Not small stones, but basin-sized chunks of coral reef like the ones on the beach.

One punch would break them into four or five pieces.

His ki-switching speed had dropped from 0.5 seconds to 0.1 seconds.

Triple Kaio-ken.

50 times 3.

150.

What did that number mean?

When Master Roshi had blasted away the moon with a full-power Kamehameha at the World Martial Arts Tournament, his power level had been 139.

With Triple Kaio-ken activated, Chen Mo's power level was 150.

He had surpassed Master Roshi.

Chen Mo looked at the number on the scouter, and a thought surfaced in his mind.

He couldn't hold it back.

"Master."

Master Roshi was sitting in a folding chair, fishing.

For the past half year, the old man's routine had never changed.

Whenever he wasn't training his student, he sat here and fished.

"Hmm?"

"With Triple Kaio-ken at full power, my power level is 150."

"Mm."

"Your full power back then was 139."

Master Roshi's fishing rod paused for a second.

"What are you trying to say?"

"Have I... surpassed you?"

Master Roshi turned to look at Chen Mo. His expression was hidden behind his sunglasses.

Three seconds of silence passed.

"Come." Master Roshi stood up. He stuck his fishing rod into the sand and pushed the folding chair aside. "Punch me."

"What?"

"Triple Kaio-ken, full power. Punch me."

Chen Mo hesitated for a moment.

"You want me to hit you with everything I've got?"

"You're afraid of hurting me?"

"...No."

"Then come."

Chen Mo straightened up and took a deep breath.

"Kaio-ken—Triple."

A red aura exploded from his body. The shockwave kicked up the sand on the beach, gouging a half-meter-deep crater beneath his feet.

Half a year of training had allowed his body to bear the burden of Triple Kaio-ken more steadily. His muscles no longer tore all over like they had the first time.

A power level of 150.

Red light reflected across the sea.

Chen Mo kicked off the ground and shot forward. Ki surged into his right fist, his waist twisted with force, and he drove a punch at Master Roshi's chest.

He saw that Master Roshi didn't move.

He made no move to block. No attempt to evade.

He simply stood there.

Chen Mo's fist landed.

Boom.

The shockwave spread, and sand flew everywhere.

Chen Mo's knuckles were pressed against Master Roshi's palm.

Master Roshi caught his full-force strike with one hand.

He did not budge. There was not even a trace of displacement in the sand beneath his feet.

Even the hem of his floral shirt did not stir.

Chen Mo's eyes widened.

Master Roshi gripped his fist and flicked it aside.

A force passed through his palm. It was not strong, but its angle was absurdly tricky.

Chen Mo lost his balance completely, his body pitching uncontrollably to the right.

He tried to brace himself with his left foot, but Master Roshi's foot was already resting against his ankle.

With a light hook.

Chen Mo fell onto the beach, flat on his back. The red aura around him had yet to fade.

Master Roshi stood beside him, looking down.

"Kid." Master Roshi wiped his sunglasses with his sleeve. "Do you know what mistake you just made?"

The back of Chen Mo's head was buried in the sand.

A full-force punch with a battle power of 150 had been caught with one hand.

"My timing was wrong?"

"No."

"The angle?"

"No."

"Then what?"

"Your mistake was looking at the Scouter."

Chen Mo froze.

Master Roshi crouched beside him.

"You did the math. You were at 50, tripled to 150. When I blew up the moon, I was at 139. So you thought you were stronger than me."

"Right."

"You got the math wrong."

Master Roshi raised a finger.

"First, that 139 was from many years ago. Did you think I hadn't trained for over twenty years?"

Chen Mo opened his mouth.

"Second, battle power measures the total amount of ki and physical fitness. But fighting is not about the total amount of ki."

"It's about control, experience, judgment, and timing."

"When your punch with a battle power of 150 came at me, I saw your opening stance, the direction of your force, the shift in your center of gravity, when you would throw the punch, and how your body would lose balance afterward."

"You saw all of that?"

"You're as transparent as glass in front of me."

Master Roshi stood up.

"A higher battle power doesn't mean you'll win. When Goku fought Vegeta, Vegeta's battle power was eighteen thousand, while Goku's base was only eight thousand."

"Quadruple Kaio-ken pushed him up to thirty-two thousand, so he won in numbers. But Goku nearly died in that battle."

"Because Vegeta had far more combat experience than he did. Saiyans had been fighting wars across the universe since childhood. How many years had Goku spent farming on Earth?"

"When two people with the same numbers fight, the one who knows how to fight better will always win. When there's a twofold difference in numbers, the better fighter may not necessarily lose either."

Chen Mo sat up from the beach. The red aura faded away.

"Then what exactly is your battle power now?"

Master Roshi glanced at him.

"You have a Scouter. Measure it yourself."

Chen Mo pulled out the Scouter and aimed it at Master Roshi.

A number appeared on the screen.

Chen Mo saw it.

Then he turned the Scouter over and checked the back to make sure it was not broken.

He aimed it at Master Roshi and scanned him again.

The number had not changed.

139.

"One hundred thirty..."

"Don't believe your own eyes," Master Roshi said.

His expression did not change.

Then he moved.

There was no exaggerated motion.

No crimson aura bursting from his body like the King Kai Fist.

He merely stood there, breathing a little deeper.

The numbers on the Scouter began to jump.

139. 280. 400. 600.

They kept rising.

800. 1000.

When they hit 1200, there was still no sign of stopping.

Master Roshi withdrew his power.

The sea returned to calm. The sand settled back onto the ground.

He was still that short old man in a floral shirt.

His sunglasses sat slightly crooked. His white beard fluttered in the wind.

But the way Chen Mo looked at him had completely changed.

1200.

He had only released 139 while suppressing himself earlier.

Nearly ten times as much.

"Master..."

"I haven't taught students in over twenty years," Master Roshi said, straightening his sunglasses. "That doesn't mean I haven't trained in over twenty years."

He bent down, set the folding chair upright again, sat down, and picked up his fishing rod.

"When Krillin died, I was on this island." Master Roshi's voice was calm. "When Tien Shinhan died, I was on this island. When Yamcha died, I was on this island."

"They were up there fighting the androids for their lives. I was sitting here fishing."

He paused.

"It wasn't because I didn't want to go. It was because going would have been useless. The androids had combat power in the hundreds of thousands. Going there would just be throwing away my life."

Master Roshi gave the fishing rod a tug.

"Don't believe your own eyes. A martial artist's ki can change."

Chen Mo stood where he was.

He remembered what Master Roshi had said on the first day. "Everyone I taught ended up going off to die."

Back then, he had thought Master Roshi had given up.

Only now did he understand. This old man had never given up.

He had merely hidden his training. Hidden it behind fishing, behind magazines and nosebleeds, behind those crooked sunglasses.

"Master."

"Hmm?"

"Raise my turtle shell to eighty kilograms."

Master Roshi turned and glanced at him.

Then he smiled.

"Sixty-five. Your bones can't handle eighty."

"Seventy."

"Sixty-five."

"Sixty-eight."

"Sixty-five. I said sixty-five means sixty-five. What do you think this is, a market?"

Chen Mo fell silent.

Master Roshi cast his line and went back to fishing.