Return and Resolution

The air rippled slightly, like the surface of water.

In the blink of an eye, he vanished from the spot without leaving a trace, as if he had never been there.

Only the deathly silent battlefield and the lingering warmth of the remaining energy in the air proved that the earth-shattering moment just now was not an illusion.

In the spacious courtyard of the Capsule Corporation, the afternoon sun shines through the artificial atmosphere, casting dappled light and shadow on the neatly trimmed lawn.

Qi Heng appeared silently in the center of the lawn, the grass beneath his feet sinking gently without even stirring up any dust.

He stood ramrod straight, his black robes fluttering in the wind, and strange spatial fluctuations lingered around him.

Just then--

"Qi Heng!!!"

The laboratory's alloy door slid open suddenly, and Bulma practically rushed out.

Her blonde hair was a little messy, and a data cable was still tangled at the hem of her white lab coat. Her face showed a mixture of shock and the excitement of a scientist discovering a new continent.

She rushed to Qi Heng, her blue eyes wide, and spoke at a rapid-fire pace, "Just now! All the energy monitors in my lab went off the charts! Although it was only for a moment, it was definitely not gas! The fluctuation curves were completely different, the structure was more... more precise? Or more 'higher-dimensional'? How did you do that? What was it? Where did you get it from—"

"Bulma." Qi Heng's voice was calm, abruptly interrupting Bulma's rapid-fire speech.

He turned his head and looked at her, his eyes deep and seemingly devoid of emotion.

"Is the Time Machine's power supply ready?" he asked.

Bulma froze, all her questions stuck in her throat.

She blinked, her emotions slowly returning, and her rationality returned.

She took a deep breath, pushed up her non-existent glasses, nodded, and her tone became crisp. "Yes, almost there. The antimatter core is 92% charged, but the last 8% needs to be slowly balanced to prevent spacetime coordinate drift. It'll probably take another three to four standard Earth hours."

"Then let's continue." Qi Heng didn't say anything more, turned around and walked towards the big tree on one side of the courtyard.

Sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled patterns of light on him.

He sat down, leaned back on the white bench, and closed his eyes.

Her long eyelashes cast faint shadows beneath her eyelids, and she seemed to blend into the courtyard, or perhaps she was living on her own solitary island.

Bulma remained standing there, watching his retreating figure.

Her mind was churning with the energy spikes on the monitor and the momentary distortion in space when he appeared; she was filled with questions.

In the end, she didn't ask anything, just pursed her lips, and quickly returned to the lab.

The alloy door closed silently behind her.

***

Meanwhile, the distant battlefield had become ruins.

The city is long gone, leaving only a huge circular crater, a glass-like ground, and building ruins like small mountains.

The air was filled with dust and the smell of burning.

Trunks helped his father Vegeta to a flat, large rock and settled him down.

Vegeta was pale, his Battle Suit was tattered, and his chest heaved violently, but his eyes remained stubborn, staring intently into the distance, as if he were challenging some unseen enemy.

Gohan and Piccolo hovered in mid-air, their sharp eyes sweeping across the ruins, their senses spreading like mercury as they carefully searched for any remaining enemies or dangerous energies.

"Auntie Android 18!" Pan's voice was full of worry.

She nimbly leaped over a crack and ran towards the figure in the distance.

Android 18 stood in the middle of a pile of rubble, his clothes torn in many places, revealing artificial skin that shimmered with metallic light, and his short golden hair was covered in dust.

She ignored Pan, staring blankly ahead—the place where Super 17 had last disappeared.

The ground still retained the luster purified by the immense energy, and the air seemed to still echo with that unwilling roar.

She knew that wasn't her real brother.

That was just a monster created using cells from Android 17 and his obsession.

But as that familiar face twisted, disintegrated, and disappeared in the light, a cold and dull pain still gripped her artificial heart tightly.

She can't cry anymore; she lost that ability a long time ago.

But that hollow sorrow is more real than tears.

"Android 18 ..." Pan walked to her side and carefully tugged at her sleeve. "Are you... are you alright?"

Android 18 shook his head slightly, finally turning his gaze away from what was in front of him and looking up at the sky.

The sky was murky and still shrouded in the smoke of battle, yet at higher altitudes, faint traces of the deep blue of the universe could be seen.

"I want to collect the Dragon Balls." Her voice wasn't loud, but it was exceptionally firm, like a stone falling into still water, breaking the silence.

"Resurrection Android 17," she repeated, each word sounding as if squeezed from her metallic chest cavity.

Pan paused for a moment, then her face lit up with determination, and she nodded firmly. "Yes! We will definitely help you! Gohan, Uncle Piccolo, and Trunks, everyone will help!"

Not far away, Piccolo, who was in mid-air, also heard it.

Green's brows furrowed even more, and he crossed his arms in deep thought.

"Dragon Balls..." he murmured to himself, "Indeed, this battle has had a far-reaching impact. So many cities have been destroyed, and countless innocent people have died or been injured. Earth has also been severely damaged; the ley lines and ecosystem need to be repaired. The power of the Dragon Balls is now absolutely necessary."

Gohan landed on the ground and stood beside Piccolo, his expression grave. "Once Dad returns from Hell, we'll split up and go find the Dragon Balls immediately. This time we have to be quick."

"That's right! Uncle Goku is still in Hell!" Trunks, while tending to Vegeta, suddenly looked up, his expression a mixture of shock and anxiety. "He's all alone over there! I wonder how he is, if he's in any danger—"

"Yo! Everyone! I'm back!"

A familiar yet energetic voice, filled with laughter, came from above everyone's heads.

Everyone looked up together.

A streak of orange and blue light streaked across the sky like a shooting star. Though somewhat disheveled, it landed gracefully with a "thud" in front of the crowd, kicking up a cloud of dust.

It's Son Goku!

His signature orange gi was tattered like a rag, and his exposed skin was covered in abrasions, burns, and bruises, with some areas still bleeding.

His hair was a mess, and his face was covered in dust and looked tired.

But when he looked up, the flame of fighting spirit still burned brightly in his clear eyes.

"Dad!" Gohan cried out first, rushing forward. "You're back! That's great! How... how did you get back from Hell? Are you alright?"

As he spoke, he nervously examined his father's injuries.

"Hehe, it's nothing, just a minor injury!" Son Goku habitually scratched the back of his head, but this pulled at the wound on his shoulder, making him wince in pain. "It was Qi Heng! He suddenly Instant Transmission to Hell, found me, and then 'whoosh!' brought me back!"