Hand Over The Dragon Balls, And I'll Spare Your Life

Rumble—!

In midair, dense anti-aircraft shells exploded in bursts around Chen He's ears. Fierce shockwaves, mixed with scorching gunsmoke and the freezing high-altitude wind, slashed across his face like blades.

An ordinary person's internal organs would have been shattered by the pressure of the explosions alone. Yet Chen He could not even be bothered to blink. By now, the "ki" within his body had spontaneously formed a thin, invisible layer of protection over his skin. The flying shrapnel struck the barrier with sharp clangs, then bounced away powerless.

"What a racket."

Chen He adjusted his posture in the air and looked down at the steel fortress below, its searchlights sweeping about wildly.

As long as he completely leveled Red Ribbon Army headquarters tonight, the shop's Level 2 permissions would be fully unlocked.

He had never intended to be some savior. He was simply practical enough. In this hellish world, where all kinds of bizarre creatures capable of destroying heaven and earth would descend in a few years, growing stronger by any means necessary was the only way to survive.

"Waaah! Chen He, the fire down there is so bright!"

Not far away, Goku stood atop the Flying Nimbus, swinging the Power Pole so fast it formed an impenetrable curtain as he knocked away the missiles flying toward him. At the same time, he shouted at Chen He.

Looking at his companion standing unflinching amid the bombardment, Goku felt a little uneasy. When they had first met on Mount Paozu, he had only thought Chen He was a quiet weirdo who trained like his life depended on it. But after these battles—especially after seeing Chen He blast Mercenary Tao into scraps without even batting an eye—Goku had begun to feel that Chen He possessed an unfamiliar kind of coldness.

It was not the feigned aloofness Yamcha put on. It was a rationality and pragmatism that treated everyone around him, friend or foe alike, as nothing more than numbers on an abacus.

"Stick to the plan." Chen He glanced at Goku in midair, his voice piercing through the roar of artillery. "The eastern radar and logistics are yours. Make as much noise as you can. I'll tear down the central command tower."

"Got it!" Goku answered. Chen He could be a little too solitary at times, but at the mention of being able to fight without holding back, the single-celled brat instantly flung every stray thought out of his head. Waving the Power Pole, he used the Flying Nimbus's momentum and plunged straight toward the machine-gun emplacements on the eastern side.

At that moment, in the central command hall deep within the fortress.

"Commander! The eastern anti-aircraft position has fallen! The intruder... that brat riding the golden cloud has already smashed through our first armored line of defense!"

"R-Report! The other black-haired brat has broken through the central plaza! We can't stop him! Neither main battle tanks nor high-voltage grids can delay him for even a second!"

Listening to the screams and explosions rising one after another from the radio, Commander Black clenched the cigar in his hand. He squeezed so hard that the tobacco was crushed to pulp in his palm, brown shreds trembling weakly from between his fingers.

His face, which had always looked gloomy and oversensitive because of his short stature, twisted beyond recognition beneath the red alarm lights flashing wildly across the screens.

"Trash... every last one of you is trash!"

Commander Black slammed his palm onto the alloy console. The impact sent the glass of red wine crashing to the floor with a snap, spilling a pool of glaring dark-red liquid.

He could not accept the reality before him. The Red Ribbon Army was the largest military empire in the world. He commanded twenty thousand elite mercenaries and possessed advanced technology capable of overthrowing any nation. He had even mapped out the grand blueprint in his mind: gather the Dragon Balls, conquer the world, and make himself taller while he was at it.

And now, that blueprint had been smashed to pieces like glass by two snot-nosed brats who had appeared out of nowhere, using the most overbearing and unreasonable violence imaginable.

Extreme fear sank its fangs into his heart like a venomous serpent, but what followed was the hysteria of a man cornered beyond all hope.

"Black Adjutant!" Commander Black whipped around, his eyes bloodshot as he roared madly at his aide. "Activate the base's self-destruct system! Throw out every untested biochemical weapon and miniature nuclear bomb in the warehouse! Even if we have to blast this forest and headquarters into scorched earth, we must bury those two monsters alive here!"

Black Adjutant's face turned deathly pale, and his fingers trembled violently over the keyboard. "B-But, Commander, there are still over two thousand soldiers stationed below! If we release the poison gas and trigger the self-destruct now..."

"I said open fire immediately! Don't you understand?!" Commander Black suddenly drew the golden pistol from his waist and pressed it against Black Adjutant's forehead, his entire body heaving with ragged breaths from sheer madness.

As Black Adjutant looked into the commander's eyes, utterly stripped of reason, a chill rose in his heart. He had always believed the commander was fighting for the organization's future and its so-called grand ambition. Yet only now did he see clearly that this small man was selfish to the core—for the sake of his pathetic ambitions and pride, tens of thousands of lives were nothing more than disposable materials in his eyes.

Boom—!

Before Black Adjutant could make a decision, the blast-proof door to the command hall—one meter thick and forged from titanium alloy—suddenly erupted with an earth-shaking crash.

The entire door, like a fragile sheet of paper, abruptly caved in at its center with an incredibly distinct fist print. Then, accompanied by the shriek of tearing metal, it flew backward amid blinding firelight and smashed through more than a dozen massive electronic surveillance screens behind it.

Rolling smoke and the pungent stench of gunpowder rushed inside at once.

Amid the ruins, where electric sparks crackled incessantly, Chen He slowly withdrew his right fist. Several tears had been ripped into his black training uniform by the anti-aircraft fire in the plaza, revealing firm muscles beneath, faintly reddened from blood rushing through them. The sixfold gravity restraint on his back still radiated a heavy oppressive force, yet his footsteps were steadier than a leisurely stroll through a courtyard.

Chen He slipped both hands into his pockets and coldly looked at Commander Black, slumped in the command chair, and the pale-faced Black Adjutant beside him.

"If the Red Ribbon Army's trump card is nothing but that pile of scrap metal outside." Chen He brushed the alloy fragments from his shoulder, a practical yet cruel smirk tugging at his lips.

"Then you can hand over the Dragon Balls now."