50x Gravity... I Can Defeat Him

The clamor inside the preliminaries hall seemed to freeze at a certain moment.

Chen He stood at the foot of Ring One's steps, his fingers resting on the hidden clasp inside his black training uniform. Over the past year, relying on his combat power foundation, he had grown accustomed to wearing twenty times gravity in daily life without changing expression or even disrupting his breathing. Only during self-destructive bouts of extreme training would he turn that heavy dial to the "50x" mark.

That was the limit of his body. Under the pull of fifty times Earth's gravity, every cell in his body felt as if it were being hammered by red-hot iron, while his internal organs endured unimaginable compression. Sustained combat was simply impossible.

But to make this martial arts tournament, which had already become a "low-level match," a little more interesting—and to forcibly temper his body during these days without system data feedback—Chen He had expressionlessly twisted the dial all the way down before entering.

Click.

Fifty times extreme gravity loaded.

In an instant, the bluestone slabs beneath Chen He's feet let out a faint sinking sound. His muscles tensed at once under the crushing burden, and his previously smooth breathing became heavy and sluggish. He raised an arm, feeling as though the air had thickened into mercury; even such a simple movement dragged up a dull gust of pressure.

But what followed was the terrifying force of energy that his body, burdened with extreme gravity, was forced to vent outward under such intense oppression. That "ki" was no longer as cleanly restrained as before. It was like an ancient beast trapped in an iron cage, violently squeezing the surrounding space.

Goku, standing below the ring, suddenly sucked in a sharp breath and instinctively assumed a defensive stance. His chest felt stifled. The air around him seemed completely locked down by the invisible waves radiating from Chen He's body, making even the slightest step extraordinarily difficult.

"What kind of magic did Chen He put on himself...?" Goku stared fixedly at Chen He. Beneath the shock in his eyes was something even stronger: the tremor of his awakened Saiyan instincts. He could sense that Chen He's movements were slow and heavy right now, but that oppressive force felt as though it could crush the entire hall.

"Ring One, Chen He versus Bas!" the referee announced, shattering the Caucasus-like deathly silence.

The unknown contestant on the ring was a hulking, powerfully built man, yet he could barely stand steadily now. His face was pale as he watched Chen He step onto the platform.

Chen He did not waste words. Every step he took made the wooden boards of the ring release an ear-piercing creak. His attack was incredibly sluggish—one could even call it slow—as he simply extended a straight punch forward.

Yet that soft, seemingly skill-less punch carried with it a suffocating wave of white energy. Before his fist even touched the opponent, the violent force of the punch turned into a tangible shockwave. With a boom, it blasted the more-than-two-hundred-pound giant straight off the ring, sending him crashing heavily into the wall and knocking him unconscious.

"Th-the winner... Chen He!" The referee wiped away cold sweat, his voice trembling.

Chen He slowly withdrew his fist and steadied his somewhat disordered breathing. The burden of fifty times gravity was too great. Just throwing one punch had caused his stamina to drain at a terrifying rate. This dullness, which could not be sustained for long, made him frown slightly—but this was precisely the extreme challenge he wanted.

"Next match, Chen He versus Yamcha!"

Hearing the referee's announcement, Yamcha took a deep breath, suppressed his pounding heart, and stepped onto the ring.

In truth, as he had watched Chen He's earthshaking punch just now, Yamcha's mindset had undergone an extremely subtle change. If it had been last year's Chen He, that speed so fast even afterimages could not be caught would have left him in complete despair. But now...

"His movements have slowed down. No, they're incredibly sluggish."

Yamcha fixed his gaze on Chen He's heavy steps. As a martial artist seasoned through countless battles, his sharp eyes immediately caught the abnormality in Chen He—every time Chen He planted his foot, it seemed tremendously strenuous; the path of his punches was clearly visible; and after that punch just now, Chen He had obviously paused briefly to catch his breath.

"His strength really is monstrous, but if he can't hit me, then no matter how strong he is, it's useless!"

The pride and unwillingness that had lain dormant in Yamcha's heart for a year suddenly flared back to life. Over the past year, he had lived like a wild man in the desert, pushing the speed of the New Wolf Fang Fist to its absolute limit. Its principle was simple: catch the enemy off guard and use speed to overcome slowness.

In his eyes, Chen He was now like a steel colossus with immense mass but no ability to turn around. As long as he made full use of his speed advantage, constantly wore down his opponent with agile footwork, and waited for the moment when Chen He's violent "ki" faltered...

He could win!

"Chen He, I didn't waste this past year!"

Yamcha settled into position on the other side of the ring, his hands curled into claws as he assumed the opening stance of the Wolf Fang Fist. An unprecedented fiery light shone in his eyes—the excitement and obsession of someone who had glimpsed the dawn of victory.

Chen He turned around and looked at Yamcha, who was already adjusting his breathing and trying to find an opening in his defenses. Fifty times gravity was madly tugging at every nerve in his body. Though his vision and movements had been forcibly slowed, when he saw the confidence written all over Yamcha's face—I can turn this around—the corner of Chen He's mouth merely curved into an exceptionally cold smile.