The Search for the Dragon Ball

Outside the cold storage, the night had grown as thick as indissoluble ink.

Chen He sat cross-legged under twenty times gravity for a full three hours. At last, his body no longer burned with the same searing pain as before. He opened his eyes, his gaze cutting through the darkness like twin blades. His body still felt heavy and sore, but compared to the near-collapse state he had been in onstage, this was already much better.

He reached for the Dragon Radar before his knees and pressed its green screen with a rough fingertip.

Beep, beep.

The faint electronic sounds sent low echoes through the empty cold storage. On the screen, aside from the bright point representing the Four-Star Dragon Ball in his arms, two other green dots—the closest to Kapok City—blinked quietly amid the mountains to the northwest.

Bracing himself against his knee, Chen He rose to his feet. The steel floor beneath him gave a muted creak. He casually tossed his tattered black martial arts jacket onto the ground, revealing the tight, dark gravity vest underneath.

"I'll leave before dawn." Chen He slipped the radar into his pocket, his gaze especially cold in the darkness.

Meanwhile, inside a private room at Dashengxuan Barbecue Restaurant.

The leftovers had already been cleared away, leaving only a pot of barley tea that was nearly cold. Krillin and Yamcha could barely hold on any longer; each had fallen into a deep sleep in a corner of the tatami. Puar was curled up beside Yamcha's pillow, its tiny mouth moving as it snored.

Only Goku was still awake. He sat cross-legged by the windowsill, chin propped in both hands as he blankly watched the pale moon gradually sink westward.

"Goku, why are you still awake?"

Master Roshi had entered at some point, carrying a clean coat that he gently draped over Goku's shoulders. He was not wearing his sunglasses. In the moonlight, his usually squinting eyes seemed unusually clear and profound.

Goku did not turn around. His fingers unconsciously picked at the wooden edge of the windowsill, making a faint scratching sound.

"Master Roshi... was my Kamehameha really that weak today?" Goku spoke quietly, with a confusion he had never shown before his peers. During that year on Mount Paozu, he had thought he had become amazing. He could push aside boulders weighing several tons and fight the fiercest beasts in the wilderness. But Chen He's single palm strike had smashed his pride so thoroughly that not even a scrap remained.

"Foolish child." Master Roshi sighed and sat beside Goku, rubbing his dry palm over Goku's stiff hair. "Your Kamehameha isn't weak. In fact, it's several times stronger than mine was when I was your age. This past year, Master Roshi has seen every drop of sweat you shed and every hardship you endured."

"Then why is Chen He...?"

"Because Chen He walks a different path from ours." Master Roshi cut him off. He turned to look toward the pitch-black wasteland in the western outskirts of Kapok City, and a deep, complicated worry flashed through his eyes. "Goku, the end of martial arts is surpassing yourself, seeing this world clearly. But that boy Chen He... he's forging his body into a weapon. There is no joy belonging to a martial artist in his ki—only a cold, ruthless drive to grow stronger because he has no choice but to survive."

"Survive?" Goku froze, confusion flashing in his clear eyes. "Isn't Earth peaceful now? The Red Ribbon Army was defeated too."

Master Roshi gave a bitter smile but did not answer. He had lived for centuries and seen countless brilliant prodigies, yet the feeling Chen He gave him was far too abnormal. That boy's thoughts weighed too heavily, as though he knew that, in the near future, a storm would crash down and destroy the entire Earth—even the whole universe. He was racing against time, willing to push his body to the brink of breaking apart.

"Go to sleep, Goku." Master Roshi patted Goku's back and stood up. "Bulma still has to take you all back to West City tomorrow morning. Don't let Chen He's strength become a demon in your heart. Your martial path should be broader than his."

Goku pursed his lips, then finally obediently lay down on the tatami. But as he listened to the howling wind outside, his fists clenched tightly beneath the blanket. He did not envy Chen He's coldness, yet the Saiyan blood in his veins boiled madly at the sight of that insurmountable back.

The next morning, just as the sky began to brighten.

Beside Kapok City's station, Bulma yawned repeatedly as she counted the luggage. Krillin and Yamcha supported each other, their faces still somewhat pale.

"Huh? Where did the radar go?"

Bulma rummaged through her handbag for a long time, and her face suddenly went pale. Chen He's icy gaze had frightened her last night, and she had returned to the hotel in a daze. Only now did she remember the radar.

"What's wrong, Bulma?" Goku came over with the Power Pole on his back.

Bulma bit her lower lip in hesitation. She glanced at the streets, which looked somewhat empty in the morning mist, then finally sighed in defeat. "N-Nothing... I probably left it at the hotel. The Dragon Balls have already been used anyway. It's fine if the radar is gone."

She did not mention Chen He. For some reason, as she recalled the boy's solitary figure walking into the darkness last night, her initial fear had turned into an indescribable ache. That guy really did not even have a friend he could talk to.

Meanwhile, on a wilderness plain dozens of kilometers from Kapok City.

The morning mist had yet to disperse, and the air carried the raw scent of earth and grass.

With steps that were somewhat sluggish but exceptionally steady, Chen He left one deep footprint after another in the soft mud. For now, he did not intend to activate the fifty-times-gravity limit while traveling. Maintaining a burden of twenty times gravity would allow his strength to slowly recover while continuously acclimating his body.

He took the green radar from his pocket, glanced at the green dot drawing closer on the screen, then casually tucked it away again.

Chen He raised his head and looked at the first ray of sunlight rising over the horizon. His gaze remained as cold, precise, and unwavering as ever.

"The first one is just ahead."