The Hunt Begins

The farther northwest one went, the steeper the terrain became.

The wilderness wind was fierce at night, howling through the yardang formations weathered over countless millennia, like innumerable wronged souls wailing amid the jagged rocks.

Chen He walked unhurriedly through the gorge of twisted stone formations. He had readjusted the weight on his body back to thirty times. With his constant training over the past few days, he could now feel that his power level was around 43,000.

He took out the Dragon Radar from his pocket and glanced at it. On the green display, the green dot representing the third Dragon Ball lay deep in the gorge less than two kilometers ahead. Yet besides that lifeless green dot, more than a dozen red dots representing life signals crowded densely around it.

"Looks like remnants of the Red Ribbon Army."

Chen He put the radar back into his pocket, his expression utterly calm.

After he had wiped out Red Ribbon Army headquarters with thunderous force, its branches and remaining forces scattered around the world had long since become skittish as startled birds. It was not strange for some scattered stragglers occupying mountain strongholds to possess advanced detection equipment and stumble across one or two Dragon Balls. But to Chen He, whether it was the Red Ribbon Army or any other force, anyone standing in the way of him collecting his trump cards had only one fate: being crushed.

He was accustomed to factoring every accident into his plans, and he was also accustomed to handling trouble with the most unreasonable methods possible.

Meanwhile, in West City, thousands of miles away.

Within Capsule Corporation's underground gravity laboratory, red warning lights continued flashing tirelessly.

"Warning. Local gravity field has reached twenty times standard gravity. Core component temperature is too high. Please adjust promptly..."

The synthesized electronic voice echoed through the empty room, cold and piercing. Within the central area, where even the air was being compressed into a faint distortion, Goku knelt on one knee, both hands digging desperately into the seams of the alloy floor.

His vest had long been soaked through with sweat during the intense struggle, clinging to his body and outlining the lean yet explosively powerful muscles of the young man. His power level's overnight surge to 10,000 had made his body tougher than before, while training himself to the brink of death yesterday had also made Goku realize something different about himself. Perhaps he could rely on this passive ability to catch up to Chen He.

"Ha... huff... ha..."

Goku panted heavily, beads of crystalline sweat seeping from the tip of his nose. Before they could hit the ground, the immense gravity accelerated them into the metal floor, producing dull, faint taps.

He felt as though his lungs were about to explode, and every bone in his body ached and groaned beneath the unbearable strain. Yet for some reason, this pain that nearly pushed a person to their limit instead brought an unprecedented thrill and satisfaction to his Saiyan soul.

"Not enough... I'm still far from enough."

Goku clenched his teeth so hard that he bit a small bloody cut into his lip, but a roaring blaze seemed to ignite within his usually clear eyes.

He closed his eyes. What flashed through his mind was not the delicious feasts he had enjoyed in West City, nor Krillin and Yamcha's laughter, but Chen He's indifferent, rational punch at the martial arts tournament—a punch so detached it seemed almost devoid of humanity.

That black-haired figure's back was like a towering mountain standing at the end of the horizon. Goku had never known how high that mountain was before, but now that he wore this gravity suit, he finally understood how crazed and brutal Chen He's method was—racing against everything in this world.

"I won't lose to you, Chen He... absolutely not!"

Goku let out a beastlike growl from deep in his throat. His right leg, trembling violently beneath the crushing pressure, actually forced its way through twenty times gravity and took another small step forward!

Crack.

A shallow shoeprint appeared in the specially made alloy floor.

In the observation chamber above the laboratory, Bulma stared blankly through the thick blastproof glass at the boy fighting for his life below. She still held a newly opened carton of strawberry milk, but now she had no desire to take even a sip.

"That idiot Goku... I really don't know what kind of magic that Chen He cast on him."

Bulma bit down on her straw, her delicate brows tightly furrowed. She looked sulkily at the temperature readings steadily rising on the screen. Beyond her worry for Goku, what she felt even more was an indescribable, inexplicable tangle of emotions.

She had seen the most prosperous technology in West City and countless self-proclaimed geniuses. Yet it was precisely in the icy Chen He and the foolish Goku that she saw an obsession belonging to martial artists—something even Capsule Corporation's technology could not fully analyze.

"Fine, fine, I'll just turn up the cooling system's output a little more..." Bulma muttered irritably as her fingers flew over the control panel, though her eyes had begun to redden slightly.

At the end of the northwestern gorge.

More than a dozen armored vehicles painted with Red Ribbon Army insignia and several temporary tents were scattered beneath the cliffs. Searchlights swept back and forth through the pitch-black gorge, while several soldiers in tattered uniforms sat loosely around a bonfire, holding submachine guns as they warmed themselves.

Inside the central tent, a metal combination case sat slightly open. Resting quietly inside was a Two-Star Dragon Ball emitting a faint orange glow.

Suddenly, the two sentries guarding the mouth of the gorge felt an icy chill run across their necks.

They did not even have time to sound an alarm. All they vaguely heard was the heavy thud of rubber-soled shoes hitting the ground, carrying even a hint of the earth's resentful groan. Then two bursts of violent wind pressure, too ferocious to describe, tore past their sides.

"Who's there?!"

The soldiers by the bonfire finally reacted, instinctively aiming their guns at the figure walking step by step out of the darkness.

By the firelight, they saw a black-haired youth in somewhat ragged clothes. His hands remained in his pockets, his black pant legs covered in wilderness dust, and his collar hung slightly open to reveal a strange dark vest beneath.

He stood there, each step seemingly somewhat heavy, yet the calm aura emanating from him pressed the surrounding flames lower the instant it touched the air.

Chen He stopped five meters from the bonfire.

He did not look at the black gun barrels. He merely turned his head and glanced at the faintly glowing case inside the central tent. Within his abyss-dark eyes remained the same rigor and pragmatism as ever, without the slightest excess pity or ripple of emotion.

"Hand over the Dragon Ball."

Chen He's hoarse voice spread through the night wind as his right fist, accompanied by a low rumble of thunder, slowly withdrew from his pocket.

In this northwestern wilderness, far from the prosperity of West City, the hunt was about to begin.