The Fourth One Secured

Deep in the Southern Forest, the humidity was so heavy it seemed ready to condense into droplets, while the air was thick with the smell of rotting leaves.

Chen He moved through the dense jungle, every step steady and sure. The thick layer of humus beneath his heavy footsteps was compressed into flat, hard earth. He did not need to look up; his keen perception of energy fluctuations had already told him that his target lay in the ancient forest ahead, shrouded in mist.

It was not only the location of a Dragon Ball. According to the intelligence gathered along the way, it was also an extremely secret biochemical laboratory left behind by the Red Ribbon Army.

Chen He felt no ripples in his heart, not even the slightest tension toward the unknown danger. He understood that before absolute power, any emotional fluctuation was merely dead weight.

His pocket hung heavy with the sound of three Dragon Balls—the three-star, four-star, and two-star balls—knocking together.

Meanwhile, in West City.

Bulma's underground laboratory had been quiet for the entire morning.

In the observation room behind the blastproof glass, Bulma sat curled up in a broad work chair, her arms folded across her chest. Her blue eyes, usually gleaming with mischief, were fixed motionlessly on the monitoring screen before her.

On the screen, Goku lay flat on the alloy floor, his body spread into an odd starfish shape. The specially made vest on him had stopped operating, and the cooling vents that had once glowed red-hot now retained only a faint residual warmth. He was exhausted. The fatigue of having pushed himself beyond his limits left his brow tightly furrowed even in unconscious sleep.

"What an idiot..." Bulma murmured softly.

She rose and walked over to Goku, gently brushing aside the soaked bangs clinging to his forehead. Goku's skin had become somewhat rough from long periods of intense training, and even bore a few faint bruises.

That was Goku. He had always been like this. Once he set his sights on a goal, he treated his own life like a sheet of scrap paper, scribbling over it and revising it again and again until it was filled with the hot blood that drove him mad.

Bulma remembered the first time she had met that wild boy covered in dead fish in the little cabin on Mount Paozu years ago. She had never imagined that such a simple-minded guy, one who could not even tell a toilet from the outdoors, would one day make her feel that heart-clenching emotion called heartache.

A little annoyed, she poked Goku's cheek, though her voice softened. "Do you think training this hard means you can catch up to that monster? Someone like Chen He... he isn't human at all."

Goku did not respond. He merely let out a muffled mumble in his sleep, his hands instinctively grasping at the air as though he were sparring in a dream.

Bulma sighed, got up, and switched off the harsh lights in the main laboratory, leaving only a soft, dim yellow desk lamp. She took a thick blanket from a nearby storage cabinet and draped it over Goku's faintly trembling body.

She walked to the door, then looked back at the boy who seemed frail in the darkness, yet incomparably unyielding.

Southern Forest, before the alloy gates of the biochemical laboratory.

Chen He stopped.

There were no cheap warnings, nor any so-called "Please leave." He simply stood before the door, looking at the blastproof sensor gate, a full two meters thick. He could sense from within a chaotic presence resembling that of artificial bio-beasts.

He slowly raised his right hand. In that instant, he needed no technique, no move—only that pure, simple punch.

"Open."

Chen He spoke softly.

Without any warning, he drove his fist into the center of the massive alloy gate.

At that moment, the air seemed to let out a piercing wail, unable to withstand the overwhelming pressure. The center of the indestructible alloy gate caved in instantly. Then the force of his punch tore straight through the metal, reducing the sensor equipment, defensive turrets, and rows upon rows of nutrient-filled incubation tanks behind it to shattered scrap.

The blastproof door let out a pained creak, tore completely free from its hinges, and crashed heavily into the depths of the laboratory.

Chen He stepped over the ruined metal door, treading on fragments of machinery as his calm gaze settled on the container at the center of the laboratory, still glowing red.

There, the fourth Dragon Ball lay quietly, gleaming with that familiar faint light amid the dim ruins.

"The fourth one, acquired."

He slipped his hand back into his pocket, turned amid the dust-filled wreckage, and faced the rising sun beyond the forest.