Special Training

West City a few days later was as bustling as something out of a sci-fi blockbuster.

Hovercars weaved between skyscrapers that pierced the clouds. Bulma had deliberately changed into a playful outfit and dragged Son Goku through the most upscale amusement parks and food streets, letting him experience authentic cyberpunk firsthand.

That evening, the two strolled through the downtown plaza.

A massive holographic projection looped overhead: "Once every five years! The highest honor for martial artists! The 21st World Martial Arts Tournament will soon begin on Papaya Island!"

As he watched the fiery battle footage in the projection, a sharp glint flashed through Son Goku's calm eyes.

At dusk, outside Capsule Corporation.

"You're going to find Master Roshi for special training?"

The smile on Bulma's face froze. She instinctively gripped the corner of Son Goku's clothes, her eyes full of reluctance. "You're leaving already? You won't stay home a few more days...?"

"A powerful bloodline requires trials worthy of it."

Son Goku turned around. Seeing the girl's aggrieved expression, his cold gaze softened. He raised a hand and gently ruffled Bulma's sea-blue short hair, pulling her half a step closer.

"Wait for me at the tournament. I'll come find you after I win the championship." His voice was gentle, yet carried an unquestionable certainty. "And don't go getting a boyfriend!"

"Wh-who wants a boyfriend?! Idiot!" Bulma covered her forehead, an alluring flush spreading across her cheeks as her heartbeat slipped out of rhythm.

Son Goku chuckled, turned sharply, and leaped onto the Flying Nimbus.

He became a streak of golden light and shot through the sky.

Bulma stood there for a long while, gazing up at the heavens. The tenderness in her eyes gradually turned into a resolute determination.

"Even his wish to Shenron was for martial arts... He really is a battle maniac through and through."

She turned toward the newly acquired cutting-edge equipment in the laboratory and proudly lifted her chin. "If you want to become the strongest martial artist in the universe, then I'll give you a huge present. The next time we meet, I'll make your jaw hit the floor!"

"You want to stay here for special training?"

Master Roshi, dressed in a floral shirt, adjusted his sunglasses and looked at Son Goku as he jumped off the Flying Nimbus. His expression was complicated, and his tone carried helplessness and self-mockery.

"Back at Fire Mountain, you learned the ultimate technique this old man spent fifty years honing with just one look. To be honest, there's not much I can teach a little monster like you."

Son Goku remained calm, but inwardly he smiled.

Nothing to teach? As a transmigrator, he knew this God of Martial Arts far too well. The old man not only possessed Thunder Shock Surprise, an ultimate move that transformed ki into high-voltage electricity, but also held the most scientific theories for developing the body beyond human limits.

And that was precisely what this body of his, having only just awakened its ancient Saiyan bloodline, desperately needed most.

"You flatter me, Master Roshi," Son Goku said sincerely.

"I can understand techniques, but my foundation hasn't reached its limit yet. A skyscraper rises from the ground up—I need your special training."

Master Roshi paused, deeply impressed by the young man's composed and unassuming temperament. Stroking his beard, he nodded. "Very well. You can stay!"

Son Goku looked out over the boundless horizon. Judging by the time, in just a few days, a bald little monk full of tricks should be rowing over to become a disciple as well.

Sure enough.

A week later, Krillin from Orin Temple successfully bribed Master Roshi with several collector's edition magazines and became Son Goku's junior fellow disciple.

However, this new junior's confidence was soon shattered to pieces.

Two months later, at Kame House.

The blazing sun beat down on the beach. The bald little monk panted as he carried a twenty-kilogram turtle shell, his legs trembling while he struggled through frog jumps.

"Phew... Goku hasn't even shown his face all day. Is he hiding somewhere and slacking off...?" Krillin wiped sweat from his eyes and complained to Master Roshi beneath the shade of a tree.

Before he could finish—

The calm sea in the distance suddenly churned violently as though it had begun to boil.

Bang!

A pillar of water shot into the sky! A bare-chested figure burst through the waves, holding a gigantic iron reef weighing several tons and covered in seaweed aloft in one hand before slamming it down onto the beach.

Boom!

The island shook violently. Fine sand surged into the air like waves, and a massive crater was smashed into the ground.

Son Goku slowly stepped out of the crater. Icy seawater ran down his sculpted muscles, only to evaporate into white mist the instant it touched his skin, burned away by the terrifying heat radiating from within his body.

"Master Roshi." His breathing had not even faltered, and his tone was as casual as if discussing the weather. "Regular training has lost its meaning for me. Please raise the intensity straight to the maximum."

Crack—

The cold drink cup in Master Roshi's hand cracked under his grip. His sunglasses dropped to the ground with a clatter, and his jaw nearly dislocated.

Krillin's legs went limp, and he dropped to his knees with a thud. Looking at the absurdly massive reef in the crater, then at the turtle shell on his back, Krillin felt as though his dignity had been shoved into the sand and mercilessly ground into dust.

A monster. This guy was definitely an alien monster!

Faced with their ghost-stricken stares, Son Goku remained expressionless as he calculated inwardly.

After two months of foundational training, his ancient Saiyan bloodline had fused perfectly, and his power level had soared. But the efficiency of this conventional strain had already fallen off a cliff.

After his brief shock, Master Roshi proved himself worthy of being a grandmaster and immediately devised a new hellish regimen for this "little monster."

Over the next half year, everything changed completely.

At dawn, he plunged into pitch-black ocean trenches thousands of meters deep, engaging in purely physical battles against deep-sea behemoths beneath terrifying water pressure.

At noon, he stood before sheer cliffs hundreds of feet high. Using only his ten fingers as blades, he rode the Flying Nimbus and carved intricate stone statues into the cliff face, honing his absolute control over his violent strength.

At night, he meditated cross-legged atop reefs battered by raging waves. The ki circulating through his body washed over his meridians again and again, repairing the ancient Saiyan cells torn apart during the day.

The brutal pressure of extreme environments and ki's perfect restoration formed an outrageous cycle within this body.

Time flew by, and eight months of high-intensity training finally came to an end.

The sea breeze was slightly cool as Son Goku sat cross-legged on a reef. After more than half a year of accumulation, the energy within his body had undergone a world-shaking qualitative transformation.

His blood and vitality were as vast as an abyssal sea, and the foundation of his ancient bloodline had been thoroughly reinforced.

"My combat power in base form has probably broken two thousand. I feel at least ten times stronger than before."

Son Goku slowly rose to his feet and gazed toward Papaya Island. The 21st World Martial Arts Tournament. Krillin would be there, as would Yamcha—and Master Roshi, disguised as Jackie Chun.

He was looking forward to it. The scenes he had watched in his youth had always made his blood boil, and now he was about to experience them for himself.

"Goku! What are you spacing out for? Get over here!"

Krillin's loud shout came from the distance.

Son Goku reined in that terrifying aura that made people tremble and turned to walk over.

Krillin was carrying two large travel bags, sweat glistening on his face with excitement. Master Roshi, dressed in a floral shirt and wearing sunglasses, strolled over slowly with his hands behind his back.

"Here, the training uniform Master Roshi gave us!" Krillin stuffed a brand-new martial arts uniform into Son Goku's arms.

"Once we put these on, we'll be true disciples of the Turtle School!"

Son Goku lowered his head and looked at the orange-red uniform, the character for Turtle emblazoned across its chest. When his fingertips touched the fabric that carried so many passionate memories, a gentle smile curved his lips.

"Go change." Master Roshi pushed up his sunglasses, forcefully suppressing the lingering fear in his heart from the terrifying surge of ki he had sensed earlier. He put on an act and coughed twice.

"The Martial Arts Tournament is no joke. Though you two have improved rapidly over the past half year, remember that there is always someone stronger. I'm taking you to compete mainly so you can broaden your horizons. Don't get arrogant and complacent."

"Got it, Master Roshi. I'll broaden my horizons properly."

Son Goku raised his head, his deep gaze meeting Master Roshi's through the sunglasses. He placed heavy emphasis on "properly," and his eyes held a knowing, almost amused meaning.

Master Roshi's heart suddenly skipped a beat under that look.

What was with that brat's eyes? Why did they feel so strange?

"Enough nonsense! Grab the luggage and let's go! Our destination is Papaya Island!" Feeling guilty, Master Roshi averted his gaze and waved a hand.

"Yeah!" Krillin raised a fist excitedly.