The Heavenly God's Invitation

The rain over the Pacific had stopped.

The dark clouds had dispersed completely, and sunlight once again spilled across the sea, making the waves shimmer as though the pitch-black storm from moments ago had never existed.

Bulma sat in the deep-sea submersible's cockpit, her palms drenched with sweat, the knuckles of the hand gripping the controls turned white. The red dot on the screen that signified extreme danger had flickered once just now, then gone completely dark.

"Is... is it over?" Bulma swallowed, her throat dry as sand.

She looked outside through the pressure-resistant glass. The black-haired boy stood atop a towering reef. The sea wind made his orange martial arts uniform flap loudly, yet he had barely taken an extra breath. It was as if he had not just killed a demon king capable of destroying the world, but had merely swatted a mosquito.

Son Goku leaped up and landed steadily atop the submersible.

The hatch opened, and Bulma poked her head out into the sea breeze. Looking at Son Goku's calm face, her heart was still in turmoil. As one of the smartest people on Earth, she realized she could no longer see through the boy before her at all.

"Let's go home!" Son Goku's voice was calm, carrying the certainty of someone who had everything under control.

Meanwhile, in a wilderness canyon thousands of kilometers away.

Gales swept yellow sand through the cliffs as a giant egg covered in green slime crashed into a dried-up riverbed, smashing a massive crater into it.

Crack.

The eggshell split open, and a small green hand with sharp nails thrust out from within.

A naked green-skinned child with two antennae atop his head struggled out of the shell.

Piccolo Daimao's final bloodline—Piccolo.

He gulped down the dry air. The instant he emerged from the shell, he had inherited every memory Old Piccolo possessed before his death.

But the final image in those memories made his tiny heart convulse—the black-haired boy, like a demonic god, had effortlessly crushed all of Old Piccolo's pride and resistance with a single move.

That insurmountable gap had been branded into his very bones.

"I need power..."

Little Piccolo clenched his teeth tightly, his childish hands clawing bloody marks into the dirt. He threw back his head and let out a beastlike roar. "Son Goku! One day, I'll return this humiliation to you tenfold!"

The seeds of hatred took root in the wilderness.

The scene returned to the nameless deserted island.

Bulma had just prepared to start the submarine for the return trip when Son Goku suddenly raised a hand to stop her. He sensed a disturbance in the air's energy.

Ripples spread through the air, and a red carpet covered in ancient patterns appeared out of nowhere, hovering steadily several meters above the sea.

A dark-skinned, stout man dressed in exotic clothing stood on the flying carpet. His eyes were vacant, yet they held a profound depth that seemed to see through worldly affairs.

This was the guide of the Lookout—Mr. Popo.

"Warrior of the mortal world." Mr. Popo folded his hands together, his voice completely flat. "The Guardian sensed your presence and sent me to invite you to the Lookout for a talk."

Bulma jumped in fright and instinctively hid behind Son Goku. "Is that thing from the sky?"

"Yeah, an assistant to a Guardian who's lived a very long time." Son Goku patted the back of her hand, signaling that it was fine.

He looked up at Mr. Popo without any flattered expression on his face and replied calmly.

"Please thank the Guardian for me. I've received the invitation. But I don't have time right now—I need to take my girlfriend home first. Once I'm done with what I have on hand, I'll pay him a visit."

"G-Girlfriend?!"

The moment Bulma heard that, her fair cheeks flushed all the way to her ears. Whatever awe she had felt toward this divine messenger was thoroughly disrupted by her suddenly racing heart. She lowered her head, twisting her fingers together, but could not suppress the curve of her lips.

Even Mr. Popo's eternally unchanging face showed a rare trace of surprise.

Since ancient times, which martial artist invited by the Guardian had not been deeply honored and set off at once? Yet this boy was making the Guardian wait just to take an ordinary human girl home?

Still, he said nothing more. The boy's energy was unfathomably deep, far beyond what ordinary people could measure.

"Understood. The doors of the Lookout will always be open to you." Mr. Popo gave a slight bow, then rode his flying carpet into the clouds.

Bulma looked up at the sky and muttered softly, "Goku, how can you not even give the Guardian any face...?"

"The Guardian has his rules, and I have mine. I only follow my own plans." Son Goku took her hand and led her into the cabin. "Come on, let's go home!"

Two days later, West City, Capsule Corporation's S-Class Laboratory.

"Build a spaceship capable of interstellar travel?"

Bulma and Dr. Gero looked up at the same time, staring at Son Goku with astonishment written all over their faces.

Son Goku pulled over a chair and sat down, tapping the table. "That's right. This ship is very important to my next plan."

Dr. Gero adjusted his thick glasses, his brows drawn together. "Young Master Goku, with Earth's current technology, even leaving the solar system would be difficult. A power source, life-support systems, cosmic radiation shielding—every one of those is a technical barrier."

"That's why I brought you two together." Son Goku looked at them with certainty in his voice. "Bulma understands spatial folding and materials science, while Dr. Gero has top-tier experience in dynamics. Resources, funding, materials—the reserves of the entire Earth are at your disposal."

He stood and swiped a few times across the console. "Also, I need you to build a training room inside the ship that can withstand one hundred times gravity. During the long journey, I'll need to train in there."

Bulma took a deep breath, her genius mind already calculating furiously. "One hundred times gravity? And it has to remain absolutely stable in space? Then we'll need a reactor with extremely high output..."

"We can try using dark matter as the drive core." A feverish light flashed in Dr. Gero's eyes. "Combined with Bulma's spatial compression technology, we can shrink the reactor. As for the hull material, we can mine meteorite iron from several near-Earth asteroids..."

Watching the two quickly slip into academic discussion mode, Son Goku nodded in satisfaction. Professional matters had to be left to professionals.

"Don't put too much pressure on yourselves." Son Goku interrupted them in a gentle tone. "There's no rush. You can take your time researching it."

Bulma looked up, letting out a sigh of relief. "Goku, don't worry—this young lady will definitely build it for you! But... are you going to that temple now?"

"Yeah, I have to make the trip." Son Goku walked over and ruffled her hair.

"Go on, then. I'll wait for you to come home!" Bulma tilted up her face, her eyes shining brightly.

Son Goku said nothing more. He walked out of the Capsule Corporation building and looked up at the cloudless sky stretching for miles.

Above those clouds, an old deity was waiting for him.