Heroes Gather at the Martial Arts Arena, Undercurrents Hint at the Demon's Shadow

The three-day deadline arrived in the blink of an eye. Before dawn had fully broken that day, Turtle Hermit Island was already bustling with activity.

Bulma finished calibrating the capsule spaceship, stood on the beach with a small bag in hand, and kept urging them, "Hurry up! Registration will be closed if we're any later!"

Krillin and Yamcha, wearing weighted wristbands, were loading training gear onto the ship. Son Goku, meanwhile, kept circling Qi Tian, repeatedly saying that they had to spar a few rounds as soon as they reached the venue.

"What's the rush? The actual tournament won't start for another two days." Master Roshi strolled over with his hands behind his back, his sunglasses slipping down to the tip of his nose. He had barely cast half a glance Bulma's way before she shot him a murderous glare.

Qi Tian stood at the bow as the sea breeze stirred his robes. His divine essence perception spread outward, taking in every aura within a hundred miles. Several fairly strong ki signatures were converging on the West City martial arts tournament grounds, while one cold, sinister aura stood out sharply. It was moving swiftly, clearly headed for the tournament as well.

Piccolo... he's more eager than I expected. Qi Tian thought. His fingers turned slightly, and a wisp of black-gold energy flashed between them before vanishing. The demon egg had once been tainted by divine essence leaking from him, which had accidentally accelerated its hatching and growth. Whether that was a blessing or a curse remained to be seen.

The capsule spaceship streaked through the sky and reached West City in less than half an hour.

A massive octagonal tournament arena stood in the center of the city, colorful flags snapping in the wind. Outside, people packed the grounds shoulder to shoulder. Martial artists in all kinds of strange outfits brushed past one another, while hawkers' cries, shouts, and chatter blended into a festive roar.

"There are so many people!" Son Goku clung to the railing and looked down, his eyes shining. "There have to be lots of strong fighters!"

"Plenty of strong ones—and plenty looking to cause trouble," Master Roshi said gravely, leaning on his staff. "Stay sharp. This tournament may not be an ordinary one."

A long line had formed at registration. The moment they settled into place, a familiar voice came from behind them. "Son Goku? Krillin?"

Everyone turned to see Tien Shinhan standing not far away with his arms crossed. Chiaotzu floated beside him, and a small smile appeared on his face when he saw the familiar group.

"Tien Shinhan! Chiaotzu!" Krillin waved in delighted surprise. The opponents from the last tournament had met again, but the sharp hostility between them had faded, replaced by the warmth of an old reunion.

Master Roshi stroked his beard and nodded. "You two are entering this tournament as well?"

"Of course." Tien Shinhan's gaze swept over the group before settling on Qi Tian, his eyes narrowing slightly. After months of grueling training, he had thought he could close the gap. Yet now, Qi Tian still seemed like a bottomless pool, impossible to read in the slightest.

Suppressing the turmoil in his heart, he said flatly, "This time, I won't lose again."

"Great!" Son Goku's eyes lit up even brighter. "Then let's have a real fight when the time comes!"

As they spoke, a commotion suddenly rippled through the crowd. People hurriedly moved aside.

A tall, lean figure slowly approached from outside the crowd. He had green skin, two short horns on his forehead, a purple cape draped over his shoulders, and a face as cold as ice. Wherever he passed, the surrounding martial artists instinctively tensed, chilled to the bone, their breathing growing labored.

"Who's that? He looks so strange..." Bulma muttered under her breath.

The smile on Master Roshi's face vanished at once. His grip on his staff tightened slightly as he said in a grave voice, "That aura... something's wrong."

Son Goku tilted his head. All he felt was that the man's ki was cold and piercing, making him deeply uncomfortable.

Qi Tian looked over calmly and met those icy red eyes. Piccolo Jr. paused briefly, a flicker of wariness passing through his gaze. Then he snorted, looked away, and strode straight toward registration, where he picked up a pen and wrote the name "Piccolo."

"He's King Piccolo's son?" Krillin lowered his voice, a chill creeping up his back. "He looks terrifying..."

"He's more dangerous than you imagine," Qi Tian said. "Focus on the preliminaries. If you run into him, don't try to force it."

The preliminaries began simultaneously on eight small underground rings. One hundred and twenty-eight contestants fought in pairs, with the final eight advancing to the main tournament.

Krillin was the first to fight. His opponent was an Iron Fist martial artist built like a bull. Remembering Qi Tian's advice on exerting force, Krillin darted nimbly around the ring. After dodging the man's brute-force strikes, he gathered ki into his fist and landed a precise punch beneath his opponent's ribs, blasting him straight off the ring and advancing with ease.

Yamcha also defeated his opponent without much danger, his improved Wolf Fang Fist moving so fast it left afterimages.

Tien Shinhan was even more straightforward. Without moving from where he stood, he raised a hand and fired a ki punch through the air. His opponent never even reached the edge of the ring before being sent flying backward and knocked unconscious. Chiaotzu, meanwhile, toyed with his opponent using telekinesis, winning without expending the slightest effort.

Son Goku's match was the most decisive of all. His opponent had barely charged forward with a shout when Son Goku casually deflected and redirected him. The man lost his balance and fell off the ring. The entire match lasted less than three seconds, leaving the audience dumbfounded.

When it was Qi Tian's turn, his opponent was a burly man who called himself the "Iron Wall" and boasted that he would make Qi Tian crawl off the stage. Qi Tian stood in the middle of the ring. The instant the man's fist neared him, Qi Tian's surrounding energy trembled faintly, and the brute was struck as if by a massive hammer. He flew backward into the guardrail and passed out on the spot.

"Next." His voice was calm, as though he had merely brushed away a speck of dust.

The referee stood stunned for quite some time before finally recovering and hurriedly announcing his victory. The martial artists watching nearby were all shaken, silently committing this person to memory. They knew this tournament was teeming with hidden masters, far beyond anything in previous years.

After half a day of fierce matches, the final eight were decided: Qi Tian, Son Goku, Krillin, Yamcha, Tien Shinhan, Chiaotzu, Piccolo, and the veteran martial artist King Chappa.

That evening, the organizing committee held the drawing ceremony in the main arena.

Son Goku had "excellent" luck and drew Tien Shinhan in the first round. He slapped his thigh in delight. "Awesome! I get to fight you in the first round!"

The corner of Tien Shinhan's mouth twitched, but a blazing fighting spirit rose in his heart.

Krillin drew King Chappa, and his face immediately fell. Yamcha was matched against Chiaotzu, a fairly even contest.

And in Qi Tian's opponent slot, one name stood out clearly—Piccolo.

"Wow! Qi Tian, you're fighting that green-skinned guy in the first round!" Son Goku leaned over to look, his face full of excitement. "That's definitely going to be amazing!"

Master Roshi, however, frowned deeply. "Running into him in the first round... that's no good. That fellow's ki is unfathomable and incredibly sinister."

"It's fine." Qi Tian looked at the name on the bracket, a faint smile passing through his eyes.

The sooner it was dealt with, the sooner he could stop worrying. He had planned to eliminate this threat at the tournament anyway. Meeting him in the first round only spared him the wait.

In the shadows at the corner of the arena, Piccolo stared at the draw results, cold light flickering in his red eyes.

He could sense that this man's aura shared the same origin as Kami's, yet it was even more oppressive than Kami's. He was no friend—only an enemy.

"Perfect..." he muttered, a wisp of black energy curling around his fingertips. "I'll kill you first, then Son Goku, and finally wipe out Kami. Earth will ultimately belong to me, Piccolo."

As night deepened, the lights of the tournament grounds came on one by one, illuminating the sky as brightly as day.

Each of the eight finalists harbored their own thoughts. Some sat cross-legged to train and adjust their condition, some secretly observed their opponents, and others planned the killing moves they would use in the ring.

No one knew that this grand gathering, meant for martial artists to test their skills, would be completely diverted from its original course by the clash between a demon's son and a visitor from another world.

Tomorrow, the true storm would rise over the main ring.