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Above the clouds, the silhouette of Korin Tower appeared before him.

Son Gohan used his tattered combat suit to bundle up a dozen live fish, carrying them in his hand as he landed steadily on the platform at the top of the tower.

Korin was dozing on a soft cushion, his tail dangling off the edge and swaying slowly, his ears twitching occasionally.

Son Gohan suppressed his aura, stepped forward, and spoke politely.

"Master Korin, hello, sorry to disturb you."

Korin's ears swiveled, he opened one eye, and his whiskers twitched. Just waking up, his voice sounded a bit sluggish: "Oh, it's Gohan. What is it?"

Son Gohan explained his purpose, stating he needed some Senzu Beans, and then handed over the bundle of fish.

The fish, wrapped in the torn clothing, were still glistening with water droplets, their scales shimmering in the sunlight.

Korin's eyes lit up instantly. He rubbed his paws together unconsciously, turned around, and scurried to the shelves to rummage for the beans, his tail flicking back and forth behind him.

"Here you go."

Korin handed over a small cloth bag.

Son Gohan took it and opened it to check; there were only eight or nine beans left, not much of a stock.

He figured they must have been heavily depleted during the battles against Cell's second form and his Perfect Form.

With a thought, he stored the Senzu Beans into his Internal Space. Adding them to the ones he had saved and consumed previously, he now had over thirty, enough to handle the upcoming battle.

"Thanks, Master Korin."

He leaped into the air and flew toward Kami's Lookout.

The lookout remained quiet.

The sea of clouds surged beneath his feet, and the entire temple hung suspended in the sky, solemn and majestic.

Mr. Popo stood at the edge of the temple, his pitch-black figure particularly striking.

Seeing Son Gohan land, he didn't seem surprised, merely nodding slightly.

"Gohan."

Son Gohan got straight to the point, asking for guidance on how to cultivate his ki.

Mr. Popo didn't hold back, patiently explaining his own insights.

He didn't say much, but every word hit the mark—ki is not about intensity, but stability.

It is not about releasing, but containing. True power is not letting others sense your aura, but making it impossible for them to do so.

As he spoke, he raised his hand to demonstrate, condensing a mass of airflow in his palm. Even though it was right before Gohan's eyes, he couldn't sense a single fluctuation.

"Mr. Popo is truly extraordinary."

Afterward, Son Gohan sat cross-legged at the edge of the temple, closing his eyes to contemplate deeply.

Two days passed in the blink of an eye.

He sat at the edge of the temple, feeling his ki flowing within him, expanding and contracting with ease.

Mr. Popo had been alone for too long; since Kami and Piccolo merged, he had been the only one left on the lookout. Having a companion to train with made him talk more than usual.

Son Gohan's control over his power had reached a new level.

But having not eaten for two days, his stomach was hungry.

He took out the food Bulma had prepared from his Internal Space—burgers, roasted meat, sushi, and fried chicken wings—and laid them out on the temple floor, steaming hot.

He turned to ask Mr. Popo.

"Would you like to eat something?"

Mr. Popo looked at the food, remained silent for a moment, and nodded: "Very well, I shall join you for a bite."

"That's great, a dining partner."

Son Gohan said with a smile.

Mr. Popo was a servant of the gods; whether he ate or not didn't affect his physical needs, but tasting a bite occasionally didn't hurt.

The two sat at the edge of the temple, their feet dangling over the sea of clouds, eating burgers heartily.

Mr. Popo ate very slowly, chewing carefully, as if savoring flavors he hadn't tasted in a long time.

Son Gohan, on the other hand, wolfed his food down, his cheeks bulging.

Before long, the large pile of food was completely wiped out.

"Farewell, Mr. Popo."

Son Gohan stood up and brushed the breadcrumbs off his pant legs.

He walked to the edge of the temple, leaped off, and a white aura exploded from his body. He transformed into a streak of light, speeding toward Mount Paozu.

The morning wind whistled past his ears, and the mountains and lakes below retreated rapidly from his field of vision.

At Mount Paozu, by the creek.

Son Goku and the Gohan of this timeline were sitting side by side, fishing.

Both father and son maintained their Super Saiyan forms, their golden hair standing on end, yet not a shred of their aura leaked out; they looked no different from their base states.

The float on the water remained motionless, and a few fish swam slowly past the fishing line.

The Gohan of this timeline held the fishing rod, feeling quite content. His dad had promised to go fishing with him, and it had finally come true.

The two lay on the grass soaking up the sun, not caring whether the fish bit or not, their entire bodies and minds completely relaxed.

Krillin, squatting on a nearby rock, felt bored and picked up a pebble, aiming it at Son Goku's head.

The stone traced a precise parabola and landed squarely on Son Goku's head with a crisp, dull thud.

"Ouch, ouch, ouch—"

Son Goku clutched his head, grimacing in pain, and immediately sat up from the ground.

"That hurts, that hurts!"

"Even a Super Saiyan is afraid of pain? Hahaha!"

Krillin laughed until he doubled over, loudly mocking him.

"You, Krillin—"

Son Goku rubbed the back of his head, looking completely aggrieved.

Just then, a streak of white light flew in from the horizon and landed steadily on the grass by the creek.

Son Gohan stopped, looked at the father and son fishing and the laughing Krillin, and broke the momentary leisure.

"Let's go, to where Cell is."

The others responded.

Son Goku wanted to call Piccolo to join them, so he placed two fingers on his forehead and activated Instant Transmission, disappearing on the spot.

A second later, he appeared on top of a barren mountain. Piccolo was sitting cross-legged on a rock, eyes closed in meditation, his white cape flapping loudly in the mountain wind.

Son Goku landed in front of him and shouted at the top of his lungs.

"Yo, Piccolo! Let's go, let's head to Cell's location together!"

Piccolo opened one eye, looked at Son Goku for a moment, didn't say much, just nodded, and stood up.

Both exploded their ki simultaneously, their white auras overlapping as they sped toward the wasteland where Cell was.

On the wasteland.

The arena for the Cell Games had been built days ago, a one-to-one replica of the original square ring, with stone tiles laid out neatly.

The surroundings were empty; there were no cheers, no shouts, only the rustling of wind blowing through gravel and withered grass.

The entire wasteland was quiet enough to feel oppressive, like the calm before a storm.

Cell stood in the center of the ring, arms crossed over his chest, eyes closed in meditation.

His aura was completely suppressed, and he was as quiet as a statue.

The Cell Games—he had waited for this day for too long.

He only needed the strongest opponents to stand in this ring and fight him to the death.

On the other side of the ring, beyond the warning line, the fearless Mr. Satan had already set up his formation.

Three cameras were aimed at the ring from different angles. The reporter stood nearby holding a microphone, his voice trembling, his script fluttering loudly in the wind.

The cameraman crouched while carrying the equipment to adjust the focus, needing two tries to twist the lens cap off, his forehead covered in cold sweat.

Mr. Satan stood before the lens, his cape snapping in the wind, hands on his hips, chest puffed out, wearing his standard champion's smile.

As the camera zoomed in, he took a deep breath, his tone righteous and his voice thick and powerful.

"Audience friends! Today, the world champion Mr. Satan will completely eliminate the evil monster Cell on this very ring!"

"Please stay tuned—the power of humanity is not to be underestimated!"

The cameraman gave a signal, and the live broadcast feed connected.

Mr. Satan raised his arms toward the camera, striking a victory pose, his cape pulled straight behind him.

A streak of white light cut across the gray sky, and Son Gohan landed at the edge of the ring.

He glanced at Cell, who was still meditating on the stage, then looked at Mr. Satan in the distance, who was spitting as he spoke passionately into the camera, and shook his head with a smile.

At this moment, Vegeta was still on his way; he should be arriving soon...