Formal Adaptation to Cultivation

The next morning, Mount Paozu.

The sky had only just begun to brighten when Chi-Chi was already busy in the kitchen.

White steam rose from the large iron pot on the stove, and the scent of breakfast drifted out from the kitchen.

Son Gohan woke up as soon as he smelled it.

He opened his eyes in bed, flipped neatly to his feet, and got up.

After washing up, he walked into the dining room. Breakfast had already been laid out on the table: rice, miso soup, grilled fish, and several small side dishes. The portions were made to Saiyan standards—enough to fill the table.

Son Goku was already seated at the table, holding a bowl in one hand and chopsticks in the other, his cheeks puffed out with food. Seeing Son Gohan come out, he mumbled through a mouthful, "Mm, Gohan, you're up."

Son Gohan sat down and picked up his rice bowl. Father and son ate at roughly the same speed, tearing through the meal like a whirlwind as the food on the plates vanished before the eye.

Chi-Chi poked her head out from the kitchen, smiled in satisfaction, then went back to work.

After eating, Son Goku set his bowl on the table and stood up. "Gohan, we're going to train in the back mountains later. That guy Piccolo is already there."

Son Gohan closed his eyes and sensed for a moment. Sure enough, a familiar ki was steadily present in the direction of the back mountains.

"Dad, you go on ahead. I'll be there in a bit."

Son Goku nodded without asking anything further. He pushed open the door, his aura bursting around him, and shot into the sky with a whoosh toward the back mountains.

Son Gohan walked over to the telephone, picked up the receiver, and dialed a number. It was answered after just two rings.

"Hello, Aunt Bulma?"

"Gohan!" Bulma's bright voice came from the other end. "I'm here. What is it?"

Holding the receiver, Son Gohan explained what he had in mind.

"Could you help build a dedicated flight route from Mount Paozu to the city, so Mom can conveniently buy groceries and go to the market?" He spoke earnestly, his tone sincere.

Bulma laughed after hearing him out.

"That's all? Don't worry, leave it to me."

"Little Gohan is getting more and more considerate."

For the world's richest person at Capsule Corporation, building a private flight route was probably as simple as having a meal or drinking a cup of coffee. Son Gohan politely thanked her and hung up.

Then he called toward the kitchen, "Mom, I'm going to the back mountains to train with Dad and Uncle Piccolo!"

With that, he took off running.

Chi-Chi chased out of the kitchen and shouted at his retreating back, "Remember to come back for dinner—!"

"Got it—!"

Son Gohan answered without looking back. His white aura burst forth, and he was already in the air.

When he reached the back mountains, he saw two figures battling in midair from afar.

Son Goku and Piccolo moved so fast they were impossible to follow. Their bodies collided in the air, sprang apart, then slammed together again, blasting out wave after wave of shockwaves.

One moment they were in the sky, the next they crashed into the ground. As fists and kicks flew, shattered stones and broken branches scattered everywhere.

Piccolo threw a punch. Son Goku twisted aside to evade it, then swung a whip-like kick in return. Piccolo raised an arm to block, and the rock beneath his feet was shattered into pieces by the impact.

Son Gohan stood on the hillside and watched for quite a while, his unblinking eyes fixed on their movements.

The angles of their punches, the timing of their evasions, the transitions between combinations—these had been mere data in a Dragon Ball fan's memories, but seeing them in person was an entirely different feeling.

At the moment, Son Goku was probably going easy on Piccolo, lowering his ki to roughly Piccolo's level.

They had not fought for long when Son Goku suddenly stopped and turned to look toward Son Gohan.

"Gohan's here! Come train!"

Piccolo stopped as well, folding his arms.

Son Gohan nodded, rose into the air, and flew over to the two of them.

"Dad, Uncle Piccolo." He voiced what he had in mind. "Let Uncle Piccolo train me at full strength first. Dad, watch from the side. If there's anything wrong with my movements, give me some pointers."

Son Goku nodded and descended from the air to the ground. He crossed his arms over his chest and watched from below.

Only two people remained in the sky.

Son Gohan faced Piccolo. After fusing with Nail of Planet Namek, Piccolo's battle power was now probably around two million, considerably higher than Son Gohan's current battle power.

The gap was just right. He would not be completely overwhelmed, but it would still temper his weaknesses.

"Uncle Piccolo, don't hold back."

Son Gohan's expression was serious.

Piccolo glanced at him without speaking. He merely removed his weighted cape, helmet, and wristguards one by one, then casually tossed them onto the ground.

BOOM!

The ground was smashed into a massive crater by the heavy gear.

Son Gohan took up his starting stance.

The next instant, he charged forward.

His fists hammered at Piccolo's face like machine-gun fire, incredibly fast.

Piccolo's expression barely changed. His body swayed slightly, and every punch skimmed past his skin as he handled them with ease.

Then Piccolo counterattacked.

A heavy punch, without any flourish, drove straight into Son Gohan's abdomen.

"Cough—!"

Son Gohan spat out a mouthful of bile and was blasted away by the punch. Before he could react, Piccolo had already appeared above him. A flying kick smashed him from the sky straight into the ground.

Another crater appeared on the hillside.

Son Gohan climbed out of the crater, wiped the dirt from the corner of his mouth, and took a deep breath.

Again.

Over the next stretch of time, Piccolo knocked him from the sky to the ground, from the ground into the mountainside. He fell more times than he could count.

Piccolo gave him a crushing blow to the head. Whenever his defense failed to keep up, Piccolo kicked him flying.

Yet every time he was knocked down, he got back up.

The Dimensional Seed in his sea of consciousness took effect. This battle had activated it. His recovery sped up; even when he had just been beaten breathless, a few breaths were enough for his strength to return.

More importantly, with every attack Piccolo made—the angle, timing, and force—he gradually broke them down and absorbed them while taking the blows.

He was like a shriveled sponge thrown into water, desperately soaking up martial arts experience.

Piccolo suddenly stopped. He took a breath and realized that Gohan had gotten back to his feet again.

Then he raised a hand. Countless ki blasts gathered in his palm and rained down on Son Gohan.

"Ah—!"

Son Gohan cried out in pain. Crossing his arms before him, he endured the barrage head-on. Ki blasts exploded all around him, leaving devastation as far as the eye could see.

Piccolo's stamina was dropping, and his breathing had grown ragged.

But Son Gohan's recovery kept pace.

At first, he could only take the beating passively. Later, he began to trade blows with Piccolo.

The two figures crossed through the air, their fists colliding again and again as they exchanged attacks evenly. Then, using the recoil from a simultaneous punch, they both retreated and widened the distance between them.

Son Gohan drew his hands back, ki gathering in his palms.

Piccolo raised two fingers, golden light flashing at his fingertips.

"Kamehameha—!"

"Special Beam Cannon—!"

Two immense forces collided in midair. The blast wave shattered all the surrounding rocks.

Explosions thundered throughout the entire back mountain. Deep craters and cracks covered the ground, leaving the area in complete ruin.

The smoke cleared.

Both of them lay on the ground, neither with the strength to stand. Son Gohan gasped for breath, his chest heaving violently. Piccolo was much the same, his green skin drenched in sweat, barely able to speak.

But Son Gohan smiled.

He could feel it. After this battle, having fully adapted to his body's control, his body had changed.

Piccolo turned his head and glanced at him.

"Gohan... you really did it... You've gotten stronger."

Son Gohan grinned, but he truly had no strength left to answer.

Son Goku jumped down from the rock wall and walked over to them. He helped Gohan up from the ground and let him sit against a boulder.

"Gohan, your punches aren't decisive enough." Son Goku crouched down, his tone confident. "You can't just charge forward with your head down. Your punches and kicks are full of openings. When you throw a straight punch, your other hand needs to guard against a counterattack."

"When you kick, don't put all your weight into it. If you miss, and someone catches your leg, they'll beat you senseless."

Son Gohan listened and nodded quietly, committing every word to memory.

After resting for a while, the three of them trained for another whole day.

It was not until the sun set that Son Goku finally said they should call it a day.

Son Gohan sat on the ground, aching so badly that he could not move. He suddenly recalled something Mr. Popo had said in the original story—one's body's aura should be as still as the sky, yet as swift as lightning.

He closed his eyes and carefully pondered those words, replaying every punch and kick from that day in his mind.

Elsewhere.

West City, Capsule Corporation headquarters.

Vegeta stood in the laboratory with his arms folded, his expression as foul as ever. Before him stood Bulma's father, Dr. Brief, a cigarette hanging from his mouth and a blueprint in his hand.

"Three hundred times gravity," Vegeta said. "I want three hundred times. Can you build it?"

Dr. Brief exhaled a puff of smoke, squinted at the blueprint, and nodded.

"No problem technically. The power output will need adjusting, and the cooling system will have to be redesigned... but it can be done. Give me some time."

Vegeta snorted and turned to leave.

He had to surpass Kakarot. To do that, he needed to break through his own limits.

In the office outside the laboratory, Bulma held a phone in one hand, legs crossed, casually giving instructions to the engineering department.

"Yes, a dedicated flight corridor from Mount Paozu to the city. Get the materials on-site tonight and start construction tomorrow. Don't drag your feet."

She hung up and spun her pen twice. To Capsule Corporation, this little project was practically child's play. It would be finished before long.

The laboratory in West City blazed with light.

Everyone was growing stronger in their own way.