Ganazi set foot in West City, brimming with curiosity at the skyscrapers and hovering cars before him. On Planet Vegeta, technology had mainly served warfare, and there had been nothing close to scenery like this.
Besides, Ganazi had once been stranded on an untamed planet. When would he have had the chance to see other technologically advanced planets? He looked around as he walked, exclaiming from time to time, "The planet Lord Wumu lives on really has a wonderful environment."
Just as he was immersed in these unfamiliar technological wonders, someone who looked like Ultraman suddenly rushed out. Holding a gun, he aimed at Ganazi and shouted nervously, "Tights, run! This man is an evil Saiyan."
Ganazi was somewhat angry at having a gun pointed at him out of nowhere. Although firearms could not hurt him, he disliked the feeling of being held at gunpoint. Moving too fast for the naked eye to see, he snatched the gun away and effortlessly crushed it into powder.
Standing nearby, Tights could not help trembling at the sight. She asked anxiously, "Jaco, what do we do now?"
Tights had never expected this to happen. She had returned to Earth a few days ago to celebrate Bulma's birthday and stayed for a few days to rest. Today, she had only wanted to show her friend from space, the Galactic Patrol officer Jaco, around West City, only to run into something like this.
If this Saiyan truly meant Earth harm, no one on Earth could stop him.
Looking at the trembling pair, Ganazi said flatly, "Look, I hadn't done anything, and you suddenly pointed a gun at me."
Jaco answered shakily, "Aren't you a Saiyan? What did you come to Earth for?"
Ganazi did not know how to explain, nor could he be bothered to. Finding it all rather dull, he decided to leave.
"He... he's gone!" Jaco and Tights collapsed onto the ground. They exchanged a glance and decided to go back and notify Bulma, telling her that a powerful enemy might have arrived on Earth.
Ganazi flew through the sky, having already left West City behind and reached the vast sea.
He grumbled inwardly, That fellow just now was clearly a Galactic Patrol officer. I never thought I'd run into them on Earth. Still, I'm no longer the Saiyan who knew nothing but fighting. I'd better not cause trouble for Lord Wumu.
After dinner, Wumu sat quietly by the window, listening to the wind outside as countless thoughts filled his mind. The Piccolo incident was already in the past, and the Son family's babysitter had also come online. The next few years would bring the Saiyans' arrival.
However, these things would not be a problem for Son Goku, so Wumu decided not to intervene anymore. As for Frieza, though, he had to deal with that problem himself. It was his way of repaying the Grand Elder of Planet Namek for his help. If he did not resolve it, his heart would never be at peace.
Suddenly, Yalijia ran over excitedly and tugged at Wumu's arm, her eyes sparkling with longing. "Brother Wumu, teach me martial arts! I want to enter the World Martial Arts Tournament!" Her voice was full of anticipation.
Looking into Yalijia's expectant eyes, Wumu smiled, a tender ripple rising in his heart. "Of course! I have a martial arts style here that suits you. It's called the Eight Trigrams Swimming Body Palm," he said gently.
Wumu stood up and began demonstrating the moves beneath the faint moonlight. His movements were nimble and ever-changing, like a roaming dragon, graceful as a startled swan.
He moved with light steps, as though each one held profound wisdom. "Yalijia, watch my footwork closely. This is the essence of this palm technique." His voice drifted on the night breeze, carrying an indescribable magic.
Yalijia watched Wumu's movements intently, trying to catch every detail. Wumu deliberately slowed down so that she could see each transition more clearly.
After demonstrating three sets of the Eight Trigrams Swimming Body Palm, Wumu stopped and fixed Yalijia with a burning gaze. "Did you see it clearly?" There was a hint of a test in his voice.
"I saw it clearly!" Yalijia answered excitedly, with a trace of uncertainty in her voice.
Wumu nodded and continued instructing her. "When practicing this footwork, you need to combine it with breathing exercises. As you step, draw ki into your dantian, then keep your center of gravity low. Once you're used to it, you'll need to practice on posts." His words conveyed precision and seriousness.
Yalijia nodded thoughtfully and began practicing, imitating Wumu's movements.
Her movements were somewhat awkward, but her gaze was firm. She was clearly full of enthusiasm for this martial art.
Wumu observed carefully from the side, correcting her mistakes from time to time. Every piece of guidance he offered was precise and on point.
The night grew late, and moonlight like water shone over the training ground. Two figures kept moving in the silence, as though weaving a dreamlike dance of martial arts.
Night fell, and the last trace of sunset on the horizon gradually faded away. Gazing at the darkening sky, Wumu said softly, "All right, that's enough for today."
His voice scattered into the air with the breeze, carrying a barely perceptible trace of loneliness.
Yalijia stopped her movements, the sweat on her forehead gradually cooling in the night breeze.
She gently wiped it away and looked at Wumu with reluctance in her eyes, asking softly, "Mm-hmm! Brother Wumu, are you leaving again?"
There was a trace of uncertainty in her voice.
Wumu sighed softly and gazed into the distance, as though recalling something. He said slowly, "I'll probably be leaving in a few days. I need to visit a senior."
Yalijia's eyes immediately dimmed a little. She asked quietly, "Oh... all right, then! Will you come back for the World Martial Arts Tournament in a few months?"
Wumu smiled faintly, his gentle gaze settling on Yalijia as though he could see through her little thoughts. "I'll be back. Are you planning to enter the World Martial Arts Tournament? You're only eleven now. Train for a few more years before entering."
Though his words were gentle, they carried an unquestionable firmness.
If this World Martial Arts Tournament had not been the destined battle between Piccolo Jr. and Son Goku, Wumu would certainly have let Yalijia enter. Still, a child would surely sneak off even if told not to go. He had to say it anyway. Besides, Wumu would be there when the time came, so Piccolo would not be able to stir up any waves.
Clearly unconvinced, Yalijia pouted and retorted with a hint of stubbornness and confidence, "Hmph, don't underestimate me, okay? I'll definitely make the top eight. Didn't that Son Goku enter when he was twelve?"
A determined light shone in her eyes. She was clearly very confident in her own strength.
Wumu smiled helplessly and reached out to pat Yalijia's head gently, his tone full of affection. "All right. I'll be watching you from below the stage and cheering you on."
His eyes were filled with affection and anticipation for this little girl.
Only then did Yalijia smile in satisfaction, turn around, and walk into the house.
At that moment, Malo came out of the house. Looking at Wumu, he said gratefully, "I'm really sorry for the trouble, Wumu. Yalijia has always looked up to you."
Wumu answered with a smile, "It's nothing, Uncle Malo. Go back and get some rest."
His voice was gentle, and his gaze revealed his respect for the older man.
Malo nodded, then added, "Wumu, go back and have a look first. I'll head inside in a while."
Wumu said goodbye to Malo and slowly made his way toward his own wooden cabin in the mountains.
When he opened the door and saw the spotless, neatly kept interior, a warm current could not help rising in his heart.
Over these past few years, Uncle Malo must have kept coming here to clean, sparing no effort. His heart was filled with gratitude.
Wumu tidied up a little, then lay down on the bed and gazed at the ceiling. Beneath this silent night sky, his heart seemed to have found a moment of peace as well.