On Earth, Majin Buu's consciousness has regained control of his body.
Kame House.
Sunlight spills onto the golden sand, and waves crash against the rocks.
Under the parasol in front of Kame House, Master Roshi, wearing a pair of red-rimmed sunglasses, was comfortably lounging on a bamboo recliner, holding a swimsuit photo magazine with a sexy cover in his hand, with two tubes of blood still hanging from his nose, humming an unknown tune, and his toes swinging to the rhythm.
Swish!
The air next to the parasol twisted without warning, and two tall figures suddenly crashed onto the beach, their feet kicking up sand.
"Ouch!"
Master Roshi shuddered in fright, the swimsuit magazine in his hand flew out of his hand, and he tumbled off the deck chair, landing face-first in the dirt.
He scrambled to his feet from the sand and ripped off his askew sunglasses.
When he realized that the person standing in front of him was Turles, and that pink chubby guy stuffing cream puffs into his mouth, he swallowed the curse words that were about to come out.
Master Roshi brushed the sand off his pants, picked up the magazine from the ground and casually stuffed it into his pocket, then straightened his back and put his hands behind his back.
" Turles? What's with the wind blowing today? Why did you suddenly end up on my little island?"
Turles glanced at Buu, who was still engrossed in his work, and got straight to the point.
Master Roshi raised an eyebrow slightly, and his small eyes behind his sunglasses sized up Turles.
He stroked his graying beard, his tone slightly strange.
" Evil Containment Wave? I didn't expect you to choose to come to an old man like me... After all, it seems that even the Kami in the heavens possess this technique!"
Turles has such a close relationship with the Lookout, why would he choose to come to this remote island to find a half-buried mortal martial artist instead of seeking out readily available Kami?
Turles had anticipated the old man's question, and a smile appeared on his face.
"Because I think that you, Master Roshi, might have a unique way of teaching this!"
Upon hearing this, Master Roshi's old face immediately broke into a wide grin.
General Turles, renowned throughout the universe, was so respected that even the Kami looked down on him that they came specifically to acknowledge his teaching abilities. If word got out, his seniority in the martial arts world would rise by three levels.
Master Roshi stroked his beard, tilted his head back, and burst into laughter.
"I never imagined that an old man like me could earn the General's favor!"
Feeling completely flattered by Turles's compliment, Master Roshi completely lowered his guard, waved his hand, turned around, and swayed as he walked towards the Kame House behind him.
"Since the General has said so, then this old man cannot keep anything from you. Please wait here for a moment!"
The wooden door was pushed open and then closed again.
Immediately afterwards, a clattering and banging noise came from Kame House, mixed with the crisp sound of pots and pans hitting the floor and the old man muttering to himself.
On the beach, Majin Buu finally stuffed the last piece of chocolate cake from the food container into his mouth, and licked his ten short, stubby fingers with lingering satisfaction.
Hearing the noise inside, Buu's ears twitched, and he turned his round head to stare at the door of Kame House.
With a creak.
The wooden door was kicked open, and Master Roshi walked out, wiping the sweat from his forehead, struggling to carry a worn-out household rice cooker with a half-painted chip in it.
Buu's eyes lit up instantly. He tilted his head and stared intently at the rice cooker in Master Roshi's arms, his nose twitching.
In his mind, once this round, chubby iron box is opened, it must contain steaming hot, fragrant rice or stewed meat.
Master Roshi walked up to Turles, carrying the rice cooker, and was about to start explaining when he noticed an extremely intense gaze fixed on his chest.
He looked down and bumped right into Buu's drooling mouth. He immediately felt embarrassed and coughed awkwardly twice.
"Ahem... If I really can't find anything suitable... I'll just use this as a substitute..."
The rice cooker that sealed King Piccolo back then is long gone. Who keeps a special jar for storing monsters at home? I searched the whole kitchen, and this old thing that's been used for cooking rice for over ten years is the only one that can still be used as a substitute.
When Buu heard that there was no food inside, he pouted and turned his head away unhappily to play with his fingers.
Turles looked at the old, worn-out rice cooker, and the corner of his mouth twitched slightly.
The idea of sealing away an ancient demon who devours planetary life and can suppress even Limit Form and Ultra Instinct, only to find himself carrying around a kitchen cook, is utterly ridiculous.
Noticing the strange look on Turles' face, Master Roshi quickly put away his playful grin, straightened his expression, and patted the outer shell of the rice cooker in his arms.
"The container is actually the least important part of the Evil Containment Wave."
As long as the target can be put inside and the lid is sealed tightly, even a plastic water bottle will work.
Master Roshi bent down and placed the old rice cooker steadily on the beach. Then he reached into the inside pocket of his floral shirt, carefully rummaged around for a while, and pulled out a piece of paper with slightly yellowed and wrinkled edges.
The paper strip was covered with obscure and difficult-to-understand patterns drawn in cinnabar, faintly revealing a strange energy fluctuation.
Master Roshi held the talisman between two fingers and solemnly displayed it to the two of them.
"This is the most crucial part! Making this kind of talisman requires not only special materials but also a special method of applying luck; it's arguably the most difficult part to learn!"
Without this specially made sealing talisman to suppress it, an ordinary rice cooker alone would not be able to trap a monster of Moro's level. Even if it leaked even a little bit of energy, the container would explode into pieces on the spot.
Turles stared at the crumpled talisman, a weight lifted from his heart.
Learning to draw talismans and prepare materials on the spot is too time-consuming, and a major battle could break out at any time on the front lines, which is what they lack most.
Before Turles could even ask, Master Roshi had already seen through his concerns, patted his sunken chest hard with a series of muffled thuds, and took over the task himself.
"However, even though I'm old, I still have some practical skills. If you want it, just let me know in advance and I'll prepare it accordingly."
With logistical support secured, the most tedious talisman-making process was eliminated.
Master Roshi put away the talisman, took two steps back, and assumed a standard Turtle School fighting stance. His expression turned completely cold and stern, his shoulders slumped, and his previously hunched back straightened ramrod straight. He exuded the aura of a grandmaster and pointed to the lonely old rice cooker on the beach.
"After that, it's up to the caster to unleash the seal! That's what you need to learn and practice!"