"Gohan… uh, Mr. Gohan, hello." Krillin also wore an animal mask. Seeing an old man and a young one both wearing animal masks approaching, he hesitated briefly and bowed respectfully.
Gohan said through his mask, "You're also Master's disciple. No need for so much formality. By calculation, I'm actually your senior brother."
Krillin scratched his head. "That doesn't sound right… You're Goku's grandfather, after all…"
"Master, look…" Gohan glanced at his master, Taro.
Bulma was beside Hathaway, rolling her eyes as she glanced back and forth between Gohan, Goku, and Krillin. Gohan was Goku's grandfather, but they were all disciples of Grandpa Taro. Krillin and Goku were like brothers, yet theoretically, Krillin should be Gohan's junior disciple… the relationships were a bit confusing.
"Heh heh." Hathaway smiled, teasingly beside Taro. "Seems like someone being too casual can cause some trouble."
Taro shook his head dismissively. "What kind of trouble is this?"
Then he said to Gohan and the others, "Your forms of address among yourselves… handle it however you want! Don't ask me. Alright, I'll see you off here. From now on, register for the tournament yourselves and get ready to fight."
He pointed at Gohan. This kid even dared to joke about him.
Hathaway gave Gohan a look that said, "Good luck with that," then smiled and walked off with Taro in another direction.
"What are you guys talking about?" Goku scratched his head, confused.
"That's right, Goku, you probably don't care about this kind of stuff…" Krillin said speechlessly.
Bulma glanced thoughtfully toward the direction where Tienshinhan had just left, lowering her voice: "Just now… that new champion from the Southern Capital glanced over here a few times! From what I've found out, that guy and his junior Chiaotzu, who's already been eliminated, both inherit the Crane Style… Mr. Gohan, do you know Crane School?"
She looked at Gohan, who nodded, rubbing his grandson Goku's head. His voice was low behind the mask: "The founder of Crane School was my master's junior brother. Back then, they both studied under the ancient Grandmaster Martial Elder Mutaito. So that man is my senior uncle. As for that Tienshinhan… he came prepared. I can sense there's a hidden power within this Crane School disciple."
"Grandpa Taro's junior brother? That must be powerful!" Bulma jumped, then said, "Mutaito? I remember… that's a figure from Grandpa Taro's 'Martial Notes', right? Was he a real person?"
"That's right!" Gohan nodded, sighing. "Three hundred years have passed quickly. People today only know the present masters, but not the great elders of the past. They know the Muten Roshi, but not the Muten Roshi's teacher. Master probably feels regret for his own teacher. But now, as long as this book exists, Grandmaster Mutaito's name will be remembered forever."
Krillin was stirred by pride. His own master's style and character were truly impressive.
"Not only that, there's also this one…" Gohan turned his head to the sky, "the Demon King's heir, who's been dormant for two hundred years and now has emerged—it's not simple."
Just then, the crowd murmured. Suddenly, a man in a white robe flew down from the sky—it was the champion from the Northern Capital district, Piccolo.
Piccolo glanced over at Gohan's group, his eyes meeting Goku's behind the mask.
"Heh, he only shows up after Master leaves. Afraid, huh?" Gohan shook his head.
"These people really aren't simple…" Bulma's eyes sparkled, then she leaned down and patted Goku's shoulder confidently. "But Goku won't lose to them! Right, little monkey?"
"Ah… we'll only know after trying!" Goku said, holding the back of his head through the mask. "But I'm not one to give up easily!"
Krillin said weakly, "Don't forget me, I'm competing too…"
---
After sending Goku and Krillin off to the tournament, and with the world finals about to officially begin, Bulma and Gohan entered the arena through the spectator entrance. On the way, they saw a fierce girl with golden curly hair dragging a fat man by his collar and beating him up. Many people were watching, but Bulma and Gohan didn't bother joining the crowd. They sat down in the stands, just waiting for the competition to start.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the Western Capital, away from the noise of the tournament, there was a quiet restaurant…
Click.
Hearing the sound of the private room door handle turning, Tsuru, sitting quietly in a chair, lightly moved his ears.
He opened his eyes sharply, his pupils moving to glance toward the door.
The one who entered was a beautiful woman with long purple hair. She looked very young, with an elegant appearance but also a mature, deeply ingrained aura. She nodded slightly at Tsuru, who sat by the wooden table in the private room. Behind her followed a young man with short gray-white hair, about half a head taller than her.
"You came."
Tsuru withdrew his gaze without looking away, raised his palm slightly. On the table were two cups of hot tea placed opposite each other. "Sit."
The visitors were naturally Taro and Hathaway. After parting from Gohan's group, they headed directly toward Tsuru's aura.
True masters of martial arts, after practicing martial arts and qigong to their core, can read endless information from qi.
Taro knew Tsuru was waiting for him, so he came.
Tsuru knew Taro would know he wanted to meet and would come, so he sat here waiting.
"If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I would never have imagined… your qi has changed into this state," Tsuru said slowly. He closed his eyes, sensing Taro's qi closely, but it was no clearer than when he felt it from across the earth.
Like a mist, appearing and disappearing, with a sense of drifting away.
What level has this unfathomable senior brother reached?
The scenery his master spent a lifetime pursuing—has Taro seen it?
Tsuru opened his eyes, still finding it hard to believe.
Taro smiled slightly, pulled out a chair, and sat down beside Hathaway.
"You've taken good disciples, junior brother." He said this, then picked up the brewed tea, poured from a pot into an empty cup until the tea was level with the rim. He put down the teapot, tapped the cup lightly with a finger, and slid the full cup smoothly across the table to Hathaway. Not a drop spilled; the surface remained perfectly still.
Tsuru wasn't sure if Taro had heard him praise his disciple Tienshinhan but fixed his gaze on the cup before Hathaway. When she lifted the tea to sip, he turned his sight back to Taro opposite him. After a moment of silence, he said, "You left Piccolo's demon seed behind?"
Tsuru had also gathered some information on the Northern Capital district champion.
That face—no one else would mistake it.