Hathaway poured tea for Taro and Tsuru. The stream of water arced gracefully, stopping precisely when each cup was full, not a single drop spilled.
Tsuru glanced at the woman who... by all rights, he ought to call "sister-in-law."
"Well, I am the wife of the 'Muten,' after all," Hathaway said with a gentle smile. Though she had no interest in martial arts or cultivation, she had lived long enough and done enough that she had become skilled at many things simply through repetition.
Taro picked up his tea and took a light sip, his eyes still fixed on the images in the air screen before him.
The second match of the semifinals had begun. In a white cloak stood Piccolo, facing a small bald man in a white gi—Krillin.
"Six dots on his forehead... Is this Krillin from the Orin Temple?" Tsuru was sipping his tea as well, though he found it slightly bitter. He put the cup down and looked at the screen. Though Orin Temple wasn't the only place where monks came from, it was still the first that came to his mind.
Taro replied calmly, "Only because I have a bit of a connection with Orin Temple."
Tsuru's mind wandered, recalling the time when he and his fellow disciple had sealed King Piccolo in a rice cooker and thrown it into a ravine. On the way back to Mount Taidou, they had passed through Orin Mountain and parted ways at its foot. Back then, he had gone to wander the world, and Taro, it seemed, had headed to Orin Temple.
It was also around then that the "Taidou Style" split into... the Muten School and the Crane School.
---
"Not bad, your skills have improved," Piccolo sneered, striking with his words as he fought.
He and Krillin had exchanged dozens of probing blows before both retreated for a brief rest.
"You're not bad yourself," Krillin shot back sarcastically, though his expression was grave. This guy Piccolo… he was terrifying. It hadn't even been that long since they last met, and yet his strength had skyrocketed again.
"He's going to take it off..." In the lounge, Goku watched the broadcast on the big screen and murmured with a frown. But as he looked at Piccolo facing off with Krillin in the ring, he forgot all about Krillin's danger and instead grew excited about his own upcoming match with Piccolo. His blood inexplicably began to stir.
Tien opened his third eye—three lines of sight all converging on Goku's back. His gaze didn't carry the arrogant and sinister edge born of training under Tao Pai Pai like in the original story, but instead exuded a quiet and composed intensity. Clearly, Tsuru had invested great effort into this Three-Eyed Clan disciple to ensure he could rival Taro's pupil, Goku.
The next match… will be ours.
Goku, I won't lose.
As long as I use that technique... you won't stand a chance.
Tien closed his eyes again, saying nothing. He had no interest in Krillin and Piccolo's fight.
---
Krillin took a deep breath.
With no other choice, he began removing the weighted wristguard from his right hand.
"Heh, so you're finally getting serious?" Piccolo scoffed as he saw the gesture. At first, a flash of irritation crossed his green face, as though it had reminded him of something unpleasant. But he quickly suppressed the emotion and sneered coldly.
Krillin tossed aside the wristguard, feeling immediately lighter all over.
"You're not going to remove your weighted gear?" the little bald man asked, rolling his neck, flexing his wrists, pivoting on his toes to loosen up. Piccolo, however, showed no intention of taking off his cloak or headband, which surprised him.
"To fight you? That won't be necessary," Piccolo said with a mocking smile. "Thanks to that old man of yours and the book he wrote, I was able to gain endless insights and rapidly grow stronger. This time, I'll take you and Goku down together."
So he's underestimating me... Krillin let out a calm breath, stepped forward, raised both arms into a ready stance, and faced Piccolo with poise.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa… is that really Krillin, that kid?" Among the spectators, a row of bald men in Orin Temple robes stared at the big screen closest to them, which was currently showing a close-up of Krillin's upper body.
"For real? I thought it was just someone with the same name!" another monk exclaimed.
Whoosh!
In the footage, Piccolo and Krillin's eyes both flashed sharply, and in the blink of an eye, the two had already clashed. With Krillin shedding his weighted gear, and Piccolo fighting with his own weights still on but finally letting loose, their battle power had risen dramatically from before. Their exchange of blows—fist meeting palm, technique meeting counter—was now so rapid that without high-speed cameras, the normal audience couldn't see a thing.
"Go, Krillin!"
"Don't lose!"
The crowd cheered wildly, the atmosphere reaching a fever pitch. By now, everyone knew that Krillin was Goku's fellow disciple—they had trained together under Master Muten.
Amid all this, the monks from Orin Temple looked increasingly uneasy.
One bald monk, remembering that he had often bullied Krillin back at the temple, couldn't help but mutter in his heart, "Krillin, oh Krillin… since you've already escaped the temple and were lucky enough to become Muten Roshi disciple… please don't come back to cause us trouble… whatever you do…"
You're completely out of our league now!
Just look at Krillin on the ring now—his movements, his form—every monk who had once tormented him couldn't help but shiver.
"Junior brother… maybe we should head back now…"
Now that Krillin was the disciple of the Muten Master himself, if that old Immortal got angry and so much as lifted a finger, he could probably wipe the entire Orin Temple off the face of the Earth. The more they thought about it, the more frightened the bald monks became. In truth, Krillin had long forgotten all about them.
---
"This Piccolo…" Tsuru squinted at the footage, watching as Piccolo gradually forced Krillin into a defensive position. He commented, "He must've read your book and absorbed some of its martial insights."
Taro smiled calmly and replied, "You read it too, didn't you? So, how is it, senior brother? This humble book of mine—does it at least live up to your standards?"
Hathaway quickly lowered her head, struggling to suppress her laughter.
"…It's a good book," Tsuru said grudgingly after a twitch of his eye. After a pause, he added, "But that Piccolo… to gain inspiration so quickly from your book, he really is quite gifted. I suppose… it's only fitting for a monster's successor!"
He gave a heavy snort.
Taro sipped his tea, not even lifting his head. "The Dragon Clan of Namekian geniuses—no one was exaggerating when they called them prodigies."
"Namekian… Dragon Clan?"
"The original Piccolo Daimao was actually the evil side of the Earth's Kami, who had been corrupted by demonic energy. But Kami himself was from Namek—a distant planet in our universe. Back when Namek faced disaster, the infant Kami was sent to Earth."
"…So that's how it is." Tsuru inhaled sharply, his expression shifting. Despite all the years spent cultivating inner peace, he couldn't suppress a flicker of anger. He snorted again, seething, "Those damned Namekians… if they wanted to die, fine—but why send such a demonic seedling to our planet?!"
If it hadn't been for that so-called Kami and that Piccolo… how many lives would have been spared back then?