More than a hundred years had passed since Annin sealed her power within the Furnace of Eight Divisions at Mount Five Elements, since Yamiru became the first Earth's God, wielding power surpassing even a Super Saiyan, and perished alongside Leslie's demonic incarnation, since Sherie and her brother were recalled to the World Tree by the Celestial God, and since Earth finally regained peace.
Yet, Yamiru hadn't spent all this time crafting the Flying Nimbus.
A century had gone by, and there was still no sign he'd be yanked back to his original era—the distant future—as abruptly as he'd arrived in this ancient age.
For many years, Yamiru had immersed himself in meditation—or more accurately, hibernation.
This was akin to the "Sleeping Technique", a mystical but not unheard-of skill. Compared to Tien Shinhan's Multi-Form technique (which split his body into four), it was relatively mundane.
A martial artist of Yamiru's caliber could master any flashy technique if he wished—yes, flashy. This "sleeping skill" was something no ordinary living human could endure.
Only a dead man like him, sustained and repaired by his heaven Halo, could withstand decades-long slumber without his brain deteriorating.
His reasoning was simple: he wanted to minimize his psychological aging before returning to his familiar era tens of thousands of years later.
If he finally reunited with his loved ones only to feel like their ancestor, gazing at his wife with the mindset of a relic from the past… How absurd would that be?!
If Korin learned of this concern, he'd surely mock Yamiru endlessly.
Back during his training on the Korin Tower, Korin had teased him for being more complicated than most, always burdened by unnecessary thoughts—preventing him from reaching the "State of Nothingness" and mastering ki. Yamiru's current worries about the future were just another form of emotional "Useless movement".
Imagine the same scenario with Goku:
- Chi-Chi: "You're back!"
- Goku: "Yeah! Got sent tens of thousands of years into the past—what a trip! Felt like forever."
- Chi-Chi: "Wait, so… you're basically our ancestor now?"
- Goku: "Guess so! No big deal!"
- Chi-Chi: "Honestly…"
But for Yamiru? The thought alone was exhausting.
This was the difference between "Originally, there is nothing—where could dust alight?" and "Diligently wipe the mirror—let no dust settle."
Yamiru knew his tendencies, yet chose the latter. As Korin once said, "If you're already the second type, don't obsess over becoming the first—that obsession itself is another 'Useless movement'."
"Fine! I'll 'wipe the mirror' all I want! I'll fret over dust! I'll torment myself! So what?!"
Ironically, embracing this mindset simplified his thoughts. He did it because he wanted to—no hesitation, no envy for those who effortlessly achieved 'nothingness.'
The essence of the Turtle School, of Earth's martial arts—whether it's "Work hard, Study well and eat and sleep plenty," or "Quiet as Sky Fast as Lightning," or the "Nothing State"—boils down to one core principle:
"Adjust your mind and body to maintain harmony, fluidity, and peak condition."
And this…
Adjusting the state of mind and body…
Seated on his half-finished Flying Nimbus, Yamiru gazed through the eyeholes of his animal mask at the sunset on the horizon.
As he pondered, his fingers brushed the tangible cloud beneath him. The Flying Nimbus was woven from Heaven energy and earth matter—its core being the divine essence. Its defining trait, "Only the pure-hearted can ride it", reflected a facet of the "Heavenly Heart."
Similarly, King Kai's hair-pulling efforts to develop the Genki Dama followed parallel logic:
- Heavenly Heart attracts Heaven Ki/Energy.
- Heaven Ki/Energy senses and gathers latent energy from all things.
The Turtle School's secrets… Earth's martial arts…
Flying Nimbus… Genki Dama…
Adjusting the mind and body.
The Heavenly Heart.
Yamiru felt it—the full picture of Dragon World's power system was unfolding before him.
The image of the red-haired Super Saiyan God surfaced in his mind.
"Six Saiyans with righteous hearts, five channeling their power into one…" Yamiru murmured. "Even unborn Pan's energy was valid—proof that the key isn't strength, but the so-called 'righteous heart.'"
The hazy sensation of Yamoshi's transformation during the Super Saiyan God ritual flickered in his memory…
---
"Yamiru, what's wrong?"
Annin's voice snapped him back to reality.
He was at the still-eerie Mount Five Elements, perched on the edge of the gargantuan Furnace of Eight Divisions, while the giant Annin—aided by the saber-toothed dragon—tossed hotpot ingredients into the furnace like a chef, stirring with a massive iron ladle. The divine furnace, once crafted by Angel Sherie from fragments of time and space, had become their oversized hotpot.
"Just remembering things," Yamiru said. "And people."
Annin shrugged. "You never talk about them, but after all these years, your family and friends must've passed… Maybe visit them in Heaven?"
"They're not dead yet—they're not even born."
Yamiru shook his head.
After finishing a hotpot meal with Annin at the Furnace of Eight Divisions, she decided to stay at Mount Five Elements for a while. Yamiru, meanwhile, lay atop his half-finished Flying Nimbus—currently his personal ride—and drifted aimlessly into the sky. If this cloud gains sentience from prolonged use, that'd be perfect...
He floated without direction.
Sometimes, he even fell asleep on it.
When he woke, he never knew how long he'd been out. Once conscious, he'd resume tinkering with the Flying Nimbus, studying Heaven Energy, pondering the Genki Dama, or reflecting on his own power... Until exhaustion took over, and he'd lie back down, slipping into slumber once more.
Occasionally, King Yemma of the Other World would impatiently remind him to contribute to the Temple of the Gods. Only then would Yamiru reluctantly fetch a brick, enchant it, and let it float into place as part of the celestial structure.
Before he knew it, two thousand years had passed. The hemisphere of the temple's foundation was finally complete.
Two millennia.
Civilizations on Earth had risen and fallen. Some regions resembled primitive tribes, while others retained the semblance of modern villages.
Had the frequency of hotpot meals with Annin dwindled over these years?
Realizing this, Yamiru felt... nothing. No ache, no sorrow.
Had the endless stretch of time, coupled with his undead state, dulled his emotions?
Troubled, he visited Annin at the Korin Tower—she remained the acting god, as Yamiru had never sought a formal successor. He noted that she and Mr. Popo were unchanged after two thousand years. It struck him then: not everyone could adapt to near-immortality.
"Even in Heaven," Mr. Popo remarked, "souls choose reincarnation daily."
Annin joked, "Otherwise, after billions of years, Heaven would overflow, no matter how vast."
Yamiru rubbed his temples. This felt familiar—like his youthful trauma from Tao Pai Pai, which had left psychological scars. Now, it was two millennia of self-imposed isolation that had calcified into a subtler, deeper malaise.
"Most who choose rebirth," Mr. Popo said gently, "are in a state much like yours."
The implication was clear: There's no need to force yourself. When you've had enough, move on.
(Though, as the First God, maybe finish the temple first...)
A successor could be chosen after Yamiru's departure.
"I wouldn't say I've 'had enough,'" Yamiru replied honestly.
The era he longed for simply hadn't arrived yet.
Who could possibly therapize a primordial god?
Even his numbness didn't distress him much. A part of him whispered: Why bother? Floating on this cloud is peace enough...
When he snapped back to awareness, he was indeed lying on the Flying Nimbus, having no idea where it had carried him.
How long has it been since I made progress on this thing?
Below, a tranquil village sprawled. Above, Yamiru—mask removed—gazed at the sky from his golden perch.
Then, a black dot appeared in the blue.
It grew larger—or rather, descended—wobbling erratically toward the Flying Nimbus. It was a teapot-sized UFO, cartoonishly crude, which embedded itself into the cloud before popping back out with a "plop!", bouncing to a halt.
Yamiru turned his head, eyeing it blankly.
He sensed a presence inside—a female with a pure heart.
Gradually, the energy within radiated flickers of confusion, patience, impatience... Yamiru kept staring, utterly unfazed.
Finally, the UFO's "lid" burst open. Out popped a miniature woman, perfectly proportioned and stylishly dressed, like a living doll.
"Boo!" she shouted, clearly hoping to startle him.
Yamiru didn't flinch. Not even a blink.
"Lame..." She pouted, then brightened. "I'm Joey! What's your name, big guy?"
Silence.
"So lame..." Joey sighed, climbing out of her UFO. She gasped upon seeing the Flying Nimbus, then gleefully jumped onto it—sinking slightly before bouncing back up, treating it like a trampoline.
As she giggled, Yamiru's eyes finally flickered with something long dormant: curiosity.
He sat up.
"Ah!" Joey yelped, glaring. "I thought you were a statue! Fine, you win the prank war..."
Yamiru extended a hand.
"I'm Sato Yamiru."
Joey blinked, wrapping her tiny arms around Yamiru's finger. "I'm Joey."
"How... are you standing on this?" Yamiru pointed at the golden cloud beneath them.
Joey tilted her head, a literal giant question mark popping above her.
This wasn't a metaphor—Yamiru was certain he wasn't hallucinating. The mark had physically manifested above her.
His pupils shrank. Memories sealed away for two thousand years surged back.
A place called Penguin Village... Had he gone there once? To find someone... With whom? Tights? Regardless, he recalled a villager who'd done something similar—shouting at the sky, their words materializing into tangible text, even wielding them like a club.
"You were just lying on it!" Joey puffed out her chest, as if stating the obvious. "Why can you lie down, but I can't stand? So stingy!"
Yamiru didn't press. Instead, he asked abruptly, "Have you... met the Dragon God?"
"Who?" More question marks sprouted above her head.
Sensing her pure, childlike ki, Yamiru mused: If Arale had ki, it'd feel just like this.
"You're such a weirdo," Joey declared, clambering onto his leg. She scaled his divine robes with exaggerated effort, finally perching on his shoulder. Wiping her brow, she turned—only to meet Yamiru's gaze.
"Why so grumpy?" she asked.
Yamiru froze.
The miniature girl patted his forehead with her tiny hand. "No wonder my prank didn't work! Cheater!"
Before he could respond, King Kai's voice exploded in his mind—
"HAHAHAHA! Yamiru, guess what? This genius Kaio has FINISHED the Genki Dama!"
Finished? After centuries of stagnation, Yamiru's dulled spirit flickered with interest.
As he prepared to leave for King Kai Planet, Joey piped up: "What's a Genki Dama?"
Yamiru stared.
She heard Kaio's telepathy?