Papaya Island, near South City.
The usually quiet resort island was now a cacophony of roaring crowds, the noise shaking the very heavens.
A massive banner reading "World Martial Arts Tournament" fluttered in the wind. Martial artists, fighting enthusiasts, and curious tourists from all over the world had surrounded the iconic circular tournament stage, forming an impenetrable wall of people.
The air was thick with the smell of sweat, popcorn seasoning, and fervent anticipation. Countless faces were flushed with excitement. The murmurs of discussion, cheers, and the cries of vendors intertwined into a boiling sea of sound, all speaking to the glory of this quadrennial martial arts extravaganza.
Near the crowded registration area, a little bald kid and a spiky-haired boy with a long tail were particularly conspicuous.
"Goku!"
Krillin tugged on his companion, who was dressed in an orange martial arts gi and carrying the Power Pole. His face was filled with confidence and eagerness.
"That guy you mentioned, the one with a tail like yours... named Whitley, is he really that strong? You know we went through hellish training with Master Roshi!"
He clenched his fist, showing off his considerably more defined muscles. "I feel incredibly strong right now!"
Goku scratched the back of his head, his clear, big eyes also holding a hint of uncertainty. "Hmm... I don't know about now. But a year ago, he was really fast. I couldn't even see his movements before he subdued me. My body couldn't move at all, and then I lost."
He recalled the experience of being completely powerless, his little face still a bit dazed.
"Ha! That must be because you were too weak back then!"
Krillin's confidence instantly soared upon hearing this. He proudly put his hands on his hips and said with a laugh:
"It's different now! We are the prized pupils of Master Roshi! After so much demonic training, my, Krillin's, strength is immense! If that Whitley dares to show up, I'll beat him so hard he won't know what hit him!"
He grinned, revealing a confident "I'm the strongest in the world" smile.
"Oh."
Goku nodded blankly. His comparison of strength was always direct. He had a feeling that if Krillin really fought Whitley... he would probably lose miserably.
But before he could say more, a long, slender, and powerful hand with well-defined knuckles reached out from the side like a phantom, without any warning, and accurately pinched his chubby cheek, even maliciously pulling it to the sides.
"Ouch ouch ouch—it hurts, it hurts!"
Caught off guard, Goku was in so much pain that tears almost came to his eyes. He futilely tried to pry off the large hand pinching his face.
Krillin was startled and quickly took a closer look.
He saw a tall, upright, black-haired young man in a black battle suit standing beside them at some point.
The young man was handsome, with a playful smile on his lips, and his eyes held a teasing, scrutinizing gaze as he looked at Goku and Krillin.
Behind him, a furry tail was leisurely swinging with a certain rhythm.
"Tsk tsk tsk, if it isn't our dear little Goku?"
Whitley's voice was filled with exaggerated surprise and thick mockery.
"It's only been a year, and you've already transformed into the prized pupil of the legendary God of Martial Arts, Master Roshi? How... terrifying~~~"
He deliberately dragged out the last word, adding a bit more force to his hand.
"Let go! Who the hell are you, you jerk! Let go of Goku!"
Krillin was both shocked and angry. Seeing his good friend being bullied, his blood rushed to his head. Ignoring the other's intimidating presence, he rushed forward to try and pry Whitley's hand off.
Finding that the other man didn't budge an inch, in his desperation, he actually opened his mouth, revealing a set of small white teeth, and pretended he was about to bite Whitley's wrist!
"Tch!"
Whitley frowned slightly. He had no desire to get the little bald kid's saliva on him.
With a flick of his wrist, he easily shook off Krillin's lunge and, at the same time, released his grip on Goku's cheek.
Goku immediately clutched his bright red face, glaring at Whitley and loudly complaining, "Whitley! You jerk! You pinched me so hard!"
"Whitley?"
Krillin rubbed his arm, which was a little numb from being shaken off. Hearing the name, his pupils contracted sharply.
He looked the man before him up and down, who seemed "perfectly ordinary" but gave him an instinctive feeling of extreme danger.
"You're that Whitley?"
"If there's no one else named Whitley... then that would be me."
Whitley clapped his hands as if he had just brushed off some dust. A wild curve appeared on his lips, and his eyes looked down on Krillin. "Just an ordinary Saiyan, that's all."
Krillin's competitive spirit was ignited by his arrogant attitude. He forcibly suppressed the unease in his heart, crossed his arms, puffed out his chest, and pointed his noseless nose at Whitley.
"Hmph! Stop acting so mysterious! I don't care who you are. Since you're also here for the World Martial Arts Tournament, you better listen up! If you run into me or Goku in the ring..."
He paused, adding emphasis. "We will show absolutely no mercy! Don't blame me for not warning you if you end up crying!"
He tried to use a fierce tone to cover up his inner timidity.
Whitley looked at the little bald kid before him, who was trying so hard to stand up straight and act tough, and almost burst out laughing.
He suppressed his laughter, nodded with a straight face, and his tone was as perfunctory as if he were placating a child:
"Mm-hm, okay, okay, got it, got it. Thanks for the warning. I'll be sure to be... careful then."
But the drawn-out tone was full of mockery.
Just then, a clear and pleasant female voice cut through the noisy crowd and sounded in their ears:
"Whitley! How did you run over here in the blink of an eye? You made me look everywhere for you!"
Bulma squeezed through the crowd, holding a wallet, and walked over quickly, a thin layer of sweat on her pretty forehead.
She was wearing a beautiful casual outfit today, and her blue short hair made her look even more vibrant.
Upon seeing Whitley, she naturally walked over and linked her arm with his, leaning against him affectionately.
"Huh? Goku?"
Only then did Bulma notice the two little guys next to Whitley, and a surprised smile appeared on her face.
"You came to the tournament too?"
"It's Bulma!"
Goku was also happy to see a familiar face and immediately forgot the pain in his cheek.
"Krillin and I came with Master Roshi! But the old master said he was going to look at the scenery and disappeared just now."
"That old pervert Roshi came too?" Bulma's expression hardened, her eyes narrowing, a layer of frost on her face.
But as soon as she looked at the two little guys, her usual spirit returned, and she greeted them enthusiastically. "Perfect! I've already booked the best hotel on the island. It's almost lunchtime. Come on, let's go eat together! My treat!"
She patted her bulging wallet generously.
"Really? That's great!"
Goku's eyes lit up the moment he heard there was good food, and he almost started drooling.
Krillin watched as Bulma clung to Whitley's arm like a little kitten. The two of them together looked like a match made in heaven. Then he looked at Whitley's nonchalant expression, and a sour feeling suddenly stirred in his heart.
He pursed his lips and muttered in a low voice that he thought only he could hear, "Hmph... we martial artists should focus on the martial path. Indulging in women... will only affect the speed of my punches..."
The more he said it, the more ridiculous it sounded even to himself. And... although the muttering was quiet, to Whitley's super-sensitive ears, it was no different from shouting through a megaphone.
Whitley's eyebrow twitched, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
Heh, little bald kid, acting all high and mighty? Fine, I'll remember this. In the future, I'll be sure to satisfy your current wish.
At noon, the luxurious restaurant that Bulma had booked witnessed a scene that all the waiters and chefs would remember for the rest of their lives.
Whitley demonstrated with his actions what a Saiyan's stomach was.
His eating speed was as fast as lightning, his movements not hurried but incredibly efficient.
The food on the plates seemed not to be eaten, but to be devoured by some invisible force!
Piles of steaks, whole roasted chickens, mountains of fried rice, and a continuous stream of soups and desserts... disappeared endlessly into his mouth, which seemed to be connected to a black hole.
The chefs in the back kitchen were swinging their ladles so fast they were practically smoking. The waiters were running until their legs went soft, and the plates in front of Whitley continued to stack up at a terrifying rate.
Krillin was dumbfounded, the chopsticks in his hand falling onto the table.
Goku could eat a lot too, but compared to this guy, it was like comparing a firefly to the moon!
Bulma, on the other hand, had an "I knew this would happen" expression. While gracefully nibbling on her salad, she would dotingly wipe the corner of Whitley's mouth from time to time and give orders to the waiters:
"Two more of those roast suckling pigs! Yes, whole ones! And the seafood paella, five more servings!"
After a lunch that could be called a "gluttonous feast," the four of them (mainly Whitley and Goku) returned to the tournament site, satisfied.
The drawing for the preliminary matches was about to begin.
A huge electronic screen scrolled with numbers.
Whitley casually drew a lot and glanced at it—number seven.
He stuffed the slip into his pocket and his gaze swept over the other contestants, who were either flexing their muscles with fierce auras or standing calmly. A faint smile played on his lips.
These small fries didn't interest him in the slightest.
His purpose for being here was, one, to see the style of the young, future Z-Fighters like Goku and Krillin, and two... purely to show off.
That's right, showing off was just a side benefit, a trivial little bit of fun.
In the afternoon, the preliminary matches began in full swing on several separate rings.
Whitley was assigned to the Group C ring.
He leaned boredly against a pillar by the ring, his arms crossed and his eyes slightly closed, as if the deafening cheers and fierce clashes of fists and feet around him had nothing to do with him, dozing off as if he were in another world.
Only when a strong man, whom the audience fanatically called King Chappa of the "Eight-Arm Fist," entered the ring did he lazily lift an eyelid.
King Chappa was burly, with knotted muscles. After getting on the stage, he let out a strange cry and waved his arms frantically. The speed... wasn't slow, actually creating a blurry afterimage of fists in front of him, which looked somewhat intimidating.
"Heh..."
A barely audible sneer came from Whitley's nose, and he closed his eyes again.
To him, this level of fast punching was no different from a slow-motion replay. It was full of openings, utterly boring.
Time passed.
Finally! The announcer's loud voice rang out:
"Group C, seventh match! Contestant number seven, Whitley, versus contestant number eleven, XX!"
Only then did Whitley slowly open his eyes. Under Bulma's expectant gaze and the curious eyes of Goku and Krillin, he walked onto the stage with a leisurely gait.
His opponent was a lean man with sharp eyes, clearly a seasoned fighter with rich combat experience.
He assumed a tight defensive stance and stared at Whitley with full concentration.
The referee routinely announced, "Begin!"
XX let out a low roar and pushed off with his feet, his body lunging forward like a cheetah, his right fist whistling through the air as it aimed straight for Whitley's face!
This punch contained all his strength. It was fast and fierce, as if it would transcend time and space (in his own mind)!
However, just as his fist was about to touch the tip of Whitley's nose, Whitley moved.
He didn't even move his feet. He just raised his right hand as casually as if shooing an annoying fly and gave a light, airy wave at the charging opponent.
WHOOSH—!!!
There was no loud impact! Only an invisible but unstoppable and terrifying palm wind was suddenly generated!
The air seemed to be instantly compressed and torn! The fierce look on XX's face was instantly replaced by horror. He felt as if he had run head-on into a high-speed train! An irresistible force slammed into his chest!
"Ugh—!"
With a short cry of pain, his entire body, like a kite with its string cut, was directly swept up by this violent palm wind. He spun at high speed, drawing a high arc through the air, and landed with a "thud" with pinpoint accuracy in the sand more than ten meters below the stage, kicking up a cloud of dust and passing out on the spot.
The entire Group C ring area instantly fell into a dead silence!
All the cheers and discussions seemed to have been cut off by an invisible giant hand. The audience's mouths hung open, their eyes wide as saucers, looking in disbelief at the black-haired young man on the stage whose clothes hadn't even fluttered.
What happened? He just waved his hand? And the guy went flying? Is... is this some kind of magic?!
The referee was also stunned. He stood there for a long while before stuttering and raising his hand, "Uh... con... contestant number seven, Whitley... wins!"
"WHOA—!!!"
After a brief silence, there was an even more deafening roar of astonishment and uproar!
"My god! What was that?"
"He... he just waved his hand?"
"XX was in the top eight last year! And just like that... he's gone?"
"A monster! That guy is definitely a monster!"
Goku and Krillin stood in the crowd, their jaws about to hit the floor.
Goku excitedly grabbed Krillin's arm and shook it. "Krillin! Did you see that? So... so cool! Just like a year ago! No, he seems even stronger!"
Krillin, on the other hand, had a dazed expression, muttering to himself, "Is... is this a joke... just a wave of his hand... how are we supposed to fight that?" The bold words he had spoken earlier now seemed incredibly pale and ridiculous.
Mixed in with the crowd of contestants, Master Roshi, disguised as a fighter, had also taken off his sunglasses. His old eyes were filled with an unprecedented gravity and shock.
He saw it more clearly than the others! That wasn't a simple palm wind! It was a shockwave of condensed "ki" that was as tangible as a physical object!
And the other's control was exquisite, just enough to knock the person off the stage without causing a fatal injury!
This level of control... this level of power... was simply unfathomable! Who in the world was this young man named Whitley? When did the martial arts world produce such a major figure?
Master Roshi felt his worldview being challenged like never before.
After that, the other matches, including Goku and Krillin's easy victories, all seemed bland after Whitley's world-shocking display.
Whitley couldn't even be bothered to watch anymore. He directly took the still-excited Bulma and left early to enjoy some time alone.
The night scenery and sea breeze of Papaya Island were obviously far more interesting than watching amateurs peck at each other.
A night of joy, a night of dance~~
The next day, the morning sun once again shone on the boiling Papaya Island.
After a night of revelry, the air was filled with an even greater tension and anticipation.
The main event of the World Martial Arts Tournament—the final tournament—was about to begin under the watchful eyes of thousands!
The huge main stage was already surrounded by a sea of people, with no empty seats, and the waves of sound grew louder and louder.
In the contestant waiting area, the eight finalists who had emerged from the preliminaries were already in place.
Goku and Krillin were nervously and excitedly warming up, giving each other encouragement.
The other finalists were also making their final preparations, their eyes sharp, their fighting spirit high.
Only Whitley still looked lazy, as if he were just a tourist on vacation at the beach, looking around at the fanatical atmosphere in the audience with great interest.
Bulma sat in the front row, excitedly waving at Whitley and shouting with all her might, "Whitley! Go for it! You have to win! Show them how amazing you are!"
Whitley heard her and turned his head, giving Bulma a reassuring smile full of absolute confidence.
Silly girl, I actually wish I had the chance to lose for once.
Just then, the tournament announcer's loud and excited voice boomed through the speakers, lighting the final fuse:
"Ladies! And gentlemen! Fighting fans from all over the world! Thank you for your patience! The exciting moment has finally arrived!"
"The 21st World Martial Arts Tournament!!!"
"Now—officially begins!!!"
With a clear clang of a giant gong, the entire Papaya Island seemed to tremble!
Everyone's gaze instantly focused on the massive stage that symbolized power and glory!
A soul-stirring martial arts tournament was about to be personally unveiled by a Saiyan from a distant star!
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100 Power Stones = 1 Bônus Chapter
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