"I look forward to it."
When Piccolo (Jr.) left, a voice echoed in his mind. He paused for only a moment before continuing to walk away — though the corners of his mouth curled upward in a faint, confident smile.
"Unbelievable… the child of King Piccolo really did show up," Krillin said, his voice trembling a little.
Yamcha nodded in agreement. "What terrifying ki… just meeting his gaze made my whole body shake. All I felt was fear."
"Compared to the Demon King from three years ago, this guy feels even more dangerous."
"When I fought King Piccolo, at least I wanted to fight. But with this one… I can't even raise the will to do it."
"Have you already forgotten Master Roshi's teachings?" Tien said gravely. "Never lose before the fight begins. I'll admit, he's terrifying — but if I meet him, I'll still give it everything I've got."
"That guy's mine," Goku said confidently.
Goku's unshakable confidence spread to Krillin and the others, easing the fear that had taken hold of them. For a moment, it felt as if they could already see Goku defeating Piccolo.
But in truth, even though Goku sounded sure of himself, if you asked him how confident he really was… he'd probably just say it was fifty-fifty.
Just then, beep beep beep! — Bulma's scouter started beeping again.
Krillin thought Piccolo had come back, and immediately tensed up, scanning the area nervously, afraid the Namekian would suddenly pop out of nowhere to give them a "surprise."
"Hmph… the trash of the Turtle School, and the traitors of the Crane School. Long time no see," came a mocking voice.
The tall silhouette of a man wearing a white crane hat — the signature of the Crane School — appeared before them.
It was Master Shen, the Crane Hermit, accompanied by a cloaked figure.
"Big Dumb Crane, you again? Didn't you learn your lesson last time?" Roshi said irritably.
"Shut up, you bald turtle," Master Shen snapped back without missing a beat. "Last time was just a fluke. You cheated and caught me off guard, that's all!"
The two old masters glared at each other, sparks flying between their eyes.
Aside from Roshi, Tien, and Chiaotzu, no one really took Shen seriously — especially Roshi, whose body was now visibly tense.
Even when Piccolo appeared earlier, Roshi hadn't been this wary.
"Master, I…"
Tien lowered his head, at a loss for words. Shen was the last person he wanted to see.
No matter what kind of man Master Shen was, he was still Tien's teacher — the man who had raised and trained both him and Chiaotzu since childhood.
They were orphans. To them, Shen had been like a parent.
Putting aside his personality, Shen hadn't been a terrible master to his students.
And despite its name, the "Crane School" only had two real disciples — Tien and Chiaotzu.
"This time, I won't fall for your tricks again," Shen said proudly. "I've found someone strong enough to wipe out all of you Turtle School weaklings. You'd better wash your necks and wait for death!"
"Kyahahahaha!"
Right on cue, the cloaked man beside him let out a villainous laugh — the perfect sidekick performance.
Tien froze. That voice… it was so familiar.
"C-could it be…"
A face flashed through his mind, and a bead of sweat rolled down his temple.
"He's supposed to be dead," he whispered to himself.
Chiaotzu, standing beside him, heard it and looked at him worriedly. "Tien…"
"You'll all regret ever crossing me!" Master Shen shouted. "Filthy Turtle and traitors — just you wait!"
With that, he turned sharply and stormed off with the cloaked man in tow.
But behind that cold exterior, Shen was seething inside.
I'm not the same man I was three years ago!
Three whole years… three miserable years in that cursed village. Do you know what I've been through there?
Just wait — I'll make every last one of you from the Turtle School, and you two traitors, pay in blood!
Kyahahaha!
Let's see how you like being covered in filth, heh heh heh…
When he arrived, Bulma's scouter showed a power level of 666 beside Master Shen's name.
But for the cloaked man… nothing appeared at all — as if the device couldn't read him.
Bulma frowned, thinking the scouter must be malfunctioning.
Just then, beep beep beep! — it sounded again, this time locking onto another target: a middle-aged man with a small mustache under his nose.
The display read 220.
That's pretty high, Bulma thought, impressed by this otherwise ordinary-looking, even slightly goofy man.
But before she could finish her thought — splat! — the man tripped, stepping on his own foot and falling flat on his face like a slapstick comedian.
The crowd burst out laughing.
Bulma sighed and rubbed her forehead. Yeah… definitely a malfunction.
Then the loudspeakers crackled to life, announcing that contestant registration was closing soon.
The group quickly remembered they hadn't signed up yet and rushed to the registration area.
Thus began the 23rd Tenkaichi Budokai (World Martial Arts Tournament).
This time, there were nearly twice as many participants as the previous tournament.
"Master Roshi, will you be competing this time?" Tien asked quietly as they walked.
Roshi shook his head. "There's no need. The future belongs to you youngsters now. These old bones can't keep up anymore."
Then, after a moment's thought, he added seriously:
"Tien, be careful of your master. That old crane is hiding something — I can feel it."
Tien nodded solemnly. "Yes."
The preliminaries began, in the same familiar arena as always — same stage, same lottery-style group draw.
But this time, instead of only the top 8 advancing to the finals, they expanded it to the top 16.
"Uzumaki-san! Uzumaki-san, there you are!"
Naruto had just received his contestant number when a man in a yellow uniform ran up, waving frantically.
"Please, this way! We've prepared a VIP box for you so you can enjoy the matches comfortably!"
Yes — Naruto finally came clean.
He was the main investor behind this year's tournament.
It was his idea to change the rules from 8 finalists to 16, and he'd even partnered with a TV network to broadcast the entire event live.
His goal was simple:
to reignite Earth's passion for martial arts.
He didn't want a future where things like ki blasts or the ability to fly became forgotten legends.
He also increased the prize money from 500,000 zeni to 30 million — with payouts all the way down to the top 8.
No wonder so many contestants had shown up this year.
Even making the quarterfinals would be enough to live comfortably.
"Contestants can rest in the VIP box too?" Naruto asked. "My prelim match is starting soon."
"You—you're competing too?" the staffer stammered.
The man froze, realizing in horror that the tournament's top sponsor was also fighting in it.
What if he gets hurt and pulls the funding?!
He'd been specifically ordered to keep Naruto happy at all costs.
"I, uh… well…" he mumbled helplessly.
"It's fine," Naruto said, waving him off. "I was the runner-up last time— well, maybe the champion?"
Since the final match of the 22nd tournament was interrupted by Tambourine's attack, no official winner had been crowned.
Seeing Naruto's determination, the staffer didn't dare argue and stepped aside nervously to watch.
Naruto's opponent was a towering brute — over three meters tall, with muscles like a bear.
He looked intimidating, sure… but his power level was nothing special.
Naruto flicked the man on the forehead with a single finger — and the giant collapsed unconscious.
"Am—amazing!" the staffer gasped, then cheered loudly.
Elsewhere, the other Z-Fighters were also finishing their matches.
Goku knocked out his opponent with a light chop to the neck.
Krillin simply shoved his opponent out of bounds.
Yamcha ended his with a clean kick.
Piccolo, interestingly, used the same technique as Naruto — a single finger flick.
Besides the Z-Fighters, many skilled new contestants had joined the tournament this year.
Block F
A man with a massive afro stepped onto the stage — and the crowd erupted.
"It's King Chappa! The master of the Eight-Hand Fist!"
Yes — the same King Chappa whom Goku defeated three years ago, and who was later killed by Tambourine. Thanks to the Dragon Balls, he'd been revived — and he'd spent the last three years training relentlessly.
Now, stronger than ever, he had returned to reclaim his pride.
His sharp eyes found Goku, who was fighting in Block A.
"Son Goku! This time, I'll wipe away my shame!"
"I'll take back the honor that belongs to King Chappa!"
"I'll prove to everyone that I am the strongest under the heavens!"
To a martial artist, nothing is more humiliating than being defeated in such a casual, effortless manner.
But his opponent this time wouldn't make things any easier.
"Heh…"
A shadowed figure landed on the opposite side of the ring.
The audience gasped — even louder than before.
"It's Akkuman! The Devilman! Two-time World Tournament champion!"
Someone in the crowd pointed excitedly.
Devilman, also known as the Messenger of Hell, was once the fifth and final fighter in Fortuneteller Baba's challenge matches.
He had fought Goku once before — and lost.
"Devilman…" King Chappa narrowed his eyes. "Didn't expect such a strong opponent right off the bat."
He knew Devilman well — the man had held the title before he ever did.
If Devilman hadn't skipped the tournament Chappa won, he might never have been champion at all.
"But I'm not the same as before!" Chappa shouted, charging forward. "I've been reborn!"
"Eight-Hand Fist!"
His arms blurred as he attacked, moving so fast it looked like he had eight arms.
It was his signature technique.
"Hmph." Devilman smirked and moved his lips silently — mouthing something that was clearly an insult.
Then, suddenly — he vanished.
Chappa tensed and spun around, scanning everywhere.
Then his eyes lit up in realization. "Above me!"
He remembered his loss to Goku — the boy had jumped high into the air before striking.
Devilman had wings, after all; it would make sense.
You think you can humiliate me like Son Goku did? Never!
Chappa swung his arms upward, ready to strike — but when he looked up, there was nothing. Just the empty ceiling.
"Eight-Hand Fist—huh?!"
Devilman's voice came from behind him.
A sharp pain at his neck — darkness closed in — and thud!
Chappa hit the ground.
"King Chappa is unable to continue! The winner is—Devilman!"
Once known as the "World's Strongest," King Chappa had now failed to make even the quarterfinals two tournaments in a row.
"Hmph… King Chappa, the 'champion' who came after me? Pathetic human."
Devilman flapped his wings and flew over to Piccolo, bowing respectfully.
"Piccolo-sama, and I've won my match."
Piccolo gave a curt nod. "Good."
After all, what self-respecting demon king would be without powerful subordinates?
Naruto had taught him that —
A proper Demon King must always maintain his dignity.
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