Smith studied the three dragon evolution options with the careful analysis of someone who understood the stakes. This decision would affect every future Dragon Ball cycle. Every tournament. Every wish. Getting it wrong could have catastrophic consequences.
He reviewed each option methodically:
Option 1: Super Shenron Configuration offered ultimate power. The ability to grant any wish, affecting even entities at Multiversal God-tier levels. Currently, Earth's Shenron couldn't affect beings significantly stronger Smith himself.
The Super Shenron configuration eliminated that limitation. It could affect anyone below true Multiversal status—which included virtually everyone in the current Marvel universe. Exile someone to the universe's edge with a wish. Transform a cosmic threat into an infant or elderly person. Bypass their power entirely through reality manipulation.
And the Dragon Balls would no longer be confined to Earth. They'd scatter across the cosmos after each wish, landing on random planets throughout the universe. That created opportunities for contact with alien civilizations, new technologies, cosmic entities.
But the catastrophic drawback made Smith's gut clench.
If all seven Dragon Balls weren't collected within one year of making a wish, the planet where the wish was made would explode.
Smith couldn't accept that failure condition. Making wishes on Earth would become Russian roulette—one failed collection attempt and the planet housing eight billion humans would detonate. He'd have to travel to other planets for every wish ceremony, essentially becoming a planetary destroyer if he ever failed to retrieve the balls in time.
That sounded uncomfortably like being a God of Destruction. And given that Earth currently lacked viable spacecraft—he hadn't drawn any from the item lottery—collecting Dragon Balls scattered across light-years of space within a year was effectively impossible.
Hard pass.
Option 2: Namekian Dragon (Porunga) Configuration offered three wishes instead of one. The death limitation disappeared—the same person could be resurrected unlimited times. Significant improvements over the current single-wish, single-resurrection setup.
But each wish could only resurrect one person. Large-scale revivals became impossible. If a disaster killed hundreds, you'd need hundreds of wishes across multiple cycles to restore them all.
Smith's knowledge provided additional context. In the original Dragon Ball timeline, Namek had suffered genocide-level catastrophe when Frieza attacked. Only the Grand Elder, Piccolo (who'd escaped to Earth), and a handful of scattered survivors remained. That kind of mass death would strain even Porunga's three-wish capacity.
The Namekian Dragon Balls were also physically larger—roughly the size of basketballs rather than baseballs. And they required wishes spoken in the Namekian language, providing encryption security but also creating accessibility problems.
The language requirement was actually a feature rather than a bug—preventing unauthorized wish theft. But it meant maintaining a Namekian translator permanently, and Smith currently had zero Namekians in his organization.
Decent option, but not optimal.
Option 3: Earth Dragon (Dende Upgrade) Configuration combined the best features of both previous options while avoiding their catastrophic drawbacks.
Two wishes per summoning—doubled from current capacity. Multiple resurrections per wish—addressing mass casualty scenarios. No death limitation—same person could be revived repeatedly. No language requirement—wishes accepted in any tongue. No planet-destroying failure condition.
The Dragon Balls remained Earth-sized and scattered only across the planet rather than the cosmos. Shenron's appearance stayed consistent with the current emerald dragon form.
It was the balanced option. Not as powerful as Super Shenron's reality-warping capabilities, but infinitely safer and more practical for regular use.
Smith's mind turned to longer-term considerations. The system notification had mentioned that dragon evolution triggered because his power level approached 10,000. Would further evolution occur at 100,000? One million? One hundred million?
When he eventually reached those thresholds, would additional options appear? Could he upgrade from Dende's Earth Dragon to something approaching Super Shenron's power without the catastrophic drawbacks?
And if the Dragon Balls eventually scattered across the multiverse, would that trigger conflicts with beings from other universes? Wars fought over reality-warping wish machines?
The possibilities were both thrilling and terrifying.
Smith even considered whether partial fusion might be possible—taking Super Shenron's cosmic reach but removing the planet-destroying timer. But the system offered three discrete choices, not mix-and-match customization.
He had to pick one.
The decision was clear. Safety and reliability over maximum power with civilization-ending risk.
Smith selected Option 3: Earth Dragon (Dende Upgrade) Configuration.
The system space shifted.
Energy rippled outward from Smith's position in waves that distorted the void itself. The Dragon Ball Z Dokkan Battle interface flickered, updating with new parameters. Somewhere far away—seven different locations across Earth's surface—the inert Dragon Balls absorbed new power and evolved.
When the changes settled, Smith felt the difference. His connection to the Dragon Balls had deepened, strengthened. They carried more potential now. More capability.
Two wishes per cycle. Multiple resurrections. No death limits.
The foundation for future tournaments had been upgraded significantly.
Smith allowed himself a satisfied smile before withdrawing his consciousness from the system space. Time to return to his body and deal with the physical world's complications.
Aboard the Fraternity Aircraft
Xu Wenwu held Ying Li's hand with gentle pressure, his thumb tracing idle circles across her knuckles. They'd been talking for nearly an hour—him recounting everything that had happened in the years since her death, her listening with patient attention.
"After the Iron Gang killed you," Xu Wenwu continued, his voice carrying old pain carefully controlled, "I took Shang-Chi. He was only seven years old. I trained him, then sent him to eliminate every person involved in the attack."
Ying Li's eyes widened, but she didn't interrupt.
"He succeeded. All of them. The Iron Gang no longer exists." Xu Wenwu's expression showed no remorse. "I made certain no one would threaten our family again."
Ying Li absorbed this information with the same calm acceptance she'd shown for everything else. She didn't approve of violence, but she understood her husband. A thousand years had given him perspectives on justice and vengeance that transcended conventional morality.
"And you?" she asked quietly. "How did you live without me?"
Xu Wenwu's grip tightened fractionally. "I searched. For years, I investigated every resurrection method I could find. Western vampires. Egyptian death magic. I visited Kunlun and spoke with Shou Lao himself."
His ancient eyes met hers. "Nothing worked. Everything had limitations—time windows that had already passed, prices I couldn't pay, methods that couldn't truly restore life. Until the Dragon Balls appeared."
Xialing and Shang-Chi sat nearby, contributing their own stories when appropriate. Both looked happier than they had in years. Their father had transformed the moment Ying Li returned—the cold, distant warlord replaced by the man from their childhood memories.
Gentle. Patient. Actually smiling.
Xu Wenwu shifted the conversation slightly, curiosity entering his tone. "Ying Li, do you remember what happened after you died? Where your soul went?"
The question made sense. If there was an afterlife, a place where souls resided between death and resurrection, he wanted to understand it. Needed to know if she'd suffered during those years apart.
Ying Li's face went pale. Her hand trembled slightly in his grip.
"Wenwu, you don't want to know."
Her voice carried an edge that hadn't been there moments before—something between fear and disgust. "The soul's destination... it's not paradise. Not rest. It's not anything you'd want to experience."
She met his gaze directly, and he saw genuine distress in her eyes. "I don't want to talk about it. And I definitely don't want to go back to that place."
Xu Wenwu's curiosity burned hotter. The afterlife retained memories? Consciousness? What kind of place could disturb someone as centered and peaceful as Ying Li?
But her pale complexion and trembling hand told him everything he needed to know about pushing the subject further.
"Okay," he said gently, squeezing her hand with reassurance. "I won't ask."
His other hand lifted to cup her cheek. "And I promise you'll never be in danger again. I won't let you go anywhere alone. Won't let enemies reach you."
It was partly why he'd volunteered to join the Fraternity.
He'd observed Smith Doyle's organization during the tournament. The staff—the people handling logistics and security—were werewolves and vampires. Enhanced beings with supernatural capabilities. The baseline power level for Fraternity personnel exceeded anything the Ten Rings could field.
If he placed Ying Li at the Fraternity's New York headquarters, surrounded by superhuman guards and protected by an organization that counted gods and immortals among its tournament participants, her safety would increase exponentially.
The Ten Rings' traditional enforcers—skilled humans with conventional weapons—couldn't protect against the kinds of threats that now existed openly. Thor. Thena. Beings who could level cities with casual effort.
But the Fraternity operated on that scale routinely.
And after watching this tournament, Xu Wenwu had no confidence he could win future cycles. The power escalation was too dramatic. Next time might feature even stronger participants—Asgardian armies, Eternal teams, whatever cosmic horrors lurked beyond Earth's current awareness.
He couldn't risk losing Ying Li again because he'd been too proud to seek powerful allies.
The Ten Rings would endure. He'd ruled the organization for a thousand years; transitioning it to operate under Fraternity oversight wouldn't be difficult. His children could inherit leadership eventually. The infrastructure would continue.
But Ying Li's safety? That took absolute priority.
Everything else was negotiable.
Ying Li leaned against his shoulder, and Xu Wenwu wrapped his arm around her with protective care. They had so much to discuss. Years of separation to process. A future to plan now that death no longer stood between them.
But for now, just holding her was enough.
The aircraft carried them toward New York, toward the Fraternity headquarters, toward whatever arrangements Smith Doyle would propose for the Ten Rings' integration.
Xu Wenwu could be patient. He'd waited a thousand years for this moment.
A few more hours meant nothing.