In an instant, violent winds erupted, howling like a category-twelve hurricane.
For a mont, skirts fluttered wildly, wigs were blown into chaos, and the entire arena was thrown into disarray.
Seeing the timing was right, Goku quietly used the confusion to land beneath the arena platform on his own.
Monts later, the raging winds finally settled.
The referee spotted Goku outside the ring and imdiately shouted:
"Goku has fallen out of bounds!
The winner is—Krillin!"
"YEAH!!"
"Mr. Krillin won!"
"Long live Mr. Krillin!!"
The stands exploded with even louder cheers than before.
After landing, Krillin looked toward Goku, gratitude clearly written across his face.
At that mont, a group of overly enthusiastic spectators rushed the arena, lifted Krillin into the air, and tossed him upward again and again in celebration.
The World Martial Arts Tournant had ended—
but the true battle was only just beginning.
Goku turned his gaze toward Piccolo and pointed into the distance.
"Let's fight sowhere without people. How about it?"
"Hmph."
Piccolo snorted coldly and shot off toward the horizon.
Seeing this, Goku's lips curled into a faint smile.
"So this guy really is tsundere early on… just like Vegeta."
He glanced back at Chi-Chi, Bulma, and the others in the stands.
"Feels like it's about ti to have kids… and one definitely won't be enough."
Goku waved at them, signaling that he was leaving, then accelerated straight after Piccolo.
Bulma imdiately understood—Goku was chasing Piccolo for a real fight.
She jumped into the aircraft at once, preparing to fly Chi-Chi and the others after him.
Not long after, Krillin finished calming the crowd and hurriedly flew in the sa direction.
Master Roshi also realized what was happening and decided to follow.
However, just as they were about to depart, a figure in white robes—identical in appearance to the old Piccolo—stepped in front of them.
Everyone instantly tensed.
Tien cried out, "You're Piccolo Daimao?!"
The man quickly shook his head.
"I am not Piccolo Daimao. I am Kami.
I'll explain everything—but for now, let go with you."
Roshi and the others still looked suspicious and refused to let him board.
At that mont, Chi-Chi suddenly stepped forward.
"Master Roshi, what he says is true.
Kami and Piccolo Daimao were originally one being—Goku already told us."
She continued seriously:
"Over three hundred years ago, in order to beco Earth's Guardian, he expelled all the evil that ca from living among humans.
That evil beca Piccolo Daimao.
They were originally one entity.
If Kami dies, Piccolo dies.
If Piccolo dies, Kami also dies.
Luckily, Piccolo Daimao laid an egg beforehand and left behind an offspring.
That's why Kami survived—and why the Dragon Balls could be restored.
Goku knew this long ago.
That's why, even after learning of Piccolo Jr.'s existence on the Lookout, he never killed him while he was still weak."
"What…?"
"So that's how it was…"
Bulma nodded.
"That's right. And since the Dragon Balls were created by Kami, if he died, the Dragon Balls would vanish as well."
After understanding the cause and effect, everyone fell silent in amazent.
Kami spoke urgently, "There's no ti. We must follow them now.
If Goku loses, things will beco extrely dangerous."
Just then, Yajirobe suddenly ran over.
"Wait! Take with you!"
Everyone looked at him—then at Master Roshi.
"Is this your new disciple?"
Roshi imdiately shook his head.
"I don't know him!"
Yajirobe scratched his head.
"Goku promised to treat to a al…"
"Food? What's your relationship with Goku?"
Yajirobe blinked.
"What, you think I'm lying?"
Everyone: "..."
Krillin said, "Bulma, let's just bring him. We're in a hurry anyway.
The plane's big—one more won't matter."
Bulma nodded imdiately.
"Fine. Everyone hold tight—we're taking off!"
As everyone grabbed on, Bulma slamd the control switch.
The aircraft launched forward at full speed, streaking toward Goku's direction.
Yajirobe stared at the luxurious interior and swallowed.
"Uh… I'm kind of hungry. Is there food on this plane?"
Lanch's lips curled upward.
She pulled out a machine gun and asked sweetly,
"No food—but how about so peanuts instead?"
Yajirobe's face went pale.
"Let off! Let off right now!"
They were already flying at high altitude.
Bulma casually pressed the cargo-release button.
A hatch opened in the center of the floor.
"Jump. We won't stop you."
Yajirobe's face darkened.
"I've got a bad feeling I boarded a pirate ship… you people are terrifying!"
...
In a desolate wilderness, Goku and Piccolo stood facing one another.
Piccolo looked at him with equal parts mockery and arrogance.
"Did you choose this place as your grave?"
Goku smiled.
"You like training in the highlands, don't you?
I picked a perfect feng shui spot just for you."
Piccolo scanned the surroundings.
Green hills. Vast grasslands. Endless sky.
It really did resemble the places he usually trained.
A trace of doubt flickered in his eyes as he looked back at Goku.
"Hmph! We'll settle this with our fists!"
"If all you've got is what you showed in the tournant—then you're already finished!"
Goku took a deep breath, adjusted his ki, and assud his familiar stance.
He crooked a finger.
"Co on."
Piccolo wasted no ti.
He tore off his cloak and flung aside the white turban.
Both roared and charged straight at each other.
In an instant, fists and kicks collided nonstop.
Every strike Goku threw was blocked.
Every strike Piccolo launched was countered.
Within just a few breaths, the first exchange ended.
A cold smile rose on Piccolo's lips—he believed he had grasped Goku's level.
At the sa ti, Goku had also roughly gauged Piccolo's strength.
Without pause, the second round began.
This ti, Piccolo mixed in energy blasts.
Explosions erupted one after another.
Dust surged. Winds howled.
Birds scattered in panic from the surrounding mountains.
Suddenly, one energy shot struck Goku head-on.
Smoke swallowed him completely.
Piccolo hovered above, staring down at the rolling dust.
"Co out, Son Goku!"
"Stop pretending—there's no way an attack like that could kill you!"
From within the smoke, Goku slowly walked forward.
Just as Piccolo expected—he was completely unhard.
Only his clothes were torn and ragged, fluttering loosely in the wind.
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