Chiaotzu’s match was a bit more complicated.
On Arena 6, he continuously overturned four opponents with his psychokinesis, but…
“Arena 6, Chiaotzu is eliminated! Contestant Tao Pai Pai advances!”
Tien Shinhan had just finished his own match and turned back to see this scene, his three eyes narrowing at the same time.
That man wore a metal eye patch, half human face, half machine, with a sinister smile hanging on the corners of his mouth.
Tao Pai Pai.
Master Shen’s younger brother, the world’s number one assassin.
After being kicked away by Son Goku three years ago, he was modified into a semi-mechanical body and made a comeback.
“Tch, with this ghostly appearance, what’s the point of living anymore.”
Yamcha saw this scene on Arena 1, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly.
The preliminaries completely ended within two hours.
Eight Arenas, eight winners.
There was no suspense.
In front of this group of people, ordinary martial artists couldn’t even last a single round.
The Tournament Announcer’s throat was already hoarse, and the atmosphere in the audience seats reached a boiling point.
“The level of this World Martial Arts Tournament is simply terrifying!”
“Those few wearing martial arts uniforms are Disciples of the Turtle School, and their performance is quite outstanding.”
The staff members stood in the center of the venue.
The list of top eight was displayed.
Yamcha, Son Goku, Tien Shinhan, Krillin.
Majunior, Contestant Immortal, Tao Pai Pai, mysterious girl.
When Son Goku saw the name “Immortal”, his expression did not change, but his body slightly tensed for a split second.
Yamcha just smiled charmingly, knowing very well who “Majunior” was.
As the Reincarnation of the old Piccolo, now the Demon King Piccolo, ultimately becoming the future babysitter of the Son family, it was quite a long story.
But this was not the most surprising part to him; instead, it was the duel order from the recent drawing of lots.
First match: Tao Pai Pai VS Majunior.
Second match: Immortal VS Tien Shinhan.
Third match: Yamcha VS Son Goku.
Fourth match: Krillin VS mysterious girl.
Yamcha stared at that duel list and frowned slightly.
Not right.
In the original work, Yamcha remembered it should be Tao Pai Pai VS Tien Shinhan, Chi-Chi VS Son Goku, Piccolo VS Krillin, God VS Yamcha.
Now, the matchup table had completely changed.
Butterfly effect?
Or could it be that someone tampered with it behind the scenes?
Yamcha’s gaze moved away from the screen and swept across the surrounding crowd.
The audience seats were densely packed with people.
But among those excited faces, he captured a few uncoordinated auras.
Not ordinary people.
Those auras were deliberately suppressed, hiding among the crowd.
And they faintly carried an evil feeling, but he could not lock onto their location for the time being.
Master Shen?
Unlike it, he recognized that old man’s aura.
Yamcha withdrew his gaze and did not investigate further.
Anyway, no matter how strong, it wouldn’t be his opponent.
The main tournament was about to start; before that, there was still one thing he needed to confirm.
With a thought.
A translucent panel appeared on his retina.
[strongest earthling system]
[Host: Yamcha]
[Power Level: 5170]
[Race: Earthling (Bound)]
[Skills: New Wolf Fang Fist, Spirit Ball, Kamehameha, Turtle School Martial Arts, Qi…]
[Main Quests: 1: I, Yamcha, will never become a meme. 2. World Martial Arts Tournament Champion.]
Yamcha leaned against the wall of the venue corridor, his gaze sweeping across the audience seats.
What he cared about was not those auras themselves.
In the dragon ball world, there were quite a few strong people who could hide their auras; as long as they cultivated Earth martial arts, they could do it.
Yamcha closed his eyes, rummaging through the memories of his past life in his mind.
Gero.
The Red Ribbon Army’s chief scientist, the father of the Androids.
That madman went into hiding after Goku destroyed the Red Ribbon Army, spending twenty years researching and developing a series of Androids.
If theatrical versions weren’t counted, the most famous ones were Android 16, Android 17, Android 18, and Cell.
And his way of collecting combat data was a micro flying robot smaller than a bee.
Having no aura and being almost invisible to the naked eye, it could collect the target’s cell samples and combat data from a very long distance away.
In the original work, this thing kept tracking the Z Fighters, participating in almost the entire process of the early battles except for not going to Namek.
It wasn’t decoded until Cell appeared, but by then it was already too late, because Cell was created precisely relying on these data and cells.
Yamcha opened his eyes.
If this world was consistent with the original work, that little bug was right here in this venue now.
He did not make a fuss.
“Puar.”
The blue kitten immediately flew over: “Young Master!”
“Do me a favor.”
Yamcha lowered his voice, “Turn into a bee, fly a circle around the upper level here, see if there are any strange little things suspended in mid-air, probably also robots the size of a bee.”
Puar tilted his head: “Huh? What is Young Master looking for?”
“Just a stink bug, go quickly.”
Although Puar didn’t understand, he never discounted Yamcha’s words.
With a pop, he turned into a little bee, buzzing as he flew toward the sky above the audience seats.
Yamcha leaned back against the wall and waited.
Ten minutes later, Puar flew back, turned back into his original form, and his expression was a bit strange.
“Young Master, I found it. At a position about thirty meters above the west audience seats, there is a small silver robot with a red dot blinking on it. It kept facing the direction of the Arena, and when I approached, it even automatically dodged for a second.”
Sure enough.
Yamcha did not move immediately.
He leaned against the corridor wall, raised his head, and looked at the airspace above the west audience seats.
Found it.
Directly above the seventeenth row of the west audience seats, a silver ellipsoid smaller than a fingernail was suspended in the air, its shell reflecting a metallic luster. Read this novel at novelping dot com for the best experience.
Beneath it, a red dot was flashing at a fixed frequency, with the lens facing the direction of the Arena.
Gero’s little toy, huh.
Yamcha lowered his head to glance at the ground, picked up a soybean-sized gravel, and weighed it between his fingertips.
His right hand raised, index finger and thumb pinching that gravel.
The moment the pebble left his hand, it made a sound of breaking the air, which was almost covered by the noise inside the venue.
The silver ellipsoid exploded into seven or eight pieces in the air.
Yamcha withdrew his hand and patted the stone dust on his fingertips.
Done.
…
North City.
A cave somewhere nearby.
Inside a mountain covered by large rocks, in a cave hundreds of meters deep underground.
A large amount of precision instruments were arranged on both sides of the rock wall, coolant flowed in the pipes, and the servers hummed.
A huge display screen occupied the entire wall.
On the screen, the original picture suddenly turned into snow static.
Buzz.
A lean and thin old man sat in front of the console, his gray hair unkempt.
Dr. Gero.
His fingers stopped on the keyboard, maintaining a tapping posture, and did not move for three seconds.
“…Signal interrupted?”
Gero pressed a few keys, trying to re-establish the connection.
Invalid.
He pressed another group and called up the backup channel.
It was still snow static.
It wasn’t signal interference; the terminal itself was destroyed.
Gero’s expression didn’t fluctuate too much, only the corners of his mouth pulled down a bit.
“Accidental damage? No, Reconnaissance Bug 13’s shell uses titanium alloy micro-casting, and its impact resistance coefficient is enough to withstand the direct hit of small-caliber bullets.”
He called up the data frame last transmitted by the reconnaissance bug.
The picture froze 0.3 seconds before it was destroyed.
In the center of the picture, a young man wearing an orange martial arts uniform.
Direction, facing the lens directly.
Gero stared at that face for five seconds.
“Yamcha… Turtle School Disciple, top eight of the 22nd World Martial Arts Tournament.”
Dr. Gero called up the information from the database, his fingers sliding quickly on the trackpad.
But he was not angry, even somewhat excited, and the downward arc at the corners of his mouth gradually curled up.
“Interesting… There is another high-quality sample.”
He turned his chair and faced another wall behind him.
Embedded in that wall were several huge cultivation pods, but they were all empty.
Above each cultivation pod was a number.
13, 14…
18, 19, 20.
Dr. Gero couldn’t help laughing.