When the referee counted to five seconds.
On the Arena, Son Goku performed a kip-up.
Afterward, a red fist mark appeared on his cheek, and there was blood at the corner of his mouth.
He licked his lips, and the brightness in his eyes rose another level.
“Hehe…”
Son Goku walked back to the center of the Arena and stretched his neck.
“Now this is more like it, Yamcha!”
The referee looked at Son Goku, who had returned to the center of the Arena and didn’t look like he had been hit at all, and finally raised his microphone.
Although his hands were trembling slightly.
“Contestant Son… Son Goku is still within the bounds of the match! The match continues!”
In truth, deep down in the referee’s heart, he still hoped to see Son Goku win.
Son Goku stood in the center of the Arena, patted the dust off his face, his expression not resembling someone who had just been struck.
“Yamcha, you’re really strong now!”
As he said this, he was already moving.
He crossed his hands, grabbed the collar of his black undershirt, and yanked it upward.
The moment the clothes came off, Son Goku casually tossed them away.
That black undershirt slammed into the edge of the Arena.
Boom.
A stone slab shattered directly.
Fragments splashed and bounced to the referee’s feet; the referee lowered his head to take a look, and his expression changed.
“That piece of clothing…”
Before the referee’s voice had even faded, Son Goku squatted down again and untied the shoes and wristbands on his feet and hands.
The two shoes and wristbands were successively thrown outside the Arena.
Thud.
Thud.
Four pits.
Four indentations were smashed into the venue’s floor.
The entire venue fell silent.
The Tournament Announcer reacted, his voice directly cracking: “L-Ladies and gentlemen! The clothes and shoes contestant Son Goku just took off… those are not ordinary garments! They’re heavy training gear! He has been wearing these things during the match all along!”
The audience seats exploded into an uproar.
“With that kind of speed earlier, he was still carrying weight?”
“That’s just too outrageous!”
Krillin’s mouth was half-open and unable to close.
He turned his head to look at Tien Shinhan, whose three eyes narrowed.
“Could it be… Goku has been suppressing his strength all along,” Tien Shinhan said.
On the Arena.
Son Goku, having shed his heavy gear, stretched his shoulders in place, his entire state undergoing a qualitative change in that instant.
The tips of his feet gently tapped the ground.
His body disappeared from the spot and appeared three meters away from Yamcha.
Yamcha felt that sudden, overwhelming change in Aura.
Comparing it, it was about a Power Level of 380.
Yamcha made a judgment in his mind; it was quite a bit higher than Goku at the same period in the original work.
Three years of training at Kamis Lookout, combined with continuous training in the gravity suit, this fellow’s foundation had advanced a step further than in the original plot. Read the latest chapters at g.com.
In the audience seats.
Bulma gripped the armrest tightly.
Puar flew around beside her, anxious like a blue spinning top: “Young Master… Is Young Master alright? Goku seems to have gotten so much stronger!”
Oolong shrank back into his seat, twitching his nose: “It’s over, it’s over, Yamcha’s old habit isn’t acting up again, right? It was the same three years ago at the World Martial Arts Tournament, talking tough at the start, and when it gets to the end…”
“Hmph, shut your stinky pig head.” Bulma didn’t turn her head.
“My boyfriend won’t lose.”
Oolong opened his mouth, and upon seeing Bulma’s expression, swallowed the second half of his sentence back down.
On the Arena.
Son Goku looked at Yamcha with a smile.
“Yamcha, I’ve already taken off my heavy gear, and from here on, I won’t hold back anymore.”
Yamcha tilted his neck.
Then he did something no one expected.
He crossed his arms over his chest and threw his head back in a loud laugh.
“Hahahaha!”
The laughter echoed across the Arena, leaving even the Tournament Announcer stunned.
Son Goku blinked, looking completely blank.
“What a pity, Goku.”
Yamcha put away his smile, his gaze solemn, “The champion of this World Martial Arts Tournament will definitely be me, Yamcha.”
As those words fell.
The audience seats fell into complete silence.
Three seconds later, people began to whisper.
“Is this guy… alright in the head?”
“The opponent just took off his heavy gear, and his Aura has risen so much, yet he’s still talking trash?”
“Who can’t boast?”
In the contestants’ tunnel, Krillin’s expression was very complex as he tilted his head to glance at Tien Shinhan.
Tien Shinhan didn’t answer, but his third eye never moved away from Yamcha.
Piccolo leaned against the wall, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly.
What an overconfident idiot.
On the Arena, Son Goku didn’t mock Yamcha; instead, he tilted his head.
“Then let me see your strength.”
Hearing this, Yamcha lowered his arms from his chest and slightly bent his knees.
With Yamcha as the center, a visible white Aura rose from the soles of his feet, surging upward along his legs, waist, abdomen, and chest, converging into a churning pillar of energy above his head.
The Arena’s ground continued to crack, the fissures extending from beneath his feet to all four sides of the Arena.
The referee off the stage was directly knocked over by the wave of Qi, landing flat on his backside.
That oppressive feeling was too real.
Master Roshi’s fingers gripped his umbrella tightly.
“This Qi…”
He perceived it.
The Aura on Yamcha’s body was rapidly climbing, crossing a threshold that Master Roshi had previously thought impossible for an Earthling to touch.
A Power Level of four hundred.
Tien Shinhan’s body stiffened for a fraction of a second.
His third eye opened completely, reflecting the figure on the Arena wrapped in white Aura within his pupils.
Much stronger than himself.
Yamcha stood in the center of the Aura, his martial arts uniform flapping loudly from the airflow.
“Let you see.”
He lowered his center of gravity, slowly pulling his hands back to his waist, a ball of blue light condensing between his palms.
“The fruit of my, Yamcha’s, three years of training!”
“Ka… me…”
Son Goku’s pupils lit up; without hesitation, he likewise pulled his hands back to his waist, blue light condensing in his palms.
“Ha… me…”
Both of them spoke at the same time.
“Ha!”
Two blue beams of light shot out simultaneously from both ends of the Arena.
Colliding.
The entire World Martial Arts Tournament venue.
Two Kamehameha waves collided right in the center of the Arena, the energy intersection resembling a small sun, its white-blue radiance casting extremely long shadows for everyone.
The ground was collapsing.
Stalemate.
Yamcha gritted his teeth and pushed forward.
Son Goku was also gritting his teeth.
The intersection point of the light spheres remained motionless.
Four hundred against three hundred eighty.
The output of the Kamehameha relied purely on Qi volume and control; Yamcha held a twenty-point numerical advantage, but the intersection point did not visibly shift.
Truly worthy of being a combat Genius.
This thought flashed through Yamcha’s mind.
The twenty-point numerical gap was smoothed out by Son Goku’s control over his Qi Blast.
This guy’s energy output efficiency was high to an outrageous degree.
In the three years at Kamis Lookout, just how much stuff did Mr.Popo teach him?
Even setting aside the Saiyan bloodline, Son Goku was without a doubt a Genius.
Three seconds.
Five seconds.
The clash of the Kamehameha remained deadlocked.
Then.
Boom!
The intersection point exploded.
Blue-white energy rushed out in all directions, blasting a round pit three meters in diameter right in the center of the Arena.
The shockwave blew away all the remaining stone slabs of the Arena, and the gravel struck the venue walls, embedding itself into them.
The smoke and dust had not yet cleared.
Two figures simultaneously broke out of the smoke and rushed high into the sky.
Yamcha and Son Goku crossed paths at a height of fifteen meters, fists and elbows striking each other, the sound of Qi explosions echoing down from the air.
Their fists collided once again, the shockwave tearing a gap in the clouds, and sunlight spilled down through the fissure, illuminating the two orange figures.
Everyone inside the venue was looking up.
In the air.
Son Goku’s knee thrust toward Yamcha’s abdomen, which was blocked.
Yamcha countered with his right elbow, and Son Goku tilted his head to dodge, the two of them drawing two intertwined arcs in the sky, their speed getting faster and faster.