When Yamcha jumped down from the Arena,
Krillin was the first to rush over.
“Yamcha, you are way too awesome!”
The little bald head’s face was filled with surprise, his fists clenched in front of his chest, and his eyes darted around incessantly.
“You actually beat Goku! That’s Goku we’re talking about, how on earth did you train?”
Yamcha looked at Krillin’s expression, feeling a moment of complexity in his heart.
He knew the relationship between Krillin and Son Goku.
Starting from Kame House, they were Senior Brothers who took beatings together, carried milk together, and crawled their way through Master Roshi’s devilish training.
That emotional bond built since childhood was not something someone who joined later could compare to.
“Exercise well, study well, play well, eat well, and rest well, and you’ll have your chance too.” Yamcha patted Krillin’s shoulder.
Tien Shinhan walked out from the tunnel; he didn’t rush over like Krillin, but simply gave a nod.
Yamcha returned a similar nod.
Tien Shinhan’s gaze lingered on Yamcha for two seconds, then shifted away, landing on the other side of the Arena.
Piccolo’s white cape flashed and vanished deep within the tunnel.
In that direction, Tien Shinhan looked for a long time.
The Tournament Announcer’s voice sounded right on cue, even though his throat was hoarse beyond belief.
“Ladies and gentlemen! Please take a short break! The last match of the Quarterfinals will begin in ten minutes! The competing sides are Contestant Krillin versus the Mysterious Girl Contestant!”
Krillin turned his head to look at the steps, where Son Goku and Chi-Chi were standing side by side.
To be precise, Son Goku was standing, while Chi-Chi was cowering half a step behind him, her hands intertwined, her head lowered, but the corner of her eyes kept drifting toward Son Goku’s hands.
Son Goku’s hands hung naturally at his sides.
Chi-Chi’s fingers moved, reaching forward two centimeters, then pulling back.
Reaching out three centimeters again.
Pulling back again.
Son Goku suddenly turned his head: “Chi-Chi, why are your hands moving the whole time? Are you injured? Do you want to go find the infirmary?”
Chi-Chi’s face instantly turned the color of a honey peach.
“I-I’m not injured at all!”
Son Goku tilted his head and thought for a second, then did something that caught everyone off guard.
He reached out and directly grabbed Chi-Chi’s hand.
“Won’t it stop shaking like this?”
Chi-Chi froze entirely, the red color spreading from her neck to the tips of her ears at a speed visible to the naked eye.
She didn’t speak, nor did she pull her hand away.
In the spectator stands in the distance, Bulma’s mouth twitched twice.
“What on earth did he learn at Kamis Lookout?”
Oolong muttered nearby: “He probably learned it from Kami, they say Kami knows everything.”
“Kami teaches how to pick up girls?”
“Who knows.”
Bulma kicked Oolong.
… This chapter was taken from novelping.com without permission.
Ten minutes later.
The last match of the Quarterfinals.
Krillin stood on the west side of the Arena, his bald head reflecting the light in the sunshine, wearing the same orange martial arts uniform.
The east tunnel.
Chi-Chi walked out.
“I forfeit.”
Krillin’s stance was already set up, “… Huh?”
The spectator stands erupted in an uproar.
Chi-Chi turned around, her back to the Arena, looking toward the direction of the steps.
“I originally joined the World Martial Arts Tournament just to find Son Goku. Now that I’ve found him, there’s no need to keep fighting.”
On the Arena, Krillin stood alone for three seconds.
The wind blew past, exceptionally quiet, then he lowered his arms and shrugged.
“Well, I guess I got a win without doing anything.”
A few scattered laughs sounded from the spectator stands.
The Tournament Announcer cleared his throat, “The Mysterious Girl Contestant forfeits, Contestant Krillin automatically advances to the Semifinals.”
When Krillin walked off the Arena, Yamcha was leaning against the tunnel wall waiting for him.
“How does it feel to win without a fight?”
“Don’t mention it.” Krillin waved his hand, “I wanted to use the match to warm up, but I didn’t even get to stretch out my hands.”
He scratched the back of his head.
“But seriously, I’m quite grateful she forfeited.”
“Oh?”
“To save some stamina.” Krillin flashed a grin at Yamcha, “Since I might have to fight you next, I can’t afford to go into the match at a disadvantage.”
Yamcha looked at Krillin’s smiling face and smiled.
This was Krillin; even knowing his opponent was much stronger than him, he could still walk onto the Arena with a smile.
How did the saying go…
you can mess with anyone, but you shouldn’t mess with Krillin.
Sunlight cut obliquely through the gaps in the clouds, dividing the entire World Martial Arts Tournament venue into two halves of light and shadow.
The Tournament Announcer changed to a cup of hot tea and finally managed to lubricate his throat back to life.
“Ladies and gentlemen! All four matches of the Quarterfinals have concluded! Next, let me announce the matchups for the Semifinals!”
The whole audience fell silent.
Match 1: Majunior vs Tien Shinhan
Match 2: Yamcha vs Krillin
Piccolo’s white cape fluttered in the wind.
With a flash, he leaped onto the Arena.
When he landed, the stone slabs beneath his feet made no sound.
When he walked to the edge of the Arena, he took off his coat and threw it to Krillin at the tunnel entrance.
Tien Shinhan didn’t look back; the moment he stepped onto the Arena, all three of his eyes opened fully.
The Tournament Announcer finally caught his breath, grabbing the microphone: “Ladies and gentlemen! The first match of the Semifinals!”
His voice rose again: “This Contestant Tien Shinhan is no ordinary fighter! He is the champion of the 22nd World Martial Arts Tournament! Furthermore, he is the top disciple of the Crane School, which is on par with the Turtle School!”
“That final match between him and Son Goku three years ago is still revered as a classic by the martial arts world! We hope he can keep up the good work in this tournament!”
Applause broke out in the spectator stands.
“And his opponent, Contestant Majunior, although participating for the first time, has performed quite brilliantly! He won with overwhelming strength in the Quarterfinals!”
The Tournament Announcer’s phrasing was very restrained.
He didn’t mention the matter of Tao Pai Pai being blasted into pieces.
Krillin clutched Tien Shinhan’s coat and shouted toward the Arena: “Tien Shinhan! Do your best!”
As soon as his voice fell, a gunshot suddenly came from the spectator stands.
The surrounding audience shrank their necks in fright, and some squatted directly on the ground.
Launch held up an assault rifle, her golden hair dazzling in the sunlight, and fired dozens of shots into the sky with one hand.
“Tien Shinhan! Beat that ugly monster to the ground!”
Yamcha leaned against the tunnel entrance, his eyebrow twitching.
Launch had turned into her violent version again.
Master Roshi looked back at the commotion over there; security guards were rushing toward Launch’s direction, but no one dared to actually lay a hand on her.
The blonde Launch holding a gun looked even more terrifying than the contestants on the Arena.
“These youngsters…” Master Roshi sighed, “Each one is more worrying than the last.”
On the Arena.
Tien Shinhan and Piccolo were twelve meters apart.
The referee raised his right hand, his voice still carrying the tremor left from the previous match: “First match of the Semifinals, Contestant Tien Shinhan versus Contestant Majunior! The match…”
“Begin!”
Tien Shinhan moved.
The moment he started, his body accelerated to maximum speed, spanning twelve meters in a single step, his right punch aiming straight for Piccolo’s face.
The sound of an exploding Qi burst from the Arena.
Piccolo tilted his head, the wind of the punch brushing past his auricle and flipping the edge of his cape.
Tien Shinhan’s knee was already thrusting up, striking Piccolo’s ribs.
Piccolo pressed down with his left hand, bending his arm to block the knee strike.
The moment they made contact, both were pushed back half a step simultaneously by the recoil force.
Tien Shinhan didn’t pause.
Elbow strikes, palm chops, side kicks—dozens of moves executed in smooth succession, every single strike imbued with full ten-tenths of power.
Piccolo caught them all.
One hand.
From start to finish, he only used one hand to block, while the other hand remained hidden inside his cape.
Someone in the spectator stands gasped sharply.