A scientist’s aesthetics were truly not on the same channel as a martial artist’s.
Yamcha walked up to the central control console, which had a minimalist dial and a display screen, with an emergency stop button next to it.
The dial was marked with scales from 1 to 10, currently pointing to 1.
Yamcha smoothly turned the dial to 2.
Hum!
Vibrations came simultaneously from eight nodes, and the blue indicator lights switched to pale yellow.
Double gravity.
Yamcha felt as if he were carrying another copy of himself on his back.
Although his breathing was slightly heavy, his muscles and bones could completely bear it.
He jumped twice on the spot, his knees bending slightly when landing, steady and secure.
“This doesn’t even count as a warm-up.”
The dial was turned to 3.
Under triple gravity, the air became a bit like Banana-kun, and every lift of his hand required twice the physical strength than usual.
Yamcha began practicing the basic boxing stances of the Turtle School, every Move and stance extremely agile.
The wind from his fists was compressed under the triple gravity, and with every punch thrown, the sound of the air being torn apart could be heard.
Not bad.
The dial went to 4.
Quadruple gravity.
The pressure had arrived.
Yamcha’s breathing became heavy and rough, the load borne by his heart increased significantly, and the resistance to blood flow multiplied several times over.
He continued throwing punches, but his speed slowed by thirty percent, and his stances began to deform.
Sweat rolled down from his forehead, smashing onto the floor and making a louder sound than usual.
The dial went to 5.
The moment of quintuple gravity, Yamcha’s knees bent abruptly.
His entire body stumbled forward a step, and his right hand supported the ground so he wouldn’t fall over.
Five times his body weight pressed down on his spine, placing a huge load on his internal organs.
If not for the Physique bestowed by Shenron, under quintuple gravity, he would have already collapsed to his knees.
But now, it was just very uncomfortable; it seemed his body hadn’t adapted yet.
“Let’s still start from triple gravity.”
Yamcha decisively turned the dial back to 3 and wiped the sweat from his forehead.
Being impatient for success was a big taboo.
Back then, Goku also slowly increased it to one hundred times on the spaceship flying to Namek; there was no reason to max it out right from the start.
Hum.
Triple gravity output steadily.
Yamcha settled into a horse stance, retracted his fists to his waist, and began to formally Cultivate on his first day.
Under triple gravity.
Yamcha took a deep breath, separated his feet, leaned his body forward, kept his left hand behind his back, and supported the ground with a single palm of his right hand.
“One, two, three…”
One-handed push-ups.
In this gravitational environment, his body weight was not simply magnified by three times; every single muscle was enduring an extremely strong pulling force.
Rising and falling, pressing down.
“One hundred and fifty-one, one hundred and fifty-two…”
Foundations were very important.
In his past life watching dragon ball, the Power Level of a Saiyan would break hundreds of millions at every turn, but ultimately, it was all built on having decent physical strength.
At this moment, the “super-strong load-bearing capacity” bestowed by Shenron began to show its value.
The muscle fibers tore under the heavy pressure, and were immediately enveloped by a warm current, rapidly healing and becoming thicker and tougher.
This cycle of destruction and reorganization allowed Yamcha to feel a long-lost climb in power.
“Five thousand, five thousand and one…”
Yamcha switched to his left hand and continued pressing down.
Along with the mechanical repetition, his mind began to wander.
The World Martial Arts Tournament a year later was only a starting point.
If this Universe was the original dragon ball story, cultivating step-by-step would barely allow him to survive until the Frieza Saga.
But what if the subsequent connection was the dragon ball Super” Universe?
That was an era where deities walked everywhere and Gods of Destruction were as common as dogs.
Could an Earthling hard-resist a single finger from a God of Destruction?
Absolutely not.
“That’s not right.”
Yamcha exerted force abruptly, his body springing up into the air to switch hands, once again supporting himself steadily, “There is a path that doesn’t value Bloodline.”
Ultra Instinct.
That was the ultimate technique of the Angel race, as well as a divine technique that even Gods of Destruction found difficult to fully master.
It did not rely on the near-death transformations of Saiyans, nor did it value the absolute numerical value of the base Power Level.
What it emphasized was diluting the neural reflex between the brain and the body, allowing various parts of the body to instinctively attack and evade.
Theoretically, as long as it was a humanoid creature, it was possible to touch that Realm.
At the Tournament of Power, Master Roshi had once used a body of Earth to display a prototype similar to Ultra Instinct, causing even Jiren to look sideways.
This meant that Yamcha also could walk this path, which could be considered a broad highway to success.
But, if the follow-up to this Universe wasn’t dragon ball GT”, dragon ball Heroes”, or even fan-fiction like dragon ball Multiverse” or dragon ball AF”!
Then he would have to put in much more thought.
“However, those are too far off; let’s survive the early stage first.”
Yamcha closed his eyes, following the pull of gravity to let his physical body find balance on its own.
“Nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-eight, nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine, ten thousand!”
Bang!
Yamcha supported himself on the ground with both hands and stood up abruptly.
White steam was rising from his entire body—that was the phenomenon of sweat evaporating under the high temperature on the surface of his skin.
Ten thousand one-handed push-ups under triple gravity took less than two hours.
“Still not good enough, come again!”
At the same time.
In the Southern Hemisphere, on some unknown deserted island.
Waves beat against the reefs, emitting a deafening roar.
A bald little fellow stood in waist-deep seawater, letting the waves impact him, his figure motionless like a mountain.
Krillin wore the martial arts uniform of the Turtle School, his hands clasped together at his waist, and between his palms, a ball of blue light was frantically condensing.
Krillin opened his eyes wide and abruptly thrust his hands forward.
“Kame…hame…ha!”
The thick blue Ki Blast tore through the air, roaring out right against the sea surface.
Boom!
The sea surface ahead was forcefully plowed out into a vacuum trench ten meters wide, and the seawater rolled over to both sides, revealing the reefs at the bottom of the sea.
The Ki Blast extended all the way to the end of the line of sight before exploding with a roar, raising columns of water tens of meters high.
The splashes fell, smashing onto Krillin’s shiny bald head.
He pulled back his hands and gasped heavily.
“Far too far off.”
Krillin looked at the aftershocks on the sea surface, his brows tightly locked.
The shadow of Demon King Piccolo pressed upon the hearts of everyone who had experienced that battle.
Although Master Roshi had used his life to complete the Evil Containment Wave in the end, that vomited egg, that Demon Successor, could make a comeback at any time.
“Ever since our parting at Korin Tower last time, Goku went to Kamis Lookout, and Yamcha and Tien Shinhan have also vanished without a trace.”
Krillin clenched his fists, his gaze resolute, “I cannot fall behind either; if Demon King Piccolo appears again next time, I will absolutely not stand by and watch!”
He settled into a horse stance once again, Qi Gathering in his hands anew.
In the North.
Deep within the rolling mountain ranges.
A hundred-meter-high waterfall cascaded down, smashing into the cold pool below and emitting a loud roar.
On a huge boulder directly beneath the waterfall, a three-eyed bald young man sat cross-legged.
Tien Shinhan.
The waterfall impacted his head and shoulders, the immense water pressure enough to shatter rocks, but he was like an old tree with intertwined roots, motionless.
On the bank, Chiaotzu, floating mid-air, held a food box in both hands, looking with a full face of worry at the figure beneath the waterfall.
“Brother Tien has been sitting for three days and three nights,” Chiaotzu muttered softly.
Beneath the waterfall, a brilliant light faintly flashed within Tien Shinhan’s third eye.
In his mind, he continuously deduced various Moves.
The improvement of the Tri-Beam, the timing for releasing the Solar Flare, the changes of the Four Witches Technique.
“Son Goku…”
Tien Shinhan silently recited this name in his heart.
At the 22nd World Martial Arts Tournament, although he had won, he knew clearly in his heart that it was entirely due to luck.
If not for the fact that at the final moment, that car suddenly appeared and interfered with Son Goku, he would have lost.
Now, the threat of Demon King Piccolo hung over their heads, and Goku had gone to receive guidance of an even higher level.
If he didn’t risk his life, then at the 23rd World Martial Arts Tournament, he would only be left far behind.
“Hah!”
Tien Shinhan abruptly opened his eyes wide, his three eyes bulging open.
The Qi within his body erupted with a boom.
Boom!
The hundred-meter-high waterfall was actually forcefully cut off by this soaring Aura!
The water flow rolled backward, exploding into a sky full of water mist in mid-air.
Tien Shinhan’s figure flashed, landing on the bank.
“Brother Tien!”
Chiaotzu hurried to hand over a towel.