That night.
Outside Sayuan City, at the old site of the Muten School.
This area had already been purchased outright by Planet Company. The orchard at the foot of the mountain had long been transplanted elsewhere. Now, under the cool and clear moonlight, only a few remnants of the Muten School Dojo's former mountain gate remained in the wilderness.
Behind it stood the half-destroyed mountain.
Back then, before countless witnesses, Taro had struck down more than half of the mountain with a single palm. It was a sight no one could ever forget.
Now, one hundred and sixty years had passed in the blink of an eye.
Returning to this place once more, the Muken disciples walking behind Taro and Tam felt a deep, indescribable sorrow. They could say nothing—their thoughts tangled in emotions. Their senior brother had once truly lived here, and now, to see their former dojo reduced to ruins… how could their hearts not ache?
"So… this is where Muten School once stood?" A younger disciple spoke, his eyes reddened. He and the others had never lived here, having only been taken in by their senior brother's master after he left the mountain gate.
Yet during their training, their master had always spoken about this place—about life in the Muken Dojo, about training, about practicing calligraphy, about strengthening the body and the mind… These stories, woven together from the memories of the old, had long taken root in the hearts of these young disciples.
Suddenly—
"Hup! Ha!"
From within the ruins, the sound of voices shouting in unison echoed.
The disciples froze in place, exchanging bewildered looks.
Before their eyes, within the desolate ruins, silhouettes dressed in white martial arts uniforms had appeared, practicing their forms in perfect synchronization.
Monkidi rubbed his eyes, his voice trembling. "This is…?"
Then—
The stones around them suddenly began to shift.
Before their eyes, as though time were being rewound, buildings began reconstructing themselves.
The main hall, the training grounds, the tournament platform, the corridors…
Everything exactly as their master had once described in his final days.
The figures in white moved past Monk D. and Lanton, their hands clapping them on the shoulders, backs, and heads as they passed.
"Haha! Little junior brothers!"
"Welcome back!"
"The future of the Muten School depends on you!"
"Never let our school's name fall into disgrace!"
The last remaining disciples of Muten School couldn't hold it in anymore.
Lowering their heads, fists clenched tightly, they struggled against the flood of emotions.
Memories flashed through their minds—
Training. Complaints. Curiosity. The burning sun. Raging winds. Torrential rain. Snowstorms. Endurance. Blood. Growth. Joy. Smiles. Dreams. Heartache. Exhaustion. Numbness.
They refused to let anyone see their tears.
Then, suddenly—
Thud!
One disciple fell to his knees, bowing deeply toward Taro and Tam, who were walking toward the ruined mountain.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Forehead to the ground, three times.
Realization struck the others—these were illusions.
Those voices—
They were the words of their forefathers.
Their hearts swelled with emotion, unable to contain themselves.
And in the darkness of the night, before the towering, reconstructed Muken Dojo, they knelt and bowed in reverence.
---
Taro and his son, Tam, stepped onto the great platform before the ruined mountain.
The Phoenix followed close behind.
"Well?" Taro asked, smiling naturally as he looked at the Phoenix. "Do you still remember this place?"
The Phoenix landed on the stone floor, tilting its head as it gazed at the moonlit mountain, now shimmering as though coated in silver frost. It flapped its wings.
"This is the ring, then?" Tam grinned.
Taro nodded.
He took a slow breath—
The sounds of nature passed through his ears, flowed through his heart…
Then, he stomped his foot.
BOOM!
It was as if a divine hammer from the heavens had descended upon the ruined mountain.
In that instant, an unfathomable surge of energy erupted from Taro's body.
Under the absolute control of his incomprehensible spiritual power, the unleashed force split into countless blades—
Thin as a cicada's wing.
Sharp beyond measure.
Like a sculptor carving from raw stone, Taro shaped the ruined mountain in an instant, a storm of countless sword-like slashes weaving through the air…
"Hah!"
Taro raised his hand and swung it, sending a gust of wind sweeping outward in all directions!
And just like that, a massive square arena appeared.
---
July 17th had finally arrived.
The long-awaited World Martial Arts Tournament global finals were about to begin!
An unimaginable crowd had surged into the small city of Sayuan from all over the world. Lodging, tourism, shopping… The continuous surge of economic activity since July 1st had skyrocketed to levels that left the mayor of Sayuan utterly dumbfounded.
The sky was filled with helicopters soaring back and forth.
From the city center to the tournament venue outside town, the roads were packed with endless streams of vehicles and people. As the start time drew nearer, the crowd only grew larger. Countless cameras were polished to perfection, reporters were itching to write, journalists had drafts prepared in their minds, and the audience was brimming with anticipation…
The time had finally come!
The tournament that represented the pinnacle of human martial prowess. The global finals of the competition that the media had dubbed "The Martial Arts Revival".
Who would emerge victorious from the clash of titans?
Tao Pai Pai, Uru, Pulin, Puhui, Monkey D., Lanton, Noah Robe, Huntun… Eleven elite warriors from the five great cities, all gathered to fight.
And then…
Mu Taro!
The Muten Master!
Where was he? Why hadn't he appeared yet? Did he know about the speculation surrounding his true identity? Was he really the Muten Master?
Thirty minutes before the tournament began, the audience seating around the colossal arena was already packed to the brim! Dozens of cameras hovered over the crowd, their lenses locked onto the still-empty stage…
---
Inside the waiting room, Tao Pai Pai wore a sinister grin, his mind filled with devious schemes as his sharp gaze studied the other contestants…
That giant brute—how had he recovered so quickly after being pierced through the shoulder by his Dodonpa?
Noticing Uru glaring coldly in his direction, Tao Pai Pai met his gaze without flinching, staring right back.
In a dimly lit corner, Noah Robe sat in silence, meticulously polishing his long sword.
What a lunatic. The rules don't even allow weapons in the tournament!
Clang.
As Noah Robe adjusted his grip, the sword emitted a chilling metallic hum that rang in Tao Pai Pai's ears. For a split second, he could almost feel the blade's icy edge pressing against the back of his neck.
Tao Pai Pai tensed up, quickly shifting his focus to the other contestants.
The two monks from Orin Temple? Just a couple of fat fools—not worth worrying about.
That sickly pale runt named Huntun? Word had it he knew a few magic tricks… probably nothing more than cheap parlor tricks!
Finally, Tao Pai Pai's gaze landed on two individuals dressed in white martial arts uniforms.
He studied them for a long time, yet they remained motionless, sitting calmly as if he didn't exist. Their utter disregard left him deeply frustrated.
"Where's that Taro guy?"
Only then did it hit him—he had completely overlooked someone so crucial!
Just as he was about to search for him, the room's speakers crackled to life with an announcement:
"All contestants, please proceed to the arena through the contestant passage. The drawing for the World Martial Arts Tournament finals is about to begin… All contestants, please proceed immediately!"
In an instant, all twelve contestants rose to their feet.
Some exchanged wary glances, others remained calm. Some nodded in acknowledgment, while others remained indifferent. One by one, they stepped toward the passageway leading to the arena.
Taro, who had been leaning casually against the wall in quiet contemplation, finally moved. Without a word, he followed behind the group of eleven.
Though he had been present in the waiting room the entire time, not a single one of them had consciously registered his presence.
As the twelve contestants emerged from the tunnel, a thunderous roar erupted from the stands—a deafening cheer that crashed over them like a tidal wave!
"So many people…" Monkey D. marveled.
His senior, Lanton, patted his shoulder as they followed the others onto the stage.
Tao Pai Pai basked in the applause, relishing in the cheers.
I have to win this championship, no matter what…
But where was Taro?
Had he not shown up after all?
"IT'S HIM!!"
"HE'S REALLY HERE!!"
"THE MUTEN MASTER?! IS HE THE MUTEN MASTER?!"
Unlike the contestants, the reporters below were unaffected by Taro's subtle mental influence.
They hadn't overlooked him for even a second.
The flash of cameras turned the arena into a blinding sea of white.
"Clang!!"
With the sound of a gong, the host signaled the start of the drawing process. Under the watchful eyes of countless cameras, live broadcasts, and an audience of millions, each contestant stepped forward one by one to draw their lot.
As the drawing proceeded, Taro finally took a moment to observe his opponents with mild interest.
That pale-faced guy… Could he be an ancestor of Chiaotzu?
And that swordsman, Noah Robe… Was he related to Yajirobe?
"Next, contestant Uru."
A towering, dark-skinned man with tribal war paint stepped forward to draw his lot. Taro, standing toward the back, let a faint smile appear on his face.
Oh? So even someone from Korin's Sanctuary has stepped onto the world stage?
When it was finally Taro's turn, the anticipation in the arena surged. All eyes were locked on him.
The host wrote down his result in bold, clear strokes—
The number "1"!
Taro would be the first to step onto the stage!
"Hmph, as expected… That old bastard Taro, I can see right through him now."
At a hotel, Tsuru sat cross-legged, levitating slightly above the bed as he watched the live broadcast. A cold sneer curled on his lips.
Back at the arena, Tao Pai Pai glanced at the number "2" beneath his name and frowned deeply.
Something about this felt… ominous.