Earth, Kami's Lookout.
Mr. Popo, with his distinctly Arabian style, was holding a watering can, tending to the plants and trees in the circular plaza of the Lookout. The Lookout, located high in the sky, was shielded from the harsh environment by a protective barrier. Although the air here was much thinner compared to the surface, it was nothing significant for the plants.
Mr. Popo's skin was pitch black, making his facial features almost indistinguishable, giving him a perpetually blank and wooden expression. As he stood there watering the plants, he looked more like a household robot than a living being.
Tap, tap, tap…
From the shadows of the main entrance of the Lookout, Piccolo, dressed in his white Kami robe and leaning on a wooden staff, emerged.
"Kami… you've come out," Mr. Popo stopped watering and walked over.
Ever since the incident with the Demon Clan, Kami had often retreated deep into the Lookout for secluded training. This was something that hadn't happened in many years. Mr. Popo clearly remembered that before becoming Kami, Piccolo had already been the strongest martial artist on Earth. After ascending to the role of Kami, he hadn't been particularly enthusiastic about training.
After all, at that time, he was already the strongest being in the heavens and on Earth. Even the great martial arts master Mutaito, who emerged later in the human world, was far inferior to Piccolo before he became Earth's Kami.
Even Demon King Piccolo, who had wreaked havoc on the human world, was merely a fragment of evil that Kami Piccolo had separated from himself. In terms of power, Kami Piccolo could have easily eliminated Demon King Piccolo at the time. But since they shared the same life force, Kami Piccolo wasn't foolish enough to commit suicide, was he?
That's why he used his divine powers to influence the outcome of Mutaito's first battle with Demon King Piccolo, ensuring that King Piccolo wouldn't kill Mutaito, and Mutaito wouldn't Demon kill King Piccolo, while also allowing Mutaito to escape to Korin Tower.
After that, he guided Mutaito to develop the "Evil Containment Wave" (Mafuba) under the tutelage of Korin. To deal with King Piccolo without killing him, the only option was to seal him away.
In summary, at that time, Kami Piccolo had always been the strongest on Earth, overseeing everything from a position of dominance and observation.
But all of this was shattered when Taro suddenly rose to prominence.
This human named Taro, originally an unremarkable disciple of Mutaito, ascended Korin Tower in an incredibly short time, trained in ki control… and before Kami Piccolo even realized it, he had surpassed him, surpassed the Kami himself.
But… at that time, even though Kami Piccolo recognized that Taro's power might have surpassed his own, he hadn't felt it too keenly.
Until… until the disaster struck.
Every member of the Demon Clan was several times, even dozens of times stronger than Kami… Guilt, remorse, and frustration tormented him. When even Mitsurugi, the ancient Earth martial artist summoned from the afterlife, was defeated by the Demon King and Queen, Kami was almost driven to despair.
Then, Taro took action.
Kami had never imagined that Taro could be so powerful. Not only was his strength beyond comprehension… but Kami, confined to his corner of Earth, had never even imagined that the limits of human power could reach such an unbelievable level.
Taro didn't even use his true body. He simply floated hundreds of miles away from the Demon Clan, seated among the clouds, and then separated hundreds of ki projections from his body… With just these projections, Taro effortlessly annihilated every single member of the Demon Clan, the very beings that had driven Kami Piccolo to despair.
The North Kaiō-sama said that Taro's power far exceeded what Kami had witnessed.
Far exceeded what I had seen…
From that day on, Kami decided to resume his training.
Because the feeling of helplessness was truly unbearable.
But what was even more disheartening was…
Even though he had turned over a new leaf and returned to being the diligent and talented martial artist he once was… nearly a hundred years had passed, and Kami had made little progress. He clearly felt that his potential shouldn't be limited to this, yet his power stubbornly refused to advance further.
That's right… I'm not that young anymore.
I… am no longer that genius martial artist.
The 'Kami' who was once a genius martial artist had disappeared long ago, the moment he knelt before the gates of the Lookout and split himself in two. Perhaps this was a form of punishment? Back then, driven by selfish desires to become Kami, he took the shortcut of expelling the evil that had festered within him for so long.
'When Garga-sama (the previous Earth Kami) saw me do that… did he feel disappointed? When he pointed out the evil within me, he probably hoped that I would overcome it through my own willpower, didn't he?'
'But back then, I was so desperate to become Kami that I chose the easiest path—expelling the evil from my body… What a weak move, wasn't it, Guru-sama?'
'How disappointing.'
"Popo, tell me… what exactly is Taro trying to do? The World Martial Arts Tournament… the Martial Arts Association…" Kami leaned on his wooden staff, standing at the entrance of the Lookout, gazing up at the endless sky as he muttered to himself.
Mr. Popo remained silent, knowing that Kami wasn't truly asking him for an answer.
---
Korin Tower.
Korin spent most of his days napping. A warm summer breeze blew into the tower, rousing the lazy cat from his slumber. He yawned, rubbed his face with a paw, and licked his fur. He looked out at the unchanging, serene sky beyond the tower… It had been many years since anyone had climbed up here.
Tsk, how boring.
Hmm… I wonder how that kid who climbed the tower is doing at the World Martial Arts Tournament? Heh, the World Martial Arts Tournament… that's something Taro's son came up with, right? The "Greatest Under Heaven"… Is it meant to bring fame to his father?
Or is Taro himself planning something?
Korin shook his head. The current Taro was far beyond his comprehension. The young man who had once climbed Korin Tower barefoot was now a being even gods looked up to. He existed as a guardian deity of Earth, watching over the planet.
---
At the base of Korin Tower.
Outside a tent with Native American designs, a young boy with a long feather in his hair asked his father, "Dad, why didn't Uru come to the sacred land with us? I heard he's the strongest warrior in the tribe now!"
"My child, Uru has truly grand ambitions… While the sacred land of Korin is good, it would only hold him back. A true eagle can only soar freely in the vastest forests of the world," the Native American man, dressed similarly to Uru, ruffled his son's hair.
The boy nodded, though he didn't fully understand. He looked up at the ancient Korin Tower, his expression suddenly determined. "Dad, I've decided! I'm going to climb Korin Tower!"
"And then, like Uru, I'll leave the great forest and go out into the world!"
---
First World Martial Arts Tournament, Global Finals.
First Round, Third Match.
The world watched. At least tens of millions of viewers—some at the finals venue, others in front of televisions, and even more on live streams—were all focused on the unprecedented martial arts competition.
The suspected Muten Master Taro's match against the young and powerful Crane School prodigy, Tao Pai Pai, though brief, was heart-stopping… Especially the bizarre sequence where Tao Pai Pai seemed to go berserk and then mysteriously self-destructed. It was a rollercoaster of emotions.
Throughout it all, Taro remained as steady as a mountain, maintaining his calm and composed demeanor, further elevating his image of invincibility in the eyes of the audience. His power seemed limitless, and perhaps only the finals would reveal his true capabilities.
The second match, between Uru from the Native tribe and the martial monk Puhui from the Orin Temple, was equally dazzling!
*Crackle, crackle, crackle…* Without the slow-motion replays from high-speed cameras, the audience would have had no idea what was happening on the ring, let alone understood how the two were fighting.
For martial artists of this level, all that remained was a deep sense of awe.
Now, the tournament moved to the third match of the first round.
A silent swordsman faced off against the champion from the Central City regional competition, a burly middle-aged man.
Noah Robe's entrance immediately sparked heated discussions!
"Wait, I thought the World Martial Arts Tournament didn't allow weapons? How can a swordsman compete?" a confused netizen commented after seeing the host introduce Noa Robe on the live stream.
"Are you blind? Can't you see he's using a wooden sword?"
"Exactly! And if you'd been watching the earlier matches, you'd know Noa Robe is incredibly strong! His swordsmanship is terrifying…"
"I'm not well-read, but how can a wooden sword hurt anyone? If it can't, what's the point? If it can, why not just use a real sword?"
"Brains are a good thing… really."
"Are you stupid? If someone can injure others with a wooden sword, that's their skill! Could you do that? It's like Tao Pai Pai's finger lasers—it's their ability! Should the tournament organizers chop off their fingers or replace them with plastic ones just because they're powerful?"
"That's right. The reason bladed weapons aren't allowed is because they give an unfair advantage over bare-handed combat! But a wooden sword is different. For martial artists of this level, a wooden sword is essentially no different from using their fists or feet…"
The same question was being discussed on the ring.
"What, you think you can defeat me with that wooden stick?" The burly middle-aged champion from Central City cracked his knuckles and grinned. "I'll admit, it's impressive that you've made it this far with just a wooden sword, but… this is where it ends."
"Because you've run into me! Hahaha!"
The burly man pointed at Noah Robe across the ring and laughed arrogantly. However, if one looked closely at his eyes, they would notice that there was no trace of amusement in them—only cold calculation. His taunts were deliberate. He knew that a skilled swordsman's blade, whether sharp or dull, depended heavily on their mental state.
If he could disrupt his opponent's focus, he'd already won half the battle.
But as expected, Noah Robe didn't react to the provocation at all. Not even a twitch of his brow.
"Tch…" The burly man clicked his tongue.
Noah Robe was a lean young man with a scruffy beard. In his right hand, he held a wooden sword, its tip hanging about three inches above the ground. The shadow of the blade, cast by the sun, was perfectly still, not a single tremor to be seen.
He was cold and silent, and the sword in his hand was even colder, even more silent.
The host, considerate as always, gave the fighters time to exchange words. Once it seemed they were done, he waved his hand dramatically. "Alright then, the third match of the first round… begins now!" With that, he jumped off the ring.
Begin!
The word was like a switch. In an instant, Noah Robe, who had been as silent and unmoving as a stone since entering the ring, underwent a complete transformation.
Noah Robe raised his eyelids slightly, revealing narrow, sharp eyes that seemed to hide two blades within them. Without a word, he twisted his wrist, raised his wooden sword, and charged forward.
---
Competitors lounge
Taro, who had been sitting with his eyes closed, suddenly opened them and glanced toward the ring. He shook his head. "What a pity. You were born in the wrong era… Otherwise, you might have had a chance to make a name for yourself." He closed his eyes again and murmured, "I wonder what kind of talent your descendant—or disciple—that 'Yajirobe' who could cut off Vegeta's tail with a single slash… possessed."
After a moment of thought, Taro sighed and closed his eyes again. "What a pity."
At the same moment, a low murmur of surprise rippled through the ring. On the broadcast screen, Noah Robe, wielding his wooden sword, moved like a man possessed. His strikes were as heavy as a thousand-pound iron rod, yet they carried an unstoppable sharpness!
The burly man from Central City was struggling. He had already taken two hits, and his arms felt like they were about to break from the force.
"So fast! We can see that Noah Robe's sword is incredibly fast! The two fighters on the ring have once again become a blur of motion… Ahem, let's take a look at the footage captured by the high-speed camera…"
In the slowed-down footage, Noah Robe's expression was blank. Suddenly, he sheathed his wooden sword at his waist, leaning slightly forward as he floated toward the burly man. The man, moving in 'slow motion,' tried to defensively retreat, but Noah Robe, at a speed that seemed 'normal' to the viewers, drew his wooden sword from his waist with a swish!
It was as if a crescent moon had been slashed through the air.
Slash!
On the ring, the burly champion from Central City collapsed to his knees, a searing red mark across his ribs, slightly swollen and oozing blood. Behind him, Noah Robe twirled his sword a few times before gripping the hilt upside down.