In the God of Destruction's Realm, located in the depths of the universe, time seemed to flow more slowly than elsewhere.
The air was filled with an energy so pure it was like a massage for the nostrils with every breath.
The Oracle Fish was floating contentedly in its fishbowl above a patch of grass, enjoying a rare moment of peace.
Its little mouth was munching on snacks it had secretly hidden away to prevent Whis from casually taking them.
"That annoying Whis actually went out? How rare..." the Oracle Fish mumbled in satisfaction, its fins paddling leisurely in the bowl.
"Every time I manage to hide some good snacks, I don't know how he always finds them! Whis, you big meanie! Hmph!"
It quietly bad-mouthed the angel it both respected and feared. Just then... a gentle but slightly teasing voice sounded right next to its ear as if from a ghost:
"Ara~ Oracle Fish, is this how you speak of me when I'm not around?"
"Pfft—!" The Oracle Fish was so startled it almost spat out all the snacks in its mouth!
It stiffly turned its head and saw Whis, who had silently appeared beside it at some point.
Whis wore his signature warm smile, his purple eyes precisely locked on the bag of snacks it hadn't had time to hide.
The Oracle Fish's fins froze. Then, as if resigned to its fate, it heaved a heavy sigh, a very human-like "you win" expression on its fishy face.
It slowly pulled out another, more exquisite-looking bag of pastries from somewhere at its side and tremblingly offered it to Whis with its fin.
"Here... for you. No holding grudges, okay? This is my last bit!"
Before it could finish, it flicked its tail with a "swish," and the entire fish vanished without a trace, so fast that even Whitley, standing behind Whis, didn't see it clearly.
"Ohohoho~" Whis let out a pleasant chuckle as he watched the direction the Oracle Fish had disappeared, gracefully catching the bag of pastries and putting it away.
Only then did he turn to Whitley, who was standing behind him with a look of utter amazement.
"Such a quick reaction. Truly a creature of the God of Destruction's Realm," Whitley remarked sincerely. Even a fish in the God of Destruction's Realm was no simple matter.
"Ahem," Whis cleared his throat, a hint of a mentor's seriousness returning to his face.
"Alright, Whitley, welcome officially to the God of Destruction's Realm. This will be your main training ground for the foreseeable future. Well then..."
Whis's staff tapped lightly. "Now, are you ready?"
"Of course!"
Whitley's eyes instantly sharpened. His muscles tensed subconsciously, and the ki in his body began to flow excitedly just beneath his skin, his aura ready to erupt.
He thought Whis's training would be some earth-shattering ordeal.
However, Whis just smiled subtly, and the crystal ball at the top of his staff flashed very faintly.
VMMMM—!
An unimaginably terrifying pressure was applied to Whitley's body without any warning!
This pressure did not come from the outside; it felt more like the weight of every cell, every bone, and every drop of blood in his body had been instantly magnified countless times!
"Ugh!"
Caught off guard, Whitley let out a muffled grunt. His legs felt as if they had been viciously struck by an invisible sledgehammer. His knees buckled, and with a "thud," he was pressed firmly to the ground!
His face was pressed against the green grass, and he couldn't even lift a single finger!
His entire skeleton was groaning under the unbearable load. His blood felt like it had solidified, and breathing became extremely difficult!
The white aura around his body was instantly extinguished like a candle in the wind. Even maintaining a powered-up state became an extravagant hope!
This feeling... was thousands, no, tens of thousands of times more terrifying than the gravity room Bulma had built! It was a complete dimensional crush!
"Don't worry," Whis's voice was still gentle, as if he had just done something trivial.
"This is just the most basic adaptation training. It's not a fixed multiplier; it's 'customized' automatically based on the current limit your body can withstand. Now then..."
The staff tapped again, and a gray rock, ordinary-looking and about the size of a washbasin, appeared out of thin air not far in front of Whitley's face.
"I need you to adapt to your current state, and then you can lift this rock and move it freely."
Whis pointed to the rock, his tone as light as if he were giving homework. "You may begin now."
After speaking, he turned gracefully and, from somewhere, produced an exquisite tea set. He sat down at a stone table not far away and began to leisurely brew tea.
His gaze fell on Whitley with great interest, a relaxed posture of someone ready to watch a show.
"Wh... Whis!"
Whitley艰难地 squeezed out the words from between his teeth. Sweat poured from his forehead, neck, and back like a stream, instantly soaking his battle suit.
"What... what is this gravity multiplier?! I... I can't even... even move!"
Whis, who was concentrating on pouring spring water into the teapot, replied slowly without looking up, "Multiplier? Hmm... I don't know. Didn't I tell you? It's customized automatically based on your limit. Don't worry about the details, the result is what's important, Whitley, ohohoho~"
Whitley was screaming internally, but his body was so honest it was running out of strength to even complain.
He tried to concentrate his will, to mobilize even a tiny bit of power to move the washbasin-sized rock in front of him.
However, forget lifting it; with all his might, he couldn't even lift a single finger a millimeter off the ground!
In his eyes, that rock was now no different from a massive mountain to an ordinary human!
Helpless, Whitley gave up the foolish idea of wrestling with the rock.
He began with the stupidest method, which he also believed to be the most effective.
Push-ups!
Starting with the most basic physical adaptation!
Whitley gritted his teeth, pouring all of his remaining, mobilizable strength into his arms and core muscles.
"Hah... ah!"
A suppressed roar erupted from the depths of his throat.
With all his strength, he barely managed to lift his chest a few centimeters off the ground, his arms trembling violently.
But he didn't give up. Once, twice, three times... each lift was incredibly difficult, and each descent made his blood churn. The sweat on the grass slowly pooled.
Whis took a sip of the fragrant tea and, watching Whitley's difficult struggle, showed an appreciative smile.
"Whitley is quite clever. He found the right direction so quickly."
Whitley had just barely managed a few push-ups and was now lying on the ground, panting heavily. Hearing this, he almost choked.
He艰难地 turned his head and looked at Whis resentfully. "Wh... Whis! I'm... I'm not a three-year-old kid! You don't... have to praise me so sarcastically!"
He felt that Whis's words sounded like teasing, no matter how he heard them.
"Oh my," Whis put down his teacup and waved his hand sincerely.
"I'm being serious, Whitley. You know, a long, long time ago, when I first started training Lord Beerus, he..."
A nostalgic and somewhat amused expression appeared on Whis's face.
"He wrestled with a rock I created for three whole days! He used all sorts of methods, even trying to blow it up, but in the end, he only tired himself to death's door, and the rock didn't move an inch. It wasn't until he collapsed from exhaustion that he finally understood how foolish it is to try and leap to the heavens in a single bound when your own foundation isn't solid."
Whitley could imagine the scene—the irritable God of Destruction blasting a rock for three days... The image was too beautiful.
He said no more. He committed Whis's words to heart, lowered his head again, cast aside all distracting thoughts, and threw himself completely into this most primitive and torturous basic training.
Once, twice... ten thousand times... thirty thousand times... each lift and descent was accompanied by the tearing and regeneration of muscle fibers.
Time lost its meaning here. Only the sound of sweat dripping and Whitley's heavy, bellows-like breathing became the main theme of this space.
Earth, West City, Briefs' Estate.
The first day Whitley was gone, she missed him.
The second day Whitley was gone, she missed him, missed him.
The... Bulma had already lost track of how many days it had been since Whitley was gone.
At this moment, she was sitting alone in a wicker chair in the backyard. The black tea on the small round table in front of her had long gone cold.
Her gaze was somewhat unfocused, staring blankly at the first-generation, old-model gravity room that her father, Dr. Brief, had built in the corner of the yard.
The mottled metal shell glowed with a faint metallic luster in the setting sun.
An image involuntarily formed in Bulma's mind: the heavy alloy door of the gravity room would suddenly let out a soft "hiss" and then slowly slide open.
Then, Whitley would walk out, enveloped in the fresh steam from a shower, a towel casually draped over his shoulder. While drying his wet, spiky hair, he would walk towards her with his characteristic, slightly lazy, slightly wicked smile...
She shook her head violently, dispelling the unrealistic fantasy.
"Idiot..."
She cursed under her breath, not knowing if she was cursing herself or the guy who was in some unknown corner of the universe.
"I knew it was impossible... he's only been gone for a little while, how could he possibly be back already."
Reason told her that Whitley had gone with Whis to the God of Destruction's Realm to train and wouldn't be back for a long time.
But the intense longing and anticipation in her heart, like a vine, wrapped around her heart, making it impossible for her to be truly calm.
Just then, a soft "hiss—" really did come from the direction of the gravity room! The alloy door slowly slid to the side!
Bulma's heart skipped a beat!
She shot up from her chair, her eyes fixed on the doorway, so surprised she almost cried out!
However, the person who walked out was not the figure she had been longing for, but Dr. Brief, with his messy blue hair and a large wrench in his hand.
"Huh? Dad?"
The surprise on Bulma's face instantly froze, turning into deep disappointment and confusion.
"What are you doing in the gravity room?"
Dr. Brief pushed up the glasses on his nose, slowly walked over to his daughter, picked up the cold tea on her table, and took several large gulps before letting out a long sigh.
"Phew... I'm exhausted. The new gravity room you built for Whitley, wasn't it damaged?"
He pointed to the gravity room with the wrench.
"I came to upgrade this old one, to see if I can increase the gravity multiplier a bit. Otherwise, when Whitley comes back and finds there's no place to train, he'll complain about the gravity not being enough again."
Only then did Bulma remember that the gravity room, which contained her heart and soul, had been completely destroyed in the match between Whitley and Goku, and the estate had been wrecked along with it.
A complex emotion welled up in her heart—a strong urge, sparked by her father's words, to do something.
Suddenly, Bulma shot up from her chair with a "swish." She put her hands on her hips, her eyes burning with a fiery fighting spirit, her whole body as if injected with new vitality!
"No need to upgrade the old one, Dad!"
Bulma's voice was firm and resolute.
"The design concept of that old one is a bit outdated! The upper limit is too low, and the energy efficiency is poor! I'm going to redesign it! I'm going to build a brand new, epoch-making gravity room for Whitley! It has to be stronger! With a higher gravity multiplier! And more stable energy! And I'll add real-time life sign monitoring and limit protection systems! Yes! Just like that!"
The more she spoke, the more excited she became, as if the blueprint had already unfolded in her mind.
Dr. Brief was stunned by his daughter's sudden burst of enthusiasm. Then, seeing the familiar light of a genius scientist in Bulma's eyes, a gratified smile appeared on his face.
He nodded slowly. "Oh? Is that so... alright. Let me know if you need any materials or technical support."
He sighed silently to himself, his gaze soft as he looked at his energetic daughter, his thoughts drifting far away:
Tights has run off into space to gather material for her novel. I hear she's going to submit it to a publisher on another planet called Tomato.
Bulma is the only daughter left at home... this kid Whitley, when is he going to propose to Bulma? He and his wife have been looking forward to grandchildren for a long time...
With her father's approval, Bulma rushed back to her exclusive research lab like a gust of wind.
The huge holographic screen lit up, and complex formulas, structural diagrams, and energy models flowed like a waterfall.
She was completely immersed, forgetting time, forgetting fatigue, and even... forgetting her longing.
She had only one goal: to create the universe's strongest gravity room, worthy of that training maniac!
Time flowed by amidst the sweat and pressure of the God of Destruction's Realm, and the sleepless nights under the lights of Bulma's lab.
In the blink of an eye, three months had passed since Whitley left Earth.
The 22nd World Martial Arts Tournament was held on Papaya Island as scheduled.
Without the out-of-spec existence of Whitley, the main attraction of this year's tournament seemed to have returned to a showdown of mortal peaks.
Although Bulma had been notified by Goku and the others, the thought of watching it alone without Whitley by her side seemed tasteless.
She ultimately chose to watch the entire tournament from the comfort of her living room via the most advanced remote live broadcast.
The tournament was still exciting, with various masters showing their skills.
Tien Shinhan and Chiaotzu, representing the Crane School, showed great strength, and Krillin had also improved rapidly.
But in the end, the championship was won without any suspense by Son Goku, who had been training in the gravity room at the Briefs' estate from time to time and had improved by leaps and bounds.
The Crane School's Tien Shinhan fought with all his might in the final, using every trick up his sleeve, even his new ultimate technique, the Tri-Beam.
But he was still defeated by Goku's superior strength, speed, and Kamehameha, and he accepted his defeat gracefully.
The hustle and bustle of the Martial Arts Tournament gradually faded, and the world seemed to have returned to peace.
However, beneath this calm surface, an evil that had been dormant for hundreds of years was quietly reawakening.
A month later, on a desolate beach far from the city.
Emperor Pilaf, who had been instantly defeated and knocked out by Whitley on the road to searching for the Dragon Balls, without even having a chance to introduce himself, and his two loyal subordinates—Mai and Shu—were gathered around a rather shabby-looking rice cooker with a faded paper talisman stuck on it, their faces full of worry.
"Lord Pilaf!"
Mai pointed to the rice cooker, her face full of fear.
"You must think twice! This is... this is the container that seals the legendary King Piccolo, who almost destroyed the world! This talisman must not be removed! If... if he gets out, the consequences will be unimaginable! We haven't even achieved our dream of world domination yet, let's not get ourselves killed first!"
"Mai! You're too timid!"
Shu waved his paws, vehemently refuting her.
"This is a god-sent opportunity! Lord Pilaf! Think about it, as long as we release King Piccolo, with his world-destroying power, we can totally negotiate with him! Let him conquer the world, and then we can negotiate with him! Isn't that much faster than us painstakingly searching for the Dragon Balls? Opportunity knocks but once, my lord!"
"Shu! You're playing with fire!" Mai stomped her foot in anger.
"Mai! You're hindering Lord Pilaf's path to hegemony!" Shu retorted without weakness.
"Enough!!!"
Pilaf's head was spinning from their bickering, the veins on his big blue head throbbing.
Unable to bear it any longer, he shot out his hands, trying to stop their argument. "You two! Be—quiet—!"
As he stretched out his hands, because he was so agitated and his movements were too large, the tip of his finger, with a "rip," just happened to scrape the edge of the fragile talisman on the lid of the rice cooker!
The ancient talisman was instantly peeled off!
VMMMM—!!!
The entire rice cooker suddenly began to vibrate violently!
Countless blinding purple lights shot out from the cracks in the lid!
A suffocatingly evil and destructive energy wave swept across the entire beach like a tsunami!
"Ah!!! Lord Pilaf!!!"
Mai let out a despairing scream. Reacting with lightning speed, she grabbed the dumbfounded Pilaf with one hand and the still-dazed Shu with the other, and turned and fled at the fastest speed of her life!
RUMBLE—!!!!
An earth-shattering roar exploded! A violent purple shockwave from the rice cooker instantly caught up with the Pilaf trio, who had just started running!
"UWAAAAAH—!!!"
The three of them only had time to let out a piercing scream before they were sent flying by the irresistible shockwave.
Screaming, they turned into three shooting stars and disappeared over the distant horizon.
The smoke from the explosion and the raging purple energy slowly dissipated.
An old, deep-green-skinned figure stood steadily in the center of the explosion.
He looked down at his own wrinkled hands in a daze, then up at the long-unseen sky.
After a brief moment of disorientation, an indescribable ecstasy and a monstrous hatred erupted in his chest like a volcano!
"Mwa... mwahahahahahahaha!!!"
King Piccolo let out a deafening, crazed laugh filled with endless malice and pleasure. The sound echoed across the beach like rolling thunder, startling countless seagulls on the sea!
"I'm out! I'm finally out!!"
He spread his arms as if to embrace the entire world, his sunken eye sockets burning with a fierce flame.
"Mutaito!! You old piece of trash! You thought a seal could kill me? In your dreams!!"
"And you!!"
He suddenly looked up, his gaze seeming to pierce through the clouds and straight to a certain place in the sky. "Coward! The coward who didn't dare to die with me!!!"
"I, King Piccolo, have returned!!!"
He clenched his fists, and a terrifying aura shot into the sky, churning the clouds above.
"Tremble, this world! Soon, the entire Earth will grovel at my feet! I will make all of you taste a despair deeper than the hundreds of years I was sealed! Mwahahahahahahaha!!!"
Ten thousand meters above Korin Tower, on the cloud-shrouded Kami's Lookout.
The elderly Kami stood quietly at the edge of the Lookout, leaning on his staff. His cloudy gaze seemed to pierce through space, clearly "seeing" the scene of King Piccolo breaking the seal and roaring at the sky below.
There was no fear, no anger on his old face, only a calm relief.
There was even a faint, almost liberating smile on his lips.
"This day... has finally come."
Kami's voice was very soft, filled with a worldly weariness.
"A little faster... than I expected."
He slowly turned around and looked at Mr. Popo, who stood silently behind him like a shadow.
"Popo," Kami's voice was calm, without a single ripple.
"After I die, the position of Guardian... will be passed to Whitley."
"Kami!"
For the first time, a very obvious emotional fluctuation appeared on Mr. Popo's dark face. It was a worry and... a reluctance to part with his old friend.
He wanted to speak up and dissuade him—it was not impossible to seal King Piccolo again; Kami did not need to sacrifice his life!
But Kami, as if he knew what he was going to say, just gently waved his hand, stopping Mr. Popo's next words.
"Say no more, Popo."
Kami's eyes were deep and firm.
"This is fate. King Piccolo and I were originally two sides of the same coin. His existence is my greatest mistake and sin. Only my death can completely end his evil and bring true peace to the Earth. A seal... is ultimately just a temporary solution. This day was bound to come sooner or later."
He slowly closed his eyes and silently chanted in his heart, "Whitley... I hope my choice was not wrong. The future of the Earth needs great power... I'm counting on you..."
Recently, Kami had been trying to sense Whitley's ki, but that powerful ki seemed to have completely disappeared from the Earth, without a single trace.
This made Kami wonder:
"Could it be... he has already left Earth? Or... has he gone somewhere that even I cannot sense?"
A trace of worry quietly crept into his heart. If Whitley was not here, or refused to accept the position of Guardian, then his plan...
"Popo," Kami opened his eyes again, his tone serious as he gave his instructions.
"Go to the Briefs' estate in West City immediately and find Miss Bulma. Ask her if Whitley is still on Earth, or... where he has gone. Be sure to convey my words to him. Please, he must... he must come to the Lookout! It concerns the future of the Earth... and his girlfriend's family!"
"Yes, Kami!"
Mr. Popo bowed deeply and said no more.
He turned and entered the Lookout, and soon, riding a magic carpet, he shot down from Korin Tower like an arrow, speeding towards West City.
God of Destruction's Realm.
Whitley was engrossed in a "sparring match" with Whis.
But to call it sparring was an understatement. It was more like one-sided, extreme evasion training.
Whis's figure was like a phantom. The staff in his hand seemed to casually point, poke, and sweep, but it always managed to block all of Whitley's escape routes from the most tricky angles.
Whitley had restrained his ki to the extreme, his body a streak of light, struggling to move amidst the afterimages of Whis's seemingly slow but actually lightning-fast staff.
Suddenly!
"Achoo—!"
Whitley let out a big sneeze without any warning!
The momentary distraction caused a tiny flaw in his evasion rhythm!
"Ohoho~"
Whis's smiling voice sounded almost at the same time. "You were careless, Whitley~"
Thwack! A crisp sound of impact was heard.
Whitley felt a sharp pain on the top of his head, saw stars, and was knocked off balance by a gentle force, almost falling to the ground.
"Hiss—!"
Whitley clutched his aching head, wincing as he steadied himself. He looked resentfully at the still-smiling Whis.
"Whis! You sneak-attacked me! You have no martial virtue! Bullying a young man who just sneezed!"
"Ara~"
Whis covered his mouth and let out a pleasant chuckle.
"Whitley's way of speaking is getting more and more interesting. As expected of someone who can make an excellent woman like Miss Bulma fall head over heels for you."
Whis shouldn't have mentioned it. The moment he did, Whitley exploded.
"You dare to mention that! Whis! Are you a dog! We finally went back to Earth last week, and all those delicious snacks we brought from Bulma! We agreed that you would be in charge of keeping them, and we would share them when we got back! And what happened?! Why couldn't I find even a single wrapper when I came out from my training?! You ate them all by yourself! You didn't leave a single bite for me, you bastard!!!"
Whitley was heartbroken. Those were the delicious Earth foods that Bulma had carefully prepared!
"Oh my..."
A very rare look of embarrassment appeared on Whis's face. His eyes darted away for a moment before he regained his usual elegant and matter-of-fact demeanor.
"Don't worry about the details, Whitley. You see, I teach you to train, I spar with you, I impart to you the methods of comprehending the 'realm of the gods.' Is it not very fair and reasonable to charge a small amount of food as a negligible storage and teaching fee?"
"Storage fee? Teaching fee?"
Whitley was so angry he almost rolled his eyes. "This is blatant robbery! Forget it, forget it..."
He waved his hand helplessly, knowing that it was useless to reason with this seemingly gentle but actually black-bellied and gluttonous angel.
"Here, here, it's all yours! I'll just eat Senzu Beans! Stop talking nonsense and let's continue training!"
He took out a Senzu Bean from his waist, angrily stuffed it into his mouth, and chewed, replenishing his spent stamina.
However, Whis did not immediately resume the training.
He tilted his head slightly, as if listening to something, a look of understanding on his face.
"I'm afraid that won't be possible, Whitley."
Whis smiled and shook his head. With a flick of his wrist, the magical staff appeared in his hand.
The crystal ball at the top of the staff glowed, and instantly projected a screen of light.
On the screen was Bulma's face! She seemed to be in a place like a research lab, with complex instrument screens in the background.
"Hm? Bulma?"
Whitley was stunned, his anger instantly replaced by confusion. "She misses me this quickly?" It hadn't been that long since his last trip back to Earth.
The connection was established. Bulma saw Whis's face first in the projection and said quickly:
"Mr. Whis! Please let Whitley take the call! I have something urgent to discuss with him!"
"Ho ho ho~ It seems Miss Bulma has an urgent matter."
Whis nodded in understanding and naturally handed the staff to Whitley. "You two talk."
After speaking, he leisurely turned back to the stone table and continued to brew his tea, completely unconcerned with the situation on Earth.
Whitley took the staff and looked at the lovely Bulma on the screen. "Bulma? What's wrong? Did something happen?"
"Whitley! It's not me who's looking for you! It's this gentleman!"
Bulma quickly stepped aside, revealing a short, stout, and blank-faced person standing beside her.
It was the servant of Kami at Kami's Lookout—Mr. Popo!
"Mr. Popo?"
Whitley was even more surprised. "What are you doing here? What do you need me for?"
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200 Power Stones = 1 Bônus Chapter