The Martial Arts Arena had seen better days. Despite the staff's emergency repairs, the ring still bore the scars of the previous battles, its surface mottled and worn.
The air was still thick with the scent of smoke and sweat, a testament to the fighters' burning passion and tireless effort.
"The next match: Yajirobe versus Mr. Shen!"
The golden-haired announcer's voice rang out across the arena. Two fighters with wildly different styles slowly approached the ring.
On the left stood a bulky man, sturdy enough to look like a walking powder keg. His rough cloth armor wrapped around his solid frame, and his unruly long hair fell messily around his face. A string of weathered prayer beads hung around his neck.
He had half a flatbread in his mouth, bits flying everywhere as he chewed.
Yajirobe, the wild martial artist Goku had dragged from the forest, now wore an expression that screamed "impatience."
He swallowed his food in a few quick bites, patted his round belly, and didn't even bother to properly look at his opponent.
"Ugh, what rotten luck," he muttered, loud enough for the entire arena to hear.
"Why do I have to fight some old guy who looks like he's halfway into the grave? Winning won't even be glorious, and losing… ha! How could I possibly lose to a frail old skeleton?"
Opposite him stood a middle-aged man in black-rimmed glasses and a neat suit. He looked like your typical office worker, or perhaps the timid headmaster of a small school.
Mr. Shen adjusted his glasses, a gentle but slightly awkward smile on his face, radiating harmlessness.
"Are all young people this energetic nowadays? I'm truly envious," he said softly. He even bowed politely to Yajirobe.
"Um, little fatty, please go easy on me. My old bones can't take much punishment. I'm just an ordinary uncle here for fun," he added.
"Little fatty?!"
Veins popped on Yajirobe's forehead, twisting like wriggling worms. He hated anyone commenting on his size, especially someone who looked so fragile.
"Old man, if you're itching for death, I'll happily grant it!"
Yajirobe stomped his feet. His usual lazy demeanor vanished, replaced by a feral aura of raw aggression.
"For your osteoporosis's sake, go home and hug your grandkids! Don't block the view here!"
Whispers ran through the crowd.
"That guy looks terrifying. Is he really going to kill someone?"
"Poor Mr. Shen. He just looks like an ordinary salaryman."
"This is brutal! How can they match them like this?"
"Let the match begin!"
No sooner had the referee finished than Yajirobe launched into action.
Despite his bulk, he moved like a cannonball fired from a cannon. He bent forward sharply, his massive right arm coiling as he hurled a fist at Mr. Shen's face.
The air seemed to split under the sheer force, a deep, thudding crack echoing across the arena.
There were no fancy tricks, just raw speed and power.
But just as his fist was about to connect with Mr. Shen's nose…
"Ah!"
Mr. Shen cried out, his foot slipping on something slick. He swayed wildly to the left, his movement absurdly comical, like a drunk stepping on a banana peel.
And yet, that seemingly clumsy, even humiliating dodge caused Yajirobe's lethal punch to whistle past his ear.
"Whoosh…"
A few strands of gray hair floated through the air as the fist missed by inches.
Mr. Shen staggered back, patting his chest and gasping for breath.
"Phew! That was close! Nearly got my nose broken! Why is this floor so slippery? Did someone just mop it?"
Yajirobe's eyes widened, his fist still extended forward. Despite appearances, this wild man's instincts were honed by years of survival in the wilderness. How could a punch that had tracked the opponent's energy possibly miss?
"Just lucky!"
Yajirobe ground his teeth, refusing to believe this frail-looking uncle could dodge him.
"Don't act innocent! Let's see how many times you can dodge!"
He roared, his thick arms blurring as his fists alternated in a relentless assault, covering all of Mr. Shen's vital points.
The sound of air being shredded by his punches rumbled like a storm of drums.
The audience watched in stunned silence, some even laughing aloud.
Mr. Shen moved like a straw man in the wind, or a clown in a circus.
As a heavy punch bore down toward his heart, he bent down to tie his shoelaces.
"Oh, my laces came loose. Sorry about that," he said casually.
A fist swept past his scalp, snipping a stray hair.
A punch aimed at his chest barely grazed him as he sneezed and ducked his head.
"Ah-choo! Too much dust."
A sweeping kick aimed at his legs barely touched him as he staggered backward, rubbing his eyes.
"The wind is so strong. Sand got in my eyes. Can't the referee do something?"
Every dodge seemed awkward, yet perfectly timed, as if the goddess of luck were personally guiding him.
"Hahaha! That old man is hilarious!"
"Is this even a fight? I think we're watching a comedy show!"
"That guy is going to drive Yajirobe crazy! Not a single hit landed!"
Krillin and Yamcha, watching from the audience Yamcha still wrapped in bandages couldn't help commenting.
"This is absurd. Did he train in a circus?"
"With luck like that, he could win the lottery. If only I had that kind of luck back then…"
Krillin, however, didn't laugh.
Through the lens of "Genius Insight," the world appeared differently to him. Streams of data raced across his retina, constructing a completely distinct picture.
[Target: Mr. Shen (Possessed State)]
[True Identity: Earth Guardian]
[Combat Power: Not Loaded]
[Skill Level: God Class]
[Action Analysis: Every apparent "mistake" is a calculated optimal move. He neutralizes attacks with minimal effort while using seemingly clumsy motions to perfectly conceal his ki flow. A masterful display of simplicity and precision.]
"Not luck," Krillin said, arms crossed, his voice low and firm.
"This is mastery."
"Like an adult playing with a toddler who just learned to walk. Even if the child holds a real sword, they cannot harm the adult."
Elsewhere, Master Mutaito, still wearing sunglasses and trying to look cool, squinted at Mr. Shen's movements. Sweat beaded on his forehead.
"That footwork… the absolute control of ki… subtle yet perfect, deceptively simple."
Could it be…
A legendary name flickered through Master Mutaito's mind, one even he dared not speak aloud. A protector of this planet, existing only in myths.
On the ring, Yajirobe panted heavily.
Continuous high-intensity punches had drained his stamina. Sweat slid down his round cheeks, soaking his clothing.
Mr. Shen, however, remained composed, his attire untouched, still acting innocently worried, even straightening his tie in the process.
"You little brat! Are you mocking me?!"
Yajirobe was furious, frustrated by his inability to land a blow.
He leapt high, blocking the sun with his massive frame.
Using all his weight and momentum, he slammed his fists together from above, a move carrying the force to split mountains and crush rocks. A faint aura glimmered around his fists.
Mr. Shen remained calm.
He looked up at the ferocious, grimacing Yajirobe, adjusted his glasses, and smiled faintly, a mix of sigh and pity.
"These kids today… full of rage, no reverence, no restraint."
"Only through hardship will they understand that there are forces beyond their comprehension."
He gently tapped the ground with his toe. Instead of stepping back, he moved forward into the attack.
As Yajirobe's fists neared, Mr. Shen "slipped" once more.
"Oops!"
He pitched forward, his head spinning like a bowling ball, striking Yajirobe's unguarded chin from below at a brutal angle.
Crack!
The crisp sound of bones snapping echoed across the arena.
Yajirobe didn't even scream before his eyes rolled back.
The blow rattled his brain completely.
His round body went rigid in midair for a second, his ferocious aura extinguished.
Then, like a sack of potatoes, he fell straight back.
Thud!
Dust exploded as his massive form hit the ground.
Yajirobe twitched twice, then lay still.
The arena fell into stunned silence.
A few seconds later, Mr. Shen slowly rose, rubbing his forehead, looking at the referee innocently.
"Oh, the floor was so slippery, I couldn't keep my balance. Sorry about that. Are you okay, little fatty? Did I win?"
The referee's mouth dropped open. He glanced at the unconscious Yajirobe, then at the seemingly simple Mr. Shen. Stammering, he raised a hand.
"The winner… Mr. Shen!"
"Wait, he won?!" The crowd erupted in disbelief.
"That old man's luck is unreal!"
"The big guy just ran into him! How's this possible? Is this the legendary Iron Head technique?"
"I think Mr. Shen isn't so ordinary after all!"
Goku clapped excitedly, eyes sparkling.
"Amazing! That uncle is incredible! I can't even tell what he's doing! I want to fight him too!"
Krillin, watching Mr. Shen leave the ring, received a system alert.
[High-dimensional energy detected.]
[Mr. Shen advances to the semifinals.]
[Next opponent: Demon King's offspring, Piccolo.]
Krillin took a deep breath, cracked his neck, and popped his joints with a crisp series of sounds.
"Luck is a form of strength too," he said with a smile, stretching, and glanced with interest toward Piccolo in the distance.