Dragon Ball Human

Both of them were martial artists—after a few days of training with the old monk, Yamiru could barely call himself one as well, and when it came to eating, if they decided to eat quickly, it certainly wouldn't take long.

In no time at all, Yamiru had finished an entire table of meat dishes and drank several liters of juice. The old monk, meanwhile, had enjoyed a few large bowls of rice along with several plates of vegetarian dishes.

"Let's go, let's have a look," Yamiru said eagerly.

He paid the bill quickly and rushed out of the restaurant, with the old monk following closely behind.

Standing on this side of the street, both of them gazed across at the brightly lit, towering buildings across the road. They could already hear the sounds of cheering from within. People in martial arts uniforms were coming and going in front of the dojo, and the neon sign above the door displayed a devilish logo—Satan Combat Dojo.

"Showy!" Yamiru commented, then excitedly crossed the street and entered the dojo.

Previously, when he was in South City, he had heard of things like combat leagues and professional tournaments, but back then, he was too withdrawn to care about them. Now things were different. Yamiru was determined to pursue the martial arts path, and with his resolve firm, he had developed a growing interest in these combat leagues that he had never encountered in the comics.

So this is where that Satan guy made his name?

As he pondered, Yamiru passed through the dojo's lobby and entered the competition area. A wave of heat mixed with alcohol, perfume, sweat, and all sorts of unpleasant odors hit him like a wall, almost making him stagger. At the same time, a cacophony of sounds reverberated around him, shaking his eardrums from all directions.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa—!!"

"Beat him up!!"

"Ahhhhhh—"

Yamiru looked around and saw the circular, tiered stands filled with all kinds of spectators. They wore various brightly colored outfits, like fan gear, and the common factor among them all was their excitement and fanaticism. There were bear people, werewolves, fox people, regular humans… pretty much every kind of face one could imagine was represented in the audience. Yamiru activated his Golden Veil and scanned the crowd, catching glimpses of several rare, monstrous humanoid creatures—like a strange mix of different beasts, resembling demons.

The old monk had caught up with him, and now they were sitting in one of the upper tiers of the circular stands. The actual competition stage was located below their level.

Yamiru's gaze shifted downward, where he saw a large square professional combat ring in the center of the arena.

The 10-meter square ring was covered in a protective deep red rubber mat, and at its center was a wild demon skull design, most likely the signature logo of this dojo.

Unlike a typical boxing ring, the arena didn't have barriers surrounding the ring—it was completely open. Yamiru guessed that, similar to the World Martial Arts Tournament, the rule here was that anyone who fell off the stage would lose the match.

Above the ring, six massive screens formed a hexagonal prism, each one broadcasting the battle between the two fighters on the ring. Whenever the fight reached an exciting moment, the director would replay, slow-motion, and enhance the footage to hype up the atmosphere.

The two of them stood in the upper section of the audience, watching the fierce match taking place on the arena below.

The old monk, like most of the other spectators, was watching the six live broadcast screens. Yamiru, however, took full advantage of his Golden Veil, clearly seeing the intense battle between the two fighters on the stage.

"What do you think?" the old monk suddenly asked beside him.

"Huh?" Yamiru shouted, unable to hear the monk's question over the noise. The old monk leaned in and repeated the question louder in his ear. Yamiru thought for a moment and replied, "It feels like... they both have a tacit understanding and are... incorporating some theatrical elements into their fighting?"

Even with Yamiru's limited perspective, it was clear that the two fighters on the ring were giving it their all, yet many times, when one of them could have landed a stronger blow to hurt the opponent more, they deliberately pulled back.

It gave Yamiru the impression that, in this kind of fight, delivering a flashy combo was far more important than efficiently delivering pain to the opponent.

The old monk nodded in agreement with a smile.

Yamiru immediately found the spectacle boring.

With this kind of tournament structure, it was no wonder that even world champion Mr. Satan, who came up in leagues like these, didn't understand the concept of ki, a fundamental idea that should have been within the grasp of advanced martial artists on Earth. Yamiru, curious about this, leaned in to ask the old monk about it. The old monk confirmed his suspicions, speaking into his ear.

The concept of ki was something many advanced Earth martial artists understood. Even those self-taught martial artists who had never heard the term ki likely had some vague understanding of it. What these martial artists lacked was not the basic concept, but rather the mastery of truly powerful ki and the mature techniques of ki.

This led Yamiru to inquire about the Kamehameha technique.

"Kamehameha, that unique martial art, is the secret skill of the god of martial arts..." the old monk sighed.

From his explanation, Yamiru learned that although many high-level martial artists had heard of and understood the concept of ki, for most of them, their use of this internal energy throughout their lives was limited to simply concentrating it within their bodies to enhance their physical strength—making them resistant to bullets and even small-caliber shells.

It was also because of this that, in the manga, when Son Goku merely glanced at the technique, he effortlessly used the Kamehameha, demonstrating just how terrifying his talent and perception were, even though he was considered a lower-tier warrior in the Saiyan race, akin to a congenital disability.

Yamiru pondered for a moment, wondering to himself... "I wonder if... I could learn the Kamehameha?"

The old monk muttered, "I heard that the Crane School has a ki technique that allows flight..." His voice was too soft, and Yamiru didn't catch what he said. Otherwise, he would have asked about the principles of flight techniques and debated which was more famous, the Kamehameha or the Dodon ray.

"Hey! It's you!"

At that moment, someone approached down the aisle between the rows of seats, seemingly surprised and pointing at Yamiru.

"Huh?" Yamiru looked over and saw a man with a camera hanging around his neck. Though he couldn't make out what the man was saying, since he was pointing at him, Yamiru assumed the man was talking to him. He asked, "Who are you?"

"Hello, my name is Hisley. I'm a special reporter for combat!"

The man walked up and took a blue-striped ID badge from his pocket, showing it to Yamiru. It was a press card, with a small photo of the reporter and his real name. Why mention his real name? Because it also had his pen name, which he used when writing articles for the paper: Brukan.

"You might not know, but I've seen you before! I even wrote a report about you, and it was published in the newspaper!"

"Ah?"

Yamiru was confused when he heard this and took the press card back from the man.

"Who is this guy?" He thought.

"Me? Published in the newspaper?" He asked, slightly astonished, as he and the reporter squeezed out of the venue and shut the door behind them. Instantly, the world became quiet. "When did that happen? I don't remember anything like that." He was puzzled. "What could I possibly have done to make it into the news?"

The old monk, also curious, stood by.

"It's too much to explain in a few words. Just wait a second, I should have it with me..." The reporter named Hisley pulled his bag from behind, unzipped it, and started searching. Soon, he pulled out a small transparent plastic bag filled with photographs and clippings, handing it to Yamiru with a smile. "Take a look, you'll understand."

Curious, Yamiru took the bag, opened it, and pulled out a photograph.

The photo was taken from a distance at a shoreline, showing a boy drenched in water, seemingly having just climbed up from the sea. The timing of the shot was perfect—it captured the moment when the boy turned back, looking towards the ocean.

"Papaya Island?" Yamiru recognized the scene immediately.

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