Dragon Ball Roshi

"When did you start controlling your Ki?"

Tsuru asked with a displeased expression—let me briefly describe this face. It's the face of a man who looks to be around twenty years old, but in reality, he and Taro are both in their early thirties, as both of them drank the immortality water when they were younger.

Of course, as we know from the bald old turtle in the original story, the "immortal" function might be somewhat exaggerated, but longevity is certain, since no normal Earthling can live for over four hundred years without dying.

"It hasn't been long, just about four days ago. - Taro tucked the black cloth strip into his chest and then turned around, seeing Tsuru's displeased face. He smiled and said." What's wrong? No progress with Kikoho?

Tsuru's expression darkened, but he quickly composed himself and retorted.

"Isn't your Bankoku-Bukkiru-Shou also showing no signs of progress?" The Bankoku-Bukkiru-Shou was Mutaito's signature martial arts move, and Tsuru was, of course, well aware of the immense power it displayed when used properly.

"Yeah, Master's technique is indeed profound and vast. But the road must be walked step by step. Without the Bankoku-Bukkiru-Shou, I wouldn't have been able to train my Ki this quickly. I think that's why Master taught us these two moves; you should hurry up and figure out the trick to the Kikoho to unlock the Ki within you."

Taro smiled slightly and walked slowly toward Tsurumi, continuing.

"It was Fanfan who asked you to call me, right? Let's go."

As he spoke, he had already passed Tsuru, who stood there, frowning with frustration. With a cold snort, Tsuru followed him.

※※※※※※

At the end of the year 462, the two disciples of Mutaito descended the mountain carrying a rice cooker. Inside the rice cooker was the powerful demon king Piccolo, sealed.

"Take care on your journey, and make sure you come back safely." Fanfan said with tears in her eyes as she bid farewell to her two closest senior brothers at the foot of the mountain.

Tsuru appeared indifferent to her words, looking elsewhere while carrying his bundle.

Taro, holding his own bundle with the rice cooker inside, patted Fanfan head and comforted her.

"Don't worry about us, Fanfan. You'll be on the mountain by yourself; take good care of yourself."

Tsuru, who was behind Taro, raised an eyebrow thoughtfully as he watched him. The brother he had always looked down on seemed like a different person after Master's death. He had become much more composed, and even his lecherous and perverted habits seemed to have disappeared.

"I don't mind, but you two big men will have to suffer along the way. There's not even anyone to cook for you.",Fanfan said, shaking her head.

"A martial artist can handle a little hardship. Let's hurry up and leave!" Tsuru said impatiently, then turned around and started walking. He was a highly skilled martial artist, and his strides were so large they almost looked like running to an ordinary person.

Fanfan gazed at Taro with teary eyes. Taro sighed slightly in his heart.

Over the past few days, he and Tsuru had thoroughly searched through Mutaito's study several times. Finally, they found some records about Korin Tower. It was a note from Mutaito's martial arts insights, in which he briefly mentioned his experience climbing the "sacred place of martial arts," Korin Tower. As for what happened at the tower, the notes did not provide further details.

"Deep in the southwestern Indian Plain forest, the sacred martial arts site, Korin Tower." That was all the geographical information Mutaito's notes gave about Korin Tower.

"Fanfan, wait for us to come back." Taro said, stepping forward and embracing Fanfan. After a while, he gently patted her back, then turned and walked away with big strides.

"Come back safely!" Fanfan shouted, watching Taro's figure quickly disappear into the distance. She saw him wave his arm without turning around, and finally, the tears could no longer be held back.

※※※※※※

When Taro caught up to Tsuru, he heard him complain.

"What are you dawdling for? It's best to get this troublesome thing over with as soon as possible."

"There's more to do than just this." Taro replied as they walked side by side. Their legs had been trained by running up and down the mountain since childhood, and their pace was so fast that it almost seemed like they were flying.

"What do you mean?" Tsuru asked as he kept walking.

"Master left a final wish. Now I want to tell you about it and see what you think." Taro said after considering. He saw that although Tsurumi was focused on the road ahead, his attention had shifted to what Taro was about to say, so he paused and continued. "After sealing the Demon King, Master, in his final moments, told me that he hoped we both could go down the mountain and establish our own schools...:

Before Taro could finish, Tsurumi abruptly interrupted,

"No way!"

Taro's expression remained unchanged, and he said in a calm tone.

"Let me finish."

Tsuru, irritated, interrupted again, his voice low as he said.

"What's there to hear? Master is about to pass away, and you believe such nonsense? pervert, don't forget that Master raised us from childhood, taught us martial arts—he was both a teacher and a father to us! Establishing our own schools? I can't do that!"

Taro, however, seemed to not have heard his words. He kept walking without slowing, his gaze fixed on the forest at the horizon in the distance. He spoke slowly:

"Master was such a great hero, a grandmaster. How could he ever care about something as narrow as a single school or sect? His heart encompassed the entire martial arts world... You also know, when we were young, we accidentally drank the immortality water on the mountain, and Master was aware of it. That's why, in his old age, he wanted us to spread martial arts far and wide throughout our long lives, to cultivate generations of outstanding martial artists, to plant the seeds of martial arts in every corner of the world—if possible—so that even if the Demon King returns, there would be no way for such evil to run rampant again. Don't you think so?"

"This was Master's great wish before he passed. Are you going to let it go to waste? Tsuru, what if, in the future, an opponent even stronger than the Demon King appears? What will we do then? Just rely on the two of us? Do you really believe you can surpass Master? And if you could, how much further could you go?"

He lifted the bag containing the rice cooker and glanced at Tsuru, who wore a dark expression. He continued:

"Tsuru, you should understand, we are the only two disciples who inherited Master's martial arts philosophy. It is the best choice for us to spread his martial spirit. Or do you think there is someone whose martial arts are better than Master's?"

"Naturally not!" Tsuru snorted, then asked. "But can't we just collect disciples on the mountain? All our martial arts were taught by Master, how could we change schools?"

"Staying on Mount Mutaito would just be preaching one school's doctrine, and it would forever bear the mark of Master Mutaito—the savior of martial arts. But if we go out and establish our own schools, we create two entirely new martial arts sects, two seeds of martial arts. After a hundred years, two hundred years, three hundred years... perhaps..."

He squinted his eyes as if seeing the future warriors of Dragon Ball three hundred years from now.

"I understand what you're saying. - Tsuru said, his brow furrowed deeply. "I'll think about it seriously, but right now, let's first take care of the things in your hands."

"Of course." Taro nodded.

Ahead, the great forest was already close.

The two kept walking without stopping, swiftly disappearing into the shadows of the forest.

※※※※※※

By the time they emerged from the forest, the sky had darkened. However, fortunately, in the distance, they could vaguely see a small village.

It seemed they would be able to have a warm meal and find a decent place to sleep. Taro, looking at the flickering firelight from the direction of the village, suddenly felt an odd sense of déjà vu, as if they were on a pilgrimage for the scriptures. His gaze sharpened, and he stopped, raising his hand to stop Tsuru.

"Something's not right... Could that be bandits?"