Dragon Ball Roshi

"Hmph, not bad. So you're Taro? Quite the arrogance. Muten School, is it? Did you ever ask your dead master if you are worthy of such a name?" Master Long sneered, his tone sharp, clearly provoked by Taro's calm and unfathomable gaze.

 Taro nodded slightly and replied coldly:

 "I remember you. You're the one who came to Mount Mutaito years ago and was beaten so badly by my master that you couldn't even crawl off the ground."

 "You!" Master Long's face turned pale, then flushed with anger.

 "My master has passed away, and even someone like you has the audacity to show your face and disgrace yourself? Hmph. Back when the Great Demon King was around, all of you hid yourselves well enough. You dare to claim the name Muten when I cannot?" Taro's tone was indifferent, and he didn't bother looking at Master Long anymore. Instead, his gaze swept over the rabble gathered behind him.

 The people caught in Taro's gaze instinctively averted their eyes.

 Even those who had previously mocked and jeered, calling him "Turtle Hermit," had fallen completely silent.

 The aura of a true ki master wasn't just for show. At this level, a martial artist's spirit, energy, and intent could radiate outward through their ki, making it effortless to intimidate this group of unskilled troublemakers.

 "Is that really our master? He looks a little too young, doesn't he?" some Muten disciples whispered amongst themselves. Taro had rarely shown his face at the martial school in Sayuan City back in the day, so many disciples weren't familiar with his appearance.

 Master Long started to speak:

 "I naturally—"

 "Don't speak. I'm not here to debate with the likes of you."

 Taro interrupted him without the slightest courtesy. Master Long's expression darkened again, but he forced a cold laugh:

 "Young man, being overly arrogant is never a good thing!"

 As he mentioned Taro's youth, he suddenly realized that Taro's appearance seemed far too young. Based on what he knew, the two disciples of Mutaito should now be in their forties. Yet Taro looked no older than twenty, and even Tsuru, standing nearby, didn't appear to be over thirty.

 If not for having seen these two brothers years ago, Master Long wouldn't have believed they were Mutaito's disciples at all.

 Taro seemed not to hear Master Long's words. Instead, he glanced at Tsuru, who was looking at him with a strange expression, before slowly lifting off the ground and floating effortlessly into the air.

 "I know. Because I've been away from home for a while, it has led to some… well, let's call them stray cats and dogs, thinking they can come to my doorstep and cause trouble."

 Hovering in the air, Taro's voice was calm, but it carried a weight that made every word crystal clear to those below:

 "I am very disappointed. With such riffraff, Aragon, you couldn't handle them? Where is the Muken I taught you? What have you been doing all these years?"

 On the ground, Aragon lowered his head in shame and replied:

 "Master, this disciple is foolish and has failed to master the Muken."

 Taro raised an eyebrow, surprised. He hadn't expected that, after six years, Aragon's talent still wasn't enough to grasp the Muken. He found it puzzling—while the technique was indeed challenging, even mastering the basics shouldn't have been this difficult.

 "Father… don't blame him! It's your fault for making the technique too hard!" Yumeko chimed in defensively, standing up for Aragon.

 Six years had passed, and the once-nine-year-old girl had grown into a young woman in her teens.

 Taro glanced at her and Aragon but said nothing. His gaze then turned back to the crowd below, sweeping over them with cold indifference. His voice, though quiet, reached everyone clearly:

 "I'm not interested in knowing why you lot let this old fool trick you into coming here. Whether you're seeking fame or simply resent the name of the Muten School—it doesn't matter to me."

 "But today, I'm laying down a rule."

 "If you wish to come here to cause trouble, you're welcome to try. But first, look at this mountain. Weigh your own strength and decide whether you truly have what it takes."

 Taro pointed toward the towering mountain behind the Muten School's dojo.

 The crowd on the ground followed his gesture, gazing at the steep, forest-covered peak. There was nothing outwardly remarkable about it, leaving them confused about what he meant by "take a good look at this mountain."

 Then, in Taro's right hand, a sphere of white light began to form, radiating an intense and unmistakable ki energy.

 "What's he planning... That speed he showed earlier when he returned—has his power increased drastically, or has he improved his Bukujutsu?" Tsuru muttered to himself, frowning. From his perspective, the energy Taro was gathering didn't seem capable of anything particularly extraordinary.

 "Do you all see it clearly? Then watch even closer."

 Hovering in mid-air, Taro spoke calmly. Suddenly, his eyes flashed, turning a blood-red hue with a four-pointed black pinwheel pattern: the Mangekyou. He activated his eye technique and, with a raised palm, directed his attack at the mountainside behind the dojo.

 A low hum filled the air.

 From Taro's hand, a massive, blindingly bright ki beam shot forth, so immense it seemed to defy reason. The ground beneath the onlookers trembled as a deafening roar like thunder split the air.

 BOOM!

 The mountainside erupted in a cataclysmic explosion. The earth quaked violently as dust and debris rose skyward in a colossal plume, blotting out the horizon.

 A powerful gust from the explosion rushed over the crowd, blowing their hair back and causing some to nearly flee in panic. The overwhelming brightness of the ki wave seemed to dim even the sun itself before it gradually faded away.

 In the aftermath, gasps of disbelief and terror spread through the crowd:

 "That's impossible!"

 "Oh my God!"

 "This has to be a trick!"

 "No way...!"

 Before them, where the towering mountain once stood, only a half-barren base remained. The clear blue sky, previously obscured by the peak, now stretched unobstructed before their eyes. Even the clouds seemed to have been scattered by the force of the blast.

 Master Long's eyes widened to their limits, his martial composure utterly shattered. He stared blankly at the scene, the obliterated mountain, and the man who had done it. His mind was a blank slate, unable to process what he had just witnessed.

 Tsuru was no less shocked. His gaze fixed on Taro, now floating in the sky with a calm, almost indifferent expression.

 "Flattening half a mountain with a single strike?" Tsuru thought, his mind racing. "Even if I pushed myself to the brink and unleashed the strongest ki blast I could muster, it might barely accomplish that... but it would also cost me my life."

 And yet, Taro stood there, serene, as if he had done nothing at all.

 Tsuru was filled with an inexplicable sense of resentment and, even more so, a deep sense of defeat.

 He had originally returned this time mainly to show off the impressive disciple he had trained. But now, in the face of Taro's personal strength, which far exceeded anything he could have imagined... Tsuru had completely lost interest.

 His proud disciple, who had been following him, was also dumbfounded. He had never expected the elder, whom his master always dismissed, to be so formidable. He glanced at Yumeko, who was helping Aragon to his feet, and thought to himself, If only I could make peace with my master and marry the elder's daughter... wouldn't that be...

 "From now on, anyone who's dissatisfied with Muten can come and find us anytime. The Muten school will always be ready to engage," Taro said slowly, descending from the air and standing still in front of the dragon-named master.

 After this brief exchange, Master Long looked at Taro as if he were facing a monster.

 "You... you... are you Piccolo the Great Demon King!?" he stammered, trembling, his disheveled gray hair making him appear even more disoriented, as if he had gone mad.

 Taro frowned at him and the group of people behind him.

 "Why are you still here? Do you want to continue this? Do you think you can go another round? You've all been standing there in a daze—get out!" he said with a half-smile, though no humor was present in his eyes. He then scolded the Muken disciples standing nearby, who wore white martial arts robes.

 "Yes!"

 "Understood!"

 "We obey, Master!"

 The disciples, still stunned, were unable to speak coherently. However, in their expressions, alongside lingering shock, there was also growing pride and admiration.

 "My goodness." they thought. "We always thought our senior brother, who could fly, was the most powerful, but now... our mysterious master is on an entirely different level! He's like a god!"

 The people who had come with Master Long to cause trouble tensed at Taro's words. A chill ran down their spines, and none dared to speak further. Under the forceful urging of the Muten school disciples, they quickly made their exit without saying another word, obediently retreating through the door from which they had come.

 In the end, someone managed to drag the dazed Master Long away, helping him to his feet and pulling him along. The whole time, they avoided looking at Taro, seemingly afraid that if they made him upset, he might strike with a palm...

 Taro paid no more attention to these foolish clowns. He felt the four-star Dragon Ball on his chest pocket and, lost in thought, mused:

 "The ocular power hasn't changed... it seems the Sharingan really does exist in this body of mine. I was still doubting before, thinking these eyes were just a projection of my soul within this physical form. Looks like I was overthinking it... If that's the case, then the possibility of my wish coming true has increased a little. If that wish can truly come to pass..."

 Glancing at Tsuru, Yumeko, Aragon, and the others, still stunned and speechless, Taro couldn't help but chuckle.

 "What's the matter? Don't recognize me?"

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