Sensing the feeble aura of the person on the boat below, as if they were on the verge of death, Taro frowned, patted the back of the Phoenix, and had it descend toward the boat on the sea.
A shadow fell over the deck. The old man lying there, barely clinging to life, pried open his eyes. All he could see against the backdrop of the setting sun's afterglow was a massive, fiery-red divine bird descending from the heavens… Wait, was that someone on its back? Was this an angel?
Siflor was old, and his last remaining wish in life was simple—to meet the legendary Muten Master at least once. Having arranged his affairs, he followed the clues he had gathered over the years, tracking down rumors and strange tales, which ultimately led him to this sea.
For years, various legends surrounded "that island" off the coast. Some claimed it was a land of demons; others, the nesting ground of a phoenix; and still others, the dwelling place of an immortal. Initially, Siflor hadn't placed much stock in these claims, but after failing to find answers elsewhere, he stumbled upon a fragmented legend.
The legend spoke of the Muten Master sending a divine bird to traverse the world, resurrecting all who had perished in a great catastrophe.
And among the many stories surrounding the mysterious island, one detail frequently appeared: "A strange bird often roams there." This was what led Siflor to pin his last hope on this place. Yet, no matter how close the island seemed, he could never reach it.
According to the ship's navigation system, he had been circling this island for days—without getting even half a meter closer.
What he didn't know was that this was due to a clever trick Hathaway had played years ago. Using the ship's automated navigation system to land on the island, she had later helped Taro refine the island's magical barrier. Not only did it disorient people's sense of direction, but it also interfered with electronic navigation instruments.
With a powerful gust, the divine bird descended against the light, its massive form shrinking slightly upon landing.
"Who's this old man?" Ninn curiously observed. Tam patted her shoulder, then turned to his wife. "Go inside and fetch some clean water." Laviniaa nodded and went into the cabin. Hathaway looked at her husband. Taro gazed at the white-haired old man lying on the deck, frowned, and raised a hand, sending a small stream of pure ki into him.
The moment the ki entered his body, the frail old man—Siflor—immediately regained some energy and strength. His parched lips trembled as his murky eyes scanned the unfamiliar faces surrounding him, filled with suspicion. "Who… are you?" he croaked.
"Old man, who are you? Are you trying to visit our home?" Ninn pointed toward the island on the horizon.
"Your home? This—" Siflor was even more shocked and struggled to sit up. At that moment, Laviniaa returned from the cabin, carrying a bowl of water. She knelt beside him and helped him drink. Siflor, parched beyond measure, instinctively drank without hesitation.
Taro shook his head. "No need to trouble yourselves. Let me take a look."
Tam spread his hands with a chuckle. "If you're going to see for yourself, then all the better."
Ignoring him, Taro let his vast mental power flow gently into Siflor's mind like a spring breeze. Immediately, countless images surged forth—an old man sifting through mountains of intelligence reports, leading bodyguards on expeditions to ancient sites, a younger man traveling and inquiring about something…
As he ventured deeper into Siflor's memories, Taro suddenly found something.
"Oh? So it's this child…" Taro was taken aback—because in the depths of Siflor's childhood memories, he saw himself.
It was an event from more than eighty years ago.
At the time, Taro had just begun his travels, carrying his sketchpad and wandering the world. While training, he also used his paintings to sever lingering attachments to his past life. One day, under the sky bridge in West City, he encountered Tsuru. After a long conversation, Tsuru flew away alone, leaving Taro standing there in quiet contemplation.
That day, a woman stood nearby, holding a young boy in her arms. The child had witnessed Tsuru soaring into the sky, staring in awe as his ice cream fell from his hand. Taro had used his telekinesis to catch the ice cream and return it to the boy.
That boy… was none other than the old man before him—Siflor.
Siflor, the former head of Kuanto Entertainment and the founder of the upcoming First World Martial Arts Tournament.
In the old man's memories, Taro saw that he had grown up listening to stories about the Muten Master. Ever since that day when he witnessed Tsuru's flight, he had been fascinated by martial artists. Over the years, he had recruited many fighters—though most turned out to be frauds rather than true masters.
This upcoming World Martial Arts Tournament was the old man's lifelong dream.
His other great wish was to find the legendary Muten Master and meet him before his time ran out.
"Well?" Hathaway asked, already suspecting the answer. If this man had no connection to them, Taro would have already sent him flying back to shore with a single slap rather than lingering here.
"It's you." Taro nodded at the old man, who was being helped up by Lavinia. "Kid, I never thought you'd grow this old." An invisible force supported the old man, keeping him steady.
Siflo stood there in a daze, feeling the unseen power holding him. Only then did he take a closer look at Taro—a white-haired man with loose locks draped over his back, his features aged yet carrying an ethereal aura. Judging by his appearance, he should have been younger than Siflo himself, but…
"It's… it's you?! You…" Siflo's lips trembled. Perhaps it was because Taro had just "flipped through" his memories, but he suddenly recalled the mysterious old man he had met as a child. He had always assumed that the one who flew away back then was the true Muten Master. But now, the real Muten Master… was the one who had helped save his fallen ice cream?
The World Martial Arts Tournament…
Taro nodded. "Yes, it's me. If you want to talk, let's do it on the island."
"The island?" The old man was momentarily confused.
Just then, five beams of white light shot out from behind Taro, forming soft, ki-infused arms that wrapped around Ninn, Tam, Lavinia, Hathaway, and Siflo. Before anyone could react, they vanished from the deck of the boat.
The Phoenix let out a long, dejected cry—forgotten again?
With a weak "Ahn" the Phoenix flapped its wings and soared into the sky, following them toward the distant island.
Left behind, the boat swayed gently on the sea, abandoned.
---
The island had undergone several renovations, and now, the villa looked like a crystal palace—brilliantly translucent. The house's AI steward, Jarvis, controlled lighting, ventilation, temperature, water, and electricity. Even the floors, stairs, and overall layout could be adjusted at will.
Every transparent wall and floor panel of this "crystal" house could serve as a display screen for Jarvis. The materials used in its construction were extraordinarily special. According to Taro's personal tests, it would take at least 100,000 units of power to break them. He had scoured the universe for these materials to fulfill Feibeli's request.
"What a blessing… to finally behold the Immortal in person…" Siflo laughed and cried at the same time, his joy as pure as a child's. In truth, he had only recognized Taro because he happened to be in his "aged" form, closely resembling the man Siflo had seen in his childhood.
Taro exchanged a few words with him before letting Ninn and Lavinia take care of the old man. Despite being over ninety, to Taro, Siflo was still just a junior. There was no need for him to personally entertain him—allowing him on the island was already a courtesy for the sake of his family.
The Phoenix returned, and Jarvis automatically opened an entryway in the crystal walls, allowing it to fly inside.
The moment it entered the spacious living room, Siflo, who had been sitting on the couch, gasped in shock. The old man trembled as he pointed at the magnificent firebird soaring overhead. "Is this… the Muten Master bird…?"
"Ahn!" The Phoenix preened itself proudly, striking an elegant pose.
Ninn, however, raised one eyebrow while lowering the other, glancing up at the bird with mild disinterest. "Isn't it just an ordinary little bird?" she muttered. To her, this bird had been her childhood plaything—nothing worth making a fuss over.
Meanwhile, Tam was in conversation with his father.
"Dad, are you actually going to participate in this old man's 'World Martial Arts Tournament'?" Tam asked, surprised. He had assumed his father wouldn't care about such a mundane competition.
Taro nodded, his tone carrying deeper meaning. "If I don't enter now, I won't get another chance later." After all, once the "storyline era" arrived, how could he, a master, lower himself to compete alongside his disciples?
He wasn't like Roshi from the original story.
In the original, Roshi had disguised himself as Jackie Chun to compete because he worried that his students, Goku and Krillin, would become arrogant. But why did he have that concern? Because Roshi felt he had already taught them everything he could.
Would Taro ever face such a situation? Obviously not.
Which meant he would never stoop to competing against his own disciples for a championship title—he wasn't that shameless.
So, if he wanted to experience one of Dragon Ball's most iconic tournaments, he had to do it now—before the "storyline era" truly began.
Besides, it was about time the people of Earth learned what true martial artists were capable of.
Many manga readers have likely felt this injustice—why should someone like Mr. Satan gain false fame while true martial artists like Son Goku, who have risked their lives countless times to save Earth, remain unknown? Not only that, but they even have to struggle to make a living?
Taro was once an ordinary manga reader who felt the same way. Otherwise, he wouldn't have such a deep fixation on those future figures. He wouldn't have gone to such lengths to set up something akin to the "Virtual Earth Network" from Swallowed Star a century or two before the storyline began.
This was his obsession—of course, an obsession that did not hinder his martial path. Otherwise, he would have severed it long ago. If he could make this world—the Earth he had once been fascinated with—a little better, he was willing to do so.
To clarify, "the Earth he had once been fascinated with" didn't mean he had deep feelings for the Dragon Ball Earth he now lived in. Perhaps he had some, but it wasn't all that different from his past life's Earth. The "Earth" he was obsessed with was merely a symbol of those manga characters, the ones he had once admired—not the actual planet beneath his feet or the specific people living on it.
His focus was on the people around him and a lingering sentiment from his past life—something called nostalgia.
"If even you're going to participate in this, old man…" Tam stroked his chin in thought. He glanced at his mother, Hathaway, the kind and elderly woman who had remained silent, always supporting her lifelong partner's decisions. He smiled slightly and said, "With the financial resources of Kuanto Entertainment, even if they host this 'World Martial Arts Tournament,' it might not live up to its name… How about this, Dad, Mom, I'll get involved too?"
"What do you plan to do?" Hathaway asked.
Taro also turned to look at his son, who was even taller than him.
Tam spoke calmly, "With our Planet Companys's funding, we can truly expand the scope and influence of this 'World Martial Arts Tournament' to a global level! So…" He paused before continuing, "We can set up five regional divisions in the East, West, South, North, and Central cities. After selecting the top contestants, they will compete in the final championship. As for the tournament prizes, we can discuss the details with Kuanto Entertainment later."
Taro neither agreed nor disagreed, merely saying, "Do as you see fit."
Tam waved his hand. "Come on, Dad! It's rare for you to show interest in worldly matters—I have to make sure this is done right!" He paused, glanced at his mother, and smirked. "I really don't like those people who doubt the existence of the 'Muten Master.' What about you, Mom?"
"I don't have the same enthusiasm as you," Hathaway chuckled. "Your father doesn't care about such things, so why should I? Let people believe whatever they want."
Tam laughed. "Fine, fine. So I'm the only mundane one here?" His tone was more playful than serious.
"Then it's settled. Talk to that guy later, and when you're done, send him back." Taro concluded, ready to leave. Truth be told, he had little interest in outsiders. Over the years, aside from his family, he had rarely interacted with anyone else.
"Got it." Tam turned, then looked back. "Want me to arrange a seeded contestant for you…?"
Seeing Taro raise an eyebrow, Tam quickly gave a sheepish grin and retreated to the living room. As he walked, he said, "Jarvis, get me a few cups of coffee—add sugar."
"Understood, Mr. Tam." A section of the wall lit up momentarily as Jarvis's electronic male voice responded. Once Tam passed by, the wall dimmed again, returning to its usual transparent crystalline state.