Months of buildup, relentless promotional campaigns hammering the message into people's minds, and finally… the day had arrived—June 6th!
In the summer of 650, the first-ever World Martial Arts Tournament officially commenced.
The five largest cities of the Earth Federation—East City, South City, West City, North City, and Central City—each launched their respective regional competitions simultaneously. Over the course of June 6th and the following three to seven days, the top contestants from each region would be determined.
West City and Central City were each granted three spots in the global finals.
Meanwhile, East City, South City, and North City were allocated only two spots each.
From the moment this rule was announced, it had been a source of endless debate! The reason was simple—the final tournament's rewards were far more generous than those of the regional competitions. Who wouldn't want a shot at the global finals? Why should the third-place winners in Central City and West City get a chance, while their counterparts in the other three cities were eliminated?
It didn't seem fair.
Some argued that Central City, being the capital and the political, economic, and cultural hub of the planet, had one of the highest population counts and densities in the world. It faced pressing issues such as employment shortages, overpopulation, and soaring housing prices—ranking among the highest in all statistical reports.
A city as chaotic and competitive as Central City, they reasoned, might indeed deserve an extra slot.
But what about West City? Compared to other cities, it wasn't particularly special—at least not in any way that justified an extra spot.
A sarcastic comment left by a netizen went viral: "Well, you know, Planet Corporation's headquarters are in West City!"
That remark seemed to hit the nail on the head, stirring up a chorus of agreement from conspiracy theorists. Every time she saw comments like this, Ninn would laugh uncontrollably while lounging on the couch with her tablet. Her fair, delicate feet dangled off the side, playfully flicking her slippers as she giggled,
"If West City only had two slots… now that would be unfair!"
After all, her grandfather Taro was competing in West City. If the city only had two spots, then the other contestants would be at an automatic disadvantage—one slot was already as good as taken.
Of course… Ninn had her own theory. She suspected that her father had set the rules this way just to make the final roster an even twelve contestants—easier to organize into two-person matchups. It wasn't nearly as complicated as people made it out to be! Some of these conspiracy theories were just ridiculous…
In response to the tournament structure, many competitors flocked to West City and Central City, believing their chances of advancing to the global finals were higher there.
But some smart ones had a different take:
"If everyone's rushing to West and Central, then won't East City, North City, and South City have fewer top-tier fighters? Sure, they only get two spots, but the competition might actually be easier!"
Armed with this logic, some contestants deliberately chose these three cities instead.
Media outlets—both traditional TV networks and emerging online entertainment platforms—were glued to the event. Thanks to Planet Corporation's aggressive promotion, the tournament was being hailed as the first-ever "retro-style martial arts competition" in modern times.
Meanwhile, skeptics, especially those devoted to science and technology, were eagerly waiting to debunk the spectacle. In recent weeks, as real martial artists honed their skills for the tournament, reports of "superhuman" feats had surfaced across the internet—caught on amateur footage and surveillance cams alike.
Brick-breaking with bare hands, snapping tree trunks with a single kick, knocking punching bags across rooms without even touching them…
Most people dismissed these as parlor tricks, video edits, or clever camera work. Some were intrigued but skeptical, while only those who had witnessed such abilities firsthand were truly convinced.
On top of all this, rumors about a so-called "Legendary Muten Master" entering the tournament had spread like wildfire. Enthusiastic internet sleuths dug up every scrap of information they could find, diving into ancient records, historical texts, and even abandoned ruins. Some fringe programs even interviewed elderly individuals who claimed to have firsthand knowledge.
One such interview featured a frail old man with deep wrinkles, a nearly bald head, and missing teeth. His speech was garbled, his logic sometimes incoherent, but his words carried an air of conviction:
"You don't know… I already died once! If it weren't for the Muten Master, I'd be long gone…"
According to the reporters, the old man was over a hundred years old—a survivor of the so-called "Demon Invasion Apocalypse."
Yet, just as the government had intended, even those who lived through that era had largely dismissed the legend of the Muten Master as a mass hallucination. Over time, more and more people had come to believe that the so-called "demons" were nothing more than hallucinations caused by environmental toxins.
After all, when you really looked into it, Taro had never openly appeared before the world. Even when he gathered the Dragon Balls to resurrect the dead, he did so in the ruins of the Muten School Sect—away from prying eyes. Aside from those present at the time—Long Bam and the last disciple of the Muten School Sect, Nanka —no one else had witnessed it.
Once the wish was granted, Shenron disappeared.
Even those living in Sayuan City, the closest settlement to the Muten Sect ruins, had likely never seen Shenron with their own eyes. Most of the resurrected simply felt as if they had awoken from a deep sleep. They knew they had died… but had no idea why they were alive again.
In short, the so-called "Muten Master" was merely a figure from a century-old legend. Few truly believed in his existence anymore—let alone that he would compete in the World Martial Arts Tournament.
A renowned four-time free-fighting champion even made a bold statement to the press:
"Martial artists? They're just frauds. If they weren't, how could I be a four-time champion? This tournament will expose their lies! There's no difference between a World Martial Arts Tournament champion and a free-fighting champion. That title is mine!"
Many media outlets supported his claims. After all, as a widely recognized champion, he was far more credible than some self-proclaimed martial artist. Science had already proven that athletes like him had pushed the human body to its limits.
If that was the peak of human ability, then all those so-called martial arts masters were nothing but exaggerated myths—a relic of ancient ignorance. This tournament, it seemed, was shaping up to be a joke at Planet Corporation's expense.
But then—on June 6th, when the five major regional tournaments officially began—all doubts, all debates vanished in an instant!
The media fell silent.
The spectators watching the live broadcasts… were utterly stunned!
Countless screens across the world displayed the same shocking scene:
On one of the tournament stages, a renowned boxing champion was knocked unconscious in the blink of an eye—by a burly man who looked like a mere laborer!
What just happened?!
That was Ali, the boxing king! How could he be taken down so effortlessly? Who was his opponent? He didn't even look like a skilled fighter—just an ordinary blue-collar worker! How could he be so strong?!
A single round.
The boxing champion lay sprawled on the ground, unconscious.
"Useless flashy moves. Your body is too stiff." The burly man muttered these words before stepping off the stage as the referee announced his victory.
And that wasn't all.
In East City…
"Heh, what kind of dance costume is that?" A towering, muscular man—who appeared to be a bodybuilding coach—cracked his knuckles as he eyed his opponent, a young man in a white martial arts uniform with the character "Muten" embroidered on his chest. The uniform was slightly worn, as if it hadn't been used in years.
The young martial artist simply smiled and bowed. "Please, teach me."
"Match start!"
Under the watchful eyes of countless cameras, the referee raised his microphone and signaled the start. The bodybuilding coach wasted no time, charging at his opponent with heavy, thunderous steps.
Many spectators gasped, especially the female ones—after all, the young man in white was far more handsome, with a delicate, almost sickly charm.
But in the very next instant…
Thud!
The muscular man clutched his stomach and collapsed to his knees. The young martial artist caught him, gently easing him to the ground. "Muten School Sect's disciple, Monkey D., accepts your defeat."
The audience fell into stunned silence. The photographers, reporters, and viewers worldwide were speechless.
What just happened?
This same question echoed across the planet as, one by one, the so-called unbeatable champions—MMA fighters, bodybuilders, military elites—were all eliminated within the first three rounds.
In their place, unknown contenders—cooks, laborers, obscure dojo instructors—were rising to the top!
"Boom!"
A dark-skinned, sharp-faced young man threw a single punch, sending a massive opponent flying across the ring, rolling dozens of meters away!
For the first time, the world realized… true strength had been hiding in plain sight.
"It looks like you're still in shape, junior!" The young man in the white martial arts uniform stepped down from the ring and returned to the fighters' resting area. There, he bumped fists with several others wearing similarly worn martial arts uniforms, their ages varying, and they all exchanged smiles.
The young man shook his head. "It's nothing special. These people have never trained in real martial arts..."
The eldest among them sighed, patted his junior brother on the shoulder, and said, "I have a feeling that our era as martial artists is finally coming! In the end, Master couldn't keep the Muten School together. In the end, we had to scatter and make a living… But not anymore, not anymore!" He repeated himself several times, his voice filled with emotion. "As long as this 'World Martial Arts Tournament' continues, even if it's just this year, with this prize money, what can't we accomplish? The Muten School… will rise again!"
As he spoke, tears welled up in his eyes.
The other martial artists in white uniforms were equally moved, their eyes red with emotion, but they were mostly filled with joy.
Unnoticed by them, in a quiet corner of the room, an old man with long gray-white hair, sitting cross-legged, glanced at them twice with a faint smile. In the end, he closed his eyes again.
---
The World Martial Arts Tournament continued, unfolding in ways that left most spectators utterly stunned. By now, no media outlet dared to publish articles claiming that "martial arts are a fraud, useless, or outdated."
As the rounds progressed, the battles in the five tournament arenas escalated in intensity.
In some top-tier fights, ordinary human eyes could no longer follow the combatants' movements. The officials had to set up high-speed cameras to capture these clashes between "superhumans" and replay them in slow motion on large screens so the audience could understand what was happening.
Discussions about martial artists, true martial arts, and martial arts schools ignited an unprecedented frenzy online.
And on the third day, this nationwide debate reached another level.
Northern Capital Division Finals.
Tao Pai Pai took an elbow strike from his opponent, sending shockwaves through his chest and abdomen, making his internal organs feel as if they had shifted. Furious, he twisted in midair to dissipate the force before finally stabilizing—
Suspended in midair!
Floating in the air!
The media erupted in an uproar!!
Click! Click! Click! The flashing lights along the edges of the arena merged into a sea of blinding white!