Night had fallen.
The flickering glow of the campfire danced outside the tent at the base of Korin Tower.
Crackle.Pop.
The dry wood occasionally let out small bursts as it burned, adding a touch of life to the otherwise silent night.
No wild beasts dared approach within a kilometer.
"You'll be eaten." That was the consensus among the animals. Much like the creatures of Mount Paozu, they all knew to stay far away from the small wooden house in the mountains—especially from the boy with the monkey tail. The moment they saw him from a distance, they knew to turn and flee. And if he spotted them and started drooling, the only chance of survival was to act as unappetizing as possible…
"Bora, are you still thinking about that guy from earlier?"
Lixi nestled against her husband, noticing that he was staring at the sky, his gaze locked onto the night. In the darkness, Korin Tower was little more than a faint shadow, a pillar cleaving through the stars.
"Yeah," Bora said in a low voice. After a brief pause, he added, "He apologized."
His wife recalled the earlier match between him and the young man—how the young man had nearly sent him crashing into her, only to catch him at an imperceptible speed. And then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he had apologized.
Bora kept his eyes on the deep, endless sky. "To wield such power and still acknowledge his mistakes so naturally… He's not just strong—he's also a good man. I could feel his resolve, his determination… I really hope he makes it up Korin Tower."
"He will. I'm sure he will," Lixi said softly. "It's been over half a day. Maybe he's already there."
"No… Half a day wouldn't be nearly enough," Bora murmured.
---
In the cold night wind, a tiny silhouette moved steadily along the faint outline of Korin Tower.
A hand, reddened from the cold, gripped another segment of the protruding "bamboo joint".
Yamiru could feel the burning ache in his arms. He clenched his teeth and kept climbing.
There was no turning back.
At this altitude, who knew how high he had climbed? He didn't dare look down.
There was no way down.
He whispered the words in his heart, not once considering the idea of conserving energy for a retreat.
Keep going.
One more meter.
Another meter…
Yamiru was undeniably powerful, but his body still had limits.
In the manga, Son Goku had single-handedly torn through the Red Ribbon Army headquarters—a feat that even Master Roshi had found astonishing. Roshi had admitted that, while he wasn't afraid of their firepower, sheer numbers would eventually exhaust him. Even the "God of Martial Arts" couldn't withstand an endless tide of enemies. The only person capable of taking down the Red Ribbon Army alone was Son Goku.
At last year's World Martial Arts Tournament, if Yamiru had Goku's endurance and recovery ability, he wouldn't have needed such careful strategy to defeat Goku and claim the championship. His peak strength had already surpassed Goku's at the time. But then again, superior stamina and recovery were part of one's overall strength. Yamiru had never resented the difference—besides, he had won in the end.
And yet, even someone like Son Goku, with his near-bottomless stamina, had taken an entire day and night to climb Korin Tower, arriving nearly exhausted.
At some point, dawn had begun creeping over the horizon.
A faint light spread from the distant edge of the sky, illuminating Korin Tower and revealing the face of the tireless climber.
Yamiru was exhausted.
"Huff… Huff…"
His breathing was ragged, his lips dry and pale, his cheeks flushed from the altitude.
His outstretched arm trembled.
Too cold. Too hungry. Too tired…
Too sleepy…
His eyelids drooped, and for a moment, he saw Tights. He remembered watching her in the afternoon, lost in thought as she worked on her novel—her brows furrowing in frustration, her eyes lighting up in triumph. That focus, that purity… it captivated him.
His eyes snapped open, a golden determination burning within them. He pressed his parched lips together and climbed.
Huff… Huff…
The high-altitude wind howled. Blood dripped from his worn fingertips.
One meter. One more meter. Just one more…
Hang in there, Yamiru…
How could he die here? How could he fail?
Did he leave South City just to give up here?
Upward. Upward…
Yamiru climbed little by little, squeezing out the last remnants of strength from his stiff and exhausted body.
His blood-stained hands had long since gone numb from the cold, but his gaze grew even more resolute, and hot breath puffed out from his nostrils.
Starving to death?
Thirsty to the point of wanting to die?
Utterly exhausted, barely clinging to life?
Did they think he had never endured such things before? A stubborn fire burned within Yamiru's heart. After coming this far, was he supposed to collapse here? He would never accept that—never allow it!
---
"Ahhh…"
Inside the Korin Sanctuary, Korin licked his paw. He could sense that Yamiru's energy was dangerously weak, flickering like a dying ember in the wind.
"Still holding on? He's going to die at this rate."
Holding his wooden staff behind his back, Korin's small, round body swayed as he walked to the edge of the sanctuary. With a light hop, he landed on the railing.
The biting cold wind howled around him, yet he remained unaffected, peering down from the sanctuary's dizzying heights.
The tower stretched downward in a single, sinuous line. Far below, somewhere in the vast distance, a frail mortal was still climbing. He had been at it for an entire day and night.
"Hmm… strong, righteous, determined…"
Korin carefully examined Yamiru's ki. The more skilled a martial artist was, the more they could perceive within a person's ki—reflections of their inner self.
Scratching his whiskers, Korin murmured, "But at the same time, there are flaws—hesitation, self-doubt, even some confusion… or is it longing? What a complicated human… And yet, such a complicated person dares to challenge Korin Tower?"
Throughout history, only those with pure hearts could reach the highest realms of martial arts.
Hundreds of years ago, young Mu Taro, and even the present-day Master Roshi, were both pure-hearted, single-minded individuals… aside from that incorrigible, and quite deliberate, perverted streak.
As for the one climbing the tower now—Korin even wondered how he had taken up martial arts in the first place.
That was precisely why he didn't believe Yamiru was Master Roshi's disciple, but rather, the student of Son Gohan. Korin was certain—Roshi would never take in a disciple like this.
Great strength did not necessarily equate to a high martial arts realm. Even if a villain capable of obliterating the world stood before Master Roshi, the old master would still disdain their petty wickedness. True martial artists were unmoved by wealth and power, unyielding in the face of force. If martial arts could be judged solely by strength, the path would be far too narrow.
The saying, "You can destroy me, but you cannot defeat me," existed for a reason.
"Carrying the Power Pole… is that intentional or unintentional?"
Korin turned back into the sanctuary, lost in thought. But soon, he began to feel drowsy. Oh well, might as well take a nap…
For all he knew, by the time he woke up, that mortal would have already fallen to his death.
"Yaaawwwnnn~~"
Korin let out a long yawn and drifted off into a sweet slumber.
A single day in the heavens is a thousand years on earth.
With no worries and no points of reference, time seemed to pass particularly quickly, unnoticed.
Korin slept for a full day.
When he finally awoke, he calculated the time—two full days and nights had passed since that mortal began his climb.
"He should be dead by now, right?"
Korin rubbed his eyes, licked his paw, and then suddenly froze.
"Wait—!?"
He sensed something.
In a hurry, he rushed down to the lower level of the sanctuary—and there, lying sprawled at the entrance, was a human.
A motionless figure, barely clinging to life.
His frostbitten and mangled hands were on the verge of falling apart, his entire body utterly drained.
Like a corpse.