Yamcha entered the ring.
Opposite him stood Kami, disguised as an ordinary human.
Yamcha looked at his opponent, who appeared frail, and said with a confident smile, "Old man, just concede! I don't want you to get hurt later."
Kami smiled kindly.
"Young man, I'd still like to experience your martial arts."
Yamcha's brows furrowed. He wasn't expecting to be underestimated like this.
From the sidelines, Goku narrowed his eyes, checking Kami's battle power—220. That was 43 points higher than Yamcha's.
Krillin, watching with envy, said, "I really envy Yamcha! He can easily get into the top eight."
"Yamcha's going to lose," Goku replied calmly.
Krillin froze. "Wait, what? That old man is stronger than Yamcha? No way! Yamcha's power is formidable!"
"You'll see soon enough," Goku said with a faint smile.
Beside him, Chi-Chi stood obediently. Goku glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, thinking how hard it was to imagine that this gentle woman would one day turn into a fierce tigress.
That was in the original timeline, but this time, Goku wasn't going to let it happen.
In the audience, Puar cheered loudly, "Go, Master Yamcha, go!"
"Yamcha should make it to the top four without much trouble," Oolong said casually.
But Master Roshi had a puzzled expression. Staring at Kami, he muttered, "Something about that guy doesn't feel simple…"
The host announced the start, and Yamcha immediately lunged forward.
"Got him!" Yamcha thought, but before his fist landed, his opponent dodged.
"What? Dodged?!" Yamcha couldn't believe it. He hadn't been careless—how could his attacks miss?
He launched strike after strike, but Kami dodged each one effortlessly—sometimes pretending to tie his shoes, other times wiping his glasses.
The host shouted into the mic, "Contestant Yamcha's luck is unbelievable! Every time he attacks, this old gentleman just happens to be occupied and avoids the strike!"
"Damn it!" Yamcha growled, his frustration boiling over.
"Wolf Fang Fist!" he roared.
But before his flurry of punches connected, Kami's counter hit him square in the crotch. Yamcha's face twisted in agony, frozen like he was constipated.
The audience erupted in laughter.
Even Bulma, Launch, and the others couldn't bear to watch. They covered their eyes—this was too painful to look at.
Krillin turned to Goku. "No way… you were serious? Yamcha really can't beat that old man?"
"The winner will be decided soon," Goku answered calmly.
Gritting his teeth through the pain, Yamcha growled, "Damn it, you humiliated me. I won't hold back anymore!"
"Spirit Ball!"
He gathered his Ki into a glowing sphere and smirked. "Take this!"
The Spirit Ball chased Kami wherever he went. When it burrowed underground, everyone thought Yamcha had failed.
But Yamcha smiled. With a flick of his wrist, the Spirit Ball shot up from beneath the ground, striking Kami under the chin and launching him into the air.
Kami crashed down, unmoving.
"Haha! I won!" Yamcha shouted triumphantly.
The host and audience believed it too—until Kami stood back up, dusted himself off, and stretched his neck.
"Impressive," Kami admitted. "That was a fine technique."
Yamcha's eyes widened. "That was my strongest move! And it did nothing? You've got to be kidding me!"
Before he could react, Kami struck back, slamming a blow into Yamcha's chest. Yamcha crumpled, badly injured, unable to rise.
The host counted to ten and declared Kami the winner.
The final quarterfinal match began: Krillin vs. Piccolo.
As Kami walked past, Goku said quietly, "Kami, you didn't need to come yourself. I'm going to win."
Kami looked at him in surprise. "So you saw through my disguise… Goku, what do you want from me?"
"Concede your next match against Piccolo," Goku said firmly. "There's no point in a meaningless fight."
They locked eyes. Finally, Kami sighed.
"…Alright. Perhaps my presence here was unnecessary."
"Thanks," Goku said with a small smile.
Meanwhile, Krillin gave it everything he had against Piccolo the Demon King—but nothing worked.
Piccolo smirked coldly. "Your techniques are sharp… but your power is far too weak."
"Damn it!" Krillin shouted. "I trained for three years for this tournament!" But despite his effort, he was completely crushed.
With a brutal slam, Piccolo clasped his hands together and sent Krillin crashing to the floor.
The host counted, and the result was clear.
"Piccolo the Demon King is victorious!"
The host raised his mic with excitement.
"The top four fighters of the World Martial Arts Tournament have been decided! Tomorrow promises an even more thrilling battle—stay tuned!"