Chapter 28: The Technique Cannot Be Learned

 A little over a month later, the boy, Arlong, who had been grounded for fighting, was finally let out... Early in the morning, he walked to the street, breathing in the long-awaited fresh and free air. Suddenly—

 "What are these people doing?"

 He was puzzled as he watched two groups of people running toward him from the street. They were all wearing identical white martial arts uniforms, each with a "Mu" character embroidered on the left chest. Despite it being early in the morning, they seemed full of energy, marching in perfect step down the street.

 Suddenly, A Long's eyes widened. He recognized someone among the two groups!

 "Fatty!?" he shouted in surprise. Sure enough, the person he was looking at turned around as soon as he heard the voice and waved enthusiastically at him. There were ten people in each group, and he was in the second-to-last position in one of the teams.

 But... was this really the Fatty he knew? He didn't look fat at all anymore! Arlong was puzzled because the Fatty had slimmed down and actually looked somewhat handsome... Wait, so these people must be students from that Muten school dojo?

 He recalled going to that dojo with Fatty before he was grounded.

 "Fatty, hurry up! We're going to run around the city! The top three can fly with Senior Brother Aragon for a few laps!" the person running behind Fatty reminded him.

 "Oh, right! Today I'm definitely going to fly!" Fatty felt a surge of energy, thinking to himself how great it would be to fly around the sky!

 If it weren't for Senior Brother's strict rule not to race or bump into pedestrians before leaving the city, he would've already put all his effort into sprinting to the front.

 Soon, Fatty followed the team toward the city gates.

 As for Arlong? Well, brothers didn't matter as much as flying!

 "..." Arlong lowered his hand, glanced around, and asked the breakfast vendor beside him. "Uncle, do these people always run around like this early in the morning?"

 The breakfast vendor gave him a glance and replied.

 "How long has it been since you've left the house? Don't you know about the Muten School? It's really impressive! You wouldn't believe it, a month ago, the people from the Shadow Ghost Fist dojo directly went to the Muten school dojo door! They brought about fifty or sixty people! They filled up the whole courtyard of that dojo!"

"That's not what I asked…" Arlong was stunned, but he was curious, so he followed up with the vendor.

 "And then what? I've heard that the Shadow Ghost Fist people are really strong! That other small dojo... nothing happened?"

 "Nothing happened? Big trouble! You didn't see it, huh? A whole group of people gathered outside the Muten school dojo, peeking inside, waiting to see if they got beaten up badly! And then..."

"Uncle, can you stop dragging this out…" Arlong's lips twitched as he reflexively asked.

 "Then what?"

 The vendor exaggeratedly mimicked the action:

 "Then, those people from the Shadow Ghost Fist all 'whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh'... flew out! Tsk, tsk, tsk, the people from the Shadow Ghost Fist really met their match this time! I heard they didn't even get to see the real face of the dojo master!"

 "They didn't even get to see his face and were thrown out?" Arlong was stunned, unable to understand what was happening.

 "I heard that master can do ki manipulation and hit people from a distance. At the time, he was inside the house, and 'bang, bang, bang,' one palm, one person, all of them were thrown out! Hehe, it's a pity we weren't inside to see it with our own eyes! Such a pity!" the vendor shook his head.

 "So powerful..." A Long muttered.

 He waited on the side of the street for a long time. As the sun gradually climbed higher, he finally heard the familiar sound of running footsteps. Looking over, he saw the two groups of young people in white martial arts uniforms returning. When they left in the morning, they had lined up in two neat rows, but now they were casually scattered, heading back in different directions. Most of them were either downcast or gritting their teeth in frustration, with only a few smiling smugly.

 Fatty was one of the three people smiling.

 "Fatty!" Arlong rushed over, sizing him up from head to toe, and punched him lightly. "Not bad, huh? Where did all that fat go?"

 Fatty grinned, flashing a wide smile. A Long was puzzled, and Fatty, looking very pleased, finally spoke:

 "Arlong, I'm going to fly!"

...

 The days passed by in a routine. The number of students at the dojo gradually increased, and everything was starting to fall into place. After personally mentoring five or six more students, Taro handed over the rest to Aragon, the only true disciple, and began spending most of his time in the backyard with his wife and daughter.

 Aragon's mind wasn't entirely focused, and it was true that he couldn't dedicate all his talent and energy to martial arts. Taro didn't see this as a problem. He didn't believe every disciple needed to treat martial arts as the center of their life.

 For ordinary people, even martial arts masters would live only about a hundred years. Instead of endlessly chasing the martial way, it might be a good idea to focus some energy on life itself. After all, even in the original story, once Krillin and the others reached their level, they still had to work hard to live. In Dragon Ball Super, Krillin even worked as a traffic cop.

 With this in mind, Taro decided to let Aragon use his small degree of ambition to manage the dojo. With the few powerful techniques he had taught him, like "Great Fire Annihilation," "Raikiri," "Flame Blade," and other martial arts versions of ninjutsu, along with the incomplete version of Kamehameha, as long as Aragon mastered these over the years, he could handle most minor issues on Earth. How the Martial Immortal Fist developed was up to him. Taro had no intention of interfering too much.

 As long as Aragon didn't do something foolish that would annoy him, Taro was fine with it.

 As for the Muken Taro had taught Aragon... for some unknown reason, Aragon just couldn't find the key to it and was completely unable to start practicing it.

 It wasn't that he lacked the talent to master the "combat power amplification" techniques. For example, the powerful moves developed by Taro, like "Flame Blade" and "Raikiri," naturally had the characteristic of "enhancing power." This was no different from the "Kamehameha," "Special Beam Cannon," or "Destructo Disc" from later generations—no real difference at all.

 The essence of Martial Immortal Fist, however, wasn't a specific move but rather a "mindset." It was something that could infinitely increase one's "amplified power"—similar to a "Dao" (the Way) in its true form.

 To use Taro's analogy, the Muken was like a professional qualification certificate for martial artists. If "Kamehameha" could unleash double the power, that meant the martial artist had mastered "Level 2 Muken." Similarly, if the Special Beam Cannon could unleash four times the power, the practitioner would be considered a "Level 4 Muken" martial artist.

 But it was still different. A true martial artist who had mastered the Muken, when using double the power of Muken, could release two times the attack power all the time, as long as their concentration remained steady.

 "A martial artist who can only use the Kamehameha wave needs a certain amount of time to 'charge' their energy. This, in battle, is a crucial difference."

 This was one of the reasons Taro developed the Muken.

 Besides trying to avoid using the ocular techniques as much as possible, he also thought... what if the wish he prepared couldn't be fulfilled? Or what if, in the next three hundred years, he couldn't find a Dragon Ball? Then he would be forever trapped in this body with only a 200 aptitude level. At least with the Martial Immortal Fist, he would have something that could give him a hope of "turning things around."

 But... while Aragon had mastered the powerful martial arts techniques Taro taught him, he still couldn't grasp the Muken, and this puzzled Taro. Given Aragon's talent, it didn't seem right.

...

 As Taro gradually made fewer appearances, most of the new students who joined the dojo didn't even know what their master looked like. All they knew was that their particularly fearsome and powerful senior brother could fly!

 Fly… when will I be able to fly? Arlong, training in the courtyard, daydreamed about flying freely in the sky, but was suddenly pushed.

 "Senior brother is glaring at you!" Arlong shuddered, and sure enough, he saw Aragon staring at him from the distance.

 When Aragon saw Arlong continue his training, he finally smiled slightly.

 He looked around at the young people in the new courtyard, sweating heavily, feeling an immense sense of satisfaction from the power he had never imagined before. He suddenly thought of his two older brothers working the fields back home, and his father, who never worked in the fields.

 "In a couple of years, I'll ask Master to bring Dad and my brothers here. It's a bit far, but with my strength by then, I'm sure flying with them will be faster than riding a cart. I can make the trip three times if necessary."

 After a brief moment of silence, Aragon glanced at the backyard. Everything here was given to him by his master.

 Thinking of his master, Aragon couldn't help but smile wryly. While other students thought their master was always in the backyard with his wife and little sister, Aragon knew that his master actually flew out almost every few days and would return after a few days.

 Gradually, his master spent more time in the backyard, but the times he disappeared were also getting longer. Aragon felt like his master was searching for something, but after all this time, he hadn't stopped, which clearly meant he hadn't found it yet.

 Yet, Aragon also felt his master didn't seem to be in any kind of urgent hurry to find something, as if he didn't hold much hope for the outcome. How strange... Aragon shook his head. His master's thoughts were impossible for him to understand.

 For now, he would focus on managing the Muken. That would be the best way to repay his master.

...

 Soon, a year passed.

 One day, as usual, Taro flew out of Sayuan City to "wander." This time, he was flying north. He flew for a while, then landed to walk, with no particular destination in mind—just walking.

 "I'll go down and get some water."

 Flying high in the air, Taro glanced at a small village at the foot of a mountain in the distance. His heart stirred, and he descended. When he reached the village and walked to the village head, he suddenly felt... something wasn't quite right with the atmosphere.