Chapter 14: Guiding Yamcha
The assassin in front of him had a combat power of only 15 insignificant compared to Ye Lin's overwhelming strength. He wasn't a threat to Ye Lin in the slightest. But had this same opponent faced Yamcha, the desert bandit might've been in for a difficult fight.
"Ye Lin, who were those people?" came Bulma's voice from behind.
Ye Lin turned to look and momentarily froze.
Bulma was wrapped in nothing but a towel, having just stepped out of the bathroom. At only sixteen, she had already developed a noticeable figure, with smooth skin that practically glowed under the capsule house lights.
She had been startled by the intruder and didn't yet realize her current appearance.
"Are you sure you want to be walking around like that? I mean, I don't mind… the view is quite nice."
Bulma blinked then gasped, finally noticing.
"Y-You pervert!!"
Face flushed bright red, she squealed and dashed back into the room to change.
Ye Lin, remaining calm, simply walked over to the corpse of the fallen assassin.
Upon inspecting the body, Ye Lin discovered a small black token tucked into the assassin's collar. On it was a single kanji: "絶" ("Zetsu," meaning "absolute" or "eradication").
Ye Lin had never heard of this symbol being associated with any of the Earth-based martial arts schools, but he had his suspicions. Given their ruthless precision, he wondered if these killers had ties to the Red Ribbon Army the same criminal military force that once attempted to gather the Dragon Balls for world domination.
"Are they targeting Bulma because of her wealth… or because of the Dragon Radar?"
He thought of the advanced device Bulma created capable of locating Dragon Balls by tracking their unique electromagnetic signals. He quickly shook his head.
No... they're not from this world like I am. There's no way they'd know about the future or what she's working on unless they've already been watching her.
Leaping lightly into the air using Moonwalk, Ye Lin hovered above the capsule houses. From there, he could clearly see Yamcha fighting in the distance.
Even though he was outnumbered five-to-one, Yamcha held his ground with fierce determination. He unleashed his signature technique the Wolf Fang Fist, a flurry of high-speed strikes combining quick footwork with piercing blows.
This move had been his trademark since his debut in the Diablo Desert. Although later it would be improved during the World Martial Arts Tournament, it was already a formidable technique.
Yamcha's movements were sharper than before. Having witnessed Ye Lin's strength earlier, he now understood what it meant to stand among true masters and he gave it his all. His fists tore through the air like a whirlwind.
One after another, the assassins were knocked to the sand.
As the last one hit the ground unconscious, Yamcha breathed heavily, sweat dripping down his face. He looked at his own fists, his expression clouded with dissatisfaction, doubt, and reflection.
He had won but it didn't feel like enough.
"It looks like you've hit a wall. Let me help you break through it."
Ding!
System Task Alert:
Task: Pass on martial experience to Yamcha.
Difficulty: Normal.
Reward: God-tier lottery chance!
Ye Lin paused. This was unexpected.
He wasn't a traditional martial artist. Most of his skills came from the system's lottery. He couldn't teach theory the way Master Roshi or Korin would. But he could teach Yamcha in the most effective way possible: combat experience.
Looking at the assassin's body nearby, Ye Lin's eyes lit up with an idea. He stripped the man's clothing and masked his own face, then vanished into the desert shadows.
…
Yamcha had just turned to head back to report to Ye Lin when he felt something.
A sharp whoosh tore through the air.
He instinctively darted to the side and a stone zipped past, slamming into the ground with a loud crack, leaving a deep hole in the sand.
His eyes narrowed. That would've been fatal.
"So… you're the sixth one Master Ye Lin mentioned."
A smirk tugged at Yamcha's lips. His heartbeat sped up not from fear, but excitement.
Only by fighting stronger opponents could he truly improve.
The masked figure stood silently, hands behind his back, his face obscured by black cloth. Yamcha couldn't see his features, but he could feel the aura: powerful, calm, composed.
"I can tell you're strong," Yamcha said, stepping into his stance. "No more talk. Let's do this—Wolf Fang Fist!"
He launched forward like a bullet, fists a blur. His attacks were faster than before, tighter, more disciplined. Ye Lin observed quietly, noting how Yamcha had trimmed unnecessary motion from his form.
But Ye Lin made no move to dodge. He wanted to test and pressure Yamcha to unlock his deeper instincts.
Even as fist shadows flooded his space, Ye Lin stood still. Then, as one solid strike neared his chest, his palm darted out and caught Yamcha's fist with ease.
Yamcha's eyes widened.
"Is that all? Your speed is still too slow. Is this your limit?"
Ye Lin closed his eyes deliberately, taunting him.
"Don't get trapped in the form of the technique. Focus on your opponent's breath. Their rhythm. Their intent."
The words echoed in Yamcha's ears. His brow furrowed, then his eyes narrowed, fire returning to his gaze.
"Wolf Fang Fist!!"
This time, something shifted.
Yamcha didn't think he felt. Each move flowed naturally, his instincts sharpened by battle and frustration. Wind gusted from the sheer force of his attacks, whipping sand into the air.
For the first time, he felt alive in his fighting style.
And Ye Lin, hidden behind the mask, smiled silently.
What crushed Yamcha's spirit wasn't just the speed or strength of his opponent it was the helplessness. Despite throwing his proudest technique with all his might, his fists couldn't even touch his target. The man before him, masked and calm, evaded every strike as if the battle were a mere dance even with his eyes closed.
Unbeknownst to Yamcha, this opponent was none other than Ye Lin, testing him in disguise. Though Ye Lin had acquired his martial skills through the system's lottery, he had mastered them deeply. His sensory awareness of ki—the life energy used by martial artists like Goku, Krillin, and Master Roshi had sharpened to the point that even with his eyes shut, he could sense every movement with terrifying accuracy.
"This… this is impossible," Yamcha gasped.
"There's no such thing as 'impossible,'" came Ye Lin's steady voice. "Don't rely on your eyes. Sense your opponent's ki. Feel the rhythm in their energy. When you can flow with that energy, you can fight like this too."
Raising his palm, Ye Lin began gathering swirling energy. In a matter of seconds, a glowing, spiraling sphere of ki began to form like a compressed energy bomb, similar to the Spirit Ball technique Yamcha would one day learn.
The sphere grew larger and brighter, humming with raw destructive power. Yamcha instinctively halted, his eyes wide in awe and fear.
"Don't just look at it feel it," Ye Lin urged. "Sense the pressure in the air, feel the build-up of ki... now take the attack head-on."
Ye Lin launched the massive spinning ki sphere toward Yamcha.
As it descended, Yamcha's eyes filled with desperation followed by frustration, and finally, burning rage.
Why am I so weak?
Why can't I fight back?
With a roar of defiance, Yamcha exploded forward.
"RAAAHH!!"
His energy surged. The air trembled around his body as a faint aura of ki enveloped him for the first time. He threw his hands into his stance.
"Wolf Fang Fist!!"
This was his third time using the move but this time, something had changed.
His fists weren't just fast; they carried weight, force, and a fierce edge. Each punch left streaks of energy in the air, and compressed wind burst out like bullets with every strike. His Wolf Fang Fist had transcended form it now had substance.
But the massive energy sphere loomed overhead, and even Yamcha's empowered strikes couldn't stop its approach.
He punched madly, sweat and grit mixing on his face, his aura burning brighter but the attack kept descending.
Finally, when the ki sphere nearly touched him, Yamcha clenched his teeth, closed his eyes, and whispered
"I'm sorry, Master… I wasn't strong enough."
He braced for impact…
But nothing came.
The swirling energy… vanished like a soap bubble bursting.
"…Huh?"
"You passed," came the voice.
Yamcha blinked. Across from him, the masked figure now removed his face cloth and it was Ye Lin.
"Master…?!"
Ye Lin nodded calmly. "I'm sorry I had to push you like that. But unless a martial artist experiences the terror of a life-or-death moment… they'll never break through their limits. And you just did."
Realization hit Yamcha like a wave. He dropped to the ground, body drained, heart pounding.
"Whoa… I thought I was really gonna die."
He lay flat on the sand, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.
Ye Lin chuckled lightly. "Only just figured that out? Took you long enough."
Yamcha managed a tired laugh. "Still… thank you, Master. Just for a moment, I felt it. I felt ki. It was like there was this current of energy around me, flowing and swirling. I couldn't control it yet, but… it was real."
"That's ki," Ye Lin said. "Techniques and punches are one thing but true strength comes from sensing and controlling your energy."
Yamcha listened closely. He'd never heard anyone talk about energy like this before. Until now, all he had were instinctive street-fighting moves and raw strength. But this this was real martial arts.
His doubts about Ye Lin's age, about his own decision to call him "Master" vanished.
"I was skeptical at first. You're not much older than me, but… I've never seen techniques like yours. I've never felt strength like that ki sphere you just used. You really are a hidden master."
Ye Lin smiled faintly.
"And I'm lucky," Yamcha added. "Lucky I chose to follow you. From now on I won't hold back. I'll train until I can use ki just like you do."
To Yamcha, Ye Lin now felt less like a human teacher and more like a sage from legend, a hermit from the mountains, or a celestial warrior come down to Earth.
In Yamcha's eyes, Ye Lin had become a true martial god.
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