Dragon Ball: Being able to revive means you're courting death? How naive!

Chapter 369 The Gift of the Immortal Kalin

Sun Wukong belatedly realized his slip of the tongue. His pupils dilated sharply, his Adam's apple bobbed, and he frantically waved his hands in protest: "Ah! I... I was just guessing! This child does look somewhat like Vegeta!"

His voice unconsciously rose, and a suspicious blush appeared on the tips of his ears; his usual calm demeanor had vanished.

Bulma narrowed her eyes suspiciously, while little Trunks in her arms babbled, clutching a strand of her hair with his tiny hand: "But you even guessed the name right!"

She took a half-step closer, her probing gaze almost piercing through Sun Wukong.

"Really? How could I possibly have superpowers? Ah, what a coincidence..." Sun Wukong chuckled dryly and backed away, his toes unconsciously tracing circles on the ground, his eyes darting around, avoiding eye contact with anyone.

Piccolo crossed his arms, a mocking smile playing on his lips, and let out a disdainful snort: "Tch, idiot."

He strode forward, a cold glint in his dark green eyes, his deep voice carrying an undeniable air of authority: "Where's Vegeta? Is he here?"

Bulma gently rocked the baby in her arms, a hint of worry on her brow: "I don't know either. Vegeta hasn't been back for a long time. For the past three years, he's been training hard to prepare for today's battle."

Sun Wukong finally calmed down, straightened his back, looked firmly into the distance, and smiled confidently: "He will come, Vegeta will definitely come."

Krillin's neck veins bulged, his wide eyes still filled with horror, his Adam's apple bobbing violently twice before he staggered back half a step as if waking from a dream, his voice trembling with disbelief: "Mom, Mom, he really is Vegeta's child..."

Yamcha leaned against the weathered rock, one hand supporting her forehead, her flaxen hair falling down to cover half of her face.

He swung his crossed legs, the leather boot soles scraping against the gravel with a soft rustling sound, which eventually turned into a long sigh, the last syllable carrying a complex emotion that was hard to tell whether it was helplessness or relief.

Tianjin Fan's shiny bald head reflected the sunlight, and his third eye on his forehead slightly contracted.

He strode down in front of Sun Wukong, his dark gray martial arts uniform billowing in the wind. He crossed his arms over his chest, his thick eyebrows furrowed into a deep frown: "I didn't bring Jiaozi with me. To be honest, with Jiaozi's abilities, he has absolutely no chance in this battle."

Sun Wukong's signature Turtle Hermitage uniform fluttered in the wind as he scratched his spiky hair, a simple, honest smile spreading across his bronze face, and a deep "hmm" coming from his throat in response.

He turned around abruptly, his voice filled with barely suppressed worry: "Bulma, honestly, are you really going to bring a child to watch the battle?"

Bulma hugged little Trunks even tighter, the little guy's chubby little hands clutching her signature blue curls.

She raised an eyebrow and glanced at the crowd, a stubborn smile playing on her red lips: "Didn't I say? I'll go back as soon as I see the androids."

Son Gohan stood with his hands behind his back, the hem of his clothes swaying gently in the mountain breeze.

He bowed slightly and gave a polite smile: "Aunt Bulma, may I ask what time it is?"

Bulma freed one hand, the gold watch on her wrist reflecting shimmering light.

She squinted to check the time: "It's 9:30. There's still half an hour until the agreed time."

As soon as he finished speaking, everyone nodded and scattered like birds, each taking up a favorable position.

The sounds of rocks grinding and fabric rustling echoed across the silent mountaintop, as everyone held their nerves on edge, awaiting the unknown threat.

Bick stood atop the mountain like a silent statue, his deep green eyes reflecting the smoke rising from the village below.

The mountain wind whipped up sand and gravel that lashed against his angular face, but it did not shake him in the slightest.

Tien Shinhan landed beside Piccolo with a few leaps, his bald head gleaming coldly in the sunlight.

He crossed his arms, his third eye trembling slightly: "Ten minutes have passed. Where will the android appear?"

Bulma casually sat on the uneven, gravelly ground, holding little Trunks securely in her arms.

The little guy's two tiny, lotus-root-like hands waved restlessly, and drool dripped from the corners of his mouth.

Son Gohan knelt down beside him, suddenly puffed out his cheeks, stuck out his tongue, and deliberately widened his eyes.

Trunks was taken aback for a moment, then burst into laughter, his chubby little body squirming in Bulma's arms.

"Uncle Klin, why don't you tease little Trunks too!"

Son Gohan turned his head and greeted them with bright eyes.

Klin scratched his bald head, stepped forward, knelt on one knee, and said seriously, "Okay, let me think, what kind of funny face should I make to make him happy?"

Before he could even make a move, Trunks suddenly pointed at Krillin's bald head and laughed so hard he almost fell over, spitting all over Bulma's clothes.

"Seriously, I haven't even started making faces yet, and you're already laughing so hard!"

Klin helplessly spread his hands, scratching his head, which made everyone burst into laughter.

Just then, a ghostly green aura suddenly rose from Piccolo's body, and his muscles instantly tensed up like iron.

His chilling gaze pierced through the clouds: "Everyone, be careful, a very strong aura is coming from this direction!"

Son Gohan suddenly stood up straight, his brows furrowed as he sensed something: "It feels like Uncle Vegeta's ki!"

Krillin's pupils contracted sharply, his fists clenched involuntarily, and the veins beneath his martial arts uniform throbbed slightly: "It seems so, this guy's aura has changed so much!"

Amidst the pale white clouds on the horizon, a black dot tears through the thin mist.

The roar of propellers grew louder as the streamlined silver plane sliced ​​through the sky. Inside the cockpit, Yajirobe was gnawing on half a bone, his leather jacket collar stained with suspicious oil.

He squinted at the crowd below, then suddenly slammed his hand on the control stick: "Finally found you guys!"

The plane swooped down, skimming the treetops, and the resulting blast wave sent rocks flying.

The aircraft came to an abrupt stop at the edge of the cliff, the tires screeching as they rubbed against the ground.

The hatch slammed open, and Yajirobe jumped out in his spring boots, his waist jiggling with each movement.

"It's Yajirobe! Great! Are you here to fight alongside us?"

Sun Wukong's signature Turtle Hermitage robe fluttered in the wind as he rushed forward, his eyes shining like light bulbs.

Yachirobe suddenly straightened his face, his thick cheeks creased with seriousness.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a rough cloth bag stained with oil, then slapped it down: "I'm here to give you a gift from Sage Korin. Here, Sage Korin's Senzu Beans."

Sun Wukong took the bag with trembling hands, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down: "Wow, this is great! It's actually Master Korin's Senzu Beans! I really have to thank Master Korin so much."

Before he could finish speaking, Yajirobe had already turned around, his thick back facing the crowd.

He strode toward the plane, his metal boot heels thumping on the ground.

Sun Wukong stood there, scratching his spiky head, and shouted, "Yajirobe, where are you going? Aren't you going to fight alongside us?"

"I'm not like you idiots, I want to live a few more years!"

Yachirobe didn't turn his head, a disdainful smile curling at the corner of his mouth.

He nimbly climbed into the cockpit, and the plane's engines roared to life instantly.

In the blink of an eye, the silver fuselage soared into the sky, leaving only a trail of clouds stained gray by exhaust fumes.