The immense recoil from the blast made Wukong's footing unsteady, his body tilting backward. Yet the massive blue energy beam in his hands continued to roar forward.
"You awakened Super Saiyan before me?! How is that possible? I don't accept this!" the black-clothed man howled hysterically.
He poured all the dark energy amplification he had obtained from the Blood Formation and the scythe energy he had accumulated over time into his attack.
This Kamehameha was the strongest strike the black-clothed man had ever unleashed since arriving in this world.
"Die! Die for me!" The muscles in his hands tore apart, crimson blood dripping from the split flesh.
His face twisted into a grotesque snarl, showing not a trace of pain.
The massive purple beam suddenly grew stronger—but no matter how much energy he forced into it, it still couldn't overpower Wukong's blue Kamehameha.
"You once said…" Wukong slowly lifted his head, glancing at the black-clothed man.
"You said that only one transmigrator can exist within this Douluo Dalu plane. You thought that transmigrator was you."
"But I'll teach you something today—listen well." Wukong's hands flared with even greater light, the Kamehameha intensifying. The black-clothed man was now like a trapped beast.
The deep blue energy beam was now only two meters away from striking his body.
"The greater your hope, the greater your despair… Don't put too much faith in yourself!"
"Hah!!" The Kamehameha's power surged again—Wukong was no longer holding back at all.
The black-clothed man's arms were mangled beyond recognition, torn and bloodied. But were Wukong's arms any better?His tendons were twisted, bones displaced, bruises forming rapidly—both of them had paid a heavy price in this battle.
Fortunately, thanks to the Saiyan self-healing ability, a single night's rest would be enough.
When Wukong's strengthened Kamehameha wave collided again, the black-clothed man could no longer resist. His hands loosened—the purple beam vanished instantly.
Darkness filled his vision, replaced by a massive blue column of energy that blasted straight into his body.
"Pfft!" The black-clothed man spat out a mouthful of blood, his internal organs shattering from the impact.
This battle was utter humiliation—humiliation beyond humiliation. His level, his power—everything was higher than this weakling before him.
Yet he had lost in a beam struggle, and in such a crushing fashion.
No proud man could accept that.
Boom!His black-clad body smashed into the ground, leaving a deep, human-shaped crater.
"Damn it! Why? Why can't I awaken Super Saiyan?!"
"I've trained harder than anyone else, even putting my life on the line for years!"
"Why?! Why can't I awaken it?! Why?!" The black-clothed man pounded the crater floor in fury, blood gushing from his mouth—his internal organs likely shattered beyond repair.
If he weren't a Saiyan, he'd already be dead.
Even now, he still clung to a breath of life, still able to speak clearly.
Such was the Saiyan body—formidable even when weakened.
"Ugh…" Wukong's legs gave out, and he fell to his knees.
He dropped his damaged hands to the ground, gasping heavily for air. Sweat drenched him completely, like he had just walked through a downpour.
His Super Saiyan form had not faded. Wukong was sustaining it with the last spark of survival instinct—he didn't dare relax, wary that the black-clothed man might have another trick up his sleeve.
"Want to know why?" Wukong gave him a weary smile.
If he could redo it all, he would rather not have awakened this form—not because of the Rebirth Lotus Seed, but because of Zhu Zhuqing's safety.
"Why? Why did you awaken before me?!" the black-clothed man roared.
"Because… I have someone I care about." Wukong's voice softened. The people he was attached to were, of course, Zhu Zhuqing and the others.
From his long observation and from what the black-clothed man had said earlier, Wukong realized:"It seems you haven't felt family affection in a long time. I'd bet you were an orphan in your original world too, like me."
"Then you came to this world, and still—no one cared about you. You're a pitiful one, really."
Dragging his shattered arms, Wukong slowly stood up.
Though his legs were trembling from the impact, he could still walk.
Step by step, he approached the crater where the black-clothed man lay.
He crouched down beside him.
"What's your name? Let me know before you die."
"Consider it my way of paying a bit of respect to the world you came from."
Wukong smiled genuinely this time—a rare, heartfelt smile.
It had been a long time since anyone had given him such a satisfying fight—not even those so-called Titled Douluo could make his blood boil like this.
For two years, he hadn't had a chance to fight Bibi Dong, let alone Qian Daoliu.
No strong opponents had appeared for too long—it had made the Saiyan blood in him restless and hungry.
"Hmph…" The black-clothed man snorted coldly, then said hoarsely, "My name is Zamas."
"What? What did you say?" Wukong's eyes widened in shock.
Zamas? That name couldn't be real—was this guy a foreigner from his original world? Or was he just copying a Dragon Ball character's name to mess with him?
"I told you, my name is Zamas! I don't change my name whether I'm sitting or standing!" the black-clothed man snapped, turning his head away, unwilling to talk further.
"Alright, alright… didn't expect you to actually have his name," Wukong muttered.
Anyone who had watched Dragon Ball would be familiar with the name "Zamas"—that arrogant, narcissistic, disgusting Kaioshin who wasn't strong enough himself and went around stealing others' bodies.
Ugh, what a mess.
"Wait a second—since your name's Zamas, then…"
A sudden thought struck Wukong. If this guy was called Zamas, yet his aura was clearly Saiyan—
That meant… this was a Zamas who had taken over Kakarot's body!
Then wouldn't that mean… he looked just like me?!
The thought sent chills down Wukong's spine.
Driven by curiosity, he began moving toward the man's head. His arms couldn't bend, only tremble slightly.
Step by step, he edged closer, preparing to reach down and remove the mask.
"Hey! What are you doing? Don't touch my mask—get lost!" the black-clothed man shouted as Wukong reached toward him.
"Why not? Don't tell me it's because you're ugly?" Wukong said with a teasing grin.
If you weren't ugly, why hide your face?
"…Forget it. Go ahead and take it off," the black-clothed man muttered, resigned, turning his head to let Wukong remove it.
Leaning forward, Wukong grasped the mask and pulled hard.
"Holy crap!" he exclaimed the moment it came off.
This wasn't what he expected at all.
The face beneath the mask wasn't his own—it was someone completely different!
The black-clothed man had a brand-new face, not the same as Wukong's like in the original Dragon Ball.
He wasn't exactly more handsome than Wukong—but at least on par with Dai Mubai.
...
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(End of Chapter)