Chapter 120: White Bottle! Delicious! One Bottle Equals Five!
Amidst the vast yellow sands, several figures loomed faintly. At the forefront stood a being radiating an intense, ominous aura. He was a strange man with green skin all over his body, completely bald, with two antenna-like protrusions on his smooth scalp. He wore a light indigo martial robe with a large "魔" (demon) character emblazoned on the chest and a bright violet-blue wide belt around his waist.
Flanking him were two grotesquely muscular monsters.
They were monsters split from the body of the Heavenly God — pure embodiments of evil — Demon King Piccolo.
Clap clap clap.
Piccolo clapped his hands and cast his gaze upon Mutaito.
"As expected of the strongest martial artist among humans. So, my children were no match for you after all."
"Who are you?"
Mutaito's body tensed, not daring to let down his guard.
His sharp sensitivity to ki told him that this opponent's power far surpassed his own.
"You may call me the Demon King — Demon King Piccolo."
"But I prefer you to call me something else — Master."
Since he and the Heavenly God are two sides of the same coin, he knows whatever the God knows, and likewise lacks what the God lacks.
So he was clearly aware — Mutaito was far inferior to him in strength.
'As expected, I am invincible.'
With overwhelming confidence, Piccolo said, "From now on, Earth belongs to me — and all of you are my slaves."
"If you kneel and beg for mercy now, I might consider sparing your lives."
Fresh from their previous victory, Mutaito's disciples mistakenly believed they had the upper hand. They completely underestimated Piccolo. As the saying goes, ignorance is fearless. They had no idea what kind of existence stood before them.
One of the disciples, second only in strength to the Crane and Turtle Hermits, stepped forward arrogantly.
"Whether you're Piccolo or Pickle…"
"If you kneel now, maybe our master will spare you."
ZAP.
Piccolo simply raised a finger. A beam of energy shot from his fingertip, piercing straight through the speaker's chest without resistance.
Thud!
The disciple collapsed, dead on the spot.
"How ill-mannered."
"Let me teach you a lesson in your master's place. If there's a next life — learn manners first."
His tone and expression made it seem as effortless as crushing an ant.
The display shocked Mutaito's disciples into silence. Not one dared step forward to avenge their comrade.
Well, not quite — there was one.
"You bastard!"
Seeing his fellow disciple murdered, the Turtle Hermit was the first to rush forward in a blind rage — only to be held back by the Crane Hermit.
"You big fool, Crane! Why are you stopping me?!"
"You idiot, Turtle! Don't you get it? You're no match for him!"
The young Crane and Turtle Hermits had trained together for years under Master Mutaito. Their bond was deep, and Crane couldn't stand by and watch his brother-in-arms throw his life away.
"Are you saying we should just watch our junior die?!"
The Turtle Hermit clutched Crane's arm, hands trembling, eyes bloodshot. His breath was ragged, and the veins on his forehead throbbed.
But Crane didn't budge, holding on tightly to stop him from acting impulsively.
"Only Master can stand against him."
Meanwhile, the one everyone pinned their hopes on — Mutaito — felt an overwhelming chill down his spine. He hadn't even seen how the attack was executed.
Had it been aimed at him instead of his disciple...
He wouldn't have escaped either.
But behind him stood his students, the villagers — he had to fight!
While everyone's attention was on Piccolo, Yamcha had quietly crept over to the fallen disciple.
Piccolo hadn't even bothered to aim for the heart — or rather, considered it beneath him — so the disciple wasn't dead yet. With the right treatment, he could still be saved.
"Drink this."
Yamcha held a milky-white bottle to the disciple's mouth, pouring it in slowly.
Use a Senzu Bean to heal him? As if they'd waste such a luxury here.
So instead...
Moomoo Milk!
White bottle! Delicious! One bottle equals five!
Yes, aside from being a nutritious drink, Moomoo Milk could also be used for healing.
The disciple's wounds, which had been bleeding profusely, stopped almost instantly after drinking the milk. He also stopped coughing up blood.
Of course, Moomoo Milk couldn't compare to the cheat-level recovery of a Senzu Bean, but in the world of Pokémon, it was a top-tier healing item — restoring 100 HP per use, in game terms.
You couldn't apply game mechanics to the real world, but the healing effect was clearly visible.
The best part? In the Pokémon world, Moomoo Milk was a renewable resource.
"Healing effect... confirmed."
Yamcha made detailed notes on his tablet. This was valuable experimental data.
He was even considering setting up a mass dairy farm in the Great Wasteland to produce Moomoo Milk — a super effective healing elixir.
Seeing Mutaito step forward, Piccolo didn't act himself. Instead, he gestured to the two monster companions.
"Sobana, Subazhuang — go test this human's strength."
The two green-skinned behemoths grinned wickedly, cracking their knuckles as they approached.
They weren't as strong as the Demon King himself — but were still formidable foes.
Mutaito didn't underestimate them just because they weren't Piccolo. These two were nothing like the enemies he'd defeated before.
Would he need to go all-out from the start?
And if he still had to face the Demon King afterward…
Just as Mutaito was contemplating this, two figures stepped out from the group of disciples.
It was the young Turtle and Crane Hermits.
"King vs. King, General vs. General."
"Master, your opponent is the Demon King."
"As for these small fries... leave them to us."
Back to back, they assumed battle stances.
"Don't hold me back, you dumb turtle."
"That's my line, you big-headed crane."
"You two won't hog all the spotlight — we're in this too!"
Their appearance dispelled much of the fear brought by the Demon King. Mutaito's disciples stepped up, ready to fight together.
Seeing his students so full of resolve, Mutaito smiled proudly. If they all survived this, he believed these two would undergo real breakthroughs.
'If my disciples are giving it their all, then I can't be the one to fall behind.'
With that, Mutaito turned his gaze to the Demon King.
Just as his disciples had said—
General vs. General. King vs. King!
Mutaito charged straight at Piccolo.
(End of Chapter)