"Major Brown, here is the address you requested."
At the Fire Mountain base, a few soldiers respectfully handed an instrument to Yamcha.
The Red Ribbon Army liked to use colors as codenames, and Yamcha chose "Brown" as his codename, because most teas are brown.
It had been three days since he defeated General Silver. After being promoted to Major, he replaced Lieutenant Leopard and became the person in charge of the Fire Mountain base.
At the rank of Major, one is qualified to manage a branch base. Although there were many other places under General Silver's command with better conditions, Yamcha didn't want to leave this location, so the Fire Mountain branch was handed over to him.
Lieutenant Leopard didn't mind at all, as Yamcha gave him a large sum of money—an amount he was more than satisfied with.
Overall, the Red Ribbon Army offered a high degree of freedom. As long as missions from superiors were completed on time, there generally weren't many restrictions.
However, for branch bases, all expenses—including equipment—had to be covered independently. Want the latest weapons from HQ? No problem—just pay for them.
Not only that, but each base also had to submit a yearly payment to HQ.
Under this management model, the Red Ribbon Army developed rapidly, but it also came with drawbacks.
For example, loyalty: subordinates usually only obeyed the orders of their own generals, and generals had direct authority over personnel appointments. Fortunately, the headquarters of the Red Ribbon Army was strong enough to suppress any rebellion, even if several generals banded together.
Also, because branch bases needed large sums of money to operate, the Red Ribbon Army in various regions often exploited local civilians to make a profit. This behavior gave the Red Ribbon Army a terrible reputation among the people.
Just mentioning them made people tremble.
Yamcha, however, didn't lack money—so he wouldn't resort to such tactics.
Of course, completing missions from HQ would still earn significant rewards.
"I'm heading out. If anything comes up, contact Lieutenant Leopard. For emergencies, use the radio to reach me."
Thanks to the Red Ribbon Army's insanely powerful intelligence network, Yamcha was able to find the coordinates he needed. On Earth in the current Dragon Ball world, if you could name a place, the Red Ribbon Army could find it for you.
"Yes, Major Brown."
Yamcha walked out of the base, pulled out a Hoi-Poi Capsule, pressed the button, and tossed it. With a poof, a brand-new jet aircraft appeared in front of him. Without hesitation, Yamcha jumped in, started it, and flew off quickly in the direction indicated by the device.
Although Yamcha's Nen ability was strong enough to make him fly using his own power, using a flying machine saved his energy.
Maybe the destination was too far, because even with the latest model jet, the trip took quite a while.
Along the way, he encountered several giant pterosaurs. With the help of powerful weapons, he managed to kill a few and drive the rest away.
The creatures in the early Dragon Ball world were truly bizarre.
Unfortunately, decades later, these pterosaurs would disappear along with the beast-like humans, becoming a rare sight.
Eventually, after an unknown amount of time, Yamcha reached his destination in the middle of the vast ocean.
There, on a tiny island just 300-400 square meters in size, stood a red two-story beach house.
The legendary Kame House, residence of Master Roshi.
Yamcha landed on the beach, tidied his clothes, and knocked on the door.
"How rare! A visitor?"
The door was opened by a talking sea turtle, who showed a human-like expression upon seeing Yamcha.
The legendary pet of Master Roshi, whose battle power was said to be 0.0001.
"Excuse me, is this the home of Master Muten, the 'God of Martial Arts'?"
As Yamcha spoke, the response came not from the turtle, but from the television:
"One-two, one-two, one-two-three-four.
Lift your legs~ hands on your waist~ tighten your butt—good, one more time."
Followed by a pervy voice:
"Ooooh, b-big, so big… slurp, slurp."
Inside the room, an old bald man wearing a colorful shirt and a turtle shell on his back was ogling the screen with a perverted expression, his sunglasses nearly touching the TV.
If Yamcha didn't know who he was, he'd think this was just a dirty old man, the type who refuses to age gracefully.
"Master! Master Roshi, there's a visitor!"
The sea turtle called out helplessly.
But Master Roshi didn't seem to hear at all.
After the turtle's persistent efforts, Master Roshi reluctantly turned off the TV.
"It's rare for someone to come visit me."
"Young man, what brings you here?"
As he spoke, his tone completely changed—as if the pervy old man from moments ago had been a different person, or maybe a split personality?
"During my martial arts training, I heard of your legendary status as the 'God of Martial Arts'. So…"
"Master Muten, I'd like to become your disciple."
Yamcha didn't beat around the bush—he stated his intention directly.
"I'm sorry, young man. You've come for nothing. I retired decades ago and no longer take students."
"So please, go back."
Master Roshi rejected him outright without a second thought.
As expected, not being the protagonist—i.e., not Son Goku—meant being accepted as a disciple from the start was almost impossible. Master Roshi had stopped taking students decades ago and went into seclusion to avoid worldly troubles.
Young Goku only got accepted because of his grandfather Gohan's connection with Roshi.
As for Krillin, he was just lucky to arrive when Roshi decided to take Goku in. If he'd come a few days earlier, he'd have been rejected too.
No problem—Yamcha had a Plan B.
"Then..." Yamcha pulled out a Hoi-Poi Capsule and with a poof, a large box appeared.
"How about this as a gift for becoming your disciple?"
The box was filled to the brim with "Little Liu Beis" (a euphemism for adult magazines). Master Roshi's eyes went wide.
"Young man, I don't know where you found these... You should walk the right path and not be tempted by these shady tricks," Master Roshi said righteously, picking up a magazine with a critical expression.
"You've misunderstood. I, Muten, am not that kind of person."
"Even if you gave me all of these, I still wouldn't accept you as my disciple."
He declared righteously.
Though if he had actually looked away from the magazines while speaking, his words might've been more convincing.
After a long while, Master Roshi reluctantly tore his gaze away.
So many treasures...
"Young man, I will not take in any more disciples."
This time, his tone was truly firm.
(End of Chapter)