Having figured all this out, the path forward became clear.
Yamiru's current power level was roughly the same as when he had perished alongside the Great Demon King Satan over two thousand years ago—around two hundred million, with almost no improvement. For an Earthling, reaching such a level was already a miracle among miracles. But with this miraculous strength came an equally despairing ceiling—one so solid that not even the slightest crack could be pried open.
Now, however, Yamiru saw another path.
Looking back, he realized that the unyielding ceiling above him wasn't a cold prison, but perhaps…
A reminder.
Earthling, it's time to change your approach.
And you should've done so long ago.
Different races may have varying potentials for growth, but when they reach their respective limits, the choices and opportunities before them are surprisingly similar.
Either stop here—
Or become a god.
Take Master Roshi, the God of Martial Arts. His power level might only be in the low hundreds, but were his struggles and contemplations in the mire of his limits any less profound than those of warriors with power levels in the billions or tens of billions? This wasn't the same as the earlier comparison between a "random Saiyan" and Goku. Among Earthlings, Roshi was the Goku of this analogy, while the billions of other Earthlings were the ''random Saiyans''.
Looking back now, Yamiru finally understood the weight of Roshi's words when he had demonstrated his Pump Up Form all those years ago…
Roshi and Shen had long ago reached the natural limits of an Earthling's potential.
Their respective schools—Turtle School and Crane School, as they were loosely called—might have been unconscious explorations of Ultra Instinct.
Yamiru had also learned the Turtle School's techniques. He, too, could alter his physical structure, transforming into a giant-like form. He knew well that this technique required intense willpower and an extremely precise control over one's ki… And as Roshi had once described, the Crane Hermit had "remade his body into the shape of a humanoid crane", and "in that form, he was nearly untouchable in pure technique".
Regardless of their moral alignments, these two disciples of Mutaito had undoubtedly ventured into uncharted territory.
But as Roshi himself had lamented, both he and his brother had taken the wrong path.
Yamiru couldn't help but wonder—if Roshi had understood Ultra Instinct and godhood sooner, would things have been different?
Even with a power level barely in the hundreds, this grandmaster who had trained legends like Goku, Krillin, Tien, and Yamcha might have been able to stride forward on a new, divine path, carving out an entirely different future.
"It's no use…"
On King Kai's Planet, Yamiru had tried repeatedly to re-enter the state of Ultra Instinct. From King Kai and Joey, he had learned that his hair had turned white before, his eyes shimmering with silver light—undoubtedly the signs of Ultra Instinct, or rather, the form of a God.
But every attempt failed.
Just like how, after leaving Yamoshi's body, he hadn't just been unable to replicate the transformation into a god—he had even slowly forgotten the sensation of being one.
No matter how hard he tried now, he couldn't recapture the state that King Kai and Joey had described.
"Your memory's terrible…" King Kai remarked. "Maybe you slept under that tree for too long?"
Joey, perched on Yamiru's shoulder, chimed in excitedly, "Why not sit under the tree again? Maybe it'll jog your memory!"
Yamiru considered it. It made sense.
If he had no leads, he might as well retrace his steps.
And the beginning of it all was…
"Spirit Bomb!"
Yamiru clenched his fists, took a deep breath, and steadied his mind. He gathered a wisp of Heavenly Ki, using it as a medium to resonate with all living things, connecting their energies…
Back then, while forming the Spirit Bomb, he had realized that only a true god could develop a perfect version of it.
That realization had sparked his contemplation, leading him to unknowingly enter a meditative state beneath the tree.
If he experimented with the Spirit Bomb again, perhaps he could recreate that experience…
Tiny motes of Vitality, invisible to the naked eye, drifted from the earth and sky of King Kai's Planet, gathering toward Yamiru…
"Take it easy!" King Kai winced in distress. The Spirit Bomb was still far from perfected—this wasn't borrowing energy, but recklessly harvesting it. As Yamiru gathered the Vitality, the planet's soil visibly deteriorated, and the vibrant flowers began to yellow… Yamiru stopped before going too far, retaining a small portion of the Spirit Bomb's energy within himself before walking over to the tree to meditate.
And so, he began his seclusion—no, his closed-door cultivation.
With the halo of Heaven above his head, he had no need for food, rest, or even concern for lifespan. Once he entered this deep, sleep-like state, time became meaningless.
Yamiru sat there for a year.
Then another.
And another…
By the sixth year, when he opened his eyes for what felt like the dozenth time, a few strands of his hair had finally turned white again.
"Ultra Instinct!" King Kai exclaimed.
"Only the faintest trace… At best, I've glimpsed a sign of it." Yamiru strained to maintain the state. Now that he was consciously observing himself, he could clearly sense the difference—between mortal and God, between his past and present methods of wielding power, even in how he perceived the world.
Though it was just a sliver… he could feel it. His ki was changing.
Or, to be more precise, now that he had brushed against the edge of Ultra Instinct, he desperately wanted his ki to change.
Focusing the remaining Spirit Bomb energy into his right fist, Yamiru used this fleeting state—divine, however shallow—to refine the technique. Viewing the Spirit Bomb from a god's perspective, even if only barely, gave him new insights.
Just as his subconscious now sought to alter his own ki…
But the state vanished as quickly as it had come.
"Still! Since you've succeeded a second time, that means this method works!" King Kai cheered. "You'll get the hang of it with practice!"
Yamiru only shook his head.
Relying on sheer luck to grasp the realm of gods seemed unreliable.
Unless… he could find a way, like the Saiyans, to switch freely between his Earthling self and an Earthling God—through a ritual, a transformation.
---
Back on Earth
Yamiru opened his eyes—once again hovering above the Temple Construction Site.
Beneath his feet floated scattered bricks, still suspended in midair.
With a "whoosh," Joey materialized in the air beside his shoulder, having followed him from King Kai's Planet as usual.
"Brr, it's cold!" She shivered, hugging herself before scrambling onto his head and burrowing into his black hair, leaving only her blinking face exposed.
As Yamiru descended, he suddenly paused. "Hm?"
A thin, red pole stood upright in the sky.
The Power Pole?
He stopped and looked up—the pole extended all the way to the base of the ruined Temple, fitting snugly into its slot.
Flying down to Korin Tower, the rich aroma of hot pot greeted him from afar.
Inside, Annin was chatting with Mr. Popo, marveling at how they no longer needed to hunt for ingredients—the indigenous people below the tower now provided offerings with all the necessary fixings.