Chapter 41: Rescuing Guo Xiang – Piccolo, One Against Ten Thousand!

Although Piccolo looked quite strange, with green skin and pointy ears, Guo Xiang wasn't afraid of him at all. In fact, she found his otherworldly appearance comforting rather than frightening.

After all, weren't immortals supposed to look unusual? If anything, his alien features only confirmed her belief—this person must be a divine immortal!

"Immortal sir," Guo Xiang said politely, looking at Piccolo, then glancing at King Jinlun Falun Dafa, "when you save me… could you please not hurt him?"

Her request wasn't made on a whim. King Jinlun had captured her, yes, but he had never truly harmed her. His hand had merely rested on her neck—there was no force, no malice. If he had wanted to hurt her, she would've already been dead.

Throughout the ordeal, she realized that King Jinlun always treated her with a strange kind of kindness. He had tried to convince her to become his disciple, not to threaten or coerce her. Even during her time in captivity, he had not inflicted any injury or emotional distress.

In her heart, Guo Xiang didn't want to see someone who had spared her suffer needlessly.

Piccolo glanced at King Jinlun and then back at Guo Xiang. He gave a small nod.

"Alright."

The request of the employer's daughter was just as important as the employer's. Besides, it wasn't a difficult one to fulfill.

At that moment, King Jinlun finally recovered from the shock of Piccolo's dramatic arrival. Though Guo Xiang had asked this so-called immortal not to harm him, King Jinlun couldn't allow himself to be so easily defeated or humiliated.

He was the mighty King Jinlun Falun Dafa! How could he simply hand over his hostage and retreat without a fight?

Summoning every ounce of internal energy, he channeled the full force of his Dragon Elephant Prajna Palm into a single strike. With a roar, he launched a powerful palm attack directly at Piccolo's chest.

This was a palm that could shatter boulders and fell massive trees. Even renowned martial artists would be left vomiting blood if hit head-on. King Jinlun had even once broken through fortress gates using this technique!

But to his shock, Piccolo didn't move.

He didn't dodge. He didn't even flinch.

The palm landed squarely on Piccolo's chest—yet it felt as if he had struck a wall of indestructible black iron. The recoil of the impact reverberated back through his arm, down his spine, and exploded through his chest.

Boom!

King Jinlun was blown backward, skidding across the ground and coughing up blood.

Piccolo stood where he was, completely unscathed. His cape fluttered slightly, but his face remained calm.

In truth, even without using his full power or activating his aura, Piccolo's base physical strength was far beyond anything on this planet. To him, King Jinlun's palm strike felt like a breeze—a leaf brushing against a mountain.

He looked down at the fallen martial artist, who groaned and clutched his chest.

"Ah… He attacked me on his own," Piccolo muttered to Guo Xiang, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. "I really didn't mean to hurt him."

He was supposed to spare the man. And technically, he had. He hadn't thrown a punch or used any energy attacks—the injury was self-inflicted.

"I know," Guo Xiang replied gently, clearly not blaming him. "He asked for it."

Piccolo shrugged, then bent down and picked up both Guo Xiang and the unconscious King Jinlun—one in each arm—and flew toward Xiangyang City.

He didn't want to leave King Jinlun behind. Even if the man survived the fall, the Mongolian army would likely kill him. Since Guo Xiang had asked him not to harm the man, it was best to bring him back as well.

From afar, Guo Jing, Huang Rong, and the others saw the immortal descend from the sky, cradling their daughter in one arm and the mighty King Jinlun in the other.

They were stunned.

To enter an enemy camp, rescue a hostage, and return while carrying a major enemy general—it wasn't quite "taking a head from among ten thousand troops," but it wasn't far off!

Piccolo gently lowered Guo Xiang to the ground, then placed the unconscious King Jinlun on the side.

"I've completed the first part of the mission," he said flatly. "Now, I'll take care of the rest."

"The rest…?" Guo Jing asked, unsure what he meant.

Then realization dawned on him.

Piccolo wasn't done.

He intended to eliminate the entire Mongolian army.

Guo Jing stood still for a moment. Then, his expression grew serious. He didn't object to Piccolo's plan.

While Guo Jing had always been a hero who valued compassion and righteousness, he wasn't a saint. The Mongolian army had tried countless times to invade and conquer Xiangyang—and all of the Central Plains. If they succeeded, it would mean devastation for countless innocent lives.

As a general defending the city, Guo Jing had no choice. Mercy for the invader could mean death for the people.

Moreover, though he had once lived in Mongolia, those ties had long been severed. The land of his youth no longer held any place in his heart.

Piccolo rose into the sky once again. His expression was cold as he looked down upon the enemy ranks.

More than ten thousand soldiers filled the plains. A massive force. Their numbers were enough to intimidate any army. But to Piccolo, they were like ants.

Weak. Clumsy. Untrained in energy. Ordinary humans.

He didn't even feel like boasting about fighting ten thousand alone.

Because for him, this wasn't even a challenge.

On the other side, panic gripped the Mongolian soldiers. Many had witnessed Piccolo's earlier feats—his sudden appearance, his flight, the way he defeated King Jinlun without lifting a finger.

But Khan, the Mongolian commander, tried to keep control of his troops. Though he was terrified himself, he couldn't afford to show weakness.

"Fire! Fire the cannons!" he roared.

The artillery soldiers quickly loaded cannonballs and fired toward Piccolo in desperation.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Explosions lit up the sky as the cannonballs surged toward the floating green figure.

But Piccolo simply waved his hand.

A translucent forcefield of energy materialized, deflecting the cannonballs like pebbles off a steel wall. Then, with a casual flick, he sent them flying back.

The shells reversed direction midair and fell straight into the Mongolian ranks—exploding with even more force than before.

Screams erupted.

Dozens of soldiers were blasted apart. The scene descended into chaos.

Panic overtook the army. Soldiers dropped their weapons and began to scatter.

"He's not human!"

"It's a demon! A demon!"

"Run! Run for your lives!"

But Piccolo didn't intend to give them that chance.

Hovering high above, he extended both arms outward, gathering energy in his palms. A brilliant orb of golden-green light formed above him, growing larger and larger until it looked like a miniature sun.

Its sheer radiance bathed the entire battlefield in light.

Guo Jing, Huang Rong, and even the people of Xiangyang gasped.

"Is… is that another sun?" someone muttered in awe.

"This… this must be divine wrath."

Piccolo gazed down one last time.

"I warned you," he said quietly, though no one could hear.

Then, with a decisive motion, he threw the energy sphere downward.

BOOOOM!!!

The orb struck the heart of the Mongolian formation, exploding into a massive pillar of light. The earth trembled. A deafening roar echoed through the air as soldiers, weapons, and siege machines were vaporized in an instant.

A wave of pure destruction surged outward, consuming everything in its path.

The once mighty Mongolian army—more than ten thousand strong—was annihilated in seconds.

When the dust settled, there was nothing left.

Only a scorched crater and the stunned silence of those who had witnessed the act.

Piccolo descended slowly and landed before Guo Jing.

"I have fulfilled the mission assigned by Jack," he said calmly. "Your daughter is safe. The enemy army has been dealt with. Is there anything else you require?"

Guo Jing stood frozen. He didn't know what to say. What words could possibly convey the gratitude, awe, and disbelief he felt?

"You… you truly are an immortal," he whispered.

Piccolo said nothing. He simply turned and looked up at the sky.

"I'll report to Jack now."

A black vortex formed once more, swirling open in the air.

With one final glance at Guo Jing, Huang Rong, and Guo Xiang, Piccolo stepped through it—disappearing into the void just as suddenly as he had arrived.

The battlefield was silent.

But in the hearts of those who had witnessed it, one truth echoed:

An immortal had walked among them. And with his power, he had saved Xiangyang.

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