King Jinlun's large hand appeared to be gripping Guo Xiang's slender neck, but in truth, it merely rested there gently. No pressure, no pain—just the illusion of danger.
Guo Xiang, for her part, didn't feel the slightest discomfort. No pain. No suffocation. She remained perfectly calm.
After all, King Jinlun had no intention of harming her. He had long regarded Guo Xiang as a potential disciple and had repeatedly tried to convince her to follow him. How could he bear to hurt someone he wished to take under his wing?
This entire scene was a performance—a calculated act designed to pressure Guo Jing into submission.
"Xiang'er!" Guo Jing shouted, his voice filled with fear.
Although both King Jinlun and Guo Xiang knew the truth of the situation, Guo Jing and Huang Rong did not. From their vantage point, it looked like King Jinlun was choking their daughter to death, and the sight twisted their hearts with agony.
They were well aware of King Jinlun's terrifying strength. Killing their daughter would require less than a second for a martial artist of his caliber. Even just holding her neck could inflict unbearable pain.
The very thought of their daughter suffering ignited a helpless fury in both parents. If they could, they would have taken her place in an instant.
But the distance between them and the platform was too great. They couldn't see clearly enough to detect the absence of pain in Guo Xiang's expression. All they saw was her vulnerable form under the hand of a dangerous man.
They were paralyzed—torn between launching a desperate attack and fearing that one wrong move could cost them their daughter's life.
Just when they were at a loss, an unbelievable phenomenon occurred.
A swirling black vortex formed in the sky with a faint humming sound, warping the air itself. From that spinning distortion stepped out a tall, muscular figure in a white cape and turban, his green skin glowing faintly in the daylight.
It was Piccolo.
"This is the world of the employer? It really is vastly different from my own..." Piccolo muttered as he glanced around the battlefield, his piercing eyes surveying the situation.
The sudden arrival of this mysterious figure caused an uproar on both sides of the conflict.
"Who is that?"
"God! This must be a god!"
"An immortal! A true immortal has descended to save us!"
People gasped and murmured in awe. Whether they were civilians or warriors, they were all stunned by his appearance. He didn't descend slowly, nor did he ride a mystical beast. He simply emerged from a void, stepping through reality itself.
Piccolo now floated effortlessly in the air. There were no wires, no ropes, no tricks—just pure levitation.
Even the most accomplished martial artists in this world, those capable of lightness techniques and leaping across rooftops, could not truly hover in midair. Standing on the tip of a bamboo branch or gliding with their qi was the limit of their skills. But this—this was something divine.
To the people of Xiangyang, there could be only one explanation: this was a god.
Of course, the "god" looked unusual. His skin was green. His ears were pointed. His clothing was strange. But in the face of such otherworldly abilities, no one dared question his appearance.
Most of the people in Xiangyang could only hope that this immortal had arrived to help them—perhaps to save Guo Xiang or drive away the invading Mongolian forces.
Piccolo's eyes quickly locked onto Guo Jing. He flew forward and descended in front of him.
"You are the employer of this mission?" Piccolo said, his deep voice calm and steady. "I have come to assist you in rescuing your daughter."
Guo Jing blinked in surprise.
"Employer? Rescue my daughter?"
Piccolo's words echoed in his mind. Suddenly, he remembered something—just a short while ago, a mysterious voice had whispered to him. The voice had said that help would arrive… that someone would save his daughter.
Could this green-skinned immortal be the one the voice spoke of?
The voice from earlier and Piccolo's voice now were not the same. Clearly, they were different entities. That could only mean that the one who spoke to him earlier was someone even more powerful—a true god who had sent this immortal warrior to help.
"Yes… yes! Earlier, I heard a voice. It said it could help me save my daughter!"
"That voice belonged to Jack," Piccolo said with a nod. "He's the one who dispatched me here. I am the 'thug' he sent to assist you."
"Thug" might have sounded crude, but in Piccolo's world, it was a term used within the mission system to identify a hired fighter—a helper sent to complete specific combat-oriented tasks.
"I've been instructed to rescue your daughter and eliminate any enemies obstructing the mission. But before I begin, is there anything else you wish me to do?"
He pointed casually at the Mongol army across the field, who by now had also noticed his arrival and were beginning to murmur in alarm.
Guo Jing was momentarily overwhelmed. Just saving his daughter was more than he could have asked for. But this immortal was also offering to defeat the entire Mongol army?
What more could he possibly ask for?
"No… no more requests!" Guo Jing said, shaking his head earnestly. "Saving my daughter… and helping us fight off the enemy… it's already more than I could ever hope for. I don't dare ask for anything else!"
"Very well."
Piccolo nodded, satisfied that the employer was humble and had no unreasonable demands.
He then turned his gaze toward Guo Xiang.
Guo Jing and Huang Rong couldn't see from their distance, but Piccolo's sharp vision made everything crystal clear. He could tell that while a man's hand rested on Guo Xiang's neck, she showed no signs of pain or fear.
It was clear to him: the hostage situation was fake.
But he didn't bother to analyze the motives. His mission was simple—rescue the girl, eliminate the enemy.
Without hesitation, Piccolo bent his knees and launched himself forward. His body blurred, and in an instant, he covered the distance between himself and the high platform.
King Jinlun's eyes widened, but before he could react, Piccolo had landed before him.
The air exploded with pressure.
"You," Piccolo said, turning his head slightly toward Guo Xiang, "are the daughter of the man down there. I was invited here by your father to save you."
Guo Xiang blinked, stunned by Piccolo's otherworldly appearance. His words were unfamiliar, but she understood his meaning.
Her father… had called forth a celestial being to save her.
How powerful must her father be to command such divine help?
Guo Xiang had always admired her parents, but at this moment, that admiration turned into awe. Even King Jinlun—so arrogant, so confident—had backed away slightly, sensing the overwhelming power radiating from this "immortal."
"You—who are you?" King Jinlun growled, his pride resisting the instinct to flee.
Piccolo didn't answer with words. Instead, he raised a single hand.
An orb of energy crackled to life in his palm, glowing with a fierce, golden-green light. The pressure from it distorted the air and sent chills down every spine.
"Let her go," Piccolo said flatly. "Or you won't have time to regret it."
King Jinlun hesitated. In his lifetime, he had seen many strange techniques—chi strikes, poison arts, even Buddhist divine skills—but nothing like this. The aura coming from this "immortal" was like facing a raging dragon from heaven.
For the first time in years, King Jinlun felt fear.
He removed his hand from Guo Xiang's neck.
Piccolo grabbed her gently and lifted her away from the platform, floating down through the air and landing beside Guo Jing and Huang Rong, who were weeping with relief.
"Thank you! Thank you, immortal!" they cried, falling to their knees.
"You're welcome," Piccolo said calmly. "Now, I'll handle the rest."
As he turned to face the Mongol army, the atmosphere changed entirely.
The invaders, who once had the upper hand, were now frozen in place—terrified of this green-skinned being who hovered in the air like a god of vengeance.
Piccolo extended his arms to both sides, and countless energy orbs began to form.
The battlefield trembled. And so, the real battle was about to begin.
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