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Summary
The wolf had only half of a second to pat himself on the back for almost pinning down the strongest being in this entire mountain. Before Wukong punched him straight in the head, bursting his skull with ease- that Wukong didn’t even need to get his staff out to deal with the small fry.
He didn’t even pause as he got back to his feet. “... I was hoping he could stand at least a couple of punches.” Wukong said, did very little to hide his disappointment. His tail swayed left and right in a rather rigid motion, a little irritated from the very short intermezzo that had his hand covered in dirty blood.
Macaque was quick to reach the bloodied hand, wiping it clean with a piece of cloth with a practiced ease. “You know very well it wasn’t really strong to begin with.”
Now then, Macaque could have just advised him that he could just handicap himself- use less power, limit his own ability. All the effort to make the fighting get a little more challenging. But he didn’t. Why would he?
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