Little Chick sighed regretfully.
Then he looked at Zhao Xin and said, "Hello, Uncle Zhao, and hello to all the other uncles and aunties. My name is Ayou, and I'm Dad's son."
A talking chicken-dinner plushie and an utterly bizarre Frying Pan.
Everyone had a mountain of questions and complaints they wanted to voice, but the situation clearly wasn't suitable for it.
Zhao Xin could only sigh. "Why is your pan so damn huge..."
Little Chick had indeed appeared out of nowhere and saved Wang Ji. Perhaps Wang Ji's two attacks had caught Sun Wukong's attention. No one knew whether he still had his rationality, but his combat instincts were clearly sharp.
The instant Wang Ji passed through the wormhole and landed, Sun Wukong charged at him. At that moment, the others had rushed over to intercept him too, but they were still a little too slow.
Yet in that instant, they saw Wang Ji pull out a Frying Pan, only to be saved by a toy-like Little Chick that seemed to have suddenly emerged from a wormhole.
He carried a Frying Pan even bigger than a person. Its long handle was over half a meter, while the proportional black pan surface stood nearly as tall as a person and spanned more than a meter across.
Such a tiny body, such an enormous pan—and with a single swing, he sent the unstoppable Sun Wukong flying.
Even though Zhao Xin and the others did not understand much, they still felt that this was way too damn unscientific...
What kind of strength did it take to smack a several-hundred-pound Sun Wukong, whose divine power knew no bounds, away like a golf ball? In the blink of an eye, he had vanished without even leaving a shadow behind.
But on the battlefield, it