Bang!
Sun Wukong smashed the striped tiger blocking the road to death with one swing of his staff. He turned monkey hair into knives, skinned the tiger, then transformed the Golden-Hooped Staff into a tiny, exquisite embroidery needle.
A few stitches here and there, and the Pilgrim Sun outfit was acquired.
The monkey had always been good with needlework.
Riding on horseback, Xiang Yuan seemed to think of something and said, "Monkey, the name Wukong is far too arrogant. This poor monk does not care for it. I'll give you the nickname 'Pilgrim.'"
"I'll heed Master. From now on, I'll be called Pilgrim Sun."
Ever since ascending from Five Finger Mountain and failing his tribulation, Sun Wukong had never mentioned "Old Sun" before the holy monk. Leaving himself only an "I" made him seem especially honest, simple, and guileless.
"Mm. From now on, this poor monk will call you Monkey."
"..."
Sun Wukong tightened the tiger-skin skirt around himself. His holy monk and Monkey Bro's old monk were complete opposites, save for one thing—they were equally good at angering monkeys with their words.
The difference was that when Monkey Bro's old monk angered a monkey, Monkey Bro could still bare his teeth. But when his holy monk angered a monkey...
With five hundred years of residential experience, Sun Wukong had every right to speak: Five Finger Mountain was much harder than his indestructible diamond body.
It was not worth it. A monkey's life was more important.
So what if the holy monk angered a monkey? Even if the holy monk beat a monkey, he should still laugh when it was time to laugh and grin when it was time to grin.
Of course, Sun Wukong was only making an analogy. Hypothetically speaking—it was not as if he truly wanted the