"Leave the monk behind. The rest of you can go," he said, as casually as if commenting on the fine weather. "We only want him. It hasn't been easy for you to get this far. No need to throw your lives away here."
Sun Wukong laughed. Not the kind of laugh from being amused, but the kind that came from hearing a joke so absurd he couldn't help laughing. As he laughed, the Golden Staff spun once in his hand, its tip pointing at the Black-Robed Demon's nose.
"Do you know whose land you're standing on?"
The Black-Robed Demon froze for a moment. "Whose?"
"Mine. Old Sun's."
The Black-Robed Demon looked at him. Confusion on his face turned to surprise, surprise turned to amusement, and amusement turned into a malicious excitement, as though he were eagerly awaiting something entertaining. He stepped back half a pace, yielding his place to the Flat-Face in the short earth-yellow jacket beside him.
Flat-Face had long since run out of patience. His narrow slit eyes swept over Sun Wukong several times, and the corners of his mouth slowly split apart, revealing rows upon rows of sawlike teeth. When his mouth opened, Su Wanwan heard a faint sound—not teeth grinding together, but his jawbone dislocating. His mouth could open wider than his head, like a snake's, as if his entire skull had come apart and reassembled itself.
"I'll do it," Flat-Face said. His voice was the complete opposite of the Black-Robed Demon's, shrill and grating like nails scraping across a blackboard. "I like fighting the tough ones."
He moved.
He was faster than Su Wanwan had anticipated. She had thought he would be like Qingya—testing the waters first, then speeding up, then going all out. But Flat-Face went all out from the start. Like a spring