No one answered.
Wukong withdrew his gaze and turned it back to the three immortals, a meaningful smile curling his lips.
"You three have brought such glory to the Daoist Order, working so diligently and cultivating with such sincerity. Are the Three Pure Ones and all those Daoist deities blind?"
"Why didn't they manifest in person to properly reward you three 'heroes'?"
"Why did they eagerly rush off to protect those monks you've been bullying instead?"
A deathly silence fell.
Great Immortal Huli's eye twitched violently, Deer Power Immortal's beard froze in the wind, and Immortal Yang Li breathed heavily.
The three immortals said nothing. They simply stared fixedly at Wukong, their fists clenched.
"Oh, right, right."
Wukong chuckled softly.
"Maybe I got it wrong."
"Perhaps they really did come to help you."
"They came to clean up your mess, so you wouldn't pile up so much sin that you brought yourselves to ruin."
As Wukong looked at the three before him, an exceedingly complicated emotion flickered in his eyes. It was not mockery; it was as though he were looking at his younger self.
He had seen much along this journey. Only as he traveled, listening to scriptures and teachings, had he slowly begun to remember and understand.
He had thought he understood everything back then. In truth, he had not.
Between understanding and putting it into practice, so much had happened, and so many years had passed.
He suppressed that trace of complicated emotion, his voice growing a shade deeper.
"Enough. Stop making spectacles of yourselves."
Wukong waved a hand casually, as though shooing away flies.
"Go back and do what you ought to do. Call down rain when rain is needed, give the people peace when they need peace. Don't meddle beyond that!"
"Cultivating to this level