Indeed, it was admiration.
Zhao Gongming stood atop the clouds, his Golden Whip hanging at his side.
His gaze fell upon the golden figure in Deep Pit, drenched in blood yet still struggling, refusing to fall. A trace of almost imperceptible approval flashed deep in his eyes.
With the Interception Sect's Eight Great Personal Disciples present, Sanzang and Sun Wukong faced absolute, overwhelming superiority. There was no question of the outcome.
Yet now, as Zhao Gongming watched the stubbornness and defiance surging in Sun Wukong's golden eyes, he found himself momentarily lost in thought.
How many geniuses had he seen?
Among his fellow disciples, Duobao was steady, Jin Ling was fierce, and Wudang was cool and aloof. Each was a talent without equal among ten thousand.
Outside the Interception Sect, those so-called prodigies were as numerous as carp crossing a river.
Yet... most saw their Dao Hearts shatter after a setback, never to rise again.
Sun Wukong, however, took defeat as defeat. He neither wailed to the heavens nor cursed in bitter resentment. He had not even wavered in the slightest.
Within those golden eyes, there was only a deeper will to fight, a more stubborn determination.
"I, Old Sun... am no running dog."
Those few words were hoarse and low, yet carried the weight of a thousand tons.
The corners of Zhao Gongming's mouth lifted slightly into a rare smile.
There was no longer mockery or contempt in that smile. Instead, it held a measure of genuine approval.
He spoke slowly, his voice still calm, but a little gentler than before:
"Sun Wukong, you do have some backbone."
In Deep Pit, Sun Wukong froze at those words, a trace of bewilderment flashing through his golden eyes.
He had expected Zhao Gongming to keep mocking him, to ridicule him for