Repeated self-denial, constant improvement, that's Tangyu's character. Until he reaches what satisfies him, he absolutely won't stop.
Though every strike of his sword seemed extremely powerful to Sun Wukong, rivaling even the eighth axe of Pangu's Nine Axes, Tangyu remained unsatisfied. He felt it wasn't enough, not perfect. He craved perfection, true perfection.
Ten more days passed by in the blink of an eye, and Tangyu was still immersed in contemplation, yet to finalize the third style.
Finally, Sun Wukong, who had been idly drinking, suddenly raised his eyebrow, jumping up swiftly, his eyes sparking: "Quite a few are coming. Seems like they're well prepared. My hands have long been itching for a fight."
