In the depths 
of their underwater kingdom,

the mighty Dragon Lords 
quaked with fear.

Before them pranced Sun Wukong, 
the Monkey King.

The legendary troublemaker been hatched 
from a stone, schooled in divine magic,

and was currently brandishing 
the Dragon Lord’s most treasured weapon.

This magical staff,

originally large enough to measure 
the depth of a great flood,

now obeyed the Monkey King’s will 
and shrank at his touch.

Terrified of this bewildering power,

the Dragons graciously allowed 
Sun Wukong to keep the staff.

The Monkey King stowed the weapon away,

and gleefully sped back to his kingdom 
to show this treasure

to his tribe of warrior monkeys.

After a lavish celebration, 
Sun Wukong fell into a deep sleep.

But just as he began to dream,

the Monkey King 
quickly realized two things.

The first was that 
this was no ordinary slumber.

The second was that he wasn’t alone.

Suddenly, he found himself caught 
in the clutches of two grisly figures.

At first the Monkey King didn’t know 
who his captors were.

But as they dragged him toward 
their city’s gates,

Sun Wukong realized 
his deathly predicament.

These were soul collectors 
tasked with transporting mortals

to the Realm of the Dead.

This was the domain of the Death Lords,

who mercilessly sorted souls 
and designed gruesome punishments.

From here, the kingdom of death 
was laid out before him.

He could see the Death Lord’s palaces,

and the fabled bridge 
across the river Nai He.

Manning the bridge was an old woman 
who offered worthy souls a bowl of soup.

After drinking, the spirits 
forgot their previous life,

and were sent back to the world 
of the living in a new form.

Further below were the souls 
not worthy of reincarnation.

In this twisting maze of chambers,

unfortunate spirits endured 
endless rooms of punishment—

from mountains spiked with sharp blades, 
to pools of blood and vats of boiling oil.

But Sun Wukong was not about to accept 
torture or reincarnation.

As the soul collectors attempted to drag 
him through the gates,

the Monkey King whipped out his staff 
and swung himself out of their clutches.

His battle cries and the clang of weapons 
echoed throughout the underworld.

Sensing a disturbance, 
the ten Death Lords swooped upon him.

But they had never met such resistance 
from a mortal soul.

What was this unusual creature?

And was he a mortal, a god— 
or something else?

The Lords consulted 
the Book of Death and Life—

a tome which showed the time 
of every living soul’s death.

Not knowing what category 
this strange being was under,

the Death Lords struggled 
to find Sun Wukong at first;

but the Monkey King 
knew just where to look.

Unfortunately, the records confirmed 
the Death Lord’s claim—

Sun Wukong was scheduled 
to die this very night.

But the Monkey King was not afraid.

This was far from the first time 
he’d defied destiny

in his quest for wisdom and power.

His past rebellions had earned him 
the power to transfigure his body,

ride clouds at dizzying speeds, and govern
his tribe with magic and martial arts.

In this crisis, 
he saw yet another opportunity.

With a flash of his nimble fingers,

the Monkey King struck 
his own name from the Book.

Before the Death Lords could respond,

he found the names of his monkey tribe 
and swept them away as well.

Liberated from the bonds of death,

Sun Wukong began to battle 
his way out of the underworld.

He deftly defeated endless swarms 
of angry spirits—

before tripping on his way 
out of the kingdom.

Just before he hit the ground, 
Sun Wukong suddenly awoke in his bed.

At first he thought the journey 
might have been a dream,

but the Monkey King felt 
his new immortality surging

from the top of his head 
to the tip of his tail.

With a cry of triumph, he woke his 
warriors to share his latest adventure—

and commence another round 
of celebration.