The sky split with gold.
Sun Wukong laughed as he vaulted over the clouds, his staff stretching longer than a mountain beneath him. He spun it once, smashing aside a comet of fire that screamed through the heavens toward his back.
Behind him, the fire did not fade. It shaped itself. A boy in armor of red and gold burst through, his three lotus wheels spinning under his feet, leaving trails of flame across the horizon. His spear blazed in his hands.
"Stop running, monkey!" Nezha's voice carried like thunder, sharp with fury.
Wukong grinned over his shoulder, fangs flashing, golden eyes alive with mischief. "Running? You mistake me, little lotus. I'm dancing."
He somersaulted, flipping through the air with a roar of laughter. His staff shrank to a needle, slid into his ear, and in that instant he became a streak of gold tearing across the world.
