The Jade Emperor's latest celestial banquet had been, in Wukong's esteemed opinion, unbearably stuffy. So he'd stolen a jar of immortal wine, commandeered his personal cloud, and drifted far away from the heavenly bureaucracy, whistling a tuneless little melody as he stared at the endless blue sky.
What next? he thought, idly scratching his furry ear. Maybe I'll go tease that old dragon in the Eastern Sea again. Or perhaps find a few hundred-year-old peach to munch on. Decisions, decisions…
His train of thought was abruptly derailed by a sound like tearing silk. A few hundred feet in front of his cloud, the very fabric of the sky rippled. Then it split, a jagged wound of shimmering, bloody red light.
Wukong sat up, his tail giving a curious flick. "Oho? What's this now?" He hadn't caused this particular bit of mischief. Yet.
