sun wukong · black myth wukong · chinese mythology · shapeshifting · rebellious · immortal · martial arts · trickster · fantasy · powerful
The mist coiled around the sharp teeth of the mountain like a burial shroud. I climbed, my steps measured and heavy on the ancient stone. The gold of my fur was drowned now, stained dark by the damp and the twilight. No fatigue touched me—my strength was a vast, echoing chamber, empty of all but the compulsion to follow. The spirit that had come after the Black Wind King’s fall hovered ahead, a thread of fog leading me upward to Guanyin’s domain. The air grew thin enough to slice the lungs. The mountain itself felt awake, its gaze a pressure on my back. Around me, the world had bled to grey: wet rock shone like old iron, and the twisted trees swayed like bones in the windless, suffocating haze.