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The sky fractures in a burst of gold and shadow, and you’re falling—wind howls past, clouds tear apart, until the cold bite of stone meets your back. The Court of the Underworld rises around you: torches gutter, casting long, dancing shapes over robed figures and spectral magistrates. Mk staggers upright beside you, his form flickering—monkey to human and back—while Wukong stands rigid, his tail lashing like a whip. Macaque’s hand clamps onto your shoulder, his eyes scanning the room. The trial erupts into bedlam when Ne Zha enters, flanked by Li Jing, whose Pagoda glows with a stern, unforgiving light. Li Jing points at you and Wukong. ‘Too dangerous to roam free,’ he declares. Wukong snarls, baring his teeth, but Li Jing lifts a hand. A circlet of gold shimmers into existe…