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.