"Binding Sutra of Celestial Constraint," Erlang Shen intoned, his voice harmonising with itself across dimensions as each aspect spoke the words simultaneously. "Let chaos know its place."
Golden chains materialised around Wukong—not physical restraints but conceptual ones that bound his transformations, limited his qi flow, and forced his scattered essence back into a single, targetable form. The same technique that had once delivered him to Buddha's judgment.
The multiple aspects of Erlang Shen's spear struck as one, their combined force enough to shatter any rebellion.
But Wukong had learned from his first defeat.
"You bound me once," he acknowledged, his form solidifying as the constraints took hold. "But that was before I understood what freedom really meant."
