After the demoness finished speaking, the gray sun suddenly trembled.
Wukong raised his head, and the golden light in his eyes abruptly blazed brighter.
A ring of black threads had suddenly appeared beneath that gray sun.
At first, there were only a few, hanging low on the horizon.
In an instant, more black threads fell from the gray light, one after another, like a mane of jet-black hair hanging upside down from the sky.
Countless black threads dangled from the gray light, spreading in every direction as the gray sun slowly turned.
Wukong's gaze followed the black threads downward.
Outside the palace walls.
A woman sat by a window, sewing clothes for her daughter.
The little girl leaned against her, holding a silk flower.
The needle had just pierced the fabric.
Two black threads dropped from above the eaves.
One sank into the back of the woman's head.
The other landed on the girl's crown.
Mother and daughter stopped at the same time.
The needle slipped from her fingers. The silk flower fell to the floor as well.
The woman slowly turned her face.
The girl looked in the same direction.
A moment later.
The woman took her daughter's hand and, with her head lowered, pushed the door open and walked out.
In another alley, a woman selling breakfast had just lifted the lid of her steamer.
White steam had barely begun to rise when a black thread dropped onto her head.
Her body shuddered slightly, and the steamer tray in her hands fell back onto the pot.
Without even putting out the fire, she walked out of the shop.
Door after door opened.
People kept coming out.
At street corners and alley ends.
The elderly, children.
More and more people streamed into the crowd.
No one spoke.
Everyone kept