Chapter 1 One Punch Tang Sanzang

"That rat demon dug its hole a mile outside the temple. Should I find a time to bury it along with its hole?"

"Two new raccoon demons arrived in the western woods the day before yesterday. Last night, the male one even circled outside the temple. Did it spot me?"

"Lately, there seem to be more and more monsters near Jinshan Temple. Is it monster-clearing season again? Seems like it's two months earlier than last year?"

In the slightly dim meditation room, Abraham Lincoln, dressed in a brand-new kasaya with delicate features, sat cross-legged, boredly counting the number of wandering monsters near Jinshan Temple lately.

If he hadn’t transmigrated to this world eighteen years ago, Abraham Lincoln thought he would have lived a simple and happy life in the world of games and anime. Who would want to come to Journey to the West and be a monk!

"William Carter." The hoarse voice of the old monk sitting across from him interrupted Abraham Lincoln's thoughts.

"Master, I've told you ten thousand times, it's Abraham Lincoln!" Abraham Lincoln emphasized each word, rolling his eyes. The name William Carter just invites ridicule—it's like telling everyone you meet that you have no parents! No wonder he had no friends and got bullied as a kid.

So, from the age of three, Abraham Lincoln took it upon himself to change his name to the grand “Abraham Lincoln”, and has stuck with it ever since—except for the old master in front of him, who fished him out of the river back then.

The kindly old monk smiled gently: "Alright, William Carter."

"Abraham Lincoln!" Abraham Lincoln rolled his eyes again.

"Mm, William Carter." The old monk’s smile didn’t change.

"Fine, master, whatever you like." Abraham Lincoln gave up. When it comes to stubbornness, in this rundown temple, only his master wins.

The old monk nodded in satisfaction, then said, "William Carter, what is Buddha?"

"Master, you’ve asked me this question at least ten thousand times!" Abraham Lincoln protested. What kind of master asks the same question every day for eighteen years?

The old monk still smiled: "Last time, this is the last time."

"You said that the last thousand times too." Muttering inwardly, Abraham Lincoln still sat up a bit straighter and said, "If there is no Buddha in my heart, then I am Buddha."

"Wonderful!" The old monk grinned.

"Master, say that again!" Abraham Lincoln stared in disbelief. For eighteen years, his answer had always been the same, and all he got was more lectures. He never expected to hear "Wonderful!" from his master today.

"Master, did you take your medicine this morning?" Abraham Lincoln instinctively added.

"If there is no Buddha in your heart, why force yourself to take refuge in Buddha? All these years, I was wrong." The old monk shook his head, a bit emotional.

Abraham Lincoln was a little delighted: "Master, how did you suddenly become enlightened?"

"Because, I am going to die." The old monk said calmly, still wearing his gentle smile, as if he were just saying he’d have noodles instead of porridge for breakfast.

Abraham Lincoln's smile froze. He looked at the old monk, shook his head, and said in disbelief, "Master, you’re lying again."

"A monk does not lie." The old monk shook his head slightly.

"When I was seven that winter, you said there were no more roasted soybeans, but I found half a bag under your bedsheet." Abraham Lincoln shook his head.

The old monk’s smile faltered: "That was an accident, an accident."

"When I was ten, during the famine, you didn’t eat, but gave me the last half of a steamed bun and told me you were already full." Abraham Lincoln continued.

"Even the Buddha wouldn’t blame me for that." The old monk shook his head, looking at Abraham Lincoln with some relief.

"Why are you going to die?" Abraham Lincoln looked up at the old monk, a bit sad.

The old monk reached out and gently patted Abraham Lincoln's head, a faint smile on his lips. "Liu'er, everyone dies sooner or later. Haven’t you always wanted to travel? If you want to go, then set out."

"But remember, most people in this world are good, and even monsters aren’t all bad. Don’t just punch them to death as soon as you meet them—at least figure out if they’re good or bad first."

"Mm, I’ll remember." Abraham Lincoln nodded, not retorting as usual.

The old monk withdrew his hand and looked at Abraham Lincoln: "Two last important things."

Abraham Lincoln sat up straight.

"There’s half a bag of roasted soybeans in the left pocket, don’t burn them with me. The shoes on my feet fit well, don’t you dare change them for me later." The old monk said these two things solemnly, then his head slowly drooped, and he was silent forever.

Abraham Lincoln sat there in a daze for a long time, looking at his master, a bit troubled, "Master, aren’t you making things hard for your disciple?"