The news of the abbot of Qian'an passing away quickly spread throughout Jinshan Temple. This temple, which had flourished in recent years thanks to the golden reputation of Abraham Lincoln, was plunged into grief.

However, the abbot had already made arrangements for his affairs, keeping everything simple, with the cremation taking place in the backyard.

Abraham Lincoln stood at the very front among the monks, a small earth-yellow cloth bag hanging at his waist. He gazed at the old monk on the pyre, remaining silent for a long time.

“Granduncle Master, it’s about time, don’t you think?” An old monk beside him, holding back his sorrow, looked at Abraham Lincoln and asked respectfully.

Abraham Lincoln pressed his lips together slightly, his gaze falling to the old monk’s feet—on which he wore two shoes, one large and one small, completely mismatched.

“Granduncle Master, you mustn’t!” The old monk beside him followed Abraham Lincoln’s gaze, his expression changing dramatically as he cried out in a trembling voice.

Abraham Lincoln’s hand trembled, but his eyes remained fixed on those shoes as he took a step forward.

“Granduncle Master, you mustn’t!” Seeing this, all the monks cried out in unison. Over a hundred monks fell to their knees with a thud.

Abraham Lincoln looked down at the old monk clinging tightly to his right leg, and at the monks kneeling on the ground. At a glance, their bald heads reflecting the glaring sunlight looked like a hundred lit 100-watt bulbs—somewhat dazzling.

“If your mind is not clear, how can you become a Buddha?” Abraham Lincoln gently lifted his leg, and the old monk clinging to his thigh flew a full zhang away, landing softly on the ground.

“You should be dressed more properly.” Abraham Lincoln walked to the pyre, bent down, took off his own brand-new cloth shoes, and carefully put them on his master. He folded the mismatched shoes and set them aside, nodding, “This looks much better.”

The monks, still kneeling, looked at each other, but no one dared to speak again.

Abraham Lincoln turned around, and the monks parted to make way, watching as he walked barefoot slowly toward the exit.

“Light the fire. From now on, you are the abbot of Jinshan Temple.” Abraham Lincoln said to the old monk who had clung to his thigh earlier. Someone who knows how to cling to a thigh is indeed worthy of being entrusted with important responsibilities.

“Granduncle Master, may I ask where you are going?” The old monk, not showing much joy, stood up shakily and asked, looking at Abraham Lincoln’s back.

“To Chang’an, to preside over the Water and Land Dharma Assembly.” Abraham Lincoln replied, casually picking up the bundle hanging from a tree branch nearby, and walked toward the temple gate.

“Respectfully seeing Granduncle Master off!” Led by the old monk, all the monks bid him farewell in unison.

“No matter how much I sweep, it’s never clean.” Exiting the gate of Jinshan Temple, Abraham Lincoln bent down to brush the fine sand from his feet, took out a pair of half-worn cloth shoes from his bundle and put them on, then looked back at the ancient temple where he had lived for eighteen years.

“Master, I’m leaving. I’ll come back to see you again someday.”

“Li Simin is going to hold the Water and Land Assembly. Guanyin Bodhisattva should be coming too, right?”

“There are monsters in this world, but I haven’t seen any immortals or Buddhas yet. Maybe I’ll go to the West to fetch the scriptures and see for myself. I wonder if the Buddha can be taken down with a single punch.”

Tying up his bundle, Abraham Lincoln muttered to himself, then turned and slowly walked down the mountain. He probably wouldn’t return for several years. Thinking back, living in this world really isn’t easy.

Eighteen years ago, Abraham Lincoln had crossed over in a dog-blooded way—struck by lightning—into the body of an unborn baby. Unable to resist temptation, he ate a golden infant who had crossed over on the same day.

After years of repeated verification, he was basically certain that the golden infant he had eaten back then was named Benjamin Franklin. That was the second disciple under the Buddha, the one who didn’t pay attention during lectures and was killed and sent to reincarnate.

In other words, the Buddhist big shot who was supposed to take three disciples, ride a white dragon horse, travel to the West to fetch the scriptures, and achieve enlightenment and a golden body, hadn’t even been born before being eaten… eaten by Abraham Lincoln, an ordinary university monk from the 21st century who had crossed over.

And so, Abraham Lincoln instantly became a monk with a unique destiny. Every year, many monsters gathered near Jinshan Temple, wanting to eat him.

However, after eating Benjamin Franklin, a faint golden energy appeared in Abraham Lincoln’s body, gradually merging with him over the years, constantly strengthening his physique. Now, his strength, speed, and physical resilience all exceeded his own understanding.

Just how strong was this energy?

As Abraham Lincoln reached the foot of the mountain, he glanced down. Suddenly, the once-calm ground began to shake, as if an earthquake was happening, and something seemed to be rapidly approaching from underground.

Bang! With a loud noise, a pitch-black creature burst from the ground. It was three meters long, covered in spiky black fur, with long tusks at its mouth. At first glance, it looked like a wild boar, but on closer inspection, it resembled a giant rat.

The giant rat charged at Abraham Lincoln at incredible speed, its momentum more terrifying than a fully loaded truck at full throttle. Its blood-red eyes were filled with bloodlust and greed, and its gaping mouth dripped with nauseating white saliva, as if it wanted to swallow Abraham Lincoln whole.

Abraham Lincoln lifted his eyelids, showing only a hint of surprise, then raised his fist and smashed it down on the giant rat’s head.

His fair fist landed on the spiky head, looking for all the world like an egg striking a rock.

But in the next moment!