Abraham Lincoln also pretended to be drunk, staggering to his feet and saying, “I can’t do it anymore, I’m drunk.”

“Then… let’s rest for a bit. The journey has been exhausting.” Emily Thompson’s face lit up with joy. He stood up and pulled Abraham Lincoln toward the big bed inside.

As soon as Abraham Lincoln lay down, Emily Thompson collapsed onto the bed as well, squinting his eyes while tugging at his clothes, mumbling, “Take… take it off…” and then fell asleep.

Abraham Lincoln pulled his clothes back, sat up, and looked at the already sleeping Emily Thompson, muttering with a strange expression, “I treat you like a brother, but you’re always trying to get with me. Isn’t this a bit out of line?”

======-=====The author truly isn’t into BL at all, double guarantee on both character and beliefs! If you don’t believe it, just read a few more chapters and see for yourself—such an interesting book shouldn’t be missed~~~~

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Chapter Three: The Walking Solar Wind Chime

Abraham Lincoln helped Emily Thompson take off his shoes, pulled over the silk quilt nearby, and covered him with it. After doing this so many times, he was used to it. Abraham Lincoln didn’t really feel much aversion in his heart—after all, Emily Thompson never actually succeeded, and never used force.

But seeing the black aura mixed in with the golden luck above his head, Abraham Lincoln frowned slightly. This should be the vengeful spirits of those who died at Emily Thompson’s hands.

As the ruler of the Tang Dynasty, Emily Thompson was shrouded in fortune, so ordinary ghosts didn’t dare approach him. Even the King of Hell couldn’t just drag his soul to the underworld. This black aura must be the reason.

“Three years, there’s not much time left.” Looking at the still sleeping Emily Thompson, Abraham Lincoln thought to himself.

If only he knew how to enter the underworld—could he traverse the Nine Hells, cause havoc in the underworld like Sun Wukong, and rewrite the Book of Life and Death to grant him another hundred years?

No, no, isn’t that the kind of thing you only do for the woman you love! Abraham Lincoln quickly shook his head to deny himself, shifting his gaze away from the bed.

“Father, don’t come any closer! You forced me, you pushed me off the cliff! You deserve to die, just like that wicked woman who drove my mother to her death.”

“Big brother, heh, what right do you, a useless fool, have to mock me? Other than being born two years earlier and playing with a few more women, what makes you fit to be emperor?”

“All of you, get lost! I’m not even afraid of death, why would I be afraid of you biting me?”

“Come on, let’s hurt each other! Watch me bite you all to death!”

Abraham Lincoln turned his gaze back to the bed, looking at Emily Thompson—eyes closed, baring his teeth and claws, tossing and turning in bed—with a look of utter bewilderment.

Truly someone who never loses out, even in nightmares, fighting ghosts tooth and nail. Abraham Lincoln admitted he couldn’t even imagine this scene. If someone like this didn’t become emperor, it really wouldn’t make sense.

But hearing the words he muttered in his sleep and seeing the pain on his face, Abraham Lincoln sighed softly, sat cross-legged on the bed, and began to chant sutras.

For him to become a great dharma master at eighteen, it really wasn’t—well, not just because of Emily Thompson’s favor.

Golden Buddhist light radiated from his body, sweeping toward the black aura. The thick black mist began to dissolve, accompanied by shrill screams and wails. Some even turned into skeletons and ghosts, trying to pounce on Abraham Lincoln, but couldn’t get close at all, dissipating into the air.

Abraham Lincoln wasn’t trying to redeem them, but to destroy them. Whether they deserved to die wasn’t his concern. Since they were haunting Emily Thompson, let them fall into the Nine Hells forever. This way, he probably wouldn’t have nightmares anymore.

As the black aura gradually faded, the struggle on Emily Thompson’s face slowly disappeared, and finally a faint smile appeared at the corner of his mouth as he murmured, “My man is here, now you’re all scared, aren’t you?”

“What the hell!” Abraham Lincoln’s hand shook, almost tossing the prayer beads he was holding.

……

Early the next morning, a ray of sunlight shone into the bedchamber through the half-open window.

Lying in bed, Emily Thompson suddenly opened his eyes, turned his head sharply, and saw Abraham Lincoln sitting cross-legged nearby, finally relaxing his expression.

“Imperial brother, you’re so bad, you actually drugged my wine.” Emily Thompson got up, straightened his clothes, and looked at Abraham Lincoln with a grin. “But you served me so well last night, I’ve decided to order you to attend to me in bed for another forty-nine days.”

“Your Majesty, isn’t the Water and Land Dharma Assembly being held today? We should get going.” Abraham Lincoln stood up, changing the subject.

Emily Thompson replied matter-of-factly, “That’s right, the Water and Land Assembly lasts forty-nine days. You chant sutras during the day, and serve me in the palace at night—no conflict at all.”

Abraham Lincoln: “……”

“Oh right, I have a new kasaya for you. Yesterday, some ugly monk tried to swindle my silver, so I beat him up and threw him out, but the kasaya was pretty nice.” Emily Thompson suddenly remembered something, clapped his hands, and said, “Shangguan, bring me that shiny kasaya I snatched yesterday.”

Abraham Lincoln’s expression turned a bit odd. “Don’t tell me it’s the brocade kasaya?”

“Eh? How did you know? Did you run into that con-artist monk too?” Emily Thompson looked at Abraham Lincoln in surprise.

“It’s nothing, as long as you’re happy.” Abraham Lincoln shook his head. Even Guanyin Bodhisattva was beaten up and thrown out by Emily Thompson as a con artist—what kind of broken plot was this?

But with Emily Thompson holding the Water and Land Assembly and Guanyin delivering the robe, could Journey to the West really be fate? Since the Golden Cicada was eaten by him, has destiny shifted to him now?