"That monk..." Abraham Lincoln was deeply immersed in his sermon when a loud slap on the table and a sharp shout startled him. Looking up, he saw a skinny young monk standing below the platform, dressed in bright yellow monastic robes, his hands resting on the low table in front of him. Judging by the monk's height and arm length, he must have been standing on tiptoe underneath.

That sharp shout was full of vigor, and the table slap was merciless. Yet now, as the young monk looked at Abraham Lincoln, his expression was... utterly infatuated!

Abraham Lincoln had seen this look countless times since childhood, but usually from pretty young girls or those unsatisfied palace maids. Now, seeing a young monk show him this expression, he couldn't help but feel a chill, almost kicking over the low table in front of him.

"You're so handsome." The young monk finally finished the rest of his sentence shyly, and a blush actually crept up his somewhat sallow, thin face, making for a rather horrifying sight!

"Hey, hey, hey, ugly monk, why are you here again? Didn't you get enough of a beating from me yesterday?" Emily Thompson, who had nearly fallen asleep listening to Abraham Lincoln's sermon, was also awakened by the table slap. Seeing the young monk standing on tiptoe, blushing in front of the platform, she suddenly stood up and said.

The young monk's expression changed instantly. He quickly withdrew his hands from the low table, took several steps back, and instinctively covered his own butt, looking at Emily Thompson with a hint of panic.

Is this Guanyin Bodhisattva? Abraham Lincoln stared wide-eyed at the young monk, who was protectively covering his butt like a bullied child, gazing at Emily Thompson with a resentful look. Recalling the way she had looked at him earlier, his hair stood on end. Could it be that Guanyin Bodhisattva is a sissy pervert?

"I didn't cheat anyone out of money, and I'm not here for you either. Please don't hit my butt again, okay?" The young monk said, clearly lacking confidence. By the end, his tone had turned to pleading.

Emily Thompson waved her hand dismissively and said, "No way. Guards, drag him out and give him fifty strokes first."

Two guards rushed forward, about to seize the panicked young monk.

Abraham Lincoln stood up, just about to say "wait," when a burly monk in gray robes, holding a nine-ringed staff, stepped in front of the young monk and said in a deep voice, "How dare you! This is the Guanyin Bodhisattva of the Southern Sea. How can you mortals be so disrespectful!"

"That's right, I'm Guanyin Bodhisattva. You can't hit me," the young monk poked his head out from behind the burly monk and nodded vigorously.

"You ugly monk, do you take me for a three-year-old? Guanyin Bodhisattva must be a great beauty. How could she possibly look like you?" Emily Thompson curled her lip and waved at the guards standing nearby. Four more guards rushed up, surrounding the two monks.

"A great beauty? Really? You're making me blush!" The young monk's face flushed red, and he twisted his body bashfully.

The monks sitting cross-legged nearby erupted in an uproar and all scattered at once. Two even ran off to the side to vomit, crying out that they couldn't take it.

Abraham Lincoln also felt a wave of disgust, and whatever beautiful image he had left of Guanyin Bodhisattva was instantly shattered. He stayed silent, waiting to see what these two clowns would do next.

"Drag them both out, give each fifty strokes, and then throw them out," Emily Thompson ordered with a smile. The guards responded and moved in to seize the two monks.

"Don't you believe me? I can prove it," the young monk stepped out from behind the burly monk, looking anxious. Suddenly, he slapped his forehead and said, "Right, I can show you my true form!"

"Go ahead, transform. If you can't, you'll get a hundred strokes," Emily Thompson raised her hand to stop the guards and looked at the young monk.

"Then I'll transform now. Henry Cooper, transform!" The young monk patted the burly monk beside him. In an instant, dazzling lights and auspicious clouds filled the air, making it impossible to look directly.

Today, in Huasheng Temple, besides over a thousand monks and the civil and military officials, there were also their families and the wealthy and powerful of Chang'an—no less than ten thousand people. Suddenly, golden light burst forth atop the high platform, and a female Bodhisattva and a chubby, mushroom-headed attendant stood on clouds, floating in midair. Everyone thought Abraham Lincoln's sermon had reached the heavens and summoned the gods and Buddhas, so they hurriedly knelt and worshipped, not daring to look directly.

In an instant, only Abraham Lincoln and Emily Thompson were left standing in the entire Huasheng Temple.

Abraham Lincoln looked up at the Guanyin Bodhisattva, now restored to her original form and standing on a cloud, his mouth twitching and his expression uneasy.

The Guanyin Bodhisattva looked no more than seventeen or eighteen, with delicate features, eyes like golden stars, a red mole between her brows, and a slender waist—truly a great beauty.

She wore a pearl-tasseled crown, a plain blue robe with gold-trimmed embroidered skirt, and held a white jade vase containing a nearly withered willow branch.

Most notably, she was adorned with at least five pounds of ornaments—gold leaves, precious pearls, jadeite—no less than the ornate kasaya on Abraham Lincoln. The dazzling light from earlier was at least half from these accessories.

And, most importantly, Guanyin was now flying in the sky, with Abraham Lincoln and Emily Thompson both looking up at her—and she was wearing... a skirt.