“Guanyin sister, I saw your panties.” Emily Thompson said with a mischievous smile.

“Huh?” Eleanor Clark looked down in a daze, and only when she saw Emily Thompson and Abraham Lincoln still looking up did she snap back to her senses. Her beautiful face instantly turned pale with shock, and she cried out, “How embarrassing…” Her cloud beneath her feet wobbled, and she actually fell from the sky.

Letting Eleanor Clark Bodhisattva fall to the ground was truly a disgrace. Abraham Lincoln hurriedly reached out with both hands to catch her. Although she was covered in ornaments, thankfully Eleanor Clark was quite light.

Held in Abraham Lincoln’s arms in a princess carry, Eleanor Clark looked up at Abraham Lincoln’s face, her eyes seemingly sparkling with stars. She reached out her left hand and gently stroked Abraham Lincoln’s bald head. Her cheeks flushed red all at once, and she said in a dazed, infatuated tone, “So handsome, really so handsome.”

“Bodhisattva, please behave yourself.” Abraham Lincoln’s head was being patted, and he was so startled he almost tossed the Bodhisattva out of his arms. Is this really the legendary Eleanor Clark Bodhisattva who saves the suffering? And what is that right hand reaching toward his chest trying to do!

“Let go of that Bodhisattva!”

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Chapter 5: A Girl Shouldn’t Have Too Bad a Temper

“Let go of that Bodhisattva!”

“Let go of that monk!”

Two voices rang out almost simultaneously—it was the chubby girl who came with Eleanor Clark and Emily Thompson speaking together.

Abraham Lincoln set Eleanor Clark down on the ground. The latter reluctantly took two steps back, muttering to herself, “So handsome, such a good figure, and most importantly, a bald head! A bald head!”

The mushroom-haired chubby girl landed beside Eleanor Clark, slammed her nine-ringed staff heavily onto the ground, causing several cracks to appear in the stone pavement, and glared angrily at Abraham Lincoln and Emily Thompson, shouting, “You mortals, why do you not kneel when you see the Bodhisattva?” She was quite intimidating.

Abraham Lincoln sized up the chubby attendant: mushroom haircut, very fair skin, a head taller than him, at least twice his size. If you ignored her figure, her face was actually quite delicate and cute—she was a girl!

Wasn’t Eleanor Clark Bodhisattva’s disciple supposed to be Moksha, the second son of the Pagoda-Bearing Heavenly King? How did she become a female demon? This world really is quite different from the Journey to the West in my memory.

As for kneeling, Abraham Lincoln really couldn’t bring himself to kneel to a fangirl Eleanor Clark who kept praising his looks and sneakily taking advantage of him, let alone that he didn’t even have a shred of respect for the Buddha in his heart.

But Moksha’s words and her lofty tone made Abraham Lincoln frown—she really was an unpleasant person.

Emily Thompson flicked her sleeve, looked at Moksha with a cold smile, and said, “I am the ruler of the Great Tang. I kneel only to Heaven and Earth, not to gods or Buddhas. Why should I kneel to Eleanor Clark? I’ve heard the Jade Emperor has a hundred thousand heavenly soldiers and generals, but my Great Tang has a million iron cavalry. I wonder if we could match in battle?”

“You…” Moksha was dumbfounded, clearly not expecting Emily Thompson to say such things.

A faint smile appeared at the corner of Abraham Lincoln’s mouth. This was the true ruler of the Great Tang—a man who made all of Jambudvipa tremble, a Tang Emperor who dared to ask the Jade Emperor if he could withstand a million cavalry.

Moksha, unconvinced, slammed her staff down again and shouted, “You show no respect to gods and Buddhas—aren’t you afraid of divine punishment? You’re just a mere mortal, how dare you utter such wild words and challenge the might of Heaven?”

Calling them “mere mortals” over and over—let alone Emily Thompson, even Abraham Lincoln couldn’t stand it. This chubby girl’s intelligence and emotional quotient really seemed a bit lacking. He wondered if he should say something.

“I’ve heard that gods and Buddhas become divine through the worship of mortals. If I order the people of the Great Tang to stop believing in Daoism and Buddhism from today, and worship only me, what do you think would happen?” Emily Thompson looked at Moksha with a playful expression, her voice suddenly turning cold: “Though I am a mortal, I am also the emperor of mortals. My Great Tang is powerful and unmatched under Heaven. Wherever our armies go, who dares oppose us? And you—what are you?”

Moksha’s face changed dramatically. Looking at Emily Thompson, her hand trembled, and there was even a hint of fear in her eyes. Although she had followed Eleanor Clark Bodhisattva in cultivation for many years, her aura was still far inferior to Emily Thompson’s.

“So domineering! And so handsome too!” Eleanor Clark looked at Emily Thompson with shining eyes, but then showed a hint of regret. “Too bad he’s not bald.”

A bald-head fangirl! Abraham Lincoln confirmed Eleanor Clark’s preferences in his heart, straightened his robe that had just been ruffled, and carefully took two steps back.

Emily Thompson had been tempted by countless beauties in the imperial harem, but Abraham Lincoln was never moved, so of course he wouldn’t be swayed just because Eleanor Clark was a pretty fangirl. But glancing at Moksha, Abraham Lincoln couldn’t help but feel sorry for her, having such a master.

“You… you… Today I’ll teach you a lesson on behalf of the immortals and Buddhas, so you’ll know what it means to have respect.” Moksha said angrily, her fat trembling with rage.

“Wei Jia, use your immortal arts and play with this chubby girl.” Emily Thompson glanced at Moksha and curled her lip, showing not the slightest bit of fear.

A thin, short-haired girl in gray clothes stood up nearby, a peachwood sword strapped to her back. She sniffed and said with a hint of dissatisfaction, “Your Majesty, it’s immortal arts, not demon arts.”

“Alright, just get on with it.” Emily Thompson waved her hand indifferently.