The two people were quickly devoured, leaving behind nothing but remains and blood all over the ground.

“Little bald head, so you’re just an ordinary monk. Now it’s your turn. I’m going to tear you to pieces! Let you know the consequences of looking down on me, Richard King.” Richard King looked coldly at Abraham Lincoln as he spoke, stepping toward him one step at a time. His right arm had already transformed into a tiger’s paw with yellow and black stripes, the black claws a foot long, looking somewhat like Wolverine’s.

“Awooo! Roar! Woof woof!” The monsters all howled loudly, cheering for Richard King, while Robert Hill and Edward Miller just stood by watching casually. In their eyes, Abraham Lincoln was just a slightly bolder human, still just as weak.

When he was three meters away from Abraham Lincoln, Richard King leapt high into the air, pouncing at Abraham Lincoln like a hungry tiger attacking a sheep, his right claw slashing fiercely at Abraham Lincoln’s head, intending to split him in two with a single blow.

All the monsters watched this scene, as if they could already see Abraham Lincoln’s head exploding. Some even showed greedy looks, thinking about picking up some meat to eat later.

At that moment, Abraham Lincoln raised his hand and punched Richard King on the head.

The fair fist was much smaller than Richard King’s tiger paw, and didn’t seem very fast, yet it landed on Richard King’s head just before the tiger claw could strike.

Thud! A muffled sound rang out.

Richard King’s head actually exploded like a watermelon, his body flying backward and crushing two little monsters to death.

“Richard King!” Robert Hill and Edward Miller roared. Robert Hill pounded his chest, his bones and muscles cracking loudly, and in an instant he transformed into a giant bear over three meters tall. He reached out, pulled up a big tree, and hurled it at Abraham Lincoln like a javelin.

Edward Miller dropped to the ground, transforming into a gigantic wild ox, even bigger than a heavy truck. The two sharp horns on its head were like blades, and it pawed the ground before charging at Abraham Lincoln. The earth shook, and every tree in its path was snapped in two, unable to stop it in the slightest.

“They eat people, so they’re definitely not good monsters. Master, I can tell for sure.”

Abraham Lincoln said softly. With a flicker, a deep footprint appeared on the ground, and he was already standing in front of the giant wild ox demon, punching its massive head.

Boom! With a thunderous crash, the enormous wild ox, charging at terrifying speed, was stopped by a single punch. Its head was driven into a pit in the ground, and the area around it was instantly cleared, the black earth plowed up all around.

“Edward Miller!” Robert Hill shouted, glancing warily at Abraham Lincoln, then turned to run.

But before he could get away, Abraham Lincoln was already on his shoulder. With a hook punch, the huge bear was smashed to the ground, its head instantly pulverized.

The three great monsters were killed by Abraham Lincoln with three punches, and the scene fell silent. The remaining little monsters glanced at Abraham Lincoln as if they’d seen a ghost, then turned and fled, vanishing in an instant.

“Even talking monsters only take one punch.” Abraham Lincoln curled his lip, glanced at the scattering little monsters, and couldn’t be bothered to chase them. Carrying the treant he was holding, he walked to the edge of the pit, pointed at the two bags below, and signaled for it to pull them up.

The treant, though it had no nose or eyes, understood Abraham Lincoln’s meaning and quickly rolled the two bundles up. Besides a change of clothes, they contained a travel permit and a purple-gold bowl, both of which were still useful.

Picking up the luggage, Abraham Lincoln casually tossed the treant into the pit, then walked over to the white horse, reached out to calm it, helped it to its feet, and prepared to leave this place reeking of blood.

Just then, something suddenly tumbled down from the sky, landing right in front of Abraham Lincoln.

Abraham Lincoln grabbed the white horse, which nearly buckled again, and looked at the black-haired girl who had landed on her knees and was now shakily getting to her feet. After a moment’s hesitation, he asked, “Miss, are you all right?”

The girl looked about fourteen or fifteen, dressed in a long black dress, her naturally wavy black hair draped over her shoulders. She had a delicate oval face, but her skin was so pale it was almost whiter than paper, making her look a bit eerie.

“I’m fine, just a little dizzy from the crane ride, so I threw up a bit. By the way, do you know where Abraham Lincoln is?” The girl waved her hand, her pupils unfocused as if seeing stars, clearly not yet steady. Her nostrils flared, her face turned even paler, and she pinched her nose, saying, “The disgusting, bloody smell of low-level monsters—I’m going to throw up again.” With that, she leaned against a tree and vomited a mouthful of blood.

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Chapter 11: This Killer Is a Bit Pale

A bird’s cry came from above the forest. Abraham Lincoln looked up to see a white crane circling in the sky; it seemed the girl had arrived riding this crane.

Abraham Lincoln looked back at the girl, who was leaning against a tree and vomiting blood repeatedly, feeling a bit speechless. Some people get carsick or seasick, but she actually gets “crane-sick,” and when she throws up, it’s blood. So she wasn’t born pale—it was just blood loss from vomiting too much.

But the girl had asked about Abraham Lincoln as soon as she spoke, and had landed right in front of him. Was she here to find him? He didn’t sense any demonic aura from her, so she probably wasn’t a monster.