Lucy White spat out a few mouthfuls of blood, her face growing even paler, looking extremely weak. However, her expression seemed a bit more comfortable, and her pitch-black eyes finally showed a hint of spirit. She frowned slightly as she glanced at the mess on the ground, then turned to look at Abraham Lincoln, her eyes lighting up.

“Miss, your face is too pale. You should see a doctor.” Abraham Lincoln led his horse, preparing to leave. He wasn’t interested in this black-clad girl.

“Hey! How did you know my name is Charles White?” The black-clad girl glared, looking at Abraham Lincoln in surprise.

Charles White? Charles White!

Abraham Lincoln stopped in his tracks, sizing up the black-clad girl before him. His eyelid couldn’t help but twitch. Is this girl really Charles White? Wasn’t Charles White supposed to be an old man with white hair and a white beard? How did he become such a pale little girl?

“Monk, I’m talking to you. How did you know my name is Charles White?” The little girl pressed on, sizing up Abraham Lincoln from head to toe, then pointed at the corpse of the big brown bear nearby and asked, “Do you know who did this? Also, do you know a monk named Abraham Lincoln? He should be from the Tang Dynasty.”

“I just said your face is too pale, that’s all. These monsters wanted to eat me, so I killed them. But why are you looking for Abraham Lincoln?” Abraham Lincoln looked at the girl who called herself Charles White, asking curiously. If this girl really was Charles White, did that mean even immortals were after him now, or was she here to help him?

“You killed them?” Charles White looked Abraham Lincoln up and down, a bit skeptical, but still pulled out a blue scroll from her clothes. As she opened it, she said, “I fainted and threw up on the road just now, so I haven’t checked what I’m supposed to do yet. A heavenly soldier said it was an order from above, telling me to find a monk named Abraham Lincoln from the Tang Dynasty.”

Abraham Lincoln leaned over to take a look, and his expression turned a bit odd. Meanwhile, Charles White read aloud word by word: “Heavenly Court Pursuit Order: Charles White is to set out immediately for Twin Fork Ridge to hunt down Abraham Lincoln, and must succeed. Attached below is a portrait of Abraham Lincoln.”

Charles White pulled the scroll down a bit, glanced at the portrait, then looked up at Abraham Lincoln. The two stared at each other for a while.

Charles White looked down at the portrait again, then pointed at Abraham Lincoln, then at the portrait. “You, this—you’re Abraham Lincoln?”

Abraham Lincoln nodded, looking at Charles White in confusion and asked, “Why? Why does the Heavenly Court want to hunt me down?” Other than hitting Moksha once, he’d never offended any immortals or Buddhas, so he really couldn’t figure out why the Heavenly Court would issue a pursuit order, and even send Charles White after him.

Charles White carefully read the scroll twice more, shook her head, and said, “I don’t know either. Why don’t you take a look yourself? I think you look much more handsome in person than in the portrait.”

Looking at Charles White innocently handing over the pursuit order, Abraham Lincoln took it subconsciously, suddenly feeling that this assassin was really unprofessional. Not only was she not cold, she was being so friendly with her target, even complimenting him—what the heck. Plus, after vomiting blood all the way here, she could barely stand; a strong gust of wind might blow her over.

But after Abraham Lincoln carefully read the pursuit order, he found that it really didn’t mention why he was being hunted. There was only a small star at the top.

“What does this little star mean?” Abraham Lincoln asked curiously, pointing at the star.

“Oh, that represents the difficulty of the mission. One star is the easiest.” Charles White said, covering her nose as she glanced at it, but then immediately puffed out her chest and added, “But don’t underestimate me. I usually take on four-star missions. I don’t know why they gave me a one-star mission today.”

“So my rank is really low.” Abraham Lincoln rolled up the scroll and handed it back to Charles White, looking at her with curiosity. “So, what’s your plan to kill me?”

Charles White waved her hand and walked off to the side, saying as she went, “It stinks here. Let’s change places first. We have plenty of time anyway.”

Abraham Lincoln was taken aback, feeling like something was off, but still followed her to the side. They walked for ten miles before stopping in a slightly flatter patch of forest.

“Although I don’t know why I have to kill you, a qualified assassin doesn’t ask for reasons. I worked hard to get this side job, so just bear with me and let me kill you. I promise I’ll make it quick, so you won’t feel too much pain.” Charles White turned to look at Abraham Lincoln, speaking sincerely, even pouting cutely at the end.

Abraham Lincoln looked at her pale, weak attempt at being cute and shook his head helplessly. “I don’t want to die yet. Acting cute won’t work—I don’t think you can beat me.”

“No way, I’ve lost too much blood. I at least need to suck a bit of your blood to make it back, or I’ll die of blood loss on the way.” Charles White shook her head like a rattle drum, her eyes sparkling. “I can feel your blood is different from those low-level monsters, even purer than that monkey’s back in the day.”

“I don’t like people drinking my blood.” Abraham Lincoln shook his head.