“Those monsters ate people, and they’re not good monsters at all.” Casually chopping off a branch that stretched into the path, Abraham Lincoln's eyes suddenly lit up. He flicked the hatchet in his hand, and the handle struck a wild rabbit dozens of meters away, knocking it out cold.

Abraham Lincoln jogged over, picked up the gray rabbit—it weighed at least five jin—and since it wasn’t dead, as soon as he walked back to the horse, it started kicking its legs.

“Rabbits are so cute.” Charles White looked at the wild rabbit tied next to the luggage, a hint of pity in her eyes, and pouted, “Should we roast it or stew it? I’ve heard that braised rabbit head is pretty good too.”

Abraham Lincoln, who was walking in front, suddenly stopped, turned around, and looked Charles White up and down again. “Aren’t immortals supposed to be free from the seven emotions and six desires, and not eat worldly things?”

“Really? Immortals are like that?” Charles White asked back with a look of surprise.

“Forget I said anything.” Abraham Lincoln was stunned for a moment, then turned and continued walking forward.

“There are too many rules in the Heavenly Court, and nothing fun or tasty. Half the reason I take on bounty missions is just to come down to the mortal world for fun. None of those guys are any fun, always keeping a straight face, and behind the scenes, none of them are good immortals.” Charles White pouted, then curiously asked, “Abraham Lincoln, you don’t seem like a bad person. Tell me, what bad things have you done since you were a kid? Which one got you on the bounty list?”

“I’m a Tang person, going to the West to fetch the scriptures.” Abraham Lincoln replied directly. He had thought it over carefully on the road just now, and that should be the reason.

“Going to the West for scriptures?” Charles White frowned and thought for a while, then nodded thoughtfully and didn’t ask further. Instead, she started discussing with Abraham Lincoln whether they should roast or stew the rabbit for dinner.

They walked for a whole day. There was still some dry food in the bundle, so at noon Abraham Lincoln just ate dry rations, while Charles White only drank some water. It seemed she just wanted to taste the rabbit for fun; she’d been craving Chang’e’s Jade Rabbit for a long time.

There was nowhere to stay in sight, so it looked like they’d have to camp in the wild tonight. Abraham Lincoln found a wind-sheltered valley, pulled a simple cowhide tent from a bundle, and set it up with a few branches. The weather was getting colder and it would be tough without a tent.

After lighting a campfire, Abraham Lincoln gently carried the still-weak Charles White down and leaned her against a tree, with a blanket underneath.

An immortal, reduced to this after coughing up a few mouthfuls of blood—Abraham Lincoln couldn’t help but find it funny. Besides, he really didn’t want to travel with an invalid; it was just too much trouble. He’d find a place for her to go back tomorrow.

“I didn’t bring a pot, so let’s just roast the rabbit.” Abraham Lincoln put the rabbit he’d cleaned by a creek earlier on the fire, turning it as he spoke.

“Alright, but I’m very picky. If it doesn’t taste good, you can’t blame me for being sharp-tongued.” Charles White nodded. Her pale face took on a bit of color in the firelight, and she didn’t seem like an annoying girl at all.

The rabbit turned golden brown, brushed with spices from the luggage, and the aroma was mouthwatering and especially tempting.

“Are you sure it’s good?” Charles White took the rabbit foreleg Abraham Lincoln handed her, sniffed it suspiciously, then her eyes lit up. “It smells amazing!”

She took a small bite—the crispy skin, tender rabbit meat, and just the right amount of seasoning all blended together, like a sudden beam of warmth in winter, melting her whole being.

Charles White had never eaten anything so delicious in her life. She couldn’t help herself and took a big bite, her eyes narrowing to slits. Even the delicacies at the Peach Banquet paled in comparison to this rabbit leg.

“It’s so good, Abraham Lincoln, you must be a good person.”

She devoured the rabbit leg in no time, even licking the bone clean. Still unsatisfied, Charles White looked at the half rabbit left on the rack, then at Abraham Lincoln, her eyes sparkling.

Abraham Lincoln smiled and cut the other rabbit foreleg for Charles White. Being praised felt pretty good. Back at the temple, he hadn’t dared to share with the other monks, so he always ate alone. Other than Li Simin, Charles White was probably the first person in the world to taste his cooking.

After dinner, the utterly exhausted Charles White quickly fell asleep leaning against the tree.

Abraham Lincoln dug a hole to bury the bones, added a few big logs to the fire, and was about to go into the tent to sleep. But when his gaze fell on Charles White leaning against the tree, he hesitated for a moment, then walked over.

Charles White, wearing only a thin black dress, was hugging her knees and shivering, her exposed hands as pale as her face. She hadn’t finished the second rabbit leg; it was clear she wanted to eat but couldn’t, and her condition was clearly very bad.

Abraham Lincoln looked at Charles White in silence for a long time, glanced at his own hand, pursed his lips and muttered, “Looks like I really am a good person.”

He took a needle from his bundle, looked around, took a deep breath, gritted his teeth, and frowned as he pricked his middle finger.

A drop of golden blood oozed from his fingertip, releasing a rich fragrance that quickly spread in all directions.