What happened next felt more and more like a dream. Seeing that Albert Brooks did not reject the allegiance of Mr. Sullivan and the others, the neighbors who had previously hidden away also wrapped their heads in red cloth, came out with door bolts in hand, and blocked the entrance to the alley in a tight group.

To prove that they were comrades of the other Red Turban Army in the city, they unhesitatingly carried the bodies of Parker, Mr. Thompson, and the few soldiers who had been killed to the entrance, hanging them directly from the nearby tree branches to show their “meritorious first act.”

This tactic worked as expected. Several men with red cloths wrapped around their heads charged up, saw the corpses hanging at the entrance and Mr. Sullivan and the others standing guard with weapons, and immediately turned away, heading off to attack other alleys. From beginning to end, no one questioned the true nature of this “Red Turban Army” in Mule Alley.

Anyone who could sneak into the yamen as an unofficial runner was no fool. Realizing that muddling through was highly effective, the white-clad clerks and junior jailers immediately split up to bring their own relatives and friends to seek refuge. The neighbors in Mule Alley were no monkeys born from cracks in the rocks either—everyone inevitably had a few friends or old acquaintances. To keep their loved ones safe from the chaos, they too ran out with red cloths, spreading “great benevolence” in the name of the Maitreya Sect’s Great Wisdom Branch Master Brooks.

By the time “Master Brooks” had somewhat recovered from his shock, not only had Mule Alley behind him become his territory, but the neighboring Brick Alley, Firewood Alley, Bitter Water Alley, Straw Sandal Alley, Donkey Dung Alley, and most of Craftsmen’s Alley had also, in a muddled way, become the “sphere of influence” of the Maitreya Sect’s Great Wisdom Branch. The five or six hundred households within, regardless of wealth or poverty, had almost all joined the Maitreya Sect on the spot, becoming loyal followers. They trailed behind him, Master Brooks, reciting the scripture of Maitreya’s reincarnation that Mr. Sullivan had made up on the spot, vowing together to “drive out darkness and welcome the light!”

That night, the rebel army and government troops fought fiercely in the streets, while thugs and ruffians took advantage to loot. Amid the chaos, countless thatched huts and brick courtyards were set ablaze, and who knows how many innocents lost their lives in confusion. Yet Mule Alley and the nearby lanes in Willow Alley Second Block were strangely peaceful. Only the corpses of Stephen Parker, archer Mr. Thompson, and seven or eight others hung muddle-headed from the trees, warning would-be profiteers to stay away, lest they fall into the hands of Master Brooks and lose their lives for nothing.

As for Albert Brooks, who had been pushed by Mr. Sullivan and the people of the neighboring streets to serve as a talisman, he never found a chance to explain the truth to the rebel army. By the time dawn broke and the sounds of killing gradually faded, he no longer needed to explain anything to anyone. The Red Turban Army under Sesame John Thompson gave him, “Master Brooks,” full respect. If he were to suddenly deny everything now, well, the outcome was obvious!

Chris Brooks had always been rather thick-skinned; otherwise, he wouldn’t have dared to lash out before figuring out whether he was in a virtual world or the real one. Realizing that he was now stuck pretending to be the deputy branch master of the Maitreya Sect’s Great Wisdom Hall, he thought for a moment and simply accepted it…

However, he was not willing to muddle through life like this. First, he spat on his hand to clean the arrow wound on his shoulder, then pointed at Mr. Sullivan, whom the people now regarded as the second most important figure after himself, and ordered in a low voice, “That Su, Mr. Sullivan, right?! Come sit over here and tell me properly—who am I, really?!”

After the threat of death had receded, Mr. Sullivan also realized that most things tonight were not right. But he was unwilling to admit that he was the instigator of this series of misunderstandings. Sidling over to the Albert Brooks he knew, he squinted and reiterated, “Sir, you’re joking again. Who in this neighborhood doesn’t know you’re the Master Brooks of the Maitreya Sect’s Great Wisdom Hall? We’ve long since stopped siding with the authorities, which is why no one reported you. If you don’t believe me, ask them—ask those few!”

As he spoke, he winked at the white-clad clerks and junior jailers around him. These men had always been obedient to Mr. Sullivan and the other archers, and now, like grasshoppers tied to the same rope, they were even more eager to comply. They all nodded in agreement, “Yes, yes! Sir Brooks, have you forgotten? You’ve always burned incense to Maitreya at home—we all know it. We’ve always covered for you!”

“Bullshit!” Chris Brooks scolded, frowning. “If I’m the branch master of the Maitreya Sect, then you’re my incense master, secretary, and the Twin Rods of the Red Flower!”

“Thank you, Master Brooks, for the appointment!” Mr. Sullivan winked again, leading the white-clad clerks and junior jailers to kneel down, prostrating themselves.

“Screw you!” Chris Brooks was furious, kicking Mr. Sullivan over. “You’re the Master Brooks, your whole family are Master Brooks!”

“Spare me, Branch Master!” Mr. Sullivan rolled on the ground, then immediately knelt again, kowtowing. “Spare me, Branch Master! I never meant to covet your position! I really didn’t!”

“Get lost!” Chris Brooks kicked him again, knowing that he was stuck being the Maitreya Sect’s branch master for today. Gritting his teeth, he decided to let the matter drop for now. “I’m not asking you about being branch master or not. I’m asking—who the hell am I, really?! Tell me everything you know! Now!”