This analysis was indeed incisive and thorough. However, Chris Brooks still wore a worried frown. He sighed and continued, “The problem is, even if Sesame Thompson doesn’t interrogate me in detail and just chats about some superficial topics regarding the Maitreya Sect, I’ll still give myself away!”

“You—you were possessed by Maitreya Buddha last night, and many people saw it with their own eyes!” Mr. Sullivan lifted half his head from the ground and reminded him cautiously.

“Nonsense, that wasn’t Maitreya Buddha possessing me! That was…” Chris Brooks immediately retorted, but halfway through his sentence, he realized he simply couldn’t explain it—a soul from twenty-first-century Earth transmigrating into the body of a butcher, Albert Brooks, at the end of the Yuan dynasty. Was it brainwave resonance? Or four-dimensional space? How could people in the fourteenth century possibly know what a wave was, or what a fourth dimension was? Besides, since he could know things that would happen seven hundred years later, how was that any different from being seen as the reincarnation of Maitreya Buddha in their eyes?

Thinking of this, he couldn’t help but sigh again and added gloomily, “Forget it, I won’t say any more! Even if I told you, you wouldn’t understand.”

“Yes, we understand, Heaven’s secrets must not be revealed!” The little jailers exchanged glances and nodded mysteriously. Everyone had long known that Albert Brooks wasn’t really the hall master of the Maitreya Sect. But as for Albert Brooks being just an ordinary person, none of them believed it.

In these times, commoners were commoners, and officials were officials. When ordinary people saw an official, even a minor one, their knees would go weak; who would have the courage to hold a knife to a constable and, in a situation like last night, still manage to fight their way out alive?

If an ordinary person was shot with an arrow, the wound would definitely be swollen like a bun the next day. But last night, Albert Brooks just spat on his wound in front of everyone. This morning, when the maid changed his clothes, the wound had already scabbed over, and not a drop of pus had oozed out.

What’s more, this Albert Brooks, despite his fierce appearance, had been a notorious coward before last night—bullied by everyone, never fighting back. But after being knocked out and suddenly waking up, he had become a completely different person. Rough yet meticulous, gentle yet firm, and utterly fearless—when he spoke of anyone or anything, there was not a trace of timidity in his words. Even when talking about the Buddhas of the Western Paradise, he treated them as equals, never feeling inferior.

But only gods and Buddhas can stand shoulder to shoulder with gods and Buddhas! In the eyes of people of the Yuan dynasty, who had been oppressed by foreign rulers for over seventy years, the confidence and self-respect displayed by a modern person was simply inhuman!

Therefore, even if Albert Brooks hadn’t been possessed by Maitreya Buddha last night, he must have been possessed by some great deity. In any case, he was not someone they could afford to offend.

Seeing everyone like this, Chris Brooks had even less desire to explain. He sighed a few more times and thought to himself: Maybe this is for the best. At least for now, except for that old bastard Mr. Sullivan, no one else would dare treat me as a puppet or sell me out easily. As for the future, who the hell knows what will happen? Take it one step at a time. If I can’t even get past Sesame Thompson, how will I ever unlock those maps later? What does any of it have to do with me then?

Seeing that he was still frowning, Mr. Sullivan thought he was still worried about how to deal with Sesame Thompson. After thinking for a moment, he lowered his voice again and reminded him, “You were possessed by Maitreya Buddha last night, and your spirit was overtaxed, so you can’t remember many things!”

“Hmm?!” This was the second time Chris Brooks had heard this. He glanced at Mr. Sullivan and pondered in a low voice.

Mr. Sullivan truly had the makings of a crafty advisor. Without needing to be prompted, he added in an extremely soft voice, “Usually, all the specific affairs of our Dazhi Hall are handled by me, the ‘white paper fan.’ So, in these days when your spirit is exhausted, if Chief Steward Thompson wants to know about our hall’s matters, just push it to me. I guarantee—guarantee he won’t find any loopholes!”

“You old fox!” Chris Brooks spat at him fiercely, but nodded helplessly. There’s a saying in the twenty-first century: let professionals handle professional matters. Since the old fox was best at lying and deceiving, let him go fool Sesame Thompson. After all, if even being possessed by Maitreya Buddha could happen to him, then getting amnesia wouldn’t be surprising.

“Heh heh, heh heh!” Seeing that Chris Brooks had accepted his suggestion, Mr. Sullivan quickly scrambled up with a cheeky grin, placing the Great Bright Shield on the table with both hands. “Here, please keep this safe, sir. It’s made of bronze—clearly a rare item!”

“Rare, my ass! It’s something that’ll get you killed!” Chris Brooks cursed again. “No matter how rare it is, it’s not worth exchanging so many lives for. Go ahead and play your tricks! You can fool people for a while, but not forever. When the big shots from the Maitreya Sect come knocking one day, you’ll get us all killed!”

“Heh heh, heh heh!” Mr. Morgan shook his head and, with a single sentence, left Chris Brooks dumbfounded again: “That depends on how you do in the future, sir. If we can command tens of thousands of troops and dominate a region, the Maitreya Sect will do everything they can to prove you’re their hall master. Why would they ever try to push you out?!”