The Thirteen Trials of the Deceptive Monk

Lu Wenjun chuckled: "There's also the possibility of it being a pseudonym..."

"Using a pseudonym? I, a phantom spirit, always use my real name." Breeze Rabbit chuckled. "I bet you never expected this, did you? You always thought the teaching assistant was a magician who liked to use shapeshifting magic, right? It wasn't until you started researching phantom spirits these past two days that you were surprised to find out, wow! I think I've seen that brown-furred rabbit from our class in a fairy tale book before!"

Lu Wenjun was speechless for a moment, and this expression only fueled the rabbit's arrogance. Faris started to argue: "You can't blame foreigners for not being sensitive. Your fame isn't as high as it used to be. Even when I was a kid, I watched Bugs Bunny."

"That's plagiarism!" Breeze Rabbit jumped up. "I'm the most famous scumbag rabbit, and that little thing that's not even a phantom spirit is just a third-rate cartoonist copying my fur!"

“To be honest, that character is much more interesting than yours. He has comics, animations, movies… and what do you have?” Bill leaned in and said.

"Resourceful and wise, a legacy of history!" the rabbit exclaimed.

The cowboy couldn't help but chuckle, and nudged his rabbit friend aside with the tip of his shoe. He habitually pulled out a cigarette, twirling it deftly between his fingers.

"Come on, you little devils," Bill laughed. "You're interested in phantoms so soon? I thought it wouldn't be until your second year at the earliest."

Linggong asked the question that everyone was thinking about.

"Professor Bill, are you a phantom too?"

Pex Beale, a well-known fantasy figure in American pioneering history and the culmination of Western cowboy folklore, tucked a cigarette behind his ear. He grinned, revealing a mysterious smile.

“Yes…and no,” he said mysteriously. “When it comes to the topic of phantoms and magicians, I prefer the traditional teaching methods—would you like to take a look at my original texts?”

·

“Bill, the weather back home is awful!!” Faris yelled.

"Get used to it, newbie!" Bill laughed from the front. "Tighten your scarf, put on your cowboy hat, and cling tightly to your horse. This is the untamed West; every wisp of sand and every gust of wind could take your life!"

“Can we really call this a wisp of wind?” Lü Wenjun’s face turned pale. “I think this is more like a gust of… a… a gust of wind!”

Linggong hugged his waist tightly: "So many winds!"

A fierce wind howled, sand swirled, and two horses galloped toward the western desert. The legendary cowboy, with his American student and a rabbit on one horse, stood tall and let out a joyful shout in the wind; the two visitors from the East gripped the reins tightly, almost bending over like shrimp.

At first, it seemed like nothing more than a spontaneous educational session: Mr. Peeks Bill conjured up an old, worn-out English picture book and invited everyone to come inside to "have a beer, ride a pony, and experience the local customs and culture."

However, from the moment they stepped into the book, they realized once again that they could never trust the academy teachers' rubbish practical teaching. There were no western towns, no bandits, no tin trains; what appeared before them was endless yellow sand and lonely cacti, as well as pitch-black tornadoes that covered all that desolate scene.

The wind rose from the depths of the desert, stretching across the somber sky. It was a chaotic black, swirling with countless grains of yellow sand, withered trees, and vegetation, like a dark dragon coiling and dancing in the western regions. There were more than a dozen such tornadoes, these raging dragons wreaking havoc on every inch of the western land, their roars sounding like the simultaneous screams of millions of demons!

“Don’t worry! We’ll be in our town once we cross that next section,” Bill said.

“That’s not even the thing I’m worried about anymore, I’m starting to give up!” Faris screamed. “How am I supposed to get over that thing?! Tell me, survival expert!!”

Lu Wenjun was equally nervous: "I've never done tornado training before..."

"Generally speaking, there wouldn't be this kind of special training, Wenjun!"

“Watch closely, guys, this is how a real cowboy does it.” Bill pulled out a riding crop, tied it into a lasso, and said, “We’ll ride it.”

"What?!"

"Let's ride it! Yahoo!!"

Bill spurred his horse forward, galloping towards the whistling wind with poor Faris in tow. As he charged, he raised his long whip lasso, spinning it around his head. Hundreds of rattlesnakes, head to tail, formed this incredible whip, making a menacing sound as they swung it.

With each rotation, the rattlesnake whip doubled in length. By the third rotation, the lasso was almost large enough to snare a small mountain. By the fifth rotation, even the fiercest gale would be caught by those arrogant rattlesnakes. He charged, swung his arm, and whipped the tornado. And so the most famous lasso of the entire West soared, traversing the thick clouds and sandstorm. The lasso tightened at the snarling of the snakes, wedging itself into the heart of the gale with incredible speed.

He succeeded! The cowboy's lasso had caught the tornado! The gale bent down like an animal, as if a giant, transparent creature had bent over, wrestling with the cowboy on horseback. Bill laughed and tugged on the lasso, his skillful movements even causing the wind to lose its balance. He leaped off the horse and rose into the air with the lasso, landing steadily on the tornado's bent "back."

"Come on!" Breeze Rabbit poked her head out from behind him. "What are you standing there for?"

Bill tossed down the other half of the snake rope. They scrambled to grab it, and with the rattlesnake's help, they climbed onto the tornado, the rope even managing to entangle two horses that didn't need to run. They sat atop the howling gale, feeling as if they were riding on a raging, transparent mass of air. That air current, which could have exploded at any moment, pulverizing them high in the sky, now held its own. It was bound by the cowboy's magic, and even more so by the cowboy's taming.

Bill whistled a long whistle, and the tornado seemed to respond like a horse. It rampaged, knocking away all its kind that blocked its path, carrying everyone up into the clouds. A fierce wind raged in their field of vision, the dark clouds gradually thinned, and the overcast sky unknowingly turned blue. The tornado landed on the other side of that azure sky, gently blowing them to the ground.

"Thanks, buddy." Bill put away the snake cord. "Let's run together again sometime!"

They heard a short, high-pitched gust of wind, like the howl of a tornado. Then it took flight and flew away, returning to that wild, desolate land of thick clouds.

Lu Wenjun turned around and saw the sun high in the azure sky, with roads and houses faintly visible in the distance. They rode for a while longer and arrived at the Western town that looked like a movie set. The townspeople removed their hats in greeting as they arrived. Bill dismounted and pushed open the warped wooden door of the small bar.

"Long time no see, Bob."

The bar owner was a burly middle-aged man, and he was pleasantly surprised to see him.

“Oh, look who’s here, our greatest cowboy!” he said, looking at Breeze Rabbit, “...and his sidekick with his new pet rabbit?”

"That idiot forgot about me again!" Blair Rabbit yelled.

“Don’t do that, you know Bob’s memory isn’t very good.” Bill gestured. “Two pies, and…”

“Tequila on the ice, of course!” Bob said cheerfully.

He busied himself mixing drinks, chatting with the cowboy at the bar about recent happenings: someone had found ten dollars, another train had been robbed, and the sheriff of a certain town had put a reward on Bill's head. Bill listened patiently, occasionally cracking a joke. Then Bob's wife (a sturdy woman two sizes bigger than him) brought over pies and a round table for everyone to sit around.

The pie was filled with apples and topped with plenty of blueberry jam. The crust was thick and the portion was enormous, perfect for a group of people who had just ridden a tornado to replenish their energy. Lü Wenjun wolfed it down, his face showing surprise.

“I don’t know how to say it,” he said. “It’s too…it’s simply…unbelievable.”

"You're insanely awesome, Bill!" Faris exclaimed excitedly. "That move you just made was absolutely legendary! There's no way a wizard could pull something like that!"

“Indeed, here,” Bill said, sipping his tequila. “Because this is my stage, and I am the protagonist of this story. In the West of the 1830s, Pears Bill was undoubtedly a unique legend.”

But once you broaden your perspective and step outside the book into the real world, Pex Beale becomes just another face in the crowd. "I have some personality, but nothing particularly special, so after leaving my hometown, I became a wizard who falls short of the legends."

"You still have a lot to learn with this half-baked skill!" Breeze Rabbit chuckled mischievously.

“I studied really hard!” Bill swirled his glass. “First, I had to learn the basic concepts and common sense in the library before coming to the college as a freshman. It wasn’t until I got my diploma that I finally became ‘Wizard’ Bill, not ‘Phantom’ Bill. I have to say, it wasn’t easy, guys, much more troublesome than riding a tornado.”

Lu Wenjun nodded upon hearing this, but then asked, puzzled, "But Bill... why did you do that?"

Previously, he hadn't understood why Spring-Heads and the others were unwilling to leave the original text, but now that he had personally entered the book, he vaguely understood. The original text wasn't just a thin sheet of paper, but a vivid little world. There were phenomena, nature, and inhabitants who knew you well.

In the book, you are stronger and braver than in the outside world; in the book, you are the center of attention. Leaving this beautiful place for the unfamiliar outside world is indeed unnecessary for most phantom spirits.

"Is it for freedom?" Ling Gong whispered.

“You could say that! But I think it’s more of a personality issue,” Bill said. “You see, I’m a cowboy. I was born free and unrestrained, yearning for the wonderful air of adventure. One day I learned that the world is vast and there are countless hidden realms beyond the West. Even if I have to put down my most powerful gun, how can I not go out and see it?”

“I understand!” Lü Wenjun’s eyes lit up.

“Of course you know you’re yet another foolish adventurer,” Blair Rabbit mocked. “But at least you’re not as responsible as this idiot, always busy adding more to your own life.”

“Hehehe, this isn’t a topic suitable for students to discuss.” Bill frowned.

"What does it matter? You've brought them all here, so you should show them the less-than-ideal side of this wonderful world too." Breeze Rabbit munched on a pie. "Now it's the teaching assistant's turn to ask a question. Why did Mr. Cowboy, who yearns for freedom and adventure, go through all that trouble to come here and teach at a university?"

This question hit the nail on the head, causing all three to look at him with confusion. Breeze Rabbit grinned mischievously, "Why don't you tell me yourself?"

“I really regret bringing you along,” Bill sighed, waving to his boss. “Hey Bob! Any good news lately?”

“My wife doesn’t have a good appetite.” Bob said with that knowing look that most men have. “I guess…maybe…”

"Looks like I'll have to get you a pony."

"It's too early, Bill! Wait at least three years!"

The bar owner laughed heartily and turned to wipe his dirty glasses. Bill maintained his smile and looked at the students.

"He's been saying this ever since I can remember."

Lu Wenjun was taken aback, and then suddenly understood.

"You mean, in the more than ten years since you started studying and teaching..."

“Even longer than that.” Bill shook his head. “Back in 1834, when I first passed through the town, Bob Ryan wanted a child. He always had a vision for his offspring and the future, and would talk to me about it from time to time. But he never had a child, just as he had maintained his vigorous prime for nearly 200 years.”

"Because this is my story."

"This town, this desert, this western world is forever frozen in the 1830s, recording the legend of Pex Bill."

Chapter 84 The Protagonist's Responsibility

Let's look at this issue from a perspective outside the stage.

The Phantom Spirit is the protagonist of the story, possessing power, wisdom, and magic. The ultimate magic treats everyone equally in this regard; whether a monster, god, Phantom Spirit, or human, anyone with magic power has the potential to become a "magician."

If the story is of a high level or intricately constructed, "important characters" besides the protagonist can also become spirits. For example, in "Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves," the spirits are not limited to the thieves; Ali Baba and Morgiana are also spirits.

But what about the minor characters in the story? They're only mentioned by name somewhere, or they don't even have names; they're just insignificant background figures in the narrative, like villagers A, B, C, and D…

Can they become phantoms?

“Unfortunately, Bob isn’t ready yet.” Bill shook his head, adopting the same expression Ji Chuanjun had when he was teaching. “At least not now.”

"From an academic perspective, Bob is merely a byproduct of 'my' story, a derivative of this original text. If I am some kind of highly advanced artificial intelligence that has passed the Turing test, then Bob is just an ordinary NPC. His life and self are limited by this story, and he cannot go to the future after 1834."

“But from your perspective?” Faris said.

Bill's smile brightened, like that of a child.

"Personally, Bob is an old friend of mine. He treated me when I first came to this town and helped tip me off when the sheriff wanted me. He used to be a thief and did some less-than-honorable things, but that's how everyone is these days. In my eyes, he's no different from any of you."

“There must be a way, right?” Lu Wenjun said. “I don’t think magic is such a rigid thing. It doesn’t have that kind of logic where…birth determines destiny.”

“I like what you said. In the West, there’s no such thing as birth.” Bill snapped his fingers. “There are plenty of ways! For example, we could turn this original into a secret realm, a story that can keep going. Or we could change the original itself so that Bob and his crew can settle in a different, more suitable place. I prefer the latter… because if we go the secret realm route, I’d have to become the master of that secret realm, which is a bit too much for a cowboy.”

He dipped his fingertips in the wine and sketched a rough forest and a small cabin on the round table.

“I found a nice secret place while I was traveling,” Bill said. “It’s called Nowhere, a public secret place built by multiple original texts. It has both rural and urban areas, like America in the late 90s. Many modern phantoms and free magicians live there, leading a peaceful life of recuperation, occasionally sneaking out to buy things.”

"I plan to send my original text to Utopia as well, to make it part of that secret realm. It's like moving a tree into a forest; it will make a small difference to Bob and the others. They'll find that the dead zone filled with thick clouds has disappeared, and a new town is on the other side of the desert. I'll tell them it's because I tamed all the tornadoes, and now everyone can go play somewhere further away."

"Then they will ride their horses to visit the Land of No Return and gain some initial understanding of this world. They will go from being vassals of the phantoms to becoming inhabitants of the secret realm—perhaps classified as some kind of oversized stalker in terms of the monster race—and begin to experience a life of change that they were previously unaware of."

"They will find the two places are quite far apart, so they will build railways or buy cars, and do new things they have never done before. Perhaps some of them will fall in love with other races, or perhaps they will study the scriptures and become magicians. But before that, they will say goodbye to the old and welcome newborns."

Bob will have a disobedient son, or a lovely girl, or perhaps he'll have several little ones. When I return to town, I'll bring his children ponies and tell them stories of the greatest cowboy in the world. After that, Bob will grow old, becoming a grandfather, a great-grandfather…”

"With his slow steps, he ushered in the belated future after 1834."

Bill recounted it all with a cheerful expression, his eyes filled with a fervor almost extinct in modern times—the eyes of someone chasing a dream.

"What do you think?" he said. "What do you think of this?"

“I think this is fantastic,” Lü Wenjun said sincerely.

“Right! But before that, I have to hold a nationwide vote to figure out who wants to leave and who wants to stay. I need to move the ones who want to stay in the book to another similar original work, and then send the rest out.” Bill sighed. “That’s such a hassle, just thinking about it gives me a headache…”

“Who told you to value free will so much?” Blair Rabbit scoffed. “And before that, you have to become a true legend. That’s much harder than a poll.”

Bill gestured: "Shut up, rabbit."

Linggong caught the key point: "Teacher, does it have to be at the legendary level?"

“Unfortunately, yes. Constructing the True Transformation Spell and becoming a Mystic Wizard is enough to secure my freedom. But to expand that scope—to gain the power to set so many people free—that requires a Legendary status,” Bill said. “That’s a world of difference. I used to think it was simple, but it’s far from that…”

He gazed through the narrow window of the tavern at the fragmented sky. His fervent gaze became somber, as if magma had been frozen by the extreme cold of reality, no longer as fiery as it had been at first, but now profound and tenacious.

“It’s not that easy,” he muttered to himself. “That’s why I’ve returned to the academy again.”

He remained quiet for a while, recovering from his dazed gaze, and transformed back into the approachable new teacher everyone knew.

“That’s getting a bit off-topic,” he said. “Anyway, I think you all have a better understanding of Phantoms now. If you want to learn more about the details of the Phantoms and the origins of the Origins—we’ll talk about that in your second year, okay? You probably won’t understand it right now.”

"Okay, Bill."

Bill then asked, "By the way, do you guys think riding tornadoes is fun? I'm planning to take you guys on one in class in two weeks."

They tacitly ignored the students who were about to burst into tears, all saying that everyone would love this part. Afterwards, Bill led them out of the original text, smoking the cigarette he had been too embarrassed to light, and walked away.

They had classes during the second period in the afternoon, so they walked towards the teaching building, lost in thought. On the way, Faris said, "He's a good guy, isn't he?"

“Mr. Bill showed more responsibility than him,” Linggong agreed.

Lu Wenjun pondered Bill's choice. What were his feelings when he made this decision? Time was not pressing, for the people within the original world, though still, were always present. No one urged him, no one drove him; he already possessed the ability to travel the world freely and adventure, yet he was still toiling because of that "hometown" with which he should have severed ties.

That might be a kind of romance, he thought. The people the cowboy carried waited for him for almost eternity, while he spontaneously pursued another unattainable goal. Perhaps it is this pursuit and responsibility that transforms ordinary people into heroes and stories into legends.

Lu Wenjun's curiosity had been satisfied with the part about phantom spirits, but he was now craving something else entirely. He was increasingly eager to learn about the different ranks of mages.

At first, he thought it was simply a difference in strength, like lifting a 10-pound stone versus lifting a 100-pound stone, and that some stories would be more famous than others.

But in the world of magic, ranks and levels are not so simple matters; they involve knowledge, ability, and even free will. Almost all the teachers mentioned that the Wonderland level is the standard for graduation, and they all emphasized that the Legendary level is unattainable, to the point that even Bill has been slow to knock on the door of the Legendary level.

The difference between tales and legends shouldn't lie solely in the gap of effort or talent, something a novice magician who has only recently enrolled in school clearly cannot comprehend. Therefore, Lü Wenjun decided to seek help from a good-natured, patient, and willing-to-answer elder, and Tuliman, the teacher of the second period of magic history class in the afternoon, was such a universally acknowledged good person.

“Teacher, I have a question to ask.” During the break, he approached the old man with his notebook. “I know these things are too far removed from my own life, so this is just out of curiosity—how do we become a Wizard of Wonders, and how does a Wizard of Wonders become a legend?”

Tuliman stroked his long beard, and a wise, grandfatherly smile appeared on his wrinkled lips.

“Almost every year, those eager-to-learn children ask me similar questions,” he said slowly. “And I always start with a simple counter-question: How many techniques have you learned now, Mr. Lü?”

"Uh, 6."