I'm Definitely Not a Witch

The imaginary numbers are endless, and a great terror approaches.

At the moment when the three cycles of reincarnation are about to scatter, the Golden Coffin of Houtu comes from the immemorial past.

It reverses space and time, reforges the smoke-souls, and descends in 1860 aboard a flower-and-pig ship on the Pacific.

At that time, the Gold Rush was sweeping across North America.

Chinese laborers were treated as pigs, Chinese women as flowers, all left at the mercy of others, with nowhere for their souls to return.

Cholera was rampant, resentful ghosts clogged the roads, evil gods feasted on suffering, and higher-dimensional beings herded souls.

In the body of A He, I bear Houtu's will.

I establish my authority in the ship's hold, eliminate evil on shore, practice medicine in the streets, and destroy demons in the mines.

The Hall of Righteous Fellowship is shattered, the God of Plagues is destroyed, Mammon collapses, and the War Demon lowers its banner.

When war erupts across the North and South and civilization is on the verge of breaking apart,

the United States entrusts its national destiny to me, begging me to suppress the shadow from beyond the heavens.

One soul bears Houtu, one coffin suppresses the universe.

Not to become a god, not to claim supremacy,

but only to let my compatriots adrift in foreign lands have a safe place to live and a road home in death.

And then you actually want to tie me to a cross and burn me?

So what if I can obtain sarira!