Grace Wood, as the first person to step forward and lead everyone, now wore an ugly expression as she spoke to the woman kneeling before her in tears: “What are you saying? Wasn’t it you who begged for the chance to serve the Grandmaster in the first place?”

The woman’s face was full of regret. “I don’t want to anymore, Shishu, I’m scared. Has the Grandmaster fallen into demonic ways? Otherwise, why would he slaughter disciples of our sect? If he can kill several shishu and shijie, he’ll kill me too!”

She had witnessed with her own eyes two of her shijie, who had tried to secretly escape from the Three Saints Mountain, explode into two sprays of blood on that broad, spotless jade platform. Who else but the Grandmaster could have done such a thing here? He had killed so freely before—it had to be him. Such a cruel Grandmaster was nothing like what she had imagined.

Seeing the fear in her eyes, Grace Wood darkened her face and flicked her sleeve. “If you’re afraid, then don’t follow me. I’ve said it before: I am here for the Grandmaster. As long as he refuses to accept me, I will not give up. You cowards, unable to withstand even this little test—how could you ever be worthy of catching the Grandmaster’s eye!”

Grace Wood was a junior of the sect leader’s line and knew more than the others. Because of her intelligence, Grace Wood had grown up under the sect leader’s tutelage, receiving personal instruction. She often saw the sect leader gazing anxiously toward the Three Saints Mountain. From birth, she knew there was a Grandmaster in the mountain, whose existence was tied to the survival of the Gengchen Immortal Palace for hundreds of thousands of years. She herself had been raised by the sect leader specifically for this Grandmaster.

The sect leader hoped that one day she could become the Grandmaster’s disciple—or if not, at least serve by his side.

“If you can earn the Grandmaster’s favor, you can save the Gengchen Immortal Palace. If not, I fear our palace will be destroyed by his hand,” the sect leader had once told her.

From the sect leader, Grace Wood learned of Grandmaster Cizang’s Fengshan clan bloodline, his forbidden birth, the tragedy he had once caused, and his temperament. She was confident that she understood the Grandmaster better than anyone here.

In her view, she had indeed received special treatment from the Grandmaster. In recent days, the Grandmaster had often killed with his own hands—even Lillian Clark, her greatest rival, had been killed—yet she was still alive and well. Every day, she would go to the central tower and wait before the door that never opened.

She had run into the Grandmaster several times, but she was never eager to curry favor. Instead, she tried to move him with her sincerity, hoping he would see her devotion.

The sect leader had said that before this Grandmaster, it was useless to try to hide anything. She could only present herself in the most devout and humble state, laying her thoughts bare for him to see. Grace Wood did as told, and then discovered that the Grandmaster was not as bloodthirsty as others imagined. He did not kill at random; if he killed, it was because someone had done something. As for her, she had none of those thoughts. Even when the Grandmaster saw her kneeling at the foot of the tower, he never laid a hand on her—he simply liked to ignore everything.

Grace Wood became more and more convinced of her belief: as long as she persisted, in the end, the Grandmaster would surely be moved by her.

Those who had once persisted with her no longer wished to wait with her at the central tower every day. Whenever the Grandmaster saw them, he seemed extremely impatient, and would sometimes even kill one or two. Who would dare go again after that? Only Grace Wood still persisted day after day.

On this day, as usual, she came to the foot of the central tower, kneeling upright before the tightly closed door.

Evelyn Foster, carrying the Monday-morning gloom of an office worker, arrived at the central tower and saw the leader of their hundred-member girl group, the class monitor, kneeling there, occasionally calling out, “Disciple has come to serve the Grandmaster, please accept this disciple.”

Evelyn Foster: “……” Truly a warrior. She herself wished she could hide far away and enjoy her vacation, yet this leader actually volunteered to face that temperamental ancestor. What psychological fortitude! No wonder she could be the leader—her ideological resolve was truly something else.

If only they could switch places, and let her go serve that ancestor.

But it was just a thought—this wasn’t something she could decide. If the ancestor summoned her, even if it meant certain death, she had to come. The world was just that messed up: what you want, you can’t get; what you can get, you don’t want.

Her footsteps caught the leader’s attention. The leader turned to look at her, the once sincere and passionate gaze now cold and disdainful.

“You’re actually still alive.”

Evelyn Foster had wanted to greet her, but now she didn’t feel like it. What was with these people? Everyone who saw her said the same thing. Dead? Not a chance—she could still eke out another day.

Seeing her walk straight toward the central tower’s main door, Grace Wood showed a hint of surprise, then mockery. Even if this person had managed to survive until now, today she’d probably die at the foot of the tower. She didn’t call out to Evelyn Foster, just watched coldly to see how she would die.

Recently, everyone who approached the central tower rashly had died. The only one who could stay this close and be fine was herself. Grace Wood felt a bit proud.

Evelyn Foster walked step by step to the main door, feeling it was a bit tricky. Although the ancestor had hired her, he hadn’t given her a work badge, so she couldn’t get through the door access.