Adam Harris saw that something was wrong and quickly spoke up: "Grace Turner, calm down. This matter isn't what you think it is. There are reasons behind it, and Brian Clark has his own difficulties."

"You can't speak for yourself?" Grace Turner turned her head, looking at Brian Clark standing ten paces away, her voice tinged with mockery, cold to the extreme: "A thousand years ago, you were like this as a prisoner, and now, even as the Immortal Lord, you're still the same. In this life, is hiding behind others all you know how to do?"

Brian Clark had the classic appearance of a noble young lord. He needed no gold or jade to set him off; just standing there casually, he was like a spring breeze through jade trees, indescribably elegant, winning hearts. From the embarrassed youth framed by his nemesis and dragged to the judgment platform of the Six Realms, to the most beloved Immortal Lord of the Heavenly Palace today, the passion in his heart seemed never to have changed.

Grace Turner had said more than once that Brian Clark was a stubborn good man, sometimes like an old monk, rigid and inflexible.

If someone was trapped in water or fire, he would save them if he could. If something benefited all beings, no matter how difficult, he would tirelessly push it forward. He was a thoroughly good person, a kind man, and for those cultivated by the great holy lands, like Grace Turner and Adam Harris, it was almost impossible to reach his level.

But just two days ago, this universally acknowledged good man led his invincible soldiers and flattened the entire city of Ye. Except for the holy lands and the native residents of the city, tens of thousands of undead and demon beasts in the central city of Ye—aside from a few powerful enough to escape—were all suppressed and sealed by a great formation.

If not for the messages falling like snowflakes on her transmission jade, if not for the life lamps representing those powerful beings, kept by her side, dimming one by one, Grace Turner would never have believed that the one who did this could be Brian Clark.

That it could actually be Brian Clark.

Outside, the rain lashed and the wind howled, clouds streaming like spilled ink. Inside, a small barrier had been set up, isolating all sound from the outside. In the silence, Brian Clark looked up, facing those cold eyes flecked with snowy light. He clenched his palm tighter and called her: "Grace."

Just one word, nothing more, yet it admitted everything.

Grace Turner closed her eyes for a moment, then calmed down. "Where is my father?" she asked.

"The Lord of Ye, with great righteousness in his heart, used himself as the core of the formation, completely isolating the central city of Ye from the outside world." Brian Clark exhaled softly and said, "Grace, I'm sorry. I couldn't stop him."

"Great righteousness in his heart." Grace Turner slowly repeated these four words, her slender, delicate fingers falling through the air as if manipulating some kind of puppet, exuding a pale and shattered sharpness. She looked at the familiar face before her, a strange, enchanting red slowly creeping onto her lips: "All that was done—was it for your so-called greater good, or for that tea immortal?"

Brian Clark stood where he was, neither confirming nor denying, and after a long time finally said, "This was not my wish, but something I had no choice but to do."

Grace Turner could not stand such empty words.

She blinked lightly, and vast spiritual power rippled out from her as the center, silent and invisible. Brian Clark seemed to sense something, turned his head, and saw that the rain outside had stopped at some point, replaced by snow falling thick as goose feathers. In just a moment, the world was blanketed in white.

Snow in July—those in the hall had unknowingly entered the formation.

"You are injured. It's not wise to fight," he said.

See, Brian Clark was just that kind of person. Even before a fight, he would kindly remind his opponent if they were hurt. He cared for the world, was good to everyone, and everyone liked and supported him. Even the most ferocious demon beasts and evil spirits would try to get close to him.

It was hard to imagine that someone like him could ever be driven to rage for the sake of a woman.

The irony was, after a thousand years together, the woman was not her, and yet for that woman, he had mercilessly destroyed the generations-long defense of Ye.

And her own thousand years of wandering, all her efforts and sacrifices for the balance of the three lands, had become a joke.

Grace Turner's long sleeves fluttered without wind, the finely embroidered entwined flowers rippling like water patterns at her wrist. Countless points of spiritual light gathered into a massive prison formation, expanding inch by inch before the three of them, enveloping the entire Cloud Hall inscribed with runes.

"A formation can be made, and it can be broken." At the corner of her eye, white water patterns seeped out, quickly winding into two frosty streaks, like long, swaying tail feathers. "If that's the case, I'll just capture you and bring you back to Ye, and break the seal myself."

Seeing her determined to act, Brian Clark's eyes narrowed slightly. He then tossed aside his life-bound sword, and spiritual light began to seep from his body as well.

"—Enough." Adam Harris finally couldn't take it anymore, forcing himself between the two of them. "Where did you two learn this habit of fighting at the drop of a hat? Can't you just sit down and talk things out?"

"If you two start fighting, half the Heavenly Palace will come crashing down."

With that, he turned to look at Brian Clark and the spirit sword he had tossed aside, his face full of absurdity and exasperation, as if to say, "Are you out of your mind? This is Grace Turner you're dealing with."

Grace Turner was no gentle, soft-hearted woman who would act coy when things went wrong. In her hands, who knew how many great demons and evil spirits had been suppressed? Even a thousand years ago, she was already famed among the Six Holy Lands as the icy beauty, a rose with thorns.