Qing Luo shook her head, her round little face drooping to her collar, her voice listless: “Someone from the mountains once went to the great city, and came back badly injured. She told us that whether it’s the nobles and lords of the human race, or the accomplished elders and sect leaders, none of them really like the demon race. Monsters like us, who know nothing, if we enter the city, we wouldn’t even know how we died.”

Laura Reed couldn’t help but laugh, tapping her finger on a wine jar to the side, and said, “Quickly forget everything you’ve ever heard about the Holy Land and the humans.” She leaned forward slightly and said, “The lady is an ancient immortal of the Holy Land, surrounded by all kinds of demons and ghosts. Of course, those who commit crimes will be punished, but I’ve never heard of anyone being executed or taken away for others’ amusement. If things were really as you say, you would have died on that mountain top that very day—how could you have survived until now?”

After speaking, she added, “Following the lady, you need to be bolder. Today you were so restrained in front of the humans—what will you do in the future, when you face other ancient immortals of the Holy Land? Won’t you just faint?”

The night was tranquil, and the sound of the carriage wheels crunching over gravel was the only thing to be heard. Grace Turner extended her spiritual sense, listened for a while to the conversation of the two girls behind her, then quickly withdrew it. Ever since she was born, she had been the focus of attention; the comments from those around her or from the outside world had never ceased. After hearing so much, she no longer cared.

What troubled her was something else.

The formation Brian Clark used to suppress tens of thousands of demon ghosts in the central city of Yedu, her father, and that tea immortal—big and small matters all awaited her handling. Yet at this critical moment, for some unknown reason, she had returned to a thousand years ago.

Now, she had two theories in her mind. One was that she had fallen into a spell jointly set up by Brian Clark and Adam Harris, meant to trap her until everything outside had settled, so that by the time she got out, it would be too late. The other was that, by coincidence, the three of them had accidentally traveled back a thousand years together.

If it was the former, she only needed to find a way to break the spell; if it was the latter, things would be much more complicated.

And judging by the current situation, the latter seemed far more likely.

If things were really as Grace Turner suspected, then Heaven had given her a chance to start over.

She was born into privilege, and everything had gone her way since childhood. Up to now, if there was anything she truly regretted, it was saving Brian Clark.

All these years, Brian Clark had climbed step by step to the peak, and everyone in the world sighed and marveled, saying that if it hadn’t been for Grace Turner saving him on the judgment platform that day, and for all the support Yedu gave him afterward, there would never have been the later Immortal Lord Brian Clark. In the past, these words were like a passing breeze to Grace Turner, gone as soon as they came. But after crossing swords, thinking back, not a single word was wrong.

Without Grace Turner, there would never have been the later awe-inspiring, commanding Brian Clark.

He should have died on that snowy, windy morning, under the fifty thunder strikes of the judgment platform.

Grace Turner’s long lashes unconsciously lowered, thick and dense, as she thought, if she really had a chance to do it all over again—

At this moment.

Brian Clark should have already lost all his cultivation, his tendons severed, locked in the most heavily guarded dungeon of Xihe, keeping company with evil spirits.

Chapter 3

From Jinxi to Xihe, they had to pass through several human cities. Even though the carriage they traveled in was inscribed with acceleration arrays, so as not to alarm the mortals, they always maintained a steady pace—neither too fast nor too slow. Only at night would they race like the wind, flashing past the wild hills and groves like lightning.

After three or five days of this, their carriage finally stopped at the checkpoint before entering Shanhai City.

At this time, there were still four days before the judgment platform would open.

After entering the city, a masked, brocade-robed envoy walked up to Grace Turner’s carriage and said in a low voice, “My lady, we have arrived at Shanhai City.”

Shanhai City was a great metropolis, not under the rule of any mortal emperor. Half of its residents were ordinary people, the other half cultivators. To the east was the somewhat famous cultivation site, Ziwei Grotto, and behind it was Xihe Holy Land, the foremost of the Six Holy Lands. Because of this, the city was bustling and crowded, yet still orderly, with little trouble or disturbance.

Inside the carriage, Grace Turner responded with a soft “Mm,” and asked, “Have the people sent by my father arrived?”

The brocade-robed envoy, sensing the curious glances around, pressed the mask tightly fitted to his face and replied, “Yes, they arrived yesterday.”

Grace Turner nodded, her voice clear as jade: “Go to the West Tower.”

“Have them come see me later.”

The carriage quickly turned and headed toward the most prosperous center of Shanhai City.

Xihe ranked first among the Holy Lands, always shrouded in mystery. Many had heard its name, but few had glimpsed its true face. The other five Holy Lands covered vast territories, and ordinary people could enter if they wished, but Xihe was heavily guarded, with many rules. Not to mention ordinary visitors, even those from the other five Holy Lands who were invited had to carry identity tokens and undergo strict inspection before they could enter through the back door of the West Tower.

The West Tower was the foremost of Shanhai City’s forty-seven towers. By day, it was filled with fine wine and delicacies; by night, countless beauties would emerge from the small rooms, either drinking with guests or laughing as they were escorted to the third floor—an open secret among the city’s dignitaries and nobles.

No outsider would ever guess that the solemn and dignified Xihe Holy Land was hidden right behind this raucous, clamorous West Tower.