His tone softened a little: "Brian Clark is indeed at fault, but after a thousand years of affection, living together day and night, how could things between you and him come to this over those matters?"

Grace Turner looked at him coldly. Beneath the closed window, the faint, shifting lights from the building outside cast one or two streaks of orange-red glow onto her eyelids, making her blink from the glare.

See, if the pain isn't on themselves, people never feel it.

Brian Clark is pitiful, Brian Clark is understandable, he is a good man, a great man—even if he goes against righteousness, repays kindness with enmity, it's all for the sake of the common people.

Everyone should forgive him, sympathize with him, including Grace Turner.

"Adam Harris." Grace Turner had no desire to waste words with him. She curved her lips slightly, her tone chilly: "When the tribunal opens and he finds life worse than death, remember to ask him for me—how could he offend me so deeply over a mere tea spirit."

With that, she lowered her eyes, gathered her sleeves, turned, dispelled the barrier, and left the private room.

Inside, the doubts in Adam Harris's eyes were instantly dispelled by that mention of "tea spirit."

If Brian Clark had sealed the demons and ghosts of Yedu for some other reason, Grace Turner's reaction would indeed seem unreasonable. But as it happens, it was because of a woman.

And this, when the whole world knows he and Grace Turner are a pair.

Where does that leave Grace Turner's dignity?

Anyone in her place—who wouldn't be angry, who wouldn't feel chilled to the heart?

Thinking of what was to come, Adam Harris couldn't help but rub his forehead and sigh slowly.

===

After nightfall, the West Wing grew even livelier. Grace Turner and her companions were arranged to stay on the third floor, attended by people carefully selected by Mistress Liu—quiet, light-footed, each one clever and capable.

Evelyn Ward and Laura Reed were waiting under the lanterns hanging at the entrance to the small courtyard. Seeing her return, they came forward, one before and one behind. The latter whispered in Grace Turner's ear, "My lady, we've just investigated—many have come from Chishui this time, over thirty openly, and who knows how many in secret, led by the Holy Son Adam Harris and the Holy Maiden Dylan King."

Grace Turner paused, nodded to show she understood, then her gaze slid over Laura Reed's face and landed on the visibly nervous and uneasy Evelyn Ward.

The little demon, unaccustomed to the world, couldn't handle the pressure. Before she could speak, a pair of ears popped up from Evelyn Ward's hair with a "pop," the tips pressed back, looking thoroughly startled.

Grace Turner was silent for a moment, then spoke before the little demon could kneel and beg forgiveness: "Send word to Ryan Cooper, have her check if there's a tea spirit imprisoned in Yedu's main prison."

All things have spirits. Compared to wolves, tigers, and leopards born with ferocity, people always feel a bit of closeness toward flowers, plants, and trees formed from the essence of heaven and earth, dew, and mist. Thus, if such a spirit by chance joins a righteous sect to learn immortal arts, they are called "little immortals"; if not, and they cultivate demon arts by instinct, they are "little demons."

The "tea spirit" Brian Clark spoke of is, plainly, a little tea demon who learned magic and, after committing an offense, was imprisoned in Yedu.

It's said that Brian Clark went to Yedu initially just to find this person, and it was after hearing what the tea demon said that he suddenly decided to send troops to Yedu.

To be able to drive Brian Clark to such a killing spree, Grace Turner truly wanted to see what this tea demon was capable of.

Evelyn Ward froze for a moment, then came to her senses and replied in a trembling voice, "Yes."

After Grace Turner left, Laura Reed gave Evelyn Ward's back a gentle push, amused by her dazed expression. "Why are you just standing there? The lady gave you an order—aren't you going to do it?"

Evelyn Ward fumbled to pull out the communication talisman at her waist, about to ignite it, but her fingers paused. She looked up with wide, round eyes and hesitantly asked Laura Reed, "But—why would the lady..."

Laura Reed smiled and patted her shoulder. "You have no parents, nor any relatives or friends to rely on. If you were sent away, where could you go?"

In a big city like Shanhai, where cultivators and humans are evenly split, a little demon who can't even control her own ears would have almost no chance of survival.

So even though she's a burden now, knowing nothing, the lady is still willing to give her a chance and keep her close.

As if knowing what she was thinking, Laura Reed's gaze softened. "Once you've been with the lady long enough, you'll see—her heart is softer than anyone's."

Evelyn Ward clutched the burning talisman in her hand and nodded vigorously.

After giving her instructions, Grace Turner didn't stay long in her room. Soon, like a gust of wind, she left the West Wing.

Heaven and earth met at the horizon, the silver moon like a hook. The whole city of Shanhai lay like a giant beast lurking in the mist and night, quietly coiled. At the end of February, the wind swept again and again over the dry ginkgo branches on both sides of the street, making the branches knock together with crackling sounds.

Grace Turner tapped her toes lightly and leapt onto the roof beam of the West Wing, looking back. All she saw was emptiness—no lamps, no firelight at all, as if something had forcibly separated this place from the bustling West Wing.

That was the Xihe Holy Land.

Xihe had always been mysterious, with many rules, strict and methodical. Because the divine Fusang tree and the sacred Book of Destiny were rooted here, even though the direct bloodline had dwindled, in the eyes of the world it remained uniquely special, and its position as the head of the holy lands had never changed.