Megan Price had barely finished speaking when the surging spiritual energy within Xi He suddenly calmed, as if someone had dropped ice into boiling, bubbling water. Immediately after, a massive gateway slowly appeared before everyone’s eyes.

Seeing this, Paul Evans smiled at Megan Price and said, “Thank you, my lady.”

Megan Price replied politely, turned to take the jade token handed over by a young attendant, and pressed it lightly against the lacquered red pillar. At last, the West Pavilion, adorned with the lights of the mortal world, revealed its unique scene to all.

The entire roof of the West Pavilion split open from the center, so that anyone inside could look up and see the sky. Countless flying eaves and tiles seemed to be suspended in midair by invisible threads, creating a distinctive, layered beauty. Many children in flowing robes, carrying incense burners, filed out and stood on either side.

“Sacred ground welcomes its guests.” Megan Price stood to the side, her gaze passing through Xi He’s massive gate and settling deeper within. She gestured for Grace Turner and the others to follow, raising her voice: “Please, everyone.”

Grace Turner stepped forward, her figure quickly passing through the gate of the sacred ground and vanishing into the deeper mists.

This time, among those following Grace Turner into Xi He, besides the people by her father’s side, there was also a familiar face.

“I came of age last month and took a post under my sister, handling miscellaneous affairs on the outskirts of Baizhong Mountain,” said Mark Cooper, keeping close to Grace Turner. “I accompanied the lady here to the sacred ground once before. When I heard you were short-handed, I volunteered to come.”

Mark Cooper was Chaohua’s younger brother. Unlike his steady sister, he was more lively. Compared to the timid little demons, he was bolder in chatting with Grace Turner.

“Didn’t you say you’d never get involved with Baizhong Mountain’s affairs, not even if it killed you?” Grace Turner’s gaze swept over the countless mountains and rivers of the sacred ground. Hearing this, she glanced sideways and asked.

Being looked at like that, Mark Cooper couldn’t help but scratch his head, a little embarrassed. “Sister said I should take a post to temper my character. If I can’t even handle this, I shouldn’t think about anything else—it’s all just daydreams.”

Grace Turner couldn’t help but smile, the corners of her mouth curving slightly.

Mark Cooper looked around and found that all the faces were familiar from last time—the successors of each sacred ground.

Except for Beihuang.

“My lady,” he wondered if he was mistaken, and lowered his voice to ask, “Have both the Buddha’s son and daughter come?”

Grace Turner gave a soft “mm” in confirmation. Mark Cooper immediately widened his eyes in surprise, whispering like a mosquito, “Then at this trial, won’t most people survive?”

Buddhism saves all beings, and what it cannot bear most is the sight of lives withering away before its eyes.

Since they can’t bear it, they simply don’t look. Last time the trial platform opened, Beihuang only sent someone as a formality, never glancing down at all.

Mark Cooper shrank his neck, thinking of the scenes that might unfold, and added, “Beihuang and Chishui won’t start fighting, will they?”

These two sacred grounds—one upholds law to subdue evil, the other values compassion; one is responsible for detaining and interrogating, using harsh methods, the other for ferrying lost souls and comforting the masses. No matter how things look on the surface, there’s always friction behind the scenes, and neither side can accept the other. You can tell just from the fact that their successors have never taken on a task together.

“You underestimate Beihuang’s state of mind,” Grace Turner said calmly as she followed the attendant forward. “Beihuang is a place of tranquility, but that doesn’t mean those who come out of it can’t face killing and slaughter.”

Whether Mark Cooper understood or not was unclear, but he nodded with practiced ease. “You’re always right, my lady.”

Crossing a stretch of mountains and rivers, the outline of the trial platform gradually appeared before them. Greeting them was a renowned elder of Xi He, with an immortal air and a kindly smile that gave him the benevolence of age. He sought the opinion of Grace Turner and the others: “Everything is ready. When to begin the trial is entirely up to you.”

Grace Turner glanced unobtrusively at Adam Harris.

Eager to get Song Heng out as soon as possible, Adam Harris was in no mood to wait.

Sure enough, Adam Harris frowned and spoke first: “Let’s arrange it as soon as possible. Once the New Year passes, everyone will be busy and won’t have time to spend too long at the trial platform.”

Indeed.

After the New Year, everyone who failed to complete the required number of tasks from the Book of Fate last year would have to catch up before May. Just look at Grace Turner, and those who had just arrived from Kunlun, Beihuang, and the others.

So this suggestion quickly gained Paul Evans’s support. The sword cultivator in white gave a wry smile and said, “I agree. If I get assigned a few more troublesome cases, I won’t finish my tasks this year either.”

This clearly struck a chord with the others, and no one objected.

Seeing this, the elder of Xi He stroked his long beard knowingly and said, “In that case, please proceed to the trial platform.”

All the way to the foot of the mountain, a long staircase stretched up to the sky, like a thin thread suspended from the base to the summit. Grace Turner climbed step by step, her expression growing colder the higher she went.

Around the trial platform stood rows of stewards in silver armor, backs straight and faces solemn. Numerous cloud mirrors hung around, reflecting every detail of the surroundings. These cloud mirrors were connected to all corners of the world, so that what happened here today would soon spread everywhere, as if sprouting wings and flying to every street and alley, every bustling market and quiet lane.