Jason Morgan also remained silent. In such a situation, even though she and the Buddha’s Child were present, there was actually nothing they could do. Most people’s impression of Beihuang stopped at the level of being good-hearted; they could certainly save innocent mortals, but they could not lend a hand to those who had committed wrongdoings under the watchful eyes of so many.

On the other side, as if knowing that Grace Turner was determined not to pay any more attention to Brian Clark, Adam Harris had no choice but to frown and, under the incredulous gazes of his own people, name Brian Clark to be spared.

In addition, a young man named Sean Sullivan was singled out by Paul Evans to stay.

The trial was nearing its end. Above the heads of the remaining fourteen, streaks of lightning overlapped and flickered, and several people had already closed their eyes in utter despair.

That elder stepped forward, finally dragging out the word “finished.”

A clear, cold female voice suddenly rang out: “Wait a moment.”

Everyone turned to look.

Under the gaze of dozens of eyes, Grace Turner’s lashes fluttered rapidly twice. She extended her long finger and pointed at the youth radiating malice, saying, “I want him.”

Grace Turner, who would never fall for the same trick twice, made the same mistake as a thousand years ago.

Once again, she saved someone from the judgment platform.

The moment her words fell, Brian Clark suddenly looked up, his face instantly as pale as paper.

Chapter 7

“I want him”—just three simple words, yet their effect was like a thunderclap. Not only did Brian Clark’s expression change, but so did the looks of surprise or curiosity from those on either side.

This so-called judgment platform was really just a formality. Since those brought up were all heinous criminals, as inheritors of the Holy Land, they naturally felt no compassion for such people. But since the ritual existed, if no one was chosen, it would seem like a sham.

So the usual rule was to pick one as a token gesture.

Grace Turner didn’t care for such matters, and the people of Beihuang were only there to make up the numbers. As for Chishui, they couldn’t wait to execute them all as a warning to others. So this task naturally fell, without need for words, to Kunlun’s chief, Paul Evans.

But this time, there were two surprises.

First, the ever-righteous Chishui spoke up, and then the coldest, most aloof Grace Turner also intervened to save someone.

Was the sun rising in the west?

Mark Cooper also found it unbelievable. As soon as the judgment platform was lowered and the hundreds of cloud mirrors around them were withdrawn, he couldn’t help but turn his head and whisper, “My lady, do we really want him?”

Surely she hadn’t picked the wrong person.

Looking at the sixteen kneeling below, this one was the fiercest—let alone any sign of repentance, he was practically brimming with defiance.

Grace Turner’s beautiful eyes lowered slightly, and she gave a noncommittal “mm,” her mood unreadable.

Jason Morgan was drawn to look over by this response.

The Buddhist maiden, raised in the Buddha Continent, sat serenely, her every word and action graceful. She handed her booklet to a disciple of Xihe, pondered for a moment, and spoke with Grace Turner: “Before coming, the Buddha’s Child and I paid attention to the destruction of Yunshan Sect. When this youth was apprehended, there were also people from Beihuang present.”

“This youth’s nature is not bad. If properly guided, he could be of use.”

Grace Turner’s wrist moved slightly, and the jade bracelet encircling it slipped from her sleeve, hanging loosely on her wrist bone. She nodded to Jason Morgan and said, “I once heard my father say that Buddhist maidens, born in the Buddha Continent and trained in the world’s most profound mental arts, are especially sensitive to good and evil.”

“With your words, I can be at ease.”

In truth, both knew these were just polite formalities.

Anyone who made it to the judgment platform—how good could they really be? Especially for something like the destruction of a sect, which was enough to make ordinary people’s skin crawl.

Jason Morgan smiled with curved eyes. “If that’s the case, I think you are the kindest person here.”

Because their statuses were similar, everyone present was actually in frequent contact. Indeed, in Jason Morgan’s eyes, everyone had a certain righteous aura, but beneath that, each was different.

For example, she never would have guessed that the most popular, cheerful, and sociable Dylan King Saintess of Chishui possessed a Dao heart as firm as a rock, while the princess of Yedu—known for her coldness and unchanging expression—had a heart softer than even the Buddha’s Child.

Jason Morgan was not an outgoing person, and Grace Turner even less so. After a brief exchange, they each fell silent.

Not long after, Grace Turner and the others left their seats, descending from the judgment platform in groups of three and two. Disciples from the Holy Land came to invite them to tour various places.

As soon as they came down, Dylan King lost her temper.

“Adam Harris, are you out of your mind?” The flower-like smile on her face vanished as if by magic. “Of everyone on the judgment platform, you’re the most impressive, aren’t you?”

Paul Evans glanced at Adam Harris, then at the standoffish Grace Turner, and asked curiously, “You both seem a bit off today.”

“So what’s the story with this trial?”

“What story could there be?” Dylan King, with her naturally round, slightly chubby face, scolded Adam Harris with a hint of spoiled petulance. “Great, now I have to get scolded with you again.”

Adam Harris was so exasperated by her unreasonable words that he laughed. He tapped his own nose and said, “Get scolded with me again?”

“Who’s the one always dragging who down? Miss, do you really have no idea at all?”