"Sir, can that monk truly be trusted?"
Through the palace window, beneath the distant Fu Sang Tree, Bei Yuan sat cross-legged, silently chanting scripture without moving an inch. The black Fu Sang Tree, the monk gleaming with Buddhist Light, the leaves swaying in the wind, while the monk's robes hung heavy and still—dark and bright, moving and still—formed an intensely striking visual contrast.
An'an asked Qin Yi with some concern. She had always felt that this place was strange through and through.
She had been observing the previous ice demon through the water spirit and had detected no movement, which had greatly exceeded her expectations. But when she had fought Bei Yuan's evil thought, she had not had the spare attention to divide her focus. She had lost observation during that period and did not know whether something had happened at precisely that time. She had never truly been at ease about it.
And then there was what Bei Yuan had said: three Devil Masters... among them was one at No Form Perfection.
That was an even more terrifying level of power than the forbidden grounds of the Jianmu Tree. After all, neither Qiu Niu, Baxia, nor Doggie had reached such a level. The gap was immense.
An'an simply could not believe this place was so perilous, yet they were actually standing right on top of it. Her feet did not even know whether they dared touch the ground; they were still floating.
"Such pure goodness after severing one's evil thoughts may understand goodness somewhat differently from us, but at the very least, it would not deliberately harm others. Besides, exaggerating the power within would only make people more inclined to stay away. If he meant to harm us, he would not have said so. His words should be trustworthy."