The Heiress’ Return: Six Brothers at Her Beck and Call (Wynter Quinnell) novel Chapter 1780

Wynter had no idea how she ended up in the formation, let alone in someone else's body. Under normal circumstances, such a thing wouldn't happen without some kind of warning. Could Royston's incantations be the reason?

For once, Wynter found herself completely at a loss. Yet, the chatter around her continued.

"She's not our concern anyway. Leave her be, Jaylene."

Jaylene Heidi couldn't help glancing back at Wynter. She radiated an ethereal beauty. Her long hair was held in place by an emerald hairpin, and her eyes gleamed brightly. "But we used to be in the same sect."

"That was in the past. You're just wasting your spiritual power if you remain on that poor mountain. Don't let your golden encounter slip away!" one refuted. He seemed to be the most authoritative among the teenagers.

The young man, with a strong physique and handsome features, gripped a sword in hand. He glanced at Wynter with feigned sophistication. "Unlike a certain someone, Jaylene won't take advantage of her family background and claim whatever pretty face catches her eye."

A teenager beside him nodded in agreement. "Carlton's right. Besides, Mt. Lunther is far more prestigious than that shabby sect. The sage even foresaw no one from Mt. Nyxvarn would achieve the Sacred Path in the next 100 years."

Wynter couldn't help but smirk at their words. They sounded like the typical villains from a piece of web fiction. And since they were so insignificant, she couldn't bother to remember their names.

That said, she had heard plenty of rumors about the body she was currently inhabiting. But given the current situation, she couldn't connect any of it to the Sacrificial Human Formation.

Wynter was genuinely confused. When she entered formations, her usual task was to help resolve the lingering regrets of the trapped souls that could create a formation.

Typically, the souls were either weighed down by deep resentment or lingering regrets. However, Wynter found nothing unusual. Everything that unfolded around her seemed so real, nothing like a formation's illusion.

"Forget it. She can come along if she wants. The boy toys she kept around aren't worthy of joining the field training, anyway. They won't dirty our eyes. I think she still has feelings for you, Carlton," someone teased.

Wynter rolled her eyes at their gossip, wondering if they were taking the field training seriously. Though she seemed to be following the group to the lake, she was actually trying to summon her spirits.

But there was no response to her attempts. It seemed that Leo was truly not around. That said, she had gathered enough information.

It appeared that a field training program was held every three years. Disciples from different sects were allowed to leave the mountains to gain more experience and seek enlightenment. It was a time when a talented cultivator could emerge through golden encounters.

As such, many sects placed great importance on the results of the training and the disciples' growth.

Take Carlton Elias, for instance. His progress in spiritual practice had outpaced that of his peers in Mt. Lunther. Rumors claimed that he had already reached the fifth stage of the Arcane Way, closing in on the seniors with average talents despite having cultivated for thousands of years.

As for Jaylene, she was blessed with a rare physique ideal for spiritual practice, along with exceptional talents.

All the young cultivators hailed from prestigious sects. Mt. Dragon and Mt. Lunther, for instance, were among the few orthodox sects. From the taunts around her, Wynter deduced that her own sect, Mt. Nyxvarn, had consistently ranked last in the field training program.

Whether it was the grand masters or disciples, everyone was considered average—hardly a name from Mt. Nyxvarn was heard in the field training program. Though they had no hope for ascension, they were well-equipped with the practical skills needed for survival.

Some were talented at grilling fish, while others had a knack for foraging for truffles. Everyone moved at their own pace, each blessed with an unusual amount of luck. After all, those without spiritual prowess would meet their doom if they couldn't defend themselves against demons.

For some reason, Wynter's fellow sect members were incredibly fortunate, as if a great blessing had been bestowed upon them. Despite their incompetence, someone always came to their rescue.

Apparently, Mt. Nyxvarn had once produced a powerful being. However, the sect gradually declined, leading to its current pitiful state.

"The female disciple only cares about pretty boys while the male disciple is only good at fortune telling. That's as far as they'll go," Carlton mocked.

"Forget about her, Carlton. If she's in trouble, we can just pretend we didn't see her," someone suggested.

However, they didn't dare taunt Wynter to her face but whispered behind her back.

Just then, Wynter shifted her gaze to the reflection in the lake. She was taken aback to see a face that looked almost identical to her own, with only a slight age difference.

Was it a coincidence, or the Sacrificial Human Formation's trick? How could she have ended up in a body with such a similar face? The odds were incredibly low, unless…

As Wynter stared down at her palm, a desperate scream suddenly rang out from the lake.

The young cultivators exchanged alarmed glances. "It's the cultivators from Mt. Verfait! They're in trouble! Let's go!"

With that, the group dashed toward the source of the scream. Being skilled cultivators, they moved with ethereal grace.

Instead of following them, Wynter spotted a familiar statue standing near the lakeside. It resembled the one Royston was holding. Could it be the same statue? If so, why hadn't she felt anything? She couldn't have possibly lost her sense of perception just from inhabiting someone else's body.

Wynter reminded herself that she was in the formation. Even if everything felt real, she had no time to linger.

"D-Don't come near me!" Another desperate cry echoed, sending the crows around the lake scattered into the air.

At that point, staying put was no longer an option. Considering the formation involved sacrificing humans, Wynter reckoned there were clues at the scene to dispel it. Before leaving, she took one last look at the statue, confirming there was nothing unusual about it.

Upon arriving at the scene, Wynter found a crowd had gathered. It seemed everyone was drawn to the location after the distress signal was sent. As they drew closer, they noticed many broken statues scattered around. Some appeared to be figures of dryad, though they weren't quite the same.

While Wynter couldn't identify the statues, she noted they were arranged neatly on the stones.

However, the statues weren't the reason the young cultivator had screamed for help. Rather, it was a demon's presence, along with the decapitated head and stone coffin that had been accidentally kicked over.

In simpler terms, the location was far too ominous and dangerous for a small group of young cultivators to handle. Moreover, the demon was imbued with demonic energy and was attempting to possess anyone it could find.

"H-He nearly took over my body!"

Those were the words Wynter overheard as she approached. Unlike the others, her first thought was that the location likely harbored more than one malevolent spirit. Encountering a malevolent spirit wasn't a huge problem, but things could quickly spiral out of control if it possessed a human.

Wynter, being a possessor herself, intended to stay out of the spotlight. If the other cultivators discovered that she was a foreign soul inhabiting another's body, she would be cast out of the formation or worse, eliminated. As such, she decided to observe in silence.

All of a sudden, the demon turned its gaze to the cultivators' direction. The black mist swirling in its eyes gave it an unsettling look. In the background, several villagers cowered in fear.

The sects, especially the orthodox ones, had long prided themselves on their values of chivalry and justice. They wouldn't hesitate to step forward to take charge, and Carlton was ready for action.

"Stand behind me, and set up the foundation!" he instructed as he unsheathed his sword.

The demon hung his head for a moment before turning in the other direction. Seeing that, the young cultivators couldn't help whispering among themselves.

"I can't believe Wynter was right about heading east. And here I thought those from Mt. Nyxvarn knew nothing."

"Keep your voice down! She's still listening. Be careful, or she'll have her sights on you," a cultivator teased.

"That wouldn't be so bad. She's got a pretty face, don't you think? Besides, I heard she's Velmoria's princess."

"Oh, if only she would look my way, too!"

The cultivators were truly young and inexperienced. Even when they were potentially cornered, they still had room for idle gossip.

As the center of the gossip, Wynter raised a brow and retorted, "Sorry, but none of you are my type. You should know I'm only interested in pretty faces."

Her words left several cultivators stunned. Some turned red in embarrassment, while others appeared unfazed.

Still, everyone couldn't help but heave a sigh of relief now that they were out of danger. In particular, the villagers had finally stopped trembling in fear.

Wynter wondered why there had been villagers on the training ground. Before she could ask anything, those who had fled earlier began to return now that the threat was gone.

"We can't stay here long. Mount your brooms," Carlton urged.

However, a cultivator beside him interjected, "I'm afraid they lack the skills to mount their brooms, Carlton. Besides, the demon hasn't left and is still guarding over there."

The only way for the cultivators to escape the predicament was to escape on their brooms. With the demon blocking their path, they had nowhere to go.

Wynter, however, didn't seem concerned. She looked up at the four cultivators hovering in the sky—they, too, appeared rather wary of the eastern area. Though only four in number, they kept a noticeable distance from the other cultivators, stopping right where the demon was.

It seemed the eastern area had a way of identifying demons. How convenient.

Realizing that no one noticed the strange cultivators, Wynter silently memorized their faces. She doubted anyone would believe her words, but she had always been protective of those close to her.

If she ever came across a fellow sectarian, she would make sure to warn them about the four unusual cultivators.

That said, what could possibly make the demon wary of the eastern area?

Just as Wynter was about to move forward, she suddenly heard a shout.

"What's that?"

"Look at that huge statue! So, this is why the demon refuses to come any closer!" someone exclaimed.

"Wait! It seems like someone's been tied up over there!"