The Heiress’ Return: Six Brothers at Her Beck and Call (Wynter Quinnell) novel Chapter 1781

The cultivators' words left everyone shaken. No one was ready to face another demon beyond their power. Those with weaker spiritual skills couldn't help but shudder as they gazed toward the distant eastern area.

The first thing they noticed was the statue, surrounded by skulls and various offerings. No human could ever belong in such an eerie place, yet in the dense mist, a lone figure sat, bound behind the statue.

Draped in a red robe, his long hair danced with the wind, and his form was barely discernible against the chilling mist. Even so, his ankles and wrists were unmistakably shackled in chains.

The young man dropped his hands as the sharp clinking of metal echoed in the air. He appeared unbothered by his restraint, shifting his gaze sideways, as though fixated on something.

Though Wynter struggled to make out his features through the thick mist, she caught sight of his smooth, slender hands with defined knuckles.

There was an undeniable elegance to those hands, as though they had once gently caressed the celestial palace's mythical birds or the finest flowers in the city. Yet, his fingers slicked with blood, as though he had suffered a deep wound.

At that moment, the young man finally noticed the others' presence. When he lifted his gaze, the crowd took a sharp breath.

He was stunningly gorgeous. His skin was as white as snow, contrasting with his dark hair. His nose was sharp and pointed, and the corners of his eyes were tinged with a dark, ink-like hue.

He carried himself with an elegant, indifferent air. The blood smeared on his face only added to his allure, lending him an almost divine presence.

The crowd suddenly felt a chill running down their spines. That place served as a training ground for the cultivators, and no mere ordinary mortal could be bound there. Rather, it was more likely a prison for demons and monsters alike.

Rumors swirled that the more sinful a demon, the stronger the divine shackles that held it. Could that young man possibly be one of them?

The cultivators exchanged wary glances. The young man wordlessly stared back at them before a smirk tugged at his lips. Just as he raised a hand, a figure lunged forward and seized his wrist.

"What's with these chains?" Wynter demanded, fixing the young man a questioning look.

How could she not ask? Though he appeared young, he bore the same face as her charming fiancé, Dalton. Unlike the polished, suited version she was used to, the Dalton before her carried a different kind of allure, marked by his youthful charm.

Wynter let out a soft sigh, silently remarking that Dalton's youthful beauty left everyone in the dust.

The young Dalton raised a brow, never expecting anyone to approach him. His first instinct was to pull his hand away or break Wynter's hand, as he despised anyone coming near him.

"Are you hurt? Let me cut these off for you." Wynter meant her words. Conveniently, she was carrying a sword at her side.

However, the cultivators appeared alarmed at her suggestion. "Don't be reckless! We don't know what he is. You might be releasing a great demon!"

Upon hearing their warning, Wynter shot the crowd a sharp look. Dalton, too, let out a soft chuckle, as though he heard something absurd.

"A demon? Me?" he wondered.

"If not a demon, then what are you?" a cultivator, one whom Wynter saved earlier, retorted and moved to cast a spell.

Without hesitation, Wynter blocked the attack with a hand before seizing the cultivator's throat with her other. She flashed a smirk and questioned intimidatingly, "Do I look like a demon, too?"

Her hair swayed in the still air, and the strength in her grip was unyielding.

The cultivators were taken aback by Wynter's action. "A-Are you actually defending him?"

Feeling the strain in her arm, Wynter tossed the cultivator aside. She might not have known how to ride a broom, but she was more than capable when it came to fighting.

That said, she still couldn't uncover the statue's mystery, even after encountering Dalton's younger self. Everything felt too real to be an illusion, and she was determined to get to the bottom of it.

More importantly, how dare they lay a hand on Dalton in front of her?

Refusing to step back, Wynter wielded her sword and levitated into the air. Clearly, she was ready to protect Dalton at all costs.

Carlton glared at her. "Are you planning to betray us? Does your poor sage know about this? Aren't you worried about being hunted by the sects once word about this gets out?"

Wynter could no longer contain her laughter. Considering her character, she had little patience for fools. "Don't try to pin this on me. You're supposed to be the genius cultivator, so surely, you can sense a lack of demonic energy in him.

"In fact, it's those of you hovering up there, too scared to come down, who are possessed. But you sensed nothing from them, did you? It makes me wonder how the sects ever crowned you as the genius cultivator."

Had Wynter not reminded them, the true possessed ones would've gone unnoticed.

Carlton, already at the edge of fury, suddenly realized that the demonic energy was coming from the cultivators hovering behind him. Apparently, those "cultivators" had stopped advancing for a reason.

Alarmed, Carlton quickly drove his sword upward.

The demons had intended to escape the Wretched Ground in the cultivators' bodies, yet they had been discovered. In truth, they had never wanted to venture into the eastern area or face Dalton.

The demons had no choice but to conceal themselves. They believed that Dalton wouldn't be provoked as long as they kept their distance. However, they never expected the ignorant cultivators would dare to challenge him.

Though Dalton appeared human, he had ripped off several heads just moments ago! Because of him, the demons had been unable to move a single inch.

Unaware of the truth, Carlton assumed his binding spell had worked and lunged at the demons. Without a choice, the demons abandoned their hosts and quickly fled the scene before Dalton could lose his temper.

"T-There really were more demons! They possessed Teigue and the others!"

The young cultivators could hardly believe their eyes as they rushed to help their sect members to their feet.

"Thankfully, they weren't possessed for long. None of them are seriously affected." A young cultivator sighed in relief.

"Still, we have to get out of here quickly. We need to take them back for cleansing."

While the cultivators debated their next move, Wynter studied the lock closely. After a moment of observation, she chose a modern approach to open it—by picking the lock.

No leader would ever step into the scene without knowing how to pick locks. It was a necessary skill for investigations in the Special Unit.

Wynter noted the lock's fine craftsmanship and its connection to the Arcane diagram. It appeared there was a specific order in which locks had to be opened. Luckily, she had read extensively on such topics and excelled at solving puzzles.

As Dalton watched Wynter focus on the lock, he suddenly asked, "Miss, are you and your friends immortals?"

Carlton's expression turned cold as he refuted, "There's no way Mt. Lunther is involved in such an act."

"Do you not believe me? Well, think what you want, sir; I'm only here to return the favor. Though I hoped to hear from the Divine One, it seems he's not around. You've probably startled him," the villager replied casually as he prayed to the statue.

No deity would dwell in such a blighted land unless they were a demon in disguise. However, the cultivators dared not voice their doubts upon learning that Mt. Lunther was involved.

Carlton raised his sword and ordered, "You… All of you will return to Mt. Lunther with us. You will identify the medium who spoke to you about the deity in this cursed place."

One of the villagers eagerly agreed. "I was hoping to go, anyway. Perhaps I might encounter the Divine One."

"I'll be heading to Mt. Verfait. We don't know where the Divine One has gone. Maybe he'll appear to us in our dreams," another villager said.

Wynter listened to the conversation in silence. For some reason, she was reminded about the holy prayer she attended before. The formation certainly seemed odd, as though it was being supported by some unseen force, creating a reality of its own.

Recalling the dreams the villagers mentioned, Wynter began to realize she was inside a dream rather than trapped in a formation. She cast her gaze downward.

The Sacrificial Human Formation was meant to be a mercy from the heavens, but it demanded sacrificial offerings. Wynter was aware that she had merely prevented one step of the process.

So, what was truly happening here? Whose resentment had been so deep that it trapped remnants within the formation?

It was unlike any formation Wynter had encountered before. Despite being inside the formation for so long, she sensed no traces of resentment or lingering spirits. Everyone around her felt like real, living beings, even Dalton, whom she held in her arms.

His body temperature was unusually low, but his heart beat steadily, though his pulse was distinctly different from that of the real one. He would likely have a long life. But right now, his hands were too cold, and his fingers were stained with blood.

Although Wynter couldn't sort through her thoughts, she figured finding the root cause was the way forward. Since the villagers had mentioned that their dreams connected both Mt. Verfait and Mt. Lunther, she decided to follow them back to search for clues.

With that, Wynter snapped out of her daze. She took out a handkerchief and wiped the blood from Dalton's hands, knowing about his mysophobia and aversion to the smell of blood.

Dalton was stunned for a moment before murmuring, "I can do it myself…"

Wynter raised an eyebrow but simply placed the handkerchief in his hands. She then glanced at the statue and scoffed. "If they can really grant my wish, I'll be filthy rich."

Dalton chuckled softly, replying in a smooth and pleasant voice, "I've warned the villagers about it, but they refused to listen and made me the sacrifice."

Little did Wynter know that his last statement was merely a lie.

Dalton's dark eyes fixed on her, and a cold fog seemed to swirl within them. "I thought I was going to die, but you saved me. Yet, I…"

Wynter leaned toward him and cut his words off. "Are you trying to say you have nothing to offer in return for my help? That's easy. Just offer yourself to me."

Dalton froze in the middle of cleaning his hands, though he still held himself with silent dignity. However, the statue behind him suddenly collapsed loudly.

Amidst the drifting remnants, Dalton uttered once more, "I'm sorry, miss, but what did you say? I didn't quite catch that."