The Heiress’ Return: Six Brothers at Her Beck and Call (Wynter Quinnell) novel Chapter 1791

Wearing a robe to save people wasn't practical, especially since Wynter was still running a fever. She took her own pulse and determined that it was a light fever before heading to the medicine room to treat herself first.

Dalton, ever the caretaker, held a folding parasol in one hand and a white fur cloak in the other, ready for her.

Wynter, as a person from a different era, had found many things inconvenient since arriving in this formation. But one thing was an exception—flying on a magical broom. Descending the mountain was a matter of minutes, and there was no need to worry about transportation.

The only issue was that she wasn't entirely familiar with some of the mystic herbs, but her medical background helped her understand the relevant ones.

The situation was worse than she had imagined.

When Wynter followed the spotted deer to the ground, she noticed a drained mystic spirit nearby. It was an antelope, pure white and glowing faintly, but its neck was torn open. Blood was splattered everywhere, its body shriveled, and its core hollowed out.

Seeing this, Wynter paused and glanced at Dalton. "Have you seen something like this before?"

She was new here and needed to understand what kind of cultivator would go to such extremes. She wondered if such a person could still be considered human.

"I have," Dalton said, holding the parasol with one hand and walking gracefully through the rain, the parasol tilted toward her. His noble energy seemed to make the rain lighten wherever he passed.

His black boots stepped over the blood, diluting it.

His features were strikingly handsome. "There's a saying in the cultivation world—those born in the Wretched Ground are prone to demonic cultivation, and animals are even more likely to become demons.

"So, before they turn into demons, cultivators from various sects come to select mounts such as mystical cranes or turtles. But more often, the spiritual energy from antelopes and mystic deer is better suited to enhance their cultivation.

"Hence, they have villagers choose offerings to present to them. In return, the sects protect the villagers from malevolent spirits."

Wynter stopped walking. "Offerings? Are you saying the sects send people to the Wretched Ground to have people choose mystic deer and antelopes to offer them, and only then will they protect the villagers?"

"Yes. Otherwise, the villagers will suffer from demonic attacks," Dalton said calmly. "The Wretched Ground is filled with malevolent spirits as that was once a battlefield where a massacre took place.

"To protect themselves, the people offer mystic deer. The deer on the sacrificial altar would end up like what you see now."

Wynter's eyes turned cold. "What you're describing reminds me of a group I'm familiar with. They're like gangsters who collect protection money. There's no peace if you don't pay."

"Gangsters?" Dalton hadn't heard the term but understood the analogy. "Indeed. No payment, no peace."

Wynter laughed, though it was more out of frustration. "That's utterly unreasonable. What kind of sects are these? Why even bother with Primordial Arcane?"

"That's why there's divine retribution," Dalton said with a faint smile. "I've heard elders say that the malevolent spirits in the Wretched Ground have grown stronger because the sects' actions have angered heaven. The malevolent spirits once suppressed underground are no longer content to stay there."

As he spoke, he lifted the parasol slightly, his eyes shining brightly in the darkness. "After all, who can tell the difference between immortals and demons? The sins they commit are the same. Perhaps they should be treated equally."

Dalton smirked slightly. "You'll be making an enemy of the entire cultivation world if you help the demon clan. So, I must advise you to think carefully."

This was another test. Born from the refining flames, Dalton understood human nature well. He didn't believe anyone would have the courage to defy established rules. This wasn't just about doing good—it was about opposing the entire world.

But before he could finish, Wynter had already run off. She had spotted a small white tiger lying weakly ahead.

Without hesitation, she crouched down, her robe staining with blood. She froze as she examined the tiger's wounds.

She was focused entirely on saving the creature. She didn't care about the environment she was in or whether she was touching a human or a tiger. Her actions had already given Dalton her answer.

Dalton had seen people who would save mystic spirits before, but they often worried about the spirits turning into demons or sought repayment. But Wynter was different.

If the creature truly threatened her, she could save it one moment and break its neck the next. But until then, her only thought was to save it. This "it" could be an animal, a human, or a demon…

Dalton had met all kinds of people and demons, but she was the most unique to him. Every choice she made surprised him.

Her kindness might have seemed naive if she didn't know that saving these mystic spirits meant opposing the entire cultivation world. But Wynter knew everything yet chose to act according to her own beliefs.

Dalton watched as she pressed her cheek against the white tiger and whispered, "Hold on a little longer. You'll be fine soon."

Suddenly, the thunder and rain seemed unnecessary.

Wynter felt the hidden weapon in the tiger's leg—a patterned dart coated with poison. She needed to remove it and apply medicine. The process would be excruciating. To keep the tiger still, she pinned it down with one hand and swiftly pulled out the dart.

The white tiger's roar shook the entire mountain. It opened its eyes and quickly retracted its claws upon recognizing Wynter. The white tiger was in pain, but more than that, it felt wronged. It looked at Wynter, letting out low whimpers.

Wynter patted its large head and began crushing herbs to apply to its wound. It was easy to see what the tiger had looked like before the injury—soft, snow-white, and large.

It started nuzzling Wynter's hand with its head like a spirited cat.

Wynter couldn't understand how anyone could bear to harm such a creature, even if it were a demon. But, of course, she couldn't project her thoughts onto the cultivators from the sects.

"Is poisoning like this normal?" Wynter looked up at Dalton.

Dalton thought for a moment. "According to sect practices, they'd prefer villagers to provide the offerings, letting others bear the retribution. Poisoning like this seems more like the work of a demonic cultivator within the sects."

"It's definitely not someone from Mt. Nyxvarn," Wynter said calmly, still deep in thought. "Someone is trying to frame us. They think Mt. Nyxvarn is weak and can take the blame for their actions."

Dalton glanced at Wynter again. "You're truly clever."

With just a hint, she had grasped the core of the issue.

"All the blame will fall on Mt. Nyxvarn if heaven doesn't realize this. The perpetrator must have set up some formation to cover their tracks," Dalton said.

Listening to Dalton, Wynter's lips curved into a smile. "So, if Mt. Nyxvarn ever faces divine retribution, it might have nothing to do with us but rather someone wanting to erase Mt. Nyxvarn from existence."

"Natural disasters and man-made calamities," Dalton said, lowering the parasol. "Natural disasters are terrifying, but you can escape them. Man-made calamities are unavoidable."

If the sects wouldn't uphold justice, she would force them to. Her seniors might not say much, but that didn't mean Mt. Nyxvarn was full of weaklings.

Wynter had indeed committed a grave taboo. She had allowed herself to feel emotions within the Human Sacrificial Formation.

…

Those outside the formation could sense it as well. For instance, Atwater had been pacing outside the ruins, scratching his head, realizing something was wrong.

But once the Human Sacrificial Formation was activated, no one could enter it freely. One had to find the heart of the formation to get inside. However, the sight of the ruins before him made him hesitate.

Though the Human Sacrificial Formation was terrifying, Wynter was more important. He was willing to save her even if it cost him his old life.

Just as he was at a loss, a voice called from behind. "Atwater?"

Atwater turned and glanced back. "Kaspar, you're here, too."

Kaspar had also sensed the changes here and rushed over, though not as quickly as Atwater. He nodded. "What happened here? It's turned into ruins."

Atwater sighed. "Some dark magic cultivator activated the Human Sacrificial Formation."

"What? The Human Sacrificial Formation? Isn't that a forbidden formation? How has it reappeared?" Kaspar asked.

Atwater stroked his beard. "The mastermind behind this is likely absorbing fortune, aiming to reach the pinnacle of a grand master."

Kaspar was furious. "These bastards! What they're doing is utterly despicable. Activating the Human Sacrificial Formation requires sacrificing countless lives. They're treating human lives like grass!"

He then walked over to Atwater. "Is there any way to find and destroy the heart of the formation?"

Kaspar had experienced both large and small formations, but the Human Sacrificial Formation was an exception. Throughout history, it had been feared by all. Once entered, no one could leave alive.

Atwater shook his head. "I've been here for a while, but I haven't sensed the heart of the formation at all, so it's likely not here. This place is just a medium. Once the formation is activated, the heart moves elsewhere."

Kaspar frowned. "If I'm not mistaken, this formation isn't just absorbing fortune. It's also targeting someone specifically."

"You're right. Wynter has probably already entered the formation," Atwater replied solemnly.

Kaspar's eyes widened. "What? Why is Wynter in the formation? How did she end up in there?"

Wynter was Atwater's beloved disciple and Kaspar's prospective disciple. Both of them were desperate to enter the formation and save her.

Kaspar frowned. He had seen Wynter's abilities. She was definitely above average, but the chances of escaping the Human Sacrificial Formation were slim to none. He didn't want Wynter to perish.

Atwater felt the same. He would rather be the one in the formation. But he still hoped Wynter could hold on until he found the heart of the formation and could enter to rescue her.