The Heiress’ Return: Six Brothers at Her Beck and Call (Wynter Quinnell) novel Chapter 1829

As Wynter spoke, the four disciples nodded repeatedly, confirming the truth of her words.

The expressions of the sect members, particularly the elders and sages, darkened. The sacred statue issue had not been resolved, and its presence at the Arcane Way Forum was a direct blow to their reputation.

Worse still, the lingering question remained—who was responsible for the statue, and how had it managed to slip past Mt. Lunther's supposedly rigorous inspections so effortlessly?

These relentless concerns weighed heavily on everyone's minds. Wynter knew what they were thinking. After all, the sects were entangled in long-standing interests, and while some genuinely pursued cultivation for the greater good, certain matters could no longer be overlooked.

For instance, at this very moment, the elders who had once regarded Isidore as their pillar of support were now casting wary glances in his direction.

Wynter had no qualms about delivering another crushing blow. She stepped forward once more. "The formation in Granville Village has existed in one of the most spiritually abundant training grounds for years.

"Yet, no one had ever been able to break it. Even the method of entering the formation was unexpected. Has anyone ever stopped to wonder why?"

Dudley couldn't help but ask, "Why?"

Wynter stated calmly, "Because the formation in Granville Village was set up by someone from the sects.

"The female spirit trapped within had been wronged by the entire town and became vengeful. When cultivators arrived, rather than seeking justice for her, they taught the townspeople how to suppress her.

"Even the soldiers' wives were buried beneath willow trees, their lingering resentment used to fuel fortune. The townspeople were already guilty of terrible crimes, yet they reaped golden encounters they never deserved.

"Everyone assumed the female spirit's resentment had fed the grim spirits, but in reality, someone had tampered with Granville Village's layout while the townspeople were still alive.

"Their fates were sealed long before death, ensuring they could never reincarnate. And it wasn't the female spirit who orchestrated this—it was a sage of exceptional skill."

Wynter's words were anything but subtle. After all, there were only a handful of sages among the sects, each wielding considerable influence. By making such an accusation in public, she was sparing no one's reputation.

"Wynter, your cultivation is indeed remarkable, and you have even summoned the Celestial Dragon. But the matter of Granville Village is no trivial accusation," said Feradach's sage as he stepped forward. He too held the esteemed title of sage.

"What you claim involves the massacre of an entire town. With so many souls, whether they were innocent or guilty, it was only natural they harbored resentful energy. You suggest a sage was responsible, but do you have proof?"

Wynter arched an eyebrow. "Of course, I do."

With a graceful wave of her sleeve, a celestial pearl materialized in Wynter's palm. Dalton recognized it instantly—it resembled the mystic mirror she kept by her bedside, both capable of revealing glimpses of the past.

The four disciples were utterly stunned. None of them had anticipated Wynter to have such a trick up her sleeve. This was no different from slapping Mt. Lunther in the face with evidence!

The images within the celestial pearl were crystal clear, displaying scenes of their rescue efforts, their examination of the sacred statue, and even the earth-shaking disturbance caused by the female spirits' emergence. The sheer magnitude of this injustice had shaken the very heavens.

It was also a karmic debt owed by the sects. No wonder Mt. Nyxvarn had been bestowed with such great fortune—it was a decree from the underworld, an unshakable seal that no one could defy.

The disciples' gazes toward Wynter grew increasingly complex. Before entering the formation, they had ridiculed her, scoffing at her ambition to claim first place as nothing more than a fool's dream. Now, they wished they could vanish into the earth.

They had boasted about subduing demons and banishing evil, yet in truth, they had only been focused on seizing golden encounters. Wynter, however, had been the only one who truly sought justice for the wronged souls.

Had the truth remained buried, no one would have ever realized that the formation in Granville Village had been artificially created.

Those women had been innocent, yet even in death, they had been wrongly condemned. If Wynter hadn't stumbled into the village, would another century have passed with no one seeking justice for them?

The most chilling revelation was that the celestial pearl confirmed a terrifying truth—everything in Granville Village was tied to the Arcane Way. The grim spirits' so-called ritual was, in reality, a soul-switching spell.

Most alarming of all was the sacred statue, which had attempted to possess Raleigh's body. The sight alone was enough to make one's blood run cold.

This meant that within the sects, someone was secretly practicing witchcraft, devouring their fellow cultivators' souls and cultivation. And that person was a sage!

A wave of panic spread among the disciples. This was no trivial matter. If a sage was preying on them, there was no way to escape. Neither spells nor vigilance could protect them from such a threat.

The entire situation had shifted. This was no longer about securing first place—it was about exposing the mastermind behind the sacred statue! Until that person was found, the sects would never know peace.

"I can't believe they experienced something that horrifying in Granville Village."

"The grim spirits beneath that willow tree seemed impossible to eradicate."

"Does that mean that the disciples who went missing before weren't just because they were weak in cultivation? Were they deliberately chosen as nourishment?"

"I'm realizing now… if it were my sage, I might not even have the chance to escape."

The murmurs were laced with unease. For the disciples, their sages had always been the most respected figures and the sects' great cultivators. But now, the truth was unveiling a chilling reality. The greatest evil lurked right beside them!

They were just ordinary disciples. If one of them were to vanish within the sects, would anyone even notice? The thought alone sent shivers down their spines.

At this point, it was impossible for the sect elders to resolve this privately.

Mt. Dragon's sage stepped forward. "This matter requires a thorough investigation. It's truly shameful that we can't clear our own suspicions. Wynter, you mentioned earlier that the sacred statue might have been inside Mt. Lunther all along. Why do you think that?"

"Because of the energy," Wynter explained. "The scene in the celestial pearl shows that the person acted arrogantly when they reclaimed their soul fragment.

"I hate it when someone thinks they've covered their tracks perfectly. Hence, I've left a mark on their soul fragment using my merit. They won't notice it."

Yet, Whitley had no idea what Dalton found amusing. He shifted uneasily, keeping a close eye on the crowd.

Dalton, meanwhile, stood among them, idly snapping his fingers. His deep black eyes carried an unreadable depth, and his long dark hair cascaded to his waist. His features were sharp, almost sculpted from ice—handsome yet cold.

For the longest time, he had assumed he held a special place in her heart. But now, it seemed he was just another replaceable passing figure.

A cherished one, was it? Dalton smirked as he listened to the endless murmurs around him. Wynter's gaze, filled with concern, never once strayed from Raleigh, as if no one else existed. Was such devotion truly necessary?

His fingers curled slightly, a flicker of irritation seeping through as he adjusted the parasol. He had witnessed countless lovesick fools in his time, but for the first time, such a scene grated on him.

How devoted of her, to step into such a perilous formation for one man. But had she even considered how she would escape?

Dalton's lips curved faintly as his gaze settled on her. He was counting how long it would take for her to look back at him.

The boy toys on the mountain had been right. Her affections burned bright but faded quickly. Her taste in appearance was predictable. Compared to a younger man, perhaps his current self no longer appealed to her. After all, he was already in his adult form. No wonder her attention toward him had waned.

But childhood ties—those were truly troublesome. Did she grant Raleigh's every request as well?

The more Dalton thought about it, the harder it became to suppress the darker emotions stirring within him. He had listened to countless prayers over the years, filled with tangled desires and longing.

If not for meeting someone like her, he might never have experienced the urge to claim someone as his alone. She had been the one to ensnare him first. Shouldn't she be prepared to face the consequences? That was only fair.

Whitley watched from a distance, too wary to speak. He had never seen Dalton like this—ruthless, domineering, and almost unhinged—yet carrying a dangerously compelling allure. It was as if nothing else in the world mattered to him anymore.

Was this a result of his rebirth through the refining flames? Whitley could only speculate, too fearful to act rashly.

In such a chaotic scenario, Wynter remained oblivious to Dalton's shifting emotions. After all, his expression had always been indifferent and detached—never one to interfere or show concern for anyone.

But the truth was that Wynter had called Raleigh over to prevent anyone from exploiting the chaos.

Raleigh was visibly pleased, especially as he walked toward her. He had never expected her to value him so much, summoning him to her side in front of everyone.

Raleigh had felt an inexplicable sense of unease, as if something ominous was looming when he stood next to Isidore earlier. Yet, he also felt guilty for doubting him. After all, he could never forget the time Isidore had sacrificed his own cultivation to protect his soul.

Raleigh's horoscope was light, making him prone to attracting malevolent spirits. Before the age of eight, he had suffered from recurring high fevers. To ensure his safety and well-being, his family had sent him to the sects.

Everyone had always said he was fortunate to have such a kind sage—one who never pressured him to excel, only wishing for his safe and peaceful growth.

The talisman he carried had been acquired by Isidore's merit. With it, Raleigh's nightmares had gradually ceased. To now suspect that Isidore intended to steal his soul... it was a thought too difficult to accept.