The Heiress’ Return: Six Brothers at Her Beck and Call (Wynter Quinnell) novel Chapter 1834

The old man picked up his notebook and strode briskly toward his office. He had distinctly sensed an instability in the Sacrificial Human Formation—an anomaly so rare it bordered on impossible. In all his years, he had never witnessed the formation falter.

His driver, Kiaran, stood dutifully outside the office door. Spotting the old man's approach, Kiaran swiftly turned the knob and held the door open.

Without breaking stride, the old man issued a quiet command. "Guard the door. If anyone asks for me, say I'm resting."

Kiaran nodded. "Understood, sir. No one will disturb you."

Though he suspected the old man wasn't entirely human, ambition outweighed fear. For his career, he was willing to keep the old man's identity a secret.

Alone at last, the old man yanked open a cabinet and retrieved a sacred statue. When he pulled away the red cloth, he noticed fine fissures spiderwebbed up the statue's ankles.

"This is a sign that the formation is about to be broken." The old man was astonished.

After all, since ancient times, no one had ever heard of anyone being able to break the Sacrificial Human Formation. Now, the old man watched as cracks began to appear at the divine statue's ankles. This sudden development left him utterly bewildered.

He racked his brain, unable to fathom who could possibly have the power to destabilize the Sacrificial Human Formation to this extent.

Slowly, he placed the sacred statue on the table, then crossed his hands, shifting them into a series of intricate gestures before pointing his index fingers at the statue. Wisps of black energy surged from his fingertips, pouring into the statue in an attempt to repair it with his Arcane Way.

Yet, to his surprise, no matter how much power he channeled into it, the statue remained unchanged.

The old man took a deep breath and stretched out his hands again, gathering all his remaining power into his fingertips. But just as he reached toward the statue, a sudden burst of golden light erupted from it, repelling him and forcing him back several steps.

Shocked, the old man stared at the statue. "This... this energy... Why does it carry the heavenly law's presence?"

As far as he knew, Wynter only possessed the heavenly law's fortune. But fortune alone couldn't possibly manifest the heavenly law's true power. The Arcane Way was insignificant and a mere child's play in the face of the heavenly law.

Why would the heavenly law's energy appear within the Sacrificial Human Formation? The old man couldn't make sense of it.

With a sigh, he covered the sacred statue again with the red cloth. All he could do now was hope. If the statue shattered and the formation broke, his entire plan would collapse with it.

The old man walked to the door and opened it. "Kiaran, take me back."

Kiaran, hearing this, picked up the old man's briefcase. "Understood, sir. I'll bring the car around."

The old man needed to rearrange his plans. If the Sacrificial Human Formation was truly broken, he would be left vulnerable without a backup.

Moreover, he could clearly feel his own power slowly draining away. This was undeniable proof that someone inside the formation carried the heavenly law's energy.

Before long, a figure clad in black robes entered the room and bowed to the old man.

The old man raised his hand slightly. "I summoned you here because there's another matter I need you to handle. The Sacrificial Human Formation is showing signs of instability. It may fail."

The black-robed figure asked, "Is someone breaking the formation?"

The old man nodded. "Most likely. I tried to forcibly repair it, but the interference of the heavenly law's energy caused me to fail. Not only that, but my power is gradually weakening. If the formation is destroyed, my strength will suffer as well."

The black-robed figure looked at him with a pair of piercing eyes. "What do you need me to do, my lord?"

The old man tapped the table. "You have three days. Gather five boys and girls born with a rare constitution."

The black-robed figure was visibly startled. "My lord, are you planning to use the Life Force Absorption Technique? If this fails, the backlash could weaken you further."

The old man waved off his concern. "The chances of failure are slim. And I'm confident I can absorb them completely."

In the old man's eyes, this witchcraft was his trump card—one that would accelerate his ascent to the rank of a grand master.

The black-robed figure clasped his hands in acknowledgment. "Understood, my lord. I will carry out this task immediately and return to you in three days."

Just as he was about to leave, the old man added, "Also, expedite the plans against the Quinnell family."

"Yes, my lord." With that, the black-robed figure leaped into the air and vanished.

…

Meanwhile, Wolf arrived at the municipal building shortly after the old man had left. Originally, he had planned to wander around, but he suddenly caught a whiff of something foul—an odor that had no place in a government building.

Though Wolf couldn't speak, Margaret had repeatedly told him ever since he started following her that their country and government were good. Without them, they wouldn't have their current peaceful lives.

So, in Wolf's mind, such a stench had no business in a place that should radiate righteousness.

Hands in his pockets, Wolf strode toward the entrance. Just as he was about to step inside to track down the source of the smell, a security guard stopped him. "Kid, what are you doing here?"

Wolf gestured with his hands, but the guard didn't understand sign language. So, Wolf pulled out a pen and paper and wrote. "I have business here."

The guard chuckled. "What kind of business could a little runt like you have here? Where are your parents?"

Wolf ignored him, sidestepped, and walked right in. The guard didn't stop him. After all, what harm could a kid do? The guard figured he was probably just curious.

Wolf didn't wander aimlessly. Instead, he followed the foul energy until he reached an office door. He sniffed intently, confirming the source was inside.

Just as he gripped the doorknob to open it, a voice called from behind, "Where did this kid come from? You can't be here! This is the boss' office. Scram!"

The speaker grabbed Wolf's arm and began dragging him away.

Wolf's eyes remained fixed on the office. Though he wanted to force his way in, he knew that ordinary people would end up hurt if he acted recklessly.

Once outside, the man scolded the security guard. "Keep a better eye on the door! Don't just let anyone in. What if something happens? Do you think you can take that responsibility?"

The guard nodded hastily. "I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

The man then turned to Wolf. "Kid, don't go running around where you shouldn't. This isn't a playground."

Wolf said nothing. After being escorted out, he stood at the entrance, staring unblinkingly at the office window. His cheeks puffed out slightly, his fangs bared, and his eyes narrowed into slits.

Wolf's reasoning was simple. He would make whoever caused Wynter's disappearance pay the price. He didn't care what kind of place this was.

The most damning part was that no one had ever noticed such a place existed on Mt. Lunther all along.

Further in stood a banyan tree, its branches thick and sprawling.

At first glance, it seemed ordinary. But upon closer inspection, black mist coiled around its trunk, twisting into human faces pressed against the bark. Each one wore expressions of agony or manic glee, their distorted features radiating pure malice.

"Hungry… so hungry…"

"Newcomers…"

"Is it time for a meal again?"

"Why isn't the grand master here?"

"Who are you guys?"

The voices overlapped, raspy and guttural, as if crawling from the depths of hell.

The disciples who had followed turned pale and were shaken to their cores. They couldn't believe a banyan tree like this would be able to grow in Mt. Lunther.

They thought nothing could horrify them further after encountering the grim spirits, but the scene before them was a nightmare.

The faces on the tree, however, seemed thrilled. To them, this was a feast. Fresh, young prey had wandered right into their grasp. Their eyes gleamed with hunger.

"Come… water us!" The largest face—one resembling a god—spoke with eerie cheer. "Don't be afraid. Just do as the grand master instructed. We'll bless you in return."

The moment it spoke, the other faces fell silent. It was as if this had happened many times before. That meant Isidore had lured disciples here under the guise of "watering the tree"—only to feed them to it.

The realization sent a collective chill down everyone's spine.

Even Jervis and Terell shuddered—they, too, had been summoned before. They were just never brought this far inside. Had their own lives once been on the menu?

With that thought in mind, Jervis sneered. "You vile abomination! You'll die here today!"

With that, he pulled out his sword, Frostpiercer, which shimmered with spiritual power.

The face didn't flinch. Instead, its mouth stretched wide as a chant spilled forth.

At first, it almost sounded like Mystic scripture. But the longer Wynter listened, the heavier her head grew. She furrowed her brows in the process.

Scriptures were meant to purify. Yet, Wynter didn't believe any chants that came out of such malevolent spirits could be anything positive.

Wynter had already mentally prepared herself, but the voices seemed to pierce through her. It was as if the words could dredge up the darkest corners of the mind.

She lifted her hands to block her ears before realizing that Jervis was already muttering incoherently as he began slicing into his own flesh.

Wynter shook her head. Just as she was about to do something, a pair of hands suddenly covered her ears from behind.