The Heiress’ Return: Six Brothers at Her Beck and Call (Wynter Quinnell) novel Chapter 1808

Wynter was thinking about keeping Dalton's identity a secret. Hence, she chuckled softly as she answered, "The matter of the sacred statue should be left to me. He's just a mortal, so he can't make decisions."

Upon hearing this, Desiree looked at Wynter, then at Dalton, her expression absolutely baffled.

Dalton spoke with indifference. "I'll listen to her."

That finally snapped Desiree out of her daze. It seemed she still needed to adjust to Dalton's current demeanor. The way he kept addressing Wynter so fondly... This was unlike him in the underworld. He rarely intervened in matters and never paid attention to anyone. To him, everyone was insignificant.

Even his four pets were each more troublesome than the last. This was especially true for Wolf, who had followed him out of the refining flame. He could swallow all the evil spirits in the world with a single roar. Yet, here Dalton was, saying he'd listen to Wynter.

Desiree struggled to keep her expression neutral.

The other four apprentices, however, found this situation completely normal and immediately stepped forward. "What did you mean earlier when you asked us to help you deal with that sacred statue?"

Desiree took a deep breath, knowing these four were just there to make up the numbers. Still, compared to other cultivators, at least they didn't spout annoying platitudes.

Hence, she lowered her voice and began to explain the whole story. "This goes back to when I first died. I was buried under the willow tree as nourishment for my family, sustaining the entire Pennoyer family.

"Dmitriy, my so-called father, saw his business flourish after that. He even befriended a magistrate from the capital. He claimed it was because he had a son that he gained such fortune. In reality, it was because he had used me to borrow the spirits' fortune."

Desiree's voice turned cold, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop. "The Pennoyer family prevented me from even entering the underworld, offering me as collateral to that sect cultivator. I couldn't reincarnate. The cultivator controlled me and forced me to kill."

Feradach's expression changed. "Once a spirit kills, it becomes burdened with retribution. Are you sure the person you encountered was really from a sect? Could he have been a rogue cultivator?"

After all, they all came from prestigious sects. They had always been taught to uphold justice and protect the world. They fought evil spirits and subdued monsters to save mortals. So, when the four of them heard Desiree's story, their first instinct was to deny it.

But Desiree glanced at them. "The cultivator was not the only one from a sect. Although this is just my speculation, this sacred statue I've been worshipping also comes from one. But the cultivator who controlled me was definitely from a sect. He was from Mt. Nyxvarn."

When they heard the name "Mt. Nyxvarn", the four of them were stunned and immediately turned to look at Wynter.

Wynter's fingers paused. She didn't refute her as she believed Desiree wasn't lying. Moreover, there could only be one reason Desiree was so certain.

"You've met him and taken your revenge," Wynter said.

"That's right. I spent over 30 years underground, suffering the abyss' torments every day." Desiree's face twisted with resentment as she recalled her past.

"But what hurt me the most wasn't the suffering itself. It was having to watch the entire Pennoyer family thrive because of me. Even those grim spirits outside, who benefited from the luck I was traded for, lived comfortably.

"Why?" Desiree screeched as she clenched her nails, her eyes turning crimson again.

"I couldn't accept it. I begged the heavens every day, wishing that cultivator from Mt. Nyxvarn would die the most painful death! I even hated the heavens for turning a blind eye to what these sects were really up to!"

Desiree's hatred was evident from her tone.

The four apprentices didn't know what to say as they repeatedly glanced at Wynter. After all, this was retribution related to Mt. Nyxvarn. They hoped Wynter wouldn't reveal that she was from Mt. Nyxvarn. Otherwise, the current peace would shatter in an instant!

It was clear that Desiree's resentment had grown heavier as she spoke. And, to put it bluntly, the grim spirits outside only existed because of Desiree's resentment. Hence, they had to help Wynter keep her secret.

But just as Desiree finished speaking, Wynter spoke up, her voice calm. "There's something I need to tell you. I'm from Mt. Nyxvarn."

Desiree froze, her gaze shifting as she looked at Wynter. "You... are an apprentice of Mt. Nyxvarn..."

"That's right," Wynter said, not avoiding her gaze. "The cultivator you mentioned, based on the timeline, is likely a sage of mine. But he had already defected from the sect long ago."

Desiree let out a low, eerie laugh. "It doesn't matter anymore. He's already dead."

"Were you the one who killed him? It wasn't due to a backlash from his spells, was it? Was it the sacred statue who helped you?" Wynter was as sharp as ever.

Desiree nodded. "I prayed for so long, and one night, a deity finally answered. I'll never forget that day. He appeared with immortal energy, dressed in white robes, holding a feather wand as he stood before the willow tree. He said he had heard my pleas and was willing to help me.

"He helped me destroy the Pennoyer family, killed that cultivator, and even allowed me to deal with the entire Granville Village as I saw fit."

As Desiree spoke, her eyes gleamed with the satisfaction of vengeance, something only those who had suffered injustice could understand.

But Wynter looked at her, her expression unchanged. "But he had a condition, didn't he? He wanted your offerings."

"Yes," Desiree admitted. "I thought it was only fair. He saved me from my suffering, so it was only right that he received offerings."

Desiree paused before continuing, "But the offerings he wanted... were unusual."

"Unusual? How so?" Feradach asked.

Desiree hesitated, unsure whether to say more.

But Wynter had already figured it out. "Because what he wanted were human souls. He demanded souls as offerings, especially those of sect apprentices. He liked them the most."

Feradach shook his head in disbelief. "That's impossible! The sect apprentices could very well be his fellow sect members. No matter what, he wouldn't harm his own people. He—"

Before he could finish, Desiree looked at Wynter, stunned. "How did you know?"

"The incense you offered on the altar had a peculiar smell. I couldn't quite figure out what it was initially, but then I realized it was the smell of corpse oil."

Wynter's primary profession was still a medical student, and she was certified in both traditional medicine and forensic science. The oil from a human body after death burned very quickly, and the smell it produced was similar to that of incense.

Desiree lowered her voice. "You really are different from other sect members. Yes, the offerings he wanted were human souls. At first, when I took revenge on Granville Village, those people's souls were enough for his offerings.

"But later, when Granville Village became what it is now, he made me lure people from other towns. I didn't want to, but I was bound by the contract and couldn't resist. At some point, I had become nothing more than a malevolent spirit who only knew how to kill.

"I tried to avoid ordinary people and targeted prisoners, but he refused. Later, he made me stay here, saying that sect disciples would come here for training every year. It was enough for him as long as I lured those with good spiritual roots or people with the title of a genius in."

At this point, the four apprentices could no longer maintain their composure.

These words were meant for Wynter.

"It's a common tactic among sect members," Dalton added.

Wynter wasn't surprised because she had already anticipated this. It wasn't hard to figure out.

Feradach, however, stiffened, his heart sinking. "A common tactic..."

What else was there in the sects that they could still believe in? The most chilling part was that the person behind this could very well be their own sage.

The four of them shuddered in unison, exchanging glances. They knew themselves well—they had good spiritual roots and were among the first batch of disciples selected by their sects.

But upon closer thought, someone had deliberately arranged this to kill them unnoticed and absorb their spiritual energy.

Feradach's inner world had been turned upside down after today. He couldn't face Desiree because they all knew her story wasn't fabricated. But what could ordinary disciples like them do?

Piaras, who had worked hard to be selected and brought honor to his entire village, lowered his voice and asked, "Even if it's all true, we have no power or influence. We're not the most favored in our sects. What can we do?

"Who would believe us if we spoke up? Even if they believed us, would they really punish a sect's sage for our sake?"

Wynter looked at his face and knew it was already remarkable that he could voice these thoughts. She understood that she couldn't impose her own living conditions on others.

So, she rubbed the fragments of the sacred statue between her fingers. "It's possible that no one will believe us, but the truth will never come out if we don't speak up."

Feradach opened his mouth, seemingly wanting to support her.

Seeing that, Wynter smiled. "This matter is somewhat related to Mt. Nyxvarn. I'll handle it."

The four of them paused, unsure of what to say.

Wynter was straightforward. "There must be other sacred statues in this town. Let's take a good one with us to identify the person."

Then, she turned to Desiree. "You'll need to come with me. You're a witness. Once we meet, you might recognize who it is."

Desiree froze, a flicker of surprise crossing her face, but she quickly fell silent again. "I can't leave Granville Village. I'm bound here for eternity. My soul is unable to find peace unless the contract with him is dissolved."

"That would normally be the case, but we have a cheat code," Wynter said, blinking meaningfully.

A cheat code? What did that mean? The others were puzzled.

Wynter nodded toward Dalton beside her. "We have him."

Dalton, who had been minding his own business, slowly raised his eyes. "Miss?"