The Heiress’ Return: Six Brothers at Her Beck and Call (Wynter Quinnell) novel Chapter 1838

No one spoke—because the man before them carried immeasurable merits from the mystic spirits. If not for his sacrifice all those years ago, peace would never have lasted this long.

So, even if the sages harbored their own agendas, none dared to openly pressure Wynter for an answer.

More than that, they would have to tread carefully around her from now on. If they wanted to take action against her, they needed actual leverage—something they could use against her. She was not some ordinary sect apprentice they could crush at will.

Wynter smiled. "Now that I've explained myself, what about this foreign corrupted mystic statue? Terell, how do you intend to justify his presence? Or are all of you planning to protect him?"

She had never once lost a war of words.

She had placed all the sects in a precarious position with just one sentence. If they continued shielding Terell, word would spread, and soon, the world would assume they had been colluding with him all along.

Of course, they had always stood with Mt. Lunther. Mutual benefit was their alliance's foundation because bonds were strongest when profit was involved.

The four great sects had always operated this way. But now, Wynter had shattered the status quo in an instant. They wanted to cut their losses but realized it was no longer that simple.

Wynter wasn't just reckless. Her actions may have seemed impulsive, as if she were exposing everything without a second thought, but in truth, this was the only way to leave them with no room to maneuver.

Had they known earlier, they would have handled things differently. If given the chance, they could have salvaged Mt. Lunther discreetly, settled things behind closed doors, and preserved their interests.

Even the dual cultivation practices she had exposed—Mt. Lunther wasn't the only sect engaging in them.

Now that she had dragged it into the open, anyone else who continued using this method for cultivation would be tarnished by association. If the word got out, they would be labeled as siding with Isidore from Mt. Lunther.

The sects had followed Mt. Lunther's lead to protect their gains. But if their reputations were at stake, they would cut ties in an instant.

"He was never one of our guardian statues. He fed on our disciples—anyone who conspired with him must be purged."

"It's not just Terell. Every one of Mt. Lunther's elders must undergo a soul examination. With so many grim spirits festering here—and even corrupted mystic statues hidden in their midst—this place no longer deserves the title of sect."

The clamor to bring down Mt. Lunther surged.

Before this, the sages had remained silent. Now, all their accusations were aimed squarely at Terell.

Before this, he intended to let Wynter experience what it meant to deal with public opinion and the complex relationships between the sects. It wasn't something she could change just by wanting to.

Simply removing Isidore from the equation would be enough. If they really tried to expel Mt. Lunther, the sages from the other sects wouldn't agree. After all, there were things they wanted to do as well.

But he hadn't expected her to be so difficult to deal with. She had flipped the entire situation against him with just a few words.

Compared to Ailithir, Wynter was far more ruthless.

Wynter didn't care what he thought. She stepped forward, her gaze sharp, with the Celestial Dragon coiling above her.

"Terell, you've been coveting Mt. Nyxvarn's golden encounters for a long time now. Both you and Isidore wanted what it had to offer. I'd wager that he couldn't do the dirty work himself, so you took care of it for him, didn't you?"

But Wynter remained unbothered. She smiled, completely at ease. "I can bear the weight of their hatred."

Rage boiled in Terell's chest when he saw her indifference. With a sudden movement, he raised a hand—intending to take his own life to reincarnate and return in another lifetime.

However, Wynter moved faster. She seized his wrist, stopping him cold.

"Are you trying to die? Terell, we are all cultivators here. After all the words you've just spoken—don't you think you should listen to the voices of those who died because of you?"

As she spoke, she flicked her fingers. Red strings flew forth, forming an intricate web. Lucky coins clinked into place, completing a formation.

And in that instant, the faces once imprinted on the ancient banyan tree's bark began to take shape, their souls regaining their original appearances.

They stood behind Wynter, their appearances resembling the terrifying faces of 100 spirits. Yet, all the disciples could feel the injustice they carried.

They, too, had once been ordinary. When they entered the sect, the ones they trusted most were the sage and sect elders. None of them had ever imagined that one day, they would die by their hands.

And they knew what those same sage and sect elders had said after their disappearances.

When disciples went missing, there were always whispers.