The Heiress’ Return: Six Brothers at Her Beck and Call (Wynter Quinnell) novel Chapter 1867

In the underworld, it was rare to witness tens of thousands of spirits gathered in unison. Yet today, in the River of Forgetfulness, not a single malevolent spirit dared to surface, nor did any of them remain standing.

They even felt relieved that they hadn't attacked Wynter earlier. Otherwise, Dalton might have dealt with them in ways they couldn't imagine.

What puzzled them, however, was why their Spirit King—whose energy unmistakably confirmed his identity—had been summoned to the River of Forgetfulness by a cultivator through spirit summoning.

Even a great evil lurking in the depths of the river recognized Dalton. His crimson eyes burned with excitement. "My... My Lord..."

He clawed his way forward as the surrounding evil spirits shrank back. Never in his existence had he imagined he would see Dalton again.

Ever since the underworld was sealed away and Dalton was imprisoned in that desolate wasteland, a place that still struck fear into the hearts of mortals, they had yearned day and night for his return.

They had exhausted every method, yet none could free Dalton. Some said that unless the Realms of Reincarnation collapsed, Dalton would never again wreak havoc upon the mortal world. The underworld, too, would remain lost forever.

The sects had it easy. They were able to reincarnate while these spirits remained trapped beneath the River of Forgetfulness for thousands of years.

"We can finally leave this place now!" The evil spirit reached out, gripping Dalton's ankle with reverence. "My Lord, you've come for us, haven't you? I knew you wouldn't abandon us."

Dalton glanced down, his handsome face as unreadable as ever.

Wynter, cradled in his arms, tilted her head curiously. "Do you know him?"

Dalton gave a faint hum in response before flicking his wrist. In an instant, golden light cascaded downward.

The evil spirit seemed to regain some clarity, staring at his own hand before looking back up at Dalton, dazed. "M-My Lord?"

"Too much bloodshed. You may reincarnate in 100 years," Dalton replied flatly.

The evil spirit blinked in confusion. "Reincarnate? I never wanted to reincarnate! I only wanted to follow you, My Lord, to rebuild the underworld! Once we rise, every mortal, even those cultivators, will bow before us!"

Hearing that, Dalton responded with indifferent words, "Not interested."

The evil spirit froze, his massive form stiffening as if he might shatter on the spot.

Not interested? Dalton had no interest in restoring the underworld? Why?

The evil spirit didn't understand, but he knew better than to keep holding onto Dalton's ankle. He was well aware that Dalton despised being touched.

"I understand!" the evil spirit insisted, pushing the boat forward. "You think it's too much trouble! But rest assured, you don't have to lift a finger! Once I get out, I'll slaughter them all! The underworld will return to its former glory!"

Dalton said nothing. With a slight tap of his foot, he soared from the boat and landed gracefully on the riverbank.

Dressed in his impeccably tailored suit, he exuded an energy of absolute authority, and his presence only grew more overwhelming. Behind him, hundreds of spirits bowed in unison, the river churning violently as clouds of darkness swirled.

Clifton felt his legs tremble uncontrollably as he watched the scene.

Was it just his imagination? Why did it feel like Dalton was even more terrifying now and more capable of ending the world than the last time he'd seen him?

The evil spirit, still oblivious, tried to follow Dalton ashore. But spirits of the River of Forgetfulness could not cross, and the barrier on the bank held him back.

Desperate, he reached out. "My Lord, we—"

This time, it was Wynter in Dalton's arms who replied. A faint smirk curled her lips as she said, "Buddy, it's been thousands of years. The world up there isn't the same anymore. People value science and civilization now.

"The underworld can't be rebuilt, and no one's going to bow to an emperor. Society just doesn't work that way anymore. If you really want to help your lord, you should stay here and study. Then, when you reincarnate, you can try for a civil service exam."

"Civil service exam?" The evil spirit tilted his head. "What's that? Will it really help him?"

Wynter nodded solemnly. "Of course. It's a lifelong stable job!"

The evil spirit pondered this. "Then... I'll give it a try."

Dalton had been silently listening the whole time, his gaze fixed on Wynter's face. His brow arched slightly. "Value science and civilization?"

"Isn't that right?" Wynter laughed, wrapping her arms around him in return.

For Dalton, holding her like this was effortless—so much so that he still had plenty of attention to spare for other matters. But when it came to her, his indulgence was unwavering. "Mm."

Nearby, Clifton and the underworld guards exchanged complicated looks. Who in their right mind would advise an evil spirit to study for a civil service exam while trapped in the River of Forgetfulness? And yet, the evil spirit actually bought it!

With one last bow toward Dalton, the evil spirit sank back into the depths of the river, declaring, "When I have mastered my studies, I shall return to serve My Lord! My abilities are outdated after millennia of stagnation, so I am no longer worthy to stand by My Lord's side! But I will strive to improve!"

Those were his final words before he disappeared beneath the dark waters.

Clifton was speechless, staring at the river and then at Wynter, still cradled in Dalton's arms. "Did that actually work?"

There were countless ways to subdue evil spirits, but this was a first.

Wynter merely smiled. "Thank you for guiding me to the River of Forgetfulness today."

Clifton hurriedly replied, "No need to thank me! It was an honor to assist the esteemed Ms. Quinnell!"

Honestly, he just couldn't wait for the two of them to leave as soon as possible. He wanted them to get the hint already!

Wynter knew exactly what he was thinking, but she hadn't forgotten the main issue. "The underworld's recent irregularities still need to be investigated, especially how my lingering resentment was used to siphon souls in the mortal realm."

"You're absolutely right. This matter will be thoroughly examined!" Clifton's head remained lowered, cold sweat beading on his forehead.

After all, the moment she spoke, Dalton's gaze had shifted, locking onto Clifton with crushing intensity. For a second, Clifton could barely breathe. He knew better than anyone just how seriously Dalton took anything related to Wynter.

Even with his assurances, Dalton stepped closer, his voice low and dangerous. "Using her lingering resentment to siphon souls in the mortal realm and leaving her to bear the retribution? As the underworld judge, do you think this is the kind of oversight that should be allowed?"

Clifton shook his head frantically. "No, no! My Lord, I swear I will give you and Ms. Quinnell a satisfactory explanation!"

"I'll hold you to that." With Wynter still in his arms, Dalton turned and strode toward the Underworld Bridge.

Clifton exhaled in relief, though his thoughts remained tangled. He never wanted the underworld to fall into such chaos. But uncovering the traitor and figuring out how they had tampered with Wynter's resentment would take time.

And one thing was clear—this was tied to the country's fortune. The recent incidents in the mortal realm were too bizarre. He had sent underworld guards to investigate, but they'd found nothing.

At that thought, Clifton called out after them, "Ms. Quinnell, if you notice anything unusual in the mortal world, you can summon me anytime!"

"I've grown accustomed to guiding the unborn souls. They've helped me make up my mind. The regrets and obsessions in the mortal world... I want no part of them anymore. Just remember one thing, My Lady. Whenever you need me, Morna will come."

Once, she'd been called Desiree Pennoyer. Now, she preferred Morna. If her past brought no joy, she'd let it scatter like dust in the wind.

"I will personally see you across the bridge," Morna said.

When Morna bowed, the underworld guards had no choice but to step aside. On the Underworld Bridge, if Morna allowed passage, one needn't drink the Erasure Brew.

Truthfully, with Dalton's current power, he could return to the mortal realm with or without formalities. But it was clear that Wynter wanted to owe Morna this favor, and Dalton would play along for her peace of mind.

"We'll take our leave now," Wynter said, then reached for Dalton's wrist. He didn't refuse, merely quirking a smirk as he reeled in his oppressive energy.

Side by side, they walked on the bridge—one in a tailored suit, and the other still wearing her blood-stained white coat.

As the mist thickened, darkness swallowed them whole. But unlike before, when she had walked alone, now there were two.

Wynter's grip tightened unconsciously. "Stay close to me from now on."

Dalton's gaze lingered near her ear. "That's my line."

Somewhere in the distance, wind chimes echoed faintly.

Realization flickered in Wynter's eyes. Just before closing them, she murmured, "I'll see you up there."

"Alright." His voice, deep and magnetic, brushed against her senses.

It felt like an ending and a beginning.

...

"I've found it," Atwater muttered under his breath.

Without hesitation, he followed the direction until he reached the valley. The astrolabe's shaking ceased abruptly.

The air here carried a faint sulfuric tang, the ground noticeably warmer than its surroundings. Kneeling, Atwater pressed his fingertips to the ground and immediately sensed an unnatural pulse.

It wasn't an earthquake. Instead, it felt like the heartbeat of a massive creature.

From his bag, he withdrew three lucky tokens, arranging them in the alignment of the Heavens and the Earth. The moment they touched the ground, the coins stood upright on their edges. No wind stirred the valley, yet the tokens quivered slightly.

Atwater's frown deepened. "Geothermal forces surging, Sin and Grace inverted... This is an ill omen."

Swiftly, he drew a hexbind talisman and pressed it onto a nearby rock. However, the paper ignited instantly, crumbling to ash.

The situation was worse than he'd feared.

The Celestial Force here seemed tainted by some foreign power. Once-balanced energies now raged unchecked. If this continued, it wouldn't just trigger catastrophic quakes—it would destroy the Celestial Force itself!