The Heiress’ Return: Six Brothers at Her Beck and Call (Wynter Quinnell) novel Chapter 1908

At Wynter's words, Rydon gestured toward the door. A wheelchair rolled in, carrying a man who looked like a ghost trapped in his own skin.

When the wheelchair came to a stop beside Wynter, Rydon began, "Your task is simple. Sitting before you is my younger brother, Josce. God knows where he went a few years ago. When he finally returned, he was a completely different man.

"Not only is his body wasting away, but he's aging at an unnatural pace. He may look like he's in his 60s, but he's actually 40. No doctors have been able to explain his condition. I heard mediums are attending this banquet, so I brought him here to be examined.

"Since Mr. Maynerd vouches for your ability, I'd like you to treat my brother. If you can save him, the Kenelm family will honor you as a distinguished guest, and we will listen to your counsel from then on."

The other guests shared their comments regarding Josce Kenelm.

"I heard that Josce's condition is far stranger than Jules. The child is only physically ill, but Josce is barely the same person!"

"I doubt the mainlander will take the risk. Mediums have tried curing Josce before, yet they all failed." A guest scoffed.

Driscoll demanded in a stern voice, "What is the meaning of this, Mr. Kenelm? No medium has ever found an answer to Josce's illness. And now, you're placing that burden on my guest of honor? That's hardly fair, isn't it?"

Driscoll had contemplated it. Even if Wynter did succeed, skepticism would still linger. But if she failed, she would be left in an awkward position, while he would have to eat his own words.

Rydon turned to Driscoll and explained, "It's exactly because I trust you that I'm asking the young medium to take a look at my brother. I don't see a problem in this. If she cures him, all the better. And if she doesn't, no one will hold it against her."

While Rydon and Driscoll argued, Wynter fixed her gaze on the elderly Josce in the wheelchair. She studied him for a moment before looking away, seemingly understanding the root of his ailment.

Turning to Driscoll, Wynter humbly said, "Mr. Maynerd, I may not be extremely talented, but you can trust me and my partner."

Driscoll stared at the couple. When he saw their composed manner, his tension eased. "Alright. I trust you."

Wynter then turned to Rydon and asked, "Mr. Kenelm, right? Give me a reason why I should save your brother."

Rydon frowned at her question. "Everyone's watching you. It's your chance to prove yourself. If you refuse, then you're admitting you've deceived Mr. Maynerd."

Wynter couldn't help but laugh at the reply. "Unfortunately, I've never felt the need to prove myself. Besides, I don't know you. So, no—I'm not saving your brother."

With that, Wynter settled back into her seat and started chatting with Dalton.

"So, you're admitting you lack the skills," Rydon concluded in a low voice.

Seeing Wynter ignore him, he snapped, "Say something! You admit it, don't you? Just as I thought—all mainlanders are the same, especially a woman like you."

"Say that again?" In an instant, both Wynter and Dalton whipped their heads toward Rydon. The air around them cooled, sending chills down Rydon's bones.

Rydon attempted to make another insult, but the words caught in his throat. The couple's intimidating presence pressed down on him, heavy and suffocating.

A few seconds passed before Rydon regained his composure. Shooting the couple a horrified look, he quickly pushed Josce away.

Seeing their chance, Garnoc and his peers approached him. They cast a brief glance at Josce and shook their heads.

Rydon was taken aback by their response and asked anxiously, "Can my brother still be saved?"

"It's too late," Garnoc stated.

"Judging from your brother's condition, none of us can help him now. There was someone who might've saved him, but you just infuriated them," Elgan added.

Rydon was stunned, wondering who the cultivators were referring to. Then, it hit him. "You mean the two youngsters just now?"

Sion gave a nod of acknowledgment. "Exactly. You have no idea what Ms. Quinnell is truly capable of."

Without another word, the three cultivators walked up onto the stage. As soon as the crowd noticed them standing there, the noise faded.

Everyone knew better than to take the cultivators lightly. In particular, Mt. Dracorite's reputation in Havenia was unmatched. Most would rather break the law than provoke them.

At that moment, Garnoc spoke up. "Everyone, we are Mr. Dracorite's cultivators. Earlier, there was a slight misunderstanding in what Mr. Maynerd said. Allow us to clarify.

"Mr. Maynerd was speaking the truth. The three of us only played supporting roles in curing Jules. The one who truly saved her was Ms. Quinnell, who hails from the mainland."

After hearing the clarification, the crowd finally accepted Driscoll's statement as the truth.

"So, it's actually true! Honestly, I wasn't sure if Mr. Maynerd knew what he was talking about. He's not a cultivator, after all. How could he tell the truth from trickery? But if the heads of Mt. Dracorite say so, then it must be," a guest commented.

"Thank god I kept silent just now. I'm going to ask Ms. Quinnell to take a look at my house's geomantic layout later." Another heaved a sigh of relief.

Rydon's face turned ashen. If Garnoc meant what he said, then he had gravely offended the couple.

Just then, a scoffing voice rang out from the cultivators' seating area. "It looks like Mt. Dracorite's judgment isn't as sharp as they claim."

Their words sparked a fury among the crowd.

"Who said that? Who dares to question Mr. Dracorite?"

"The voice came from the cultivators' seating area, but I can't tell who it was," someone said.

Amidst the murmurs, a dignified elder rose from his feet. "It was me, Webster Kaiden."

A guest exclaimed, "Mr. Kaiden? He's the elder from the top sect in Havenia!"

"Oh, my god. Webster Kaiden is here? This banquet really is something else."

"As far as I know, cultivators from Mt. Darkwood rarely make their presence in public. Not even money can draw them out. The only time they appear is when they believe destiny is at play," someone explained.

All eyes landed on Webster Kaiden, a revered elder from Mt. Darkwood, the most prestigious sect in Havenia. Though Mt. Dracorite was often called the strongest, that title had been bestowed by public admiration. In official rankings, it only stood second to Mt. Darkwood.

Garnoc shot Webster a piercing gaze. "So, it's Mr. Kaiden of Mt. Darkwood. I wonder what you meant by your earlier remark."

Webster sneered. "I think the public has placed Mt. Dracorite on too high a pedestal. It's so ridiculous. The three of you may lead the sect together, but your strengths are clearly unbalanced."

He then turned to Wynter and added, "As for these youngsters from the mainland, they're merely average. And yet, you addressed the young woman with such respect. You're a disgrace to Havenia's mediums."

Finally, he looked at Rydon and instructed, "Bring your brother here. His illness is nothing serious."

Delighted, Rydon quickly pushed the wheelchair to Webster's side.

However, Wynter merely glanced at him and scoffed. "What a chatter-box."

The next instant, Webster drew runes in the air and chanted a spell. A powerful formation lunged toward Wynter like a storm, crackling through the wind.

Yet, Wynter didn't even flinch. She silently curled up her finger and snapped it open, firing an invisible bullet.

Just as the formation neared her, Webster's artifact shattered. With it, the entire formation collapsed.

Immediately, Webster coughed up a mouthful of blood and stared at Wynter in disbelief. "H-How did you destroy my artifact?"

Seeing that Webster was instantly defeated, the spectators were stupefied as well.

"I just took a bite of my melon, and it's already over? Is that supposed to be Mr. Kaiden's strength?" a guest muttered.

"I just blinked, and Mr. Kaiden is flat on his back," another commented.

"I'm sure Mr. Kaiden is just throwing the game. He'll take her seriously now," someone argued.

Wynter replied to Webster's question with silence. She glanced at Dalton, who caught her meaning and offered a smile.

She shifted her gaze back to Webster, who lay on the ground, and delivered a cutting remark. "Does Mt. Darkwood only produce incompetent people? If that's your standard, you won't even make it onto the rankings in the mainland."

Webster was already wounded by her retaliation, but her words stung even more.

At that moment, Wynter turned and called out, "You've been watching for a while now. Come on out."

As soon as she said that, the lights flickered a few times before steadying. What made it all the more eerie was the sudden appearance of a group of spirits.

Ordinary people couldn't see the spirits, but Wynter made sure the guests could. Horror spread across their faces as their mouths dropped open and their bodies slackened in fear.

On the other hand, the mediums instinctively sensed that something was wrong. They couldn't understand why so many wronged souls had gathered. Normally, a spirit wouldn't dare to approach or linger around a medium.

Some of the spirits looked as if they had crawled out of a well, their blurry faces smeared with blood. Meanwhile, other spirits had proper facial features, though their bodies twisted and contorted.

At the sight of the spirits, Webster quickly retreated in horror. "What are you planning to do?"

"Don't ask me. You know what you've done," Wynter retorted, picking up a cookie and feeding it to the child spirit beside her.

The child spirit had been baring their teeth, ready to snap at any living thing. However, they became docile after being fed by Wynter.

Seizing his chance, Webster attempted to launch a sneak attack. Yet, Wynter seemed to have anticipated it.

"Is this the way of Mt. Darkwood? Resorting to sneak attacks after a warm-up?" she mocked.

Before Webster could refute, Wynter raised her hand and called out, "You can come out now."

In an instant, a female silhouette loomed beside her. The spirit had clearly suffered a gruesome death—her face was barely recognizable, while her thighs still bled from wounds. As she slowly lifted her head, gasps swept through the crowd.