The Heiress’ Return: Six Brothers at Her Beck and Call (Wynter Quinnell) novel Chapter 1910

Edgar didn't see it that way. "There are so many wraiths here. Should I just stand by and watch them harm people?"

"They're seeking vengeance and are not hurting the innocent." Garnoc stroked his beard. "Edgar, don't try to divert the issue. When have we, as cultivators, ever denied justice to the wronged?

"How do you have an excuse for everything? If you were wronged, would you wait until the next life to seek retribution? Your disciple must pay the price today to quell this sky full of resentful energy."

Edgar frowned, still trying to argue. "These evil spirits—"

"Evil spirits?" Garnoc eyed him coldly. "Who turned them into evil spirits? Who was it that forcibly suppressed them and used their souls to fuel their cultivation? Are these the kind of cultivators Mt. Darkwood produces? It's truly an eye-opener for us at Mt. Dracorite.

"They did not commit evil in life. Webster forced them into this state, and most of them can't even reincarnate now. And it's not just Webster—even you won't escape retribution."

Edgar's face flushed with shame, but with so many people in the hall, he couldn't refute the accusation. Hence, he shifted the topic again. "Not everyone in Mt. Darkwood is like this. There's only one bad apple."

Elgan pressed on, "Only one? Isn't one bad enough? Who knows what kind of filth your Mt. Darkwood harbors? You people are always appearing and disappearing at will. You know best what you've been up to."

Wynter, seeing the moment had come, took a few steps forward. "I don't know what kind of sect Mt. Darkwood is, nor do I care. But this disaster was caused by Webster. A mere 'internal discipline' won't cut it."

She glanced sideways at Deborah. "Go ahead. No one will stop you this time."

Edgar frowned. "They might form a formation once they act. Are you really not going to intervene, Mt. Dracorite?"

But Sion burst into laughter. "Do you think we could stop them even if we wanted to? And why should we? Webster deserves death. Getting rid of such a scourge is nothing but a blessing. And as for you, once these wronged souls have their vengeance, you won't have peace, either."

Deborah's hand reached toward Webster. He tried to resist with his spells, but the resentful infant clung to him, rendering him completely immobile.

Soon, a bloodcurdling scream tore from his throat. He wasn't just being choked—the souls of the wronged were tearing into him. Though their claws seemed to rip at flesh, they were actually shredding his soul.

Even if he survived the agony, his spirit would remain forever fractured, leaving him a hollow, mindless husk. He could forget about retaining any of his cultivation.

Webster clutched his head, writhing madly on the ground. The torment of having one's soul devoured was beyond endurance. Within moments, he lost his mind. He started trembling violently as he screamed incoherently.

Edgar watched Webster's agonized state, his eyes filled with heartache. After all, this was his personally trained disciple, now reduced to ruin.

But against the overwhelming force before him, fighting back was futile. Edgar staggered back several steps, then suddenly coughed up a mouthful of blood.

Sion observed him and remarked, "What's this? Could he not control his emotions and had shattered his Arcane Mind?"

Edgar himself was stunned. He stared at his own palms before the abrupt agony forced him to clutch his head. Any cultivator could see Edgar's cultivation slowly dissipating from his body.

When one's Arcane Mind was destroyed, not only would their magic fade, but their body would also rapidly age.

And that was exactly what was happening to Edgar. In mere moments, he visibly aged, his former vigor gone, his appearance now matching his true years.

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