The Heiress’ Return: Six Brothers at Her Beck and Call (Wynter Quinnell) novel Chapter 1911

Mt. Dracorite's leaders weren't surprised as they had already witnessed Wynter summoning Grim and Vesper before.

As for the wronged souls, their eyes flickered with a glimmer of hope upon hearing her words.

However, this situation didn't require Grim and Vesper's presence. Wynter knew only a couple of underworld guards were needed to escort these wronged souls to reincarnation.

Wynter's lips parted slightly, and within seconds, a thick mist rolled in from the distance. Within the mist stood two figures, each gripping a soulcrusher staff—a standard equipment for dealing with any wronged souls that resisted.

Normally, cultivators needed to set up an altar, perform rituals, offer tributes, and respectfully invite the underworld guards.

But Wynter had done nothing. With just a few murmured words, the underworld guards had rushed over at her call. This was truly an eye-opener for the cultivators present.

The two underworld guards had been about to enjoy a good meal when they heard someone summoning them. No one dared to call for them so casually, without offerings or even the slightest show of respect before.

Being nearsighted, the two guards rode the mist straight to Wynter, ready to unleash their fury. But the moment they saw her face clearly, their soulcrusher staffs nearly slipped from their trembling hands.

They immediately bowed and stammered, "L-Lady Wynter."

No sane beings dared provoke her. These two underworld guards had been on duty when Wynter wreaked havoc in the underworld. They had watched as she stormed into the underworld alone, turning the entire realm upside down with no one daring to stop her.

They shuddered even harder when they glanced to the right. Dalton was sitting right there. They truly wished they could have swapped shifts with someone else.

Wynter lifted her gaze. "I called you here for a task." She pointed at the wronged souls before her. "These people were murdered and couldn't move on to reincarnation."

Before she could even finish, the underworld guards hastily replied, "N-No problem! We'll take them to the underworld right away!"

Not only were their words shaky, but their bodies trembled, too.

Wynter's delicate brows furrowed slightly. "What are you so afraid of?"

The guards shook their heads vehemently. "N-Nothing! The underworld recently launched a fitness campaign for all spirits. We've been exercising too much, so we're a bit shaky. Our apologies for the unsightly display. We'll take them away immediately, rest assured!"

With that, the underworld guards waved a hand, gathering all the wronged souls. Before leaving, they informed Wynter and gave a respectful nod in Dalton's direction.

The cultivators present were deeply moved by the underworld guards' actions.

"This young woman from the mainland—no, Ms. Quinnell—truly has some skills. She can summon underworld guards at will!"

"Even my ancestors had to invite them with the utmost respect. Seeing her pull this off makes her seem even more formidable than him."

"Judging by this, Mt. Darkwood is in deep trouble. Pissing off a cultivator like her means their days of peace are over."

Edgar listened to the cultivators' hushed whispers with his head hung low. After witnessing Wynter summon underworld guards with a mere call, he realized she was no ordinary person.

Once the guards had taken the wronged souls away, the mist outside the hall dissipated completely. The moon peeked out from behind the dark clouds that had once shrouded the sky.

She had fashioned the gold-eyed goldfish into a piece of jewelry that was now adorning her wrist. After all, one of her primary objectives for attending the banquet was to check if any Chamber of Commerce members were present. If there were any, they would be able to recognize the emblem.

Only after Wynter and Dalton had returned to their seats did the other guests begin filing back in.

The guests tried to resume their conversations, but the lively atmosphere from earlier had faded. Instead, their gazes kept drifting toward Wynter, as if she were the evening's true centerpiece.

Wynter glanced around but saw no signs of recognition for the gold-eyed goldfish on her wrist—just eyes fixed on her. With that, she withdrew her gaze.

Dalton swirled the red wine in his glass and asked, "You didn't get hurt earlier, did you?"

Wynter raised an eyebrow. "No. How could I possibly get hurt with you here?"

"Ms. Quinnell, I'm merely a sick man," Dalton murmured, leaning slightly closer as he glanced at the gold-eyed goldfish on her wrist. "Why are you wearing this?"

A warm breath brushed against her skin, and Wynter instinctively turned to meet his gaze. "I was hoping to test my luck here. I wanted to see if I could run into anyone Grandpa Gordon had sent to Havenia, but it seems like I'm out of luck."

Dalton shifted slightly. "It's probably a long shot. Given the timeline, even if they're still alive, they'd be quite old now. There might be descendants of those Chamber of Commerce elders here tonight, but they likely wouldn't recognize the gold-eyed goldfish or even know their own lineage."

Wynter nodded. "Maybe. But we'll find them eventually if they're still around. It's the least I can do to fulfill Grandpa Gordon's last wish."

Just as they were talking, a group of people walked in through the entrance. The man at the front paused and looked at Driscoll. "Mr. Maynerd, apologies for the delay. We were held up on the way."