Rise of The Abandoned Husband

William Vance's dismissive laugh echoed through Isabelle's elegant sitting room. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, illuminating the tension between us.

"Your faith in this Liam Knight is both admirable and foolish, Isabelle," William said, straightening his expensive suit jacket. "I've known you since childhood. You're intelligent. Discerning. Which makes this blind spot all the more puzzling."

I watched Isabelle's face remain composed, though I could see the subtle tightening of her jaw. She'd always been skilled at hiding her emotions in polite company.

"It's not blind faith, William," she replied evenly. "It's based on observation and firsthand experience."

William scoffed, pacing across the Persian rug. "Observation? The man was a live-in son-in-law! Do you know who is truly exceptional? Julian Hawthorne."

The name hung in the air between them. Julian Hawthorne—son of William's oldest friend and, from what I'd gathered, a man who'd been pursuing Isabelle for years.

"Julian has achieved recognition across three provinces," William continued. "He's respected by elders twice his age. His skills in formation arrays are unmatched by anyone under thirty."

Isabelle sipped her tea, her expression unchanged. "Julian is talented. I've never denied that."

"Then why waste your attention on someone like Knight? Julian's family has connections that stretch back generations. Knight has... what exactly? A brief stint as the Sterling family's doormat?"

I felt a surge of protective anger watching this exchange. William Vance had no idea who I truly was or what I was capable of becoming. But Isabelle didn't need my defense.

"Our wager stands, William," she said calmly, setting down her cup with deliberate precision. "I'm confident in my assessment."

"As am I in mine." William's expression hardened. "Julian could help him, teach him—that is, if Knight has any ability to learn at all."

Isabelle's lips curved into a subtle smile that sent a chill down my spine. "Julian Hawthorne is merely another stepping stone on Liam's path. Nothing more."

The room temperature seemed to drop several degrees. William's face flushed with anger.

"How dare you!" he spluttered. "Julian is the son of my oldest friend. He's accomplished more by twenty-five than most men do in a lifetime!"

"And yet," Isabelle replied with devastating calm, "he will be eclipsed by Liam Knight. That's simply the truth, William."

William grabbed his coat from the back of the chair, his movements jerky with rage. "I've had enough of this nonsense. I'm leaving for Eldoria this afternoon. When I return, I hope your delusion will have passed."

As he strode toward the door, Isabelle called after him: "William, you should reconsider your trip. You don't look well. Perhaps you should consult a physician before traveling."

He paused at the threshold, turning with a scornful expression. "Now you're concerned about my health? Don't worry about me, Isabelle. Worry about the day you'll have to admit you were wrong about your precious nobody."

The door closed firmly behind him. I stepped out from the adjoining room where I'd been waiting during their conversation.

"You heard everything?" Isabelle asked, turning to me with concern in her eyes.

I nodded. "Every word."

"I'm sorry you had to hear him speak about you that way." She reached for my hand.

I squeezed her fingers gently. "Don't be. His opinion means nothing to me." I paused, considering her warning to him. "What did you notice about his health?"

Isabelle frowned. "His left hand trembled slightly when he reached for his tea. There was a subtle bluish tint around his lips. And twice, he winced and touched his chest when he thought I wasn't looking."

My medical knowledge, awakened by my father's jade pendant, immediately identified the symptoms. "Heart qi deficiency with blood stagnation. If he travels today, the strain could trigger a serious attack."

"He won't listen to me," Isabelle sighed. "His pride won't allow it."

"Then he'll learn the hard way," I said grimly.

---

Later that afternoon, I secluded myself in my room, surrounded by ancient scrolls on formation arrays. The knowledge from my father's inheritance stirred within me, guiding my understanding of these complex diagrams.

Cultivation in our world had grown increasingly difficult as spiritual qi became scarce. Most practitioners struggled to advance beyond the most basic levels. But these formation arrays offered a solution—a way to gather and concentrate the ambient energy that remained.

I traced the complex patterns with my finger, committing them to memory. Isabelle's unwavering confidence in me during her confrontation with William burned in my heart like a flame, pushing me to work harder, learn faster.

"I won't let you down," I whispered, though she wasn't there to hear it. "I'll become everything you believe I can be."

After several hours of study, my eyes grew tired. I knew that theoretical knowledge alone wouldn't be enough. I needed to practice, to feel the energy flow through the formation arrays I created.

I gathered my materials and headed out of the city, seeking a quiet place to practice without interruption. Near the foothills just outside Havenwood, I found a small clearing beside a mountain stream—perfect for my purposes.

The rushing water naturally attracted what little spiritual qi remained in the environment. I sat cross-legged beside the stream and began drawing the first formation array in the soft earth with a wooden stick.

The array was simple—designed to gather ambient energy and funnel it toward the center where I would sit to meditate. As I completed the final stroke, I felt a subtle vibration in the air around me. Success.

I positioned myself in the center of the array and closed my eyes, focusing on my breath and the faint currents of energy being drawn toward me. It was working, but the energy was so thin, so sparse compared to what the ancient texts described.

This was the reality of our world now—practitioners fighting over scraps of spiritual energy like starving men scrambling for crumbs. But I had an advantage they didn't: my father's knowledge and the mysterious jade pendant that seemed to enhance my ability to absorb even these trace amounts of qi.

---

Meanwhile, William Vance's luxury car sped along the highway toward Eldoria Province. He sat in the back seat, still seething over his conversation with Isabelle.

"The audacity," he muttered to himself. "Julian Hawthorne, a stepping stone? For a nobody like Knight?"

His driver glanced in the rearview mirror. "Did you say something, sir?"

"Nothing important," William snapped. "Just drive faster. I want to reach Eldoria before nightfall."

As they approached the mountain pass that marked the border between provinces, William felt an uncomfortable pressure in his chest. He ignored it, attributing it to his anger over Isabelle's disrespect.

"Julian has everything," he continued his internal rant. "Bloodline, talent, resources. What does Knight have? Nothing but Isabelle's misplaced charity."

The pressure in his chest intensified, spreading across his left shoulder and down his arm. William loosened his tie, finding it suddenly difficult to breathe.

"Sir, are you alright?" the driver asked, noticing his distress in the mirror.

"Fine," William gasped. "Just... drive."

But he wasn't fine. The pressure transformed into shooting pain, radiating from his chest in agonizing waves. His left arm went numb, and cold sweat broke out across his forehead.

Liam's words from a brief medical consultation weeks ago suddenly echoed in his mind: "Your pulse shows signs of heart qi deficiency. You should avoid strenuous activity and travel until it's treated."

William had dismissed the warning as the baseless opinion of an amateur. Now, as excruciating pain gripped his heart like an iron fist, he realized his mistake.

"Sir!" The driver's alarmed voice seemed distant through the roaring in his ears.

William clutched his chest, each breath a desperate struggle. Black spots danced at the edges of his vision as a terrifying realization dawned on him: he was having a heart attack in the middle of nowhere, hours from the nearest hospital.

"Quick," he gasped, his voice barely audible over the car's engine. The pain grew exponentially, crushing his chest like a vise. With his remaining strength, William managed to shout: "Go back to Havenwood City!"

As darkness closed in, one thought blazed through his fading consciousness: Liam Knight had been right all along.