Rise of The Abandoned Husband

I gasped awake, my heart pounding against my ribcage. The poison was still in my system, but my Chaotic Body was fighting it off rapidly. I kept my eyes closed, maintaining the illusion of unconsciousness while assessing my situation.

Wait. This didn't make sense.

There was no restraint on my limbs. I wasn't being transported. Instead, I felt... a bed beneath me?

I snapped my eyes open to find myself staring at the ceiling of our hotel room. Confusion washed over me as I sat up quickly, scanning for threats.

"Clara? Mustache?" I called out, my voice raspy from the gas.

The Man with the Mustache emerged from the bathroom, looking pale but otherwise unharmed. "You're awake! Thank goodness."

Clara peeked out from behind him, her wide eyes filled with concern. "Are you okay, Liam?"

I frowned, trying to make sense of what had happened. "Where's Mercer? The assassin?"

The Man with the Mustache gave me a bewildered look. "What assassin? You collapsed after receiving a phone call on the balcony. We dragged you inside—you've been out for nearly twenty minutes."

"But the poison gas... the attack..." I trailed off as realization dawned. It had been a vision—a warning from my heightened senses about an imminent threat. My divine sense must have detected Mercer's murderous intent from somewhere in the city.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand. Emerson Holmes. I snatched it up.

"Liam! Thank goodness you answered. I've been trying to reach you," his panicked voice came through. "Listen carefully. Ms. Hayward has hired Bert Mercer to come after you!"

The exact warning from my vision. "When?"

"He's already on the move. He's a peak Military Marquis—extremely dangerous. You need to leave the city immediately!"

I took a deep breath, my mind clearing as I made my decision. "No. Let him come."

"What?" Emerson sounded stunned. "Liam, you don't understand. Bert Mercer is—"

"I know exactly who he is," I interrupted. "The Unseen Blade. Tell me what you know about the Guild's power structure, Emerson. I need to understand who's pulling the strings."

There was a brief pause. "Are you serious right now? I'm warning you about an imminent assassination attempt!"

"And I appreciate it," I said calmly. "But I've faced worse. Gather whatever support you can quietly. I'll handle Mercer."

After extracting what information I could from a reluctant Emerson, I ended the call and turned to my companions.

"Change of plans," I announced. "Mustache, I need you to stay here with Clara. Keep her safe."

The Man with the Mustache looked at me with obvious concern. "Where are you going?"

"To meet an assassin," I replied, heading for the door.

---

I wandered Veridia City's streets for over an hour, deliberately making myself visible. If Mercer wanted me, I wouldn't make him work too hard to find me. But I'd choose the battlefield.

When no attack came after an hour of walking, I decided to change tactics. I spotted a bar—The Silver Serpent—and stepped inside. The establishment was upscale but not ostentatious, the kind of place where both the wealthy and the ambitious might mingle.

I took a seat at the bar, ordering a whiskey I had no intention of drinking. From this position, I could see both the entrance and the mirror behind the bar, giving me a panoramic view of the room.

"Make it two," came a sultry voice beside me.

I turned to see a woman sliding onto the stool next to mine. She was strikingly beautiful with auburn hair and intelligent green eyes that assessed me with obvious interest.

"Daphne Grenville," she introduced herself, extending a manicured hand. "And you must be Liam Knight. Your reputation precedes you."

I shook her hand, immediately extending my divine sense to check for threats or hidden weapons. She was clean, but her cultivation level was impressive—early Military Marquis.

"My reputation seems to get me into more trouble than it's worth these days," I replied.

She laughed, a sound like crystal bells. "That's the price of notoriety. Especially when you challenge someone like Broderick to a public duel."

"You know Broderick?" I asked, watching her face carefully.

"Everyone who matters in Veridia City knows Broderick," she replied. "Though few have the courage—or foolishness—to challenge him."

Before I could respond, a young man approached our table. He was tall and powerfully built, with an aura of restrained strength about him. His cultivation level was similar to Daphne's, but there was something unusual about his energy signature.

"Tyler," Daphne greeted him. "Join us. This is Liam Knight, the man everyone's talking about."

Tyler Westwood nodded at me, his expression neutral but curious. "So you're the one who's going to fight Broderick. Brave."

"Some would say stupid," I replied with a slight smile.

Tyler sat down, ordering a drink of his own. "Perhaps. But sometimes the stupid choice and the right choice are one and the same."

There was wisdom in his words that surprised me. I studied him more carefully. "You're not from the Guild, are you?"

A flash of wariness crossed his features before he relaxed. "What makes you say that?"

"Your cultivation technique. It's different from the standard Guild methods."

Tyler exchanged a glance with Daphne before answering. "You have a good eye. No, I'm not affiliated with the Guild."

"Tyler comes from one of the independent families," Daphne explained. "They maintain their own traditions."

This piqued my interest immediately. "Independent families? I wasn't aware any existed in Veridia City outside the Guild's control."

Tyler took a slow sip of his drink. "That's because we don't exist in Veridia City—not exactly."

"The Mystic Realm," I breathed, understanding dawning. "Some families live within it?"

He nodded. "Some of the oldest martial arts families established territories within the Realm centuries ago, before the Guild consolidated power. We maintain our independence by staying separate from worldly affairs."

"Yet here you are," I pointed out.

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "Even the most isolated communities need eyes and ears in the outside world."

This was valuable information. If there were independent powers within the Mystic Realm, they could be potential allies against the Guild—or at least sources of information about navigating the Realm to find Isabelle.

"What brings someone like you to challenge the Guild's golden boy?" Daphne asked, changing the subject. "It's not just about reputation, is it?"

"No," I admitted. "It's personal."

"It always is," Tyler said knowingly. "The Guild has a talent for making things personal."

"They took someone from me," I said, deciding to test their reactions. "Someone important."

Daphne's expression softened with genuine sympathy. "The Guild has a long history of taking what they want. Or who they want."

"The Ashworth girl," Tyler said quietly. "That's who you're after."

I stiffened, surprised by his knowledge. "How did you—"

"As I said, we keep eyes and ears open," Tyler explained. "The Guild's interest in the Ashworth bloodline isn't as secret as they believe. Not to those who know what to look for."

"Do you know where they're keeping her?" I asked, leaning forward intently.

Tyler shook his head. "No. But I know she's in a specialized containment area within the Mystic Realm. The Guild has sections no outsider has ever mapped."

My jaw clenched. "I'll find her."

"You'll need help," Daphne said. "No one challenges the Guild alone and survives."

"I've managed so far," I replied.

"Your upcoming fight with Broderick," Tyler said thoughtfully. "It's more than just a duel, isn't it? It's a statement."

I nodded. "The first of many."

"Bold," Daphne commented, raising her glass in a mock toast. "Especially considering Broderick nearly matched Jackson Harding in combat."

"Public perception isn't always reality," I said, echoing my earlier thoughts.

Tyler raised an eyebrow. "You think that match was staged?"

"I think there's more to the Guild's machinations than meets the eye," I replied cautiously.

Our conversation continued, with Tyler revealing carefully measured insights about the Mystic Realm's structure and the political dynamics between the independent families and the Guild. Each piece of information was another weapon in my arsenal, another step toward finding Isabelle.

Suddenly, a chill ran down my spine. My divine sense detected a powerful, murderous aura approaching the bar. I tensed, ready for action.

"Something wrong?" Daphne asked, noticing my change in demeanor.

"Company's coming," I murmured.

The door to the bar swung open, and conversations died as a man stepped inside. He was unremarkable in appearance—average height, plain clothes, forgettable features. But to my trained senses, he radiated deadly intent.

Bert Mercer. The Unseen Blade.

He scanned the room slowly before his gaze locked onto mine. A small, cold smile appeared on his lips as he approached our table.

"Liam Knight," he said, his voice as ordinary as his appearance. "I've been looking for you."

"Have you?" I replied calmly, though my muscles were coiled tight, ready to react at the slightest provocation. "I'm not hard to find."

Tyler and Daphne exchanged worried glances, clearly recognizing the assassin. The other patrons began quietly moving away, sensing the dangerous atmosphere.

"Ms. Hayward sends her regards," Mercer continued, stopping a few feet from our table. "She's quite interested in having a conversation with you."

"She could have called," I said dryly. "No need to send her errand boy."

A flicker of annoyance crossed Mercer's face. "Careful, Knight. People who disrespect me tend not to live very long."

"Is that so?" I stood slowly, measuring the distance between us. "And yet here I stand, very much alive despite all the Guild's efforts."

Mercer's eyes narrowed. "Not for long. I've been instructed to bring you in alive, but accidents happen. Especially to those who resist."

I smiled coldly. "You're welcome to try. But unlike your usual targets, I see you coming."

"Confidence," Mercer noted with a slight nod. "I respect that. Misplaced as it may be."

"Is it misplaced?" I challenged. "Your reputation is impressive, Mercer, but mine is earned."

The tension in the room was palpable. The remaining patrons had pressed themselves against the walls, giving us a wide berth.

Mercer smirked. "Well then, are you not bringing those two corpses this time?"

I scoffed, thinking of Old Man Harding and Mariana whom the Guild still believed I had at my beck and call. "To kill you is as easy as slaughtering chickens and ducks. I don't need those two corpses."

The gauntlet had been thrown down. There would be no backing down now. My body hummed with energy, ready for the fight that would inevitably come. Whatever happened next would be another step on my path to Isabelle—and another message to the Guild that I was not to be underestimated.