Rise of The Abandoned Husband

I needed a distraction after the bombshell Emerson dropped about Ms. Hayward and Broderick's trip to the Mystic Realm. When Clara suggested we visit the Antique Market on the top floor of Veridia Mall, it felt like perfect timing. The Man with the Mustache eagerly agreed, claiming he'd been "feeling the call" of treasures lately.

"The call?" I asked as we rode the elevator up.

He tapped his nose knowingly. "It's a gift. Treasures sing to me. And lately, there's been a particularly persistent melody."

Clara rolled her eyes. "You just want to see if someone has candy."

"I am a sophisticated treasure hunter!" he protested, straightening his ridiculous bow tie. "Though I wouldn't say no to candy."

The elevator doors opened to reveal the sprawling Antique Market. At first glance, it looked like any upscale flea market—rows of stalls filled with furniture, paintings, and trinkets. But my senses immediately detected something else.

Dark energy. Faint but unmistakable.

I scanned the crowd, suddenly aware of numerous hidden presences. "There are at least twenty concealed martial artists here," I murmured to my companions.

The Man with the Mustache nodded. "The Antique Market isn't just for regular folks. It's where real treasures sometimes surface."

We wandered through the market, examining various items. Most were ordinary antiques with inflated price tags, but occasionally I'd spot something genuinely ancient. Nothing, however, explained the dark energy I was feeling.

"It's getting stronger," The Man with the Mustache suddenly announced, stopping in his tracks. His eyes had a glazed look. "The song... it's louder this way."

He turned abruptly, heading toward a small, unremarkable stall in the corner. Clara and I exchanged glances before following. The stall contained a jumble of items that looked like junk—tarnished cups, cracked vases, and faded scrolls.

Behind the counter sat an elderly woman with bright, shrewd eyes. She straightened when she saw us approaching.

"Good afternoon," she greeted, her gaze lingering on The Man with the Mustache. "Seeking anything specific today?"

He didn't respond, his attention fixed on something among the items. Following his gaze, I spotted an unassuming clay gourd, dusty and chipped around the edges. To an ordinary person, it would look worthless.

But I wasn't ordinary. And neither was this gourd.

Beneath its mundane appearance lay powerful energy, carefully concealed but detectable to my trained senses. This was the source of the dark energy I'd been feeling.

"How much for the gourd?" The Man with the Mustache asked, his voice unusually serious.

The old woman's eyes narrowed slightly. "That old thing? I'm afraid it's not for sale."

"Everything has a price," he countered smoothly.

She studied him for a moment. "Perhaps. But not in currency you'd be willing to part with."

Understanding dawned on his face. "Ah. A trade, then."

She nodded, and I realized this wasn't a simple negotiation between seller and buyer. This was how the real transactions happened in the Antique Market—treasures exchanged for other treasures.

The Man with the Mustache reached into his pocket and withdrew a small wooden box. When he opened it, I saw a perfectly preserved ancient coin, its surface gleaming with faint spiritual energy.

"Tang Dynasty imperial tribute coin," he said. "Still carries the emperor's blessing."

The woman's eyes widened slightly, but she shook her head. "Impressive, but insufficient."

He produced another item—a small jade figurine. "Ming Dynasty guardian beast. Carved by the imperial craftsman himself."

She seemed more interested now, examining the figurine carefully before placing it back on the counter. "Closer, but still not enough for the gourd."

The Man with the Mustache frowned slightly before reaching into his inner pocket. This time, he withdrew a folded piece of yellowed paper.

"Map fragment," he said quietly. "Leading to the lost temple of the Azure Dragon."

Now the woman's composure cracked. Her hand trembled slightly as she reached for the map.

"This... this is authentic?" she whispered.

"Of course," he replied confidently. "I obtained it from—"

"What a load of garbage," a voice interrupted loudly from behind us.

We turned to find a young man standing there, flanked by two burly guards. He was dressed in expensive clothes, with perfectly styled hair and a contemptuous smile. The arrogance radiating from him was palpable.

"Hanley Poe," The Man with the Mustache muttered under his breath. "Son of the Celestial Craft Pavilion's Leader."

Hanley stepped forward, eyeing the items on the counter dismissively. "A fake map and some trinkets? Is that what passes for valuable these days?"

The elderly woman looked uncomfortable. "Master Poe, I was just—"

"Wasting your time," he cut her off. "I've come for that gourd. My father's been looking for it."

The Man with the Mustache stiffened. "We were in the middle of a transaction."

Hanley's eyes flicked to him with undisguised contempt. "Were you? Well, consider it terminated."

He snapped his fingers, and his guards moved forward. One of them roughly pushed The Man with the Mustache aside, reaching for the map and treasures on the counter.

"Hey!" Clara protested. "You can't just—"

"Quiet, little girl," Hanley sneered. "The adults are talking."

I'd been observing silently until now, assessing the situation. Hanley was clearly used to getting his way through intimidation. His guards were strong—late-stage Spirit Realm cultivators—but nothing I couldn't handle.

When the guard reached for The Man with the Mustache again, I moved. My hand shot out, gripping his wrist firmly before he could make contact.

"That's enough," I said quietly.

The guard tried to pull away, surprise flickering across his face when he couldn't break my grip. His companion stepped forward threateningly, but I merely gave him a look that made him hesitate.

Hanley's expression darkened. "Who do you think you are?"

I released the guard's wrist and turned to face Hanley directly. "Liam Knight. And I believe my friend was in the middle of a fair negotiation."

"Fair?" Hanley laughed. "Nothing about this is fair. That gourd is a Celestial Craft artifact. It belongs with my family."

"If it belongs to you, then why is it here?" I countered calmly.

His eyes narrowed. "That's none of your concern. What matters is that I'm taking it now."

The elderly woman looked increasingly nervous, her eyes darting between us. The other patrons in nearby stalls had fallen silent, watching the confrontation with tense interest.

"We're all here to seek treasures," I said, keeping my voice level. "And since we're seeking treasures, the highest bidder should get them. There's no need for a fight."

Hanley stared at me, clearly not used to being challenged. I could feel his spiritual energy flaring in response to his anger—impressive for his age, but nowhere near my level.

"A bidding war?" he finally said. "With you?" He laughed again, but it sounded forced. "Do you even know what that gourd is?"

"I have some idea," I replied. In truth, I could sense its power but didn't know its specific function. "The question is, do you?"

That struck a nerve. His confident façade slipped for just a moment before he regained his composure.

"It's the Harmonizing Gourd," he declared. "One of the legendary artifacts crafted during the early Ming Dynasty. It can stabilize chaotic energies and prevent cultivation deviation."

The Man with the Mustache's eyes widened slightly, and I knew Hanley was at least partially correct. An artifact that could stabilize chaotic energies would be invaluable to anyone with my unique cultivation method.

"An impressive artifact," I agreed. "All the more reason why it should go to whoever appreciates it most—and can offer the best exchange."

Hanley's jaw tightened. "Fine. Let's see what pathetic treasures you have to offer."

I reached into my spatial ring, my mind quickly cataloging the items I'd collected during my journey. I needed something impressive enough to win this auction but not so valuable that I'd regret parting with it.

My fingers closed around a small jade bottle—one of Jackson Harding's gifts before he left for seclusion. Inside was a single pill that could instantly heal almost any injury short of death. Extremely valuable, but I had others.

I placed it on the counter. "Supreme Restoration Pill, crafted by Elder Harding himself."

The elderly woman gasped softly. Jackson Harding's name carried immense weight in cultivation circles.

Hanley's confident expression faltered momentarily. He clearly hadn't expected me to produce something so valuable. But he quickly recovered, reaching into his own spatial ring.

"A mere pill?" he scoffed, withdrawing an ornate dagger. "This is the Blood Moon Dagger, forged from meteorite iron and tempered in dragon blood. It can cut through any defense."

The dagger emitted a faint red glow, and I could sense its power. It was indeed valuable, possibly worth more than my pill in pure monetary terms.

The elderly woman looked between our offerings, clearly conflicted. The Man with the Mustache leaned toward me.

"That dagger is the real deal," he whispered. "Very rare, very powerful."

I nodded slightly, considering my next move. This was quickly becoming more than just an auction for a treasure—it was a direct challenge to Hanley's authority and status.

Clara tugged at my sleeve. "Liam," she whispered, "I can feel that gourd... it's calling to me too."

I glanced at her in surprise. Clara's "pure dark energy body" sometimes resonated with certain artifacts, particularly those with ancient power.

"You're sure?" I asked quietly.

She nodded firmly. "It feels... important."

That settled it. If Clara felt connected to the gourd, there was more to this artifact than even Hanley might know.

I reached back into my spatial ring and withdrew another item—a small wooden box containing three seeds that gleamed with golden light.

"Celestial Dawn Lotus seeds," I announced, placing them beside the pill. "Harvested from the peaks of Mount Kunlun. Each seed, when properly cultivated, can grow into a plant that produces spiritual fruits once every hundred years."

This time, even Hanley couldn't hide his shock. Celestial Dawn Lotus seeds were extraordinarily rare—most cultivators would go their entire lives without seeing even one.

The elderly woman's eyes widened. "Those are... genuine?"

"Absolutely," I confirmed.

The crowd that had gathered around us murmured in amazement. Hanley's face flushed with anger and embarrassment. He clearly hadn't expected this level of competition.

"Where did you get those?" he demanded. "Someone like you couldn't possibly—"

"My sources are my business," I cut him off calmly. "Just as yours are yours. The question is, can you match my offer?"

Hanley's eyes darted to his guards, then back to me. I could almost see the calculations running through his mind. He knew he was being outbid in front of a crowd, which would damage his reputation. But did he have anything valuable enough to counter?

"This isn't over," he finally hissed, his voice low and dangerous. "That gourd belongs to the Celestial Craft Pavilion."

"Then perhaps you should have brought more appropriate items to trade," I replied evenly.

His face contorted with rage. For a moment, I thought he might attack, consequences be damned. Instead, he turned to the elderly woman.

"You would do well to remember who controls the merchant licenses in this district," he threatened. "Selling to the wrong person could have... unfortunate consequences."

The woman paled, her earlier excitement giving way to fear. I stepped forward, placing myself between her and Hanley.

"Threats now?" I asked, my voice hardening slightly. "Is that how the Celestial Craft Pavilion conducts business?"

Hanley glared at me, his spiritual energy flaring dangerously. "You have no idea who you're dealing with."

"I could say the same to you," I replied quietly.

The tension in the air was palpable. Everyone around us seemed to be holding their breath, waiting to see what would happen next. Hanley's guards shifted into subtle combat stances, preparing for potential violence.

I remained outwardly calm, but my muscles tensed, ready to react if necessary. I'd faced much worse than this spoiled young master and his bodyguards. But a fight here, in such a public place, would complicate matters significantly—especially with my duel against Broderick approaching.

To everyone's surprise, it was Clara who broke the standoff.

"The gourd is singing louder," she announced, stepping forward and placing her small hand directly on the clay artifact.

The moment she touched it, a faint humming sound filled the air. The gourd began to glow with a soft, pulsing light that matched the rhythm of Clara's heartbeat.

Everyone, including Hanley, stared in astonishment.

"What... what is happening?" the elderly woman whispered.

The Man with the Mustache's eyes widened in recognition. "Resonance," he breathed. "The artifact is recognizing its owner."