Rise of The Abandoned Husband

I barely had time to register the shift in Ronan's stance before a new voice cut through the tension like a blade.

"That's enough."

We both turned to see a man standing at the edge of the clearing. Tall and imposing, with features that reminded me of someone I couldn't quite place.

"Ambrose?" Ronan's voice betrayed surprise.

The newcomer—Ambrose—ignored him completely, his eyes locked on me. "So you're Liam Knight."

It wasn't a question. Something in his gaze made my combat instincts flare to life. This man was dangerous—perhaps even more so than Ronan.

"I am," I replied cautiously.

Ambrose studied me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, without warning, his aura exploded outward. The power radiating from him dwarfed Ronan's like the sun outshines a candle.

"I've been looking for you," he said, his voice deceptively calm.

The Man with the Mustache peeked out from behind his boulder. "Young Master," he whispered urgently, "that's Ambrose Harding. Jackson Harding's disciple!"

The name hit me like a physical blow. No wonder he looked familiar—he carried himself with the same confident power as his master.

"Ronan," Ambrose said without looking away from me, "leave us."

"But I was just—"

"Now."

Ronan's face contorted with frustration, but he backed away, shooting me a venomous glare. "This isn't over, Knight."

Once he was gone, Ambrose took a step closer. "So you're the one my master has taken such an interest in."

I could feel the assessment in his gaze—sizing me up, looking for weaknesses. "I didn't ask for Jackson Harding's attention."

"Yet you have it," he replied, his voice hardening. "Along with everyone else's. The mysterious Liam Knight, appearing from nowhere with unprecedented talent."

I recognized the same jealousy that had fueled Ronan, but there was something more dangerous here—a controlled fury, a deliberate purpose.

"What do you want, Ambrose?"

His lips curled into a cold smile. "What I've always wanted. To prove I'm the best."

Without another word, he attacked.

His first strike came at blinding speed—a palm thrust that displaced the air between us. I barely managed to sidestep, feeling the wind from his attack slice past my cheek.

"Fast," I acknowledged, immediately countering with a sweep of my leg.

Ambrose jumped over it effortlessly. "Is this all the famous Liam Knight has to offer?"

His taunt was calculated, but I wouldn't be baited so easily. I'd faced enough opponents to know when someone was trying to provoke me into making mistakes.

We circled each other cautiously. Each of us testing, probing for weaknesses. His style was precise and economical—no wasted movement, no flashy techniques. This was the fighting form of someone who had dedicated his entire life to the martial path.

"I don't want to fight you, Ambrose," I said, keeping my guard up.

"That's not your choice to make."

He attacked again, this time with a flurry of strikes that forced me on the defensive. Each blow carried enormous power, and I could feel my arms growing numb from blocking them.

"Stop this madness!" The Man with the Mustache shouted from his hiding place. "Someone fetch Pavilion Master Valerius!"

"Stay out of this!" Ambrose and I shouted simultaneously.

I broke away from his assault, creating distance between us. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because you exist," he said simply. "Because every day since your name first reached my ears, all I've heard is how Liam Knight might be the one to reach the Martial Saint realm."

Understanding dawned. This wasn't just about jealousy—it was about identity. Ambrose had defined himself by being Jackson Harding's successor, the next potential Martial Saint. My existence threatened everything he believed about himself.

"That was never my goal," I said truthfully.

"Lies!" He charged again, his aura flaring with renewed intensity. "Fight me seriously, or I'll kill you where you stand!"

I met his charge head-on this time, my patience wearing thin. Our fists collided with a thunderous crack that sent shockwaves through the clearing. Trees swayed, and loose rocks tumbled down the mountainside.

"If it's a real fight you want," I growled, "then it's a real fight you'll get."

Our battle escalated quickly. Each exchange more violent than the last. Ambrose was undeniably skilled—his techniques honed through years of training under one of the world's greatest masters. But I had something he didn't: the desperate drive of a man fighting to save someone he loved.

Blood trickled from a cut above my eye as I ducked under a particularly vicious strike. I retaliated with an uppercut that caught him in the jaw, sending him staggering backward.

"What's going on here?"

Jackson Harding's voice boomed across the clearing like thunder. He stood at the edge with Mariana Valerius beside him, both radiating disapproval.

"Master," Ambrose acknowledged, wiping blood from his split lip.

"Explain yourself," Jackson demanded.

Ambrose straightened his posture, unrepentant. "I'm proving who's worthy of your teachings."

Jackson's expression darkened. "By attacking another cultivator without provocation?"

"It needed to be settled," Ambrose insisted. "Everyone speaks of him like he's already surpassed me. I needed to know."

I watched the exchange silently, catching my breath. Mariana approached me, her eyes checking me for serious injuries.

"Are you alright?" she asked quietly.

"I've had worse," I replied, wincing as I probed a particularly tender spot on my ribs.

Jackson turned to me. "I apologize for my disciple's behavior, Liam Knight."

Before I could respond, Ambrose interjected. "Don't apologize for me, Master. This isn't finished."

"Enough!" Jackson snapped. "You've disgraced yourself today."

Ambrose's jaw tightened, but he stood his ground. "I want to continue the fight. Properly this time, with witnesses."

"This is ridiculous," Mariana said. "Liam has more important matters—"

"Let him speak," I interrupted, surprising myself. Something about Ambrose's determination had caught my interest.

Ambrose looked at me directly. "A formal duel. No death, but no holding back either. Fight me as you would fight your greatest enemy."

Jackson shook his head. "I forbid it."

"No," I said, my mind made up. "I accept."

Everyone stared at me in disbelief.

"Liam," Mariana protested, "you don't need to prove anything to anyone."

"This isn't about proving myself," I replied, my eyes still on Ambrose. "It's about ending this distraction. I have real enemies to focus on, and I can't have Ambrose Harding challenging me every time our paths cross."

Jackson studied me carefully, then turned to his disciple. "Is this truly what you want?"

"More than anything," Ambrose replied without hesitation.

After a long moment, Jackson nodded. "Then let it be done properly. At the dueling grounds, starting at noon."

The formal duel began exactly as promised. Word had spread quickly, and disciples from throughout the Guild gathered to watch. Jackson and Mariana stood at opposite ends of the field, acting as judges and witnesses.

Ambrose and I faced each other across the dueling circle, each of us prepared for what was to come.

"Begin!" Jackson called out.

Neither of us moved immediately. We circled cautiously, assessing each other with new eyes. The previous skirmish had given us a taste of each other's abilities, but this would be different. This would be a true test.

"I've waited a long time for this," Ambrose said quietly.

"Then let's not waste any more time," I replied.

We clashed in the center of the ring with explosive force. Each strike precise, each block calculated. The crowd gasped as the shockwaves from our exchanges sent dust and debris flying.

Hours passed. The sun arced across the sky as we fought relentlessly. Neither gaining a clear advantage, neither willing to concede.

"They're evenly matched," I heard someone whisper in awe.

But we weren't. I knew I could end this faster by using my more advanced techniques—the Nine Secrets, my Chaotic Body abilities. Yet something held me back. This wasn't about destroying Ambrose; it was about answering his challenge on its own terms. Pure martial skill against pure martial skill.

As daylight began to fade, Mariana stepped forward. "This has gone on long enough. I declare it a draw."

"No!" Ambrose shouted, blood streaming from numerous cuts. "We continue until there's a victor."

Jackson frowned. "This stubbornness serves no purpose, Ambrose."

"Let them continue," I said, wiping sweat from my brow. "He needs this."

The duel stretched into the night. Torches were lit around the field as we fought on, our bodies pushed beyond normal human limits. By midnight, we were both staggering, running on willpower alone.

"Why won't you fall?" Ambrose gasped, launching another attack that I barely deflected.

"I could ask you the same," I replied, my own breathing labored.

Dawn was approaching when I saw my opening. Ambrose's movements had slowed fractionally—fatigue finally taking its toll. I feinted left, then drove my fist directly into his solar plexus with every ounce of strength I had left.

The impact lifted him off his feet. He crashed to the ground, struggling to breathe.

Silence fell over the dueling grounds. I remained standing, though barely, as Jackson approached to check on his disciple.

"It's over," Jackson declared. "Liam Knight is the victor."

Ambrose tried to rise but couldn't. The frustration and disappointment on his face was painful to see.

I walked over and offered my hand. "You fought well."

He stared at my outstretched hand, conflict evident in his eyes. Finally, he took it, allowing me to help him up.

"How?" he asked quietly. "How did you become so strong?"

"Necessity," I answered honestly. "Everything I've gained has come from having no other choice."

Mariana approached, concern evident on her face. "Both of you need medical attention."

"See to him first," I said, nodding toward Ambrose. "His pride took the worst beating today."

Ambrose let out a surprised laugh, which quickly turned into a painful cough. "You're not what I expected, Knight."

"Neither are you," I admitted. "You have the spirit of a true warrior."

As Mariana led Ambrose away for treatment, the Man with the Mustache hurried over to me, waving his phone frantically.

"Young Master! Urgent news from Veridia City!"

I took the phone, scanning the message on the screen. My eyebrows furrowed as I read.

"I need to leave immediately," I said, already calculating the fastest route back. "Whatever's happening in Veridia City can't wait."