Rise of The Abandoned Husband

The tension in the Celestial Craft Pavilion was palpable. Hanley Poe's beady eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he thought he had me cornered. The guards formed a tight circle around us, hands on their weapons, waiting for his command.

"Well?" Hanley pressed, his double chin quivering with anticipation. "The gourd. Hand it over."

I glanced at the Man with the Mustache, whose face had gone pale. We both knew returning the gourd wasn't an option.

"I don't have it with me," I said simply.

Hanley's face flushed an alarming shade of purple. "You expect me to believe that? You stole my priceless spirit gourd, and now you claim you just... left it somewhere?"

"Believe what you want," I replied, my patience wearing thin. "The gourd is currently in use. I can compensate you with spirit stones instead."

"In use?" he spluttered. "That gourd is a family heirloom! It's not some common tool to be passed around!"

The Man with the Mustache stepped forward, attempting diplomacy. "Young Master Poe, perhaps we could—"

"Silence!" Hanley barked. "I wasn't addressing you, old man."

I felt my temper rising. "Show some respect. He's my companion."

Hanley sneered. "Respect? From the son of the Celestial Craft Pavilion Master to a nobody? I think not." His eyes narrowed as he looked me up and down. "And you... you're just a jumped-up commoner who got lucky. Everyone knows you're nothing without that pendant."

The guards shifted uncomfortably. Even they seemed embarrassed by their young master's behavior.

"I didn't come here for trouble," I said, keeping my voice level. "Let us conduct our business, and we'll be on our way."

"Business?" Hanley laughed, the sound grating on my ears. "The only business you have here is paying for your crimes! Guards! Take his pendant!"

The guards hesitated, exchanging nervous glances. None seemed eager to make the first move.

"Young Master Poe," the guard captain spoke up, "perhaps we should consult with—"

"Are you questioning my orders?" Hanley snapped. "I am acting Pavilion Master in my father's absence! Now seize him!"

Reluctantly, the guards drew their weapons and advanced. I sighed. This was a waste of precious time.

"Stay back," I told the Man with the Mustache, stepping forward.

The first guard lunged with his spear. I sidestepped easily, gripping the shaft and using his momentum to send him tumbling into two of his companions. Another came at me with a sword. I caught his wrist, applied pressure to a meridian point, and watched as the weapon clattered to the floor from his suddenly numb fingers.

Three more attacked simultaneously. I gathered a thin layer of spiritual energy around my palm and swept it in an arc, knocking them back without causing serious harm. Within moments, all twelve guards were sprawled across the floor, groaning but largely uninjured.

Hanley Poe's mouth hung open in shock. "You... how dare you!"

"I didn't want to hurt them," I said, straightening my robes. "They're just following orders. Bad orders from an incompetent leader."

His face contorted with rage. "Incompetent? I am Hanley Poe! Son of Mallory Poe! Future master of the Celestial Craft Pavilion!"

"And that's exactly the problem," I replied. "You think your father's name gives you the right to abuse others. You haven't earned anything yourself."

Hanley's eyes bulged. "You peasant! You know nothing about me!"

"I know enough." I stepped closer, and he instinctively backed away. "I know you rely on your father's power instead of developing your own. I know you treat your subordinates like disposable tools rather than valuable allies. And I know you lack the wisdom to recognize when you're outmatched."

The crowd that had gathered to watch the confrontation murmured in agreement. Hanley glanced around, suddenly aware that public opinion wasn't on his side.

"This... this is my pavilion!" he stammered. "You can't speak to me like this here!"

"A true leader earns respect through actions, not inheritance," I said, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Your father built this pavilion through skill and hard work. What have you done except ride on his coattails?"

Several onlookers nodded. Even some of the fallen guards looked like they agreed.

Hanley's face twisted with humiliation and rage. "Enough! I'll kill you myself!"

He reached into his robes and pulled out a talisman – an expensive one, judging by the golden glow it emitted. With a snarl, he activated it and flung it toward me.

I didn't move. Instead, I channeled a precise amount of spiritual energy into my pendant, creating a thin barrier around me. The talisman exploded against it in a shower of golden sparks, leaving me completely untouched.

The crowd gasped. The Man with the Mustache exhaled in relief.

"Are you finished?" I asked calmly.

Hanley stared in disbelief. That talisman had probably cost him a fortune, and I'd neutralized it without effort.

"This is why you'll never be half the leader your father is," I continued, walking toward him. "You rely on bought power rather than earned skill."

He backed away until he hit a pillar. "Stay... stay away from me!"

I stopped directly in front of him. "I came here for a spatial artifact. I'm willing to pay a fair price. That's the only business I have with your pavilion."

"Never!" he spat. "I'd rather die than help you!"

I sighed. "Always the dramatic one." In a movement too quick for him to follow, I gripped his collar and lifted him slightly. "Listen carefully, because I won't repeat myself. I don't have time for your tantrums. Isabelle Ashworth's life is at stake, and I will do whatever necessary to save her."

His face paled. "You... you wouldn't dare harm me here..."

"I don't need to harm you," I replied softly. "I just need to teach you some manners your father clearly failed to instill."

With my free hand, I delivered a precise tap to a meridian point on his wrist. His arm went numb instantly.

"What did you do?" he gasped.

"Blocked your fire meridian," I explained. "Your spiritual energy can't flow to your right hand now. It will wear off in a few hours... if I allow it to."

Fear flickered in his eyes. "You can't do this!"

"I just did." I released his collar, letting him stumble back against the pillar. "Now, about that spatial artifact..."

"I'll... I'll have you hunted for this!" he threatened, though his voice trembled. "When my father returns—"

"When your father returns," I cut him off, "he'll be disappointed to learn how poorly you represented the Celestial Craft Pavilion in his absence. How you endangered his guards and damaged his reputation for a petty vendetta."

Hanley fell silent, the truth of my words sinking in.

I turned away from him, addressing the crowd and the guards who were getting back to their feet. "I apologize for the disturbance. I meant no disrespect to the Celestial Craft Pavilion or its master."

The guard captain nodded stiffly, clearly relieved I wasn't pursuing further conflict.

I glanced around the third floor, spotting a display platform near the eastern wall. Something there caught my eye – a simple iron platform holding various rings and bracelets. Among them was a plain silver ring with faint inscriptions along its inner band.

"That one," I said, pointing. "I'll take it as compensation for today's... misunderstanding."

The Man with the Mustache followed my gaze and frowned. "Young Master, that doesn't look like much of a spatial artifact."

"Appearances can be deceiving," I murmured, walking toward the platform.

Behind me, Hanley found his voice again. "Don't touch anything! Those aren't for sale!"

I ignored him, reaching for the silver ring. As my fingers closed around it, I felt a subtle resonance with my spiritual energy – exactly what I was looking for.

"This will do," I said, slipping it into my pocket.

"Thief!" Hanley shrieked. "Guards! Stop him!"

The guards exchanged glances but made no move to intervene. They'd already tested my patience once and had no desire to do so again.

I turned back to Hanley, who was clutching his numb arm. "Consider this payment for wasting my time. Your father would understand the value of maintaining good relations, even with enemies."

"My father will have your head for this!" he threatened.

I shrugged. "Perhaps. But right now, I have more pressing concerns than your father's opinion."

I nodded to the Man with the Mustache, and we made our way toward the exit. The crowd parted before us, some watching with admiration, others with fear.

"You won't get away with this!" Hanley called after us. "That ring—you have no idea what you've taken!"

I paused at the doorway, looking back at him. "Then educate me."

He clamped his mouth shut, suddenly realizing he'd said too much. Whatever special properties the ring possessed, he clearly didn't want to announce them publicly.

"As I thought," I said with a slight smile. "Farewell, Young Master Poe. Give your father my regards when he returns."

Outside, the Man with the Mustache exhaled loudly once we were clear of the pavilion. "Young Master, was that wise? Taking something without knowing its true nature?"

I examined the ring more closely as we walked. The inscriptions were ancient, pre-dating modern cultivation techniques. "It's exactly what we need – a spatial teleportation signet. Limited range, but powerful enough to bypass most barriers."

He raised his eyebrows. "How could you possibly know that from just looking at it?"

"I didn't," I admitted. "But when Hanley reacted so strongly to me approaching that specific display, I knew there must be something special there."

"And the bit about his father understanding?"

I smiled grimly. "Pure bluff. But effective, wasn't it?"

We turned down a side street, putting distance between ourselves and the pavilion. The signet ring felt warm in my pocket – a good sign that it was responding to my spiritual energy.

"Will it be enough?" the Man with the Mustache asked quietly. "To reach Isabelle at Blackstone?"

"It has to be," I replied, thinking of her hairpin. Of Corbin's taunting words. Of time rapidly running out. "We attack tonight."

As we made our way back to our safehouse, I couldn't shake the feeling that taking the ring had been too easy. Hanley's final outburst suggested there was more to it than I realized.

But with Isabelle's life at stake and time running short, I had no choice but to move forward with whatever advantages I could seize.

Back at the Celestial Craft Pavilion, Hanley Poe stormed into his private chamber, slamming the door behind him. His face was still flushed with humiliation.

"That bastard!" he raged to the empty room. "How dare he make a fool of me in my own pavilion!"

He paced frantically, cradling his numb arm. The meridian blockage Liam had inflicted was painful, a constant reminder of his defeat.

A servant knocked timidly at the door. "Young Master? Are you alright?"

"Go away!" Hanley barked.

"But sir, your father has returned early from his trip. He's requesting your presence immediately."

Hanley froze. His father wasn't supposed to return for another month. This was disastrous timing.

"Tell him... tell him I'll be there shortly."

The servant departed, and Hanley collapsed into a chair, mind racing. How much did his father already know? Should he mention the incident with Liam Knight? And the ring...

He swallowed hard. His father would kill him when he discovered what had happened.

Ten minutes later, Hanley entered his father's chamber, trying to hide his nervousness. Mallory Poe sat behind his desk, his expression unreadable.

"Father," Hanley bowed. "Welcome back. We weren't expecting you so soon."

Mallory's piercing gaze took in his son's disheveled appearance and the way he favored his right arm. "I heard there was a disturbance today."

Hanley licked his lips nervously. "A minor misunderstanding with a customer. Nothing to concern yourself with."

"Is that so?" Mallory's voice was dangerously calm. "And did this... misunderstanding involve Liam Knight?"

Hanley's heart sank. So his father already knew.

"He... he provoked me, Father! He stole my spirit gourd months ago and had the audacity to return here! I was merely defending our family's honor!"

Mallory's expression didn't change. "And how did this defense of our honor conclude?"

"He... he attacked our guards. Used some underhanded technique on me." Hanley held up his numb arm as evidence. "Then he stormed out."

"I see." Mallory steepled his fingers. "And did he take anything with him when he left?"

Hanley hesitated. This was the moment of truth.

"No," he lied. "Nothing important."

Mallory studied his son for a long moment. "Are you certain? Nothing from the third floor displays, perhaps?"

Hanley felt cold sweat break out on his forehead. "Well... he did take a ring. A simple silver one from the eastern display. But it was nothing of value, just a basic spatial—"

"You fool!" Mallory slammed his fist on the desk, making Hanley jump. "You let him take a ring from the iron platform?"

"It... it was just a plain ring, Father. Not even one of our better—"

"Which one?" Mallory demanded, his voice deadly quiet. "Describe it."

"Silver. Plain band. Some old inscriptions inside. I didn't think—"

"That's precisely the problem! You didn't think!" Mallory stood abruptly, his face pale with anger. "You've just allowed Liam Knight to walk out of here with the Celestial Craft's Signet!"

Hanley's stomach dropped. "The... the Signet? But I thought that was just a myth..."

"You thought?" Mallory laughed bitterly. "If you had bothered to study our family history instead of throwing your weight around, you'd know that ring is the foundation of our pavilion's power!"

Hanley felt sick. "Father, I didn't know. It looked so ordinary—"

"Of course it did! That was the point!" Mallory paced the room, his face ashen. "That ring has been in our family for ten generations. It's not just a spatial artifact; it's the key to our ancestral formations!"

"We... we have to get it back," Hanley stammered. "I'll send our best men—"

"You've done enough," Mallory cut him off. His expression suddenly shifted from anger to something closer to fear. "Liam Knight with the Celestial Craft's Signet... Do you have any idea what you've done?"

Hanley Poe's face turned pale, as if mourning, as he exclaimed, "You...you're saying he took that ring away?!"