Rise of The Abandoned Husband

Sunlight streamed through the ornate windows of the Avery Family Manor as I followed Tilda down the grand hallway. The manor was opulent but tasteful, with generations of wealth evident in every detail. Portraits of stern-faced ancestors lined the walls, their eyes seeming to follow us as we passed.

"Father is eager to speak with you," Tilda said, glancing back at me. "Your pill has worked miracles. He was able to rise from bed this morning."

"That's excellent news," I replied, maintaining my composure despite my anticipation. The Power of Martial Saint was within reach—I could feel it.

Tilda led me to a massive dining room where an elaborate feast was laid out. The long table gleamed with silver and crystal, and the aromas of freshly prepared delicacies filled the air. The Avery family's wealth was on full display, a pointed reminder of their power and influence.

Mr. Avery sat at the head of the table, looking remarkably better than yesterday. Though still thin, his face had regained color, and his eyes were alert and sharp. Edward and Herman stood near him, both nodding respectfully as I entered.

"Master Knight," Mr. Avery's voice was stronger than I expected. "Please, join us for breakfast. A small token of our gratitude."

I took the offered seat to his right. "Thank you for your hospitality."

"No, thank you," Mr. Avery said emphatically. "I was at death's door until yesterday. Now I feel twenty years younger." He gestured to the servants, who began serving the meal. "Eat! Please, enjoy!"

The food was exceptional—dishes I recognized as rare delicacies from across the continent. I ate modestly, keeping my focus on the real reason for this meeting.

"Master Knight," Edward said after we'd eaten for a while, "you must understand that what you accomplished was nothing short of miraculous. Every alchemist we consulted said Father's condition was beyond treatment."

"I'm just glad I could help," I replied, setting down my fork. "But I didn't come here solely out of altruism."

Mr. Avery chuckled. "Direct and honest. I appreciate that." He waved away a servant attempting to refill his glass. "Tilda tells me you have a specific request. Something you need from our family."

The moment had arrived. I met the old man's gaze steadily. "I need the Power of Martial Saint."

The room fell silent. Edward and Herman exchanged glances, while Tilda watched me with unwavering attention.

Mr. Avery's expression remained neutral. "May I ask why?"

I chose my words carefully. "Someone very important to me is being held captive by powerful enemies. The Power of Martial Saint may be the only way I can save her."

"This person must mean a great deal to you," Mr. Avery observed.

"She means everything to me," I answered honestly.

Mr. Avery nodded slowly, then looked to his children and nephew. "Leave us. I wish to speak with Master Knight alone."

Herman opened his mouth as if to protest, but a sharp look from his uncle silenced him. The three younger Averys departed, with Tilda giving me an encouraging nod before closing the door behind them.

Once we were alone, Mr. Avery's demeanor changed subtly. The frail old man seemed to recede, replaced by something sharper and more calculating.

"The Power of Martial Saint," he said quietly, "is not what most people believe it to be."

"What is it, then?" I asked.

Mr. Avery sighed. "It's both less and more than the legends suggest. Less, because it is not some miraculous technique that instantly transforms one into a Martial Saint. More, because its true purpose is far greater." He leaned forward. "It is a method of rapidly advancing one's cultivation to break through certain bottlenecks—specifically, those that separate ordinary cultivators from those who can challenge the heavens."

My heart raced. This was exactly what I needed.

"But there's a cost," he continued. "Always a cost. The technique consumes life force. It burns years from one's lifespan with each use."

"I'm willing to pay that price," I said without hesitation.

Mr. Avery studied me carefully. "You say that now, but consider—how many years would you sacrifice? Ten? Twenty? Half your life?"

"All of them," I answered immediately. "If that's what it takes to save her."

Something in my response seemed to satisfy him. He nodded slowly. "Love makes fools of us all, yet sometimes that foolishness is the wisest choice." He drummed his fingers on the table. "But I must know—who is this enemy you face? Few organizations could require such desperate measures."

"The Veridia City Martial Guild," I replied.

Mr. Avery's eyes widened. "You've made powerful enemies indeed." He fell silent for a long moment. "The Guild doesn't take prisoners without good reason. What makes this woman so valuable to them?"

I hesitated. How much should I reveal? "Her bloodline contains something they want."

Understanding dawned on his face. "Ah. The Perfect Source. They've found another carrier."

Now it was my turn to be surprised. "You know about that?"

"The Avery family has existed for centuries, Master Knight. We know many secrets." He pushed his plate away. "In that case, your need is even greater than I thought. But I still cannot give you what you seek."

My hopes plummeted. "Why not?"

"Because the Power of Martial Saint is not mine to give away." He raised a hand as I began to protest. "It's not just a technique—it's our family's foundational power. More important than my life or anyone else's. Without it, we would lose everything we've built over generations."

"But—"

"However," he interrupted, "I might be willing to teach you certain aspects of it. Enough to help you achieve your goal, perhaps."

Before I could respond, the doors burst open. Herman rushed in, his face flushed. "Uncle, we have trouble."

Mr. Avery frowned. "I gave strict instructions—"

"It's the Crimson Flame Sect," Herman said urgently. "They've sent representatives. They're demanding to see you now."

The old man's expression darkened. "The Crimson Flame Sect? Here?" He glanced at me. "This discussion will have to wait, Master Knight."

I nodded, concealing my frustration. So close to obtaining what I needed, only to be interrupted.

Edward appeared in the doorway. "Father, they're insisting. They've already forced their way into the main hall."

Mr. Avery rose from his chair with surprising agility. "Then we shall not keep them waiting. Master Knight, please join us. I may need your counsel."

We followed Edward through the manor to a grand reception hall. Two men stood at its center, both wearing crimson robes embroidered with flame patterns. They carried themselves with the arrogance of those who believed might made right.

The taller of the two stepped forward as we entered. "Mr. Avery," he said, his tone lacking any respect. "I am Zhao Wei, third elder of the Crimson Flame Sect. This is Fourth Elder Lin."

Mr. Avery nodded stiffly. "Welcome to my home, though I wish you had sent word of your visit."

"This is not a social call," Zhao said coldly. "Two of our disciples were killed on your property three days ago."

Edward frowned. "That's impossible. Our security—"

"Are you calling us liars?" Elder Lin interrupted, his hand moving to the sword at his hip.

"Not at all," Mr. Avery said smoothly. "But we have no record of any intruders, let alone confrontations resulting in death."

Zhao's eyes narrowed. "The disciples were on a reconnaissance mission. They failed to return. Our investigations led us here."

I tensed, suddenly realizing who they must be referring to—the two men I'd encountered and killed while exploring the Avery estate grounds. The men who had attacked me first.

"If what you say is true, I offer my condolences," Mr. Avery said carefully. "But I assure you, no one in my family had anything to do with this tragedy."

"Perhaps not directly," Zhao replied, his gaze shifting to me. "But someone associated with you did."

All eyes turned in my direction. I kept my expression neutral, showing neither guilt nor concern.

"This is Master Liam Knight, our honored guest," Mr. Avery introduced me. "He's an alchemist who saved my life, not a killer."

Zhao snorted. "We have witnesses who saw him entering your estate shortly after our disciples disappeared. A coincidence, I'm sure."

The tension in the room thickened. I could sense Herman and Edward preparing for a confrontation, their hands subtly shifting toward concealed weapons.

"What exactly do you want?" Mr. Avery asked, his voice hardening.

"Justice is what we want," Elder Lin snapped. "But our Sect Master is merciful. He offers you a choice instead."

"A choice?" Mr. Avery echoed.

Zhao stepped forward. "The Avery family will submit to the Crimson Flame Sect. Your resources, your lands, your techniques—all will come under our protection."

"You mean our control," Herman growled.

"Call it what you will," Zhao shrugged. "In return, we'll overlook this incident and ensure your family's continued... prosperity."

Mr. Avery's face remained impassive, but I could see the anger in his eyes. "And if we decline this generous offer?"

"Then we cannot guarantee your safety," Elder Lin said bluntly. "Our Sect Master has been patient with the Avery family for too long. This incident merely provides the justification he's been seeking."

I stepped forward. "If this is about the two men I encountered, I'll take responsibility."

Everyone turned to me in shock.

"Master Knight," Edward warned, but I continued.

"I was exploring the grounds when two men attacked me. I defended myself. If they were your disciples, that's unfortunate, but I had no choice."

Zhao's eyes gleamed with triumph. "So you admit it."

"I admit to self-defense," I clarified. "Nothing more."

"It doesn't matter," the elder dismissed. "The fact remains—Crimson Flame Sect blood was spilled on Avery land. Someone must answer for that."

Herman moved beside me. "This is just a pretext. You've been trying to absorb our family for years."

"Perceptive," Zhao smiled coldly. "But irrelevant. The choice stands."

Mr. Avery stepped between us. "This is not a decision to be made hastily. We will need time to consider your... proposal."

The elders exchanged glances. "Our Sect Master is not a patient man," Lin warned.

"Three days," Zhao declared finally. "You have three days to decide. After that, our Sect Master will come personally to hear your answer."

"And if we refuse?" Tilda asked from the doorway. I hadn't noticed her enter.

Zhao's smile widened. "Then pray your alchemist friend can create pills to resurrect the dead." He turned to leave, then paused. "I'm giving you three days to decide. If you don't make a decision by then, our Sect Master will not give you any more chances!"

With that ominous declaration, the two elders strode from the hall, their crimson robes billowing behind them.

Silence descended upon us as the heavy doors closed.

"They were waiting for an opportunity like this," Edward said finally. "Any excuse to move against us."

Mr. Avery sank into a nearby chair. "They want the Power of Martial Saint. They always have."

"Will they attack if we refuse?" Tilda asked quietly.

Herman's face darkened. "Without question. The Crimson Flame Sect has been expanding aggressively for years. We're just the next target on their list."

Mr. Avery turned to me, his expression grave. "It seems we both have enemies we cannot defeat alone, Master Knight."

I nodded, understanding where this was heading. "An alliance."

"Precisely," the old man confirmed. "You need the Power of Martial Saint to save your loved one. We need protection against the Crimson Flame Sect."

"Father," Edward protested, "we can't just give away—"

"Not give away," Mr. Avery corrected. "Share. Strategically." He focused on me again. "I propose a deal, Master Knight. Help us defeat the Crimson Flame Sect, and I will teach you what you need from our family's technique."

The offer was unexpected but potentially perfect. If I could gain the Power of Martial Saint while also building another powerful alliance, it would bring me one step closer to saving Isabelle.

"I accept," I said without hesitation.

Mr. Avery nodded. "Then we have three days to prepare for war."

Herman looked skeptical. "Can one man really make a difference against the Crimson Flame Sect?"

I met his gaze steadily. "You'd be surprised what one man can do when he has nothing left to lose."

Tilda stepped forward. "We should begin immediately. The Sect won't wait, and neither should we."

As the Avery family began discussing strategy, I found myself staring out the window toward the distant mountains. Three days to prepare for a battle against the Crimson Flame Sect. Three days to earn the Power of Martial Saint. Three days closer to Isabelle.

The path was dangerous, but each step brought me nearer to her. That was all that mattered.