Rise of The Abandoned Husband

I watched the dagger hurtle toward my chest, the blade glinting in the sunlight. Time seemed to slow as I made my decision. With minimal effort, I sidestepped and caught Mr. Brown's wrist in mid-thrust.

"Enough," I said firmly, applying just enough pressure to make him drop the weapon.

The dagger clattered to the ground. Mr. Brown's eyes widened, not with pain but with the sudden realization of what he'd done. The rage drained from his face, replaced by horror.

"I... I don't know what came over me," he stammered, dropping to his knees. "Master Knight, I—"

"Stand up," I ordered, releasing his wrist. "A warrior doesn't kneel in shame."

Mr. Avery rushed forward. "Mr. Brown! Have you lost your mind? Attacking a guest like that!"

I raised my hand. "It's fine. Pride can make fools of the wisest men." I looked down at the guardian. "Though I suggest you learn to control yours before it gets you killed."

Mr. Brown rose slowly, his head bowed. "You could have ended me just now."

"I could have," I agreed. "But why would I? You've served this family loyally for years. That counts for something."

Herman stepped forward, all his previous skepticism gone. "I think we've seen enough. Father, we need to talk about this. Privately."

Mr. Avery nodded. "Master Knight, would you excuse us for a moment?"

"Take all the time you need," I replied. "This isn't a decision to make hastily."

As the Avery family withdrew to confer, Tilda lingered behind.

"That was... impressive," she said, her analytical gaze studying me. "The Pavilion Master was right about you."

I raised an eyebrow. "What exactly did she say?"

Tilda hesitated, then leaned closer. "She believes you're going to be the next Martial Saint. That it's only a matter of time."

So Mariana had been singing my praises. Interesting. I wondered what her angle was.

"And what do you think?" I asked.

"I think we'd be fools not to ally with you." She glanced toward where her family was huddled in intense discussion. "But my father and brother are cautious men. They've been betrayed before."

"I understand caution," I said. "But sometimes the greater risk is doing nothing."

Tilda nodded. "That's what I've been telling them." She lowered her voice further. "While they deliberate, there's something you should know. We had another visitor yesterday—someone from the McDaniel family."

My interest spiked immediately. "Colin McDaniel?"

"No, a messenger. But he mentioned that Colin possesses something valuable—something about a purple fire?"

I kept my expression neutral despite the excitement coursing through me. The Purple Spirit Fire. One of the elements I needed to forge the Nine Seals Pill for Isabelle.

"Did this messenger say where Colin is now?" I asked casually.

"Not directly. But he mentioned they were heading to the western territories after concluding business with us." She tilted her head. "Is this Colin person important to you?"

"Let's just say we have unfinished business," I replied.

Before Tilda could inquire further, the Averys returned. From their expressions, I could tell they'd reached a decision—and not all of them were happy about it.

Mr. Avery cleared his throat. "Master Knight, we've discussed your proposal extensively."

"And?" I prompted when he paused.

"We remain... concerned about entrusting our family's greatest treasure to an outsider, regardless of your demonstrated abilities."

I nodded. "A reasonable concern."

"However," he continued, "given the imminent threat from the Crimson Flame Sect and your clear power advantage over even our strongest guardian..."

Herman cut in, his tone reluctant but practical. "We want some guarantees."

"What kind of guarantees?" I asked.

"A binding oath," Mr. Avery explained. "That you will use this power to eliminate the threat of the Crimson Flame Sect completely, and that afterward, you will remain an ally of the Avery family for no less than ten years."

I considered their terms. "The elimination of the Crimson Flame Sect is a straightforward matter. But a ten-year alliance is a significant commitment."

"Too significant for the Power of Martial Saint?" Herman challenged.

I smiled slightly. "Not at all. I'm simply clarifying the terms." I extended my hand to Mr. Avery. "I accept."

Relief washed over the old man's face as he clasped my hand firmly. "Then we have an agreement."

"I'll need to make preparations," I said. "The transfer of such power isn't something to be done carelessly."

Edward, who had remained silent until now, stepped forward. "The ritual requires three days of preparation. That's exactly how long we have before the Crimson Flame Sect returns."

"Perfect timing," I remarked.

Mr. Avery nodded. "Edward will show you to our ritual chamber and provide you with everything needed for the preparations."

As Edward led me away from the courtyard, I turned to Tilda. "About Colin McDaniel—I'd like to speak with him if he's still nearby."

She exchanged a glance with her father, who nodded. "I believe he's still in town, at the Silver Moon Inn. I can send someone to bring him here."

"That won't be necessary," I replied. "Just confirm his location for me."

Herman's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "What exactly is your interest in McDaniel?"

"As I told your sister, we have unfinished business."

"Business that won't interfere with our arrangement?" Mr. Avery asked cautiously.

"Not in the slightest," I assured him. "If anything, it will enhance my preparations for the ritual."

After being shown to the ritual chamber—an underground room with ancient formations carved into the stone walls—I requested privacy to meditate. Once alone, I sent a mental message to Xander, one of my most trusted followers.

"Find Colin McDaniel at the Silver Moon Inn. Bring him to me. Alive and unharmed."

I received acknowledgment almost instantly. Xander was efficient—Colin would be in my hands within hours.

While waiting, I examined the ritual chamber. The Power of Martial Saint was clearly based on ancient knowledge—the formations resembled those I'd seen in texts describing the Immortal Era. This wasn't just some family trick; it was a fragment of truly powerful cultivation methods.

Three hours later, a knock came at the chamber door.

"Enter," I called.

Xander stepped in, his expression grim. "Master, we have him."

Colin McDaniel was shoved into the room, his hands bound behind his back. He stumbled forward, confusion and fear etched on his face until he saw me. Then fear turned to outright terror.

"Knight! What is this? You can't just—"

"I can and I have," I cut him off. "Hello, Colin. It's been a while."

Xander closed the door, leaving us alone. Colin struggled against his bindings, his eyes darting around the unfamiliar chamber.

"What do you want from me?" he demanded, trying to sound defiant despite his obvious fear.

I rose from my meditation position and approached him slowly. "You have something I need."

"I have nothing for you!"

"Don't lie," I said calmly. "It only wastes my time and your breath. You possess the Purple Spirit Fire."

He blanched. "How do you know about that?"

"I know many things, Colin. Including how valuable that fire is, and how few people in this world can wield it."

He backed away until he hit the wall. "It's mine! I inherited it from my grandfather!"

"And now you're going to give it to me," I stated simply.

Colin laughed nervously. "You can't just take someone's spiritual fire! It's bound to my soul! Removing it would kill me!"

"I'm aware of the conventional wisdom," I replied. "But there are ways around such limitations for those with sufficient knowledge."

His eyes widened in genuine terror now. "You're insane! Even if you could extract it, which you can't, I'd never willingly give it up!"

"Willingly?" I stepped closer. "I don't recall mentioning anything about willingness."

Colin tried to make a break for the door, but I caught him by the throat and lifted him off the ground with one hand.

"The hard way, then," I sighed.

From my spatial ring, I withdrew a small black jar covered in arcane symbols—the Dim Prison Jar, an ancient artifact designed to break the will of even the most stubborn captives.

Colin's eyes fixed on the jar. "What is that?"

"Your temporary home," I replied, "until you decide to cooperate."

"You can't! This is madness!" he gasped as my grip tightened.

"I need that fire, Colin. For someone very important to me." Isabelle's face flashed through my mind. "And I will have it."

With a practiced motion, I activated the jar. A swirling vortex of dark energy emerged from its mouth, rapidly expanding to envelop Colin's struggling form.

"No! Please!" His scream was cut short as the energy consumed him, pulling his body into the small container.

I sealed the jar and placed it on the stone floor of the ritual chamber. The jar trembled slightly as Colin experienced what felt like an eternity of absolute darkness within—though in reality, time flowed differently inside the artifact. What would seem like days to him would be mere hours outside.

"You'll break eventually," I murmured to the jar. "They all do."

I resumed my meditation position, focusing my mind on the upcoming ritual. The Power of Martial Saint would be a significant boost to my capabilities—perhaps enough to finally rescue Isabelle from the Veridia City Martial Guild.

Hours passed. Occasionally, I could hear muffled screams from the jar, growing progressively weaker and more desperate. The Dim Prison Jar was doing its work.

A knock on the door interrupted my thoughts.

"Come in," I called.

Tilda entered, carrying a tray with food and tea. "Father thought you might need refreshment during your preparations."

She placed the tray beside me, then noticed the black jar. "What's that?"

"A meditation tool," I lied smoothly. "It helps focus the mind."

She didn't seem entirely convinced but didn't press the matter. "The Pavilion Master responded to our message. She confirmed your trustworthiness and urged us to proceed with the transfer."

"Mariana is a good judge of character," I remarked.

Tilda hesitated, then added, "She also said something strange. That you're on a mission that transcends our petty territorial disputes."

I smiled slightly. "The Pavilion Master has always had a flair for the dramatic."

"Is it true, though?" Tilda pressed. "Are you pursuing something greater than what you've revealed to us?"

I met her curious gaze. "Everyone has their own path, Tilda. Mine just happens to involve higher stakes than most."

She studied me for a moment longer. "The family will be gathering tonight for the final decision. Father wanted me to inform you."

"I'll be there," I promised.

After she left, I turned my attention back to the jar. It had stopped trembling. I tapped it lightly with my finger, and a weak sob emerged from within.

"Ready to talk, Colin?" I asked.

"Please..." his voice was barely audible through the jar's walls. "Let me out... I can't take anymore..."

I opened the jar slightly, allowing him to speak more clearly but not enough for escape.

"The Purple Spirit Fire," I reminded him. "Will you surrender it willingly?"

"I can't!" he cried. "It's not just bound to my soul—it's part of my family's legacy! My grandfather would—"

I sealed the jar again, cutting off his protests. "Perhaps a few more hours will change your mind."

Evening came. I left the jar in the ritual chamber and made my way to the Avery family's meeting hall. All the key members were present, along with Mr. Brown, who avoided meeting my gaze.

Mr. Avery rose as I entered. "Master Knight. We've received confirmation from the Celestial Apothecary Guild Master vouching for your character and abilities."

"I'm glad to hear it," I replied, taking the offered seat at the table.

"Let's make a decision then," Herman Avery said, his tone solemn but resigned. "The power of the Martial Saint will be infused into Liam Knight's body."

Edward nodded in agreement. "The ritual will commence tomorrow at dawn. We'll need the full two days to complete the transfer before the Crimson Flame Sect arrives."

Mr. Avery leaned forward, fixing me with an intense stare. "This power has been our family's greatest treasure for seven generations. With it, we place our future in your hands, Master Knight."

"I understand the weight of this responsibility," I replied solemnly. "And I will not let you down."

The old man nodded, seemingly satisfied. "Then it is decided. From tomorrow, our fates are intertwined."

As the meeting concluded, my thoughts returned to the Dim Prison Jar and its occupant. Colin McDaniel's Purple Spirit Fire was the key to creating the Nine Seals Pill—the pill that could save Isabelle from the torment she was enduring.

I would get that fire, one way or another. Colin's will would break eventually; they always did. And with the Power of Martial Saint soon to be mine, I would be one step closer to tearing down the Veridia City Martial Guild and freeing the woman I loved.

The path ahead was clear now: acquire the Purple Spirit Fire, gain the Power of Martial Saint, eliminate the Crimson Flame Sect, and then turn my full attention to Isabelle's rescue. Each piece was falling into place.

As I returned to the ritual chamber, I could hear Colin's faint whimpers from the jar. His soul was in torment, but I felt no remorse. In this world of cultivation, the weak served the strong. And for Isabelle, I would cross any line, break any soul, and crush any opposition that stood in my way.

The jar trembled slightly in my hands as I lifted it.

"Last chance, Colin," I whispered to it. "The fire, or another night in darkness?"

Only pitiful sobbing answered me. I sighed and placed the jar back on the floor. By tomorrow, he would surrender. They all did, in the end.