Rise of The Abandoned Husband

The morning dawned with a sense of destiny. Today would change everything. I stood in the center of the Avery family's ritual chamber, surrounded by ancient formations carved into stone walls that pulsed with faint energy. Tilda Avery approached me, her expression solemn.

"Are you ready, Master Knight?" she asked.

"I am," I replied, feeling the weight of anticipation in my chest.

Tilda nodded, her eyes reflecting both respect and lingering caution. "The family council has made their final decision. We will proceed with the infusion."

"I'm honored by their trust," I said sincerely.

She stepped closer, lowering her voice. "It wasn't just the demonstration of your abilities that convinced them. The Pavilion Master's endorsement carried significant weight."

So Mariana had truly vouched for me. I made a mental note to thank her when I returned to the Celestial Apothecary Guild.

"There is one concern we must address before proceeding," Tilda continued. "Our family resides here in the Proseponia Kingdom, while you'll be returning to Pyro. How can you protect us from such a distance?"

It was a legitimate question. The Power of Martial Saint came with responsibilities.

"I've considered this," I answered. "I'll establish a formation network connecting our territories. At the first sign of danger to your family, I'll be alerted and can arrive within hours."

"Hours might be too long if the threat is immediate," she countered.

"Then I'll station some of my trusted disciples nearby. They'll act as my eyes and ears—and as your first line of defense."

Tilda seemed satisfied with this solution. "Very well. We'll prepare the ritual chamber for tonight. The process must begin at midnight when the boundary between realms is thinnest."

I spent the remainder of the day in meditation, gathering and purifying my qi. The Dim Prison Jar sat beside me, eerily silent now. Colin had finally broken shortly before dawn, agreeing to surrender his Purple Spirit Fire in exchange for his freedom. I'd extracted it using an ancient technique from the Jade Codex, storing the ethereal purple flame in a special container. Colin had survived, though weakened, and I'd released him with a warning never to cross my path again.

One step closer to saving Isabelle.

As night fell, Tilda returned to escort me to the prepared ritual chamber. The room had been transformed—hundreds of candles lined the walls, casting dancing shadows across the ancient formations. The entire Avery family stood in a semicircle, dressed in ceremonial robes.

Mr. Avery stepped forward. "Master Knight, tonight we entrust you with our family's greatest treasure. Are you prepared to accept this power and the responsibility that comes with it?"

"I am," I replied firmly.

"Then follow me."

Tilda led me to the center of an intricate formation where a small altar had been erected. Upon it rested a jade box, ornately carved with symbols I recognized from ancient texts—protection runes dating back to the Immortal Era.

"This chamber exists between worlds," Tilda explained softly. "What happens here tonight will not be detected by the cultivation world. No energy fluctuations will escape these walls."

Smart precaution. If word spread about this power transfer, it would attract unwanted attention from forces far greater than the Crimson Flame Sect.

Tilda opened the jade box, revealing a small, crystalline orb that pulsed with golden light. "This is the physical manifestation of our ancestor's legacy—the vessel containing the Power of Martial Saint."

"It's smaller than I expected," I remarked, studying the orb.

"Size means nothing in matters of true power," she replied. "This contains enough energy to elevate an ordinary cultivator to near-Martial Saint levels. In someone of your caliber..." She left the sentence unfinished, but her implication was clear—the results could be extraordinary.

Mr. Avery addressed the family. "Now we begin the summoning ritual. Everyone to your positions."

The family members moved with practiced precision, each taking a specific spot along the perimeter of the formation. They began a low, rhythmic chant in a language I didn't recognize—ancient words that seemed to vibrate the very air.

Tilda handed me a small knife with a jade handle. "We need your blood to activate the formation."

I didn't hesitate, cutting my palm and letting several drops fall onto the central rune. The moment my blood touched the stone floor, the entire formation flared to life with blinding light.

The chanting grew louder, more urgent. The temperature in the chamber dropped dramatically, my breath visible in the suddenly frigid air. The orb in the jade box began to pulse faster, its light intensifying with each passing moment.

"It's working," Tilda whispered. "He's coming."

"Who?" I asked.

"The ancestor. The original bearer of this power."

The air in the center of the chamber shimmered and distorted. Gradually, a figure began to take shape—translucent and ethereal, but unmistakably human. An elderly man with a long beard and ancient robes materialized before us, his expression stern and dignified.

"Who calls upon me?" The voice echoed strangely, as if coming from everywhere and nowhere.

Mr. Avery stepped forward and bowed deeply. "Honorable ancestor, I, Jasper Avery, current head of the Avery family, summon you in our time of need."

The spectral figure surveyed the room, his gaze eventually settling on me. I felt a pressure unlike anything I'd experienced before—as if my very soul was being examined.

"This is the one?" he asked.

"Yes, ancestor," Tilda replied, bowing as well. "This is Liam Knight, a cultivator of extraordinary potential who has sworn to protect our family."

The ancestor's eyes narrowed. "I see much in you, young one. Great power and ambition. But also... something else. A driving force deeper than mere cultivation."

I met his gaze steadily. "I have someone I must protect at all costs."

"Ah," he nodded slowly. "Love. The most powerful motivation of all." He turned back to Mr. Avery. "Why have you chosen to bestow our family's power on an outsider?"

Mr. Avery bowed again. "Our family faces extinction at the hands of the Crimson Flame Sect. None among us has the strength to defeat them."

The ancestor's expression darkened. "The Avery family, once among the strongest in the realm, reduced to this..." He sighed, the sound like wind through ancient trees. "How the mighty have fallen."

His disappointment was palpable, filling the chamber with a heavy sorrow.

"Honorable ancestor," I spoke up, drawing his attention back to me. "The Avery family has shown wisdom in recognizing when outside help is needed. That takes more courage than blind pride."

The spectral figure studied me for a long moment. "Well spoken, young one. Perhaps there is hope yet." He turned back to Mr. Avery. "I will grant your request, but know this—this will be the last time I can manifest in this realm. My spiritual essence is nearly exhausted."

A murmur ran through the assembled family members. This was a more significant sacrifice than they had anticipated.

"Are you certain, honorable ancestor?" Tilda asked, her voice trembling slightly.

"I am," he replied. "Better to use my remaining power to save our bloodline than to cling to existence as a mere specter."

He floated toward me, his form becoming more transparent with each passing moment. "Prepare yourself, Liam Knight. This will not be pleasant."

Before I could respond, the ancestor reached into the jade box and grasped the glowing orb. His spectral hands merged with it, causing the orb to shine with blinding intensity. Then, with a swift motion, he thrust the orb directly into my chest.

Pain—immediate and overwhelming—erupted through my body. It felt like every cell was being torn apart and reformed. I gritted my teeth, refusing to cry out despite the agony. My meridians burned as they expanded to accommodate the influx of foreign power.

Through the haze of pain, I dimly heard Tilda's voice: "The infusion has begun. Now we must maintain the formation for three hours while his body adapts to the power."

Three hours of this torture. I focused on Isabelle's face in my mind, using her image as an anchor against the tide of agony washing through me.

Time lost all meaning. I was vaguely aware of the Avery family continuing their chant, maintaining the formation that kept the ancestor's presence stable while he guided the power into my system. Waves of energy crashed through me, each more intense than the last.

This wasn't just raw power being poured into me—it carried memories, experiences, knowledge. Glimpses of battles fought centuries ago flashed before my eyes. Techniques and insights that would have taken decades to discover were burned directly into my consciousness.

Finally, when I thought I could endure no more, the pain began to recede. The energy that had been chaotically churning within me started to settle, integrating with my own cultivation base.

I opened my eyes to see the ancestor hovering before me, his form now barely visible—little more than an outline in the air.

"It is done," he said, his voice faint. "The Power of Martial Saint now resides within you."

I flexed my hand, feeling the difference immediately. Power coursed through me, responsive and potent in a way I'd never experienced before. This wasn't just a quantitative increase—the quality of my energy had fundamentally changed.

"Thank you," I said, bowing deeply to the fading figure.

"Do not thank me yet," he replied. "With this power comes great responsibility. You are now bound to the Avery family by more than mere words."

I nodded solemnly. "I understand."

The ancestor turned to address his descendants one last time. "My children, I have done what I can. The rest is up to you. Remember our legacy, rebuild our strength."

His form flickered, growing fainter by the second. But before he vanished completely, he locked eyes with me one final time.

"Young one, remember," his voice was barely a whisper now, "never allow my Avery Family to perish!"

With those words, the spectral figure dissolved into motes of light that scattered throughout the chamber before fading entirely. The formation dimmed, the candles guttered, and the ritual was complete.

I stood in the center of the chamber, feeling the new power settling within me. It wasn't the true realm of a Martial Saint—I hadn't broken through that boundary yet—but it was a significant step forward. The raw strength now at my disposal would be enough to crush the Crimson Flame Sect with minimal effort.

The Avery family members looked exhausted but relieved. Mr. Avery approached me, his expression a mixture of hope and apprehension.

"Can you feel it? Did the transfer succeed?"

In response, I released a small portion of my new power. The air around me distorted, pressure building until small cracks appeared in the stone floor beneath my feet. The family members stepped back, eyes wide.

"Yes," I said, reining in the energy. "The transfer was successful."

Tilda approached cautiously. "How do you feel?"

"Different," I admitted. "Stronger, certainly. But there's something else—a connection I hadn't anticipated."

"What kind of connection?" she asked.

I placed my hand over my heart. "I can sense each of you—your locations, your conditions. I believe this is part of the protective bond the ancestor established."

Mr. Avery nodded. "That's how our ancestor always knew when family members were in danger, even from great distances."

This was an unexpected benefit. The connection would make it far easier to fulfill my vow to protect the Avery family.

"The ritual is complete, but you should rest," Tilda advised. "Your body needs time to fully integrate the power."

I nodded in agreement. The adrenaline of the ritual was wearing off, and exhaustion was setting in. "How long before the Crimson Flame Sect arrives?"

"Two days," Herman answered. "Their messenger was quite specific."

"More than enough time," I assured them. "I'll be ready."

As the family dispersed, Tilda remained behind. "There's something else you should know," she said quietly. "The ancestor's final command—it's more than just words."

I raised an eyebrow. "Explain."

"It's a geas—a spiritual binding. If you willingly allow harm to come to the Avery family when you could prevent it, the power will turn against you."

So there was a safeguard built into the gift. Clever ancestor.

"I have no intention of breaking my word," I told her. "Your family's protection is assured."

She studied me for a moment, then nodded. "I believe you. Rest now. Tomorrow, we prepare for war."

As Tilda left, I sat down to meditate, exploring the new power flowing through me. It was vast and unfamiliar, yet somehow felt natural, as if it had always been meant for me.

With this power, I was one significant step closer to rescuing Isabelle. The Purple Spirit Fire from Colin McDaniel and now the Power of Martial Saint—two crucial pieces of the puzzle falling into place.

"I'm coming, Isabelle," I whispered into the empty chamber. "Hold on just a little longer."

The ancestor's final words echoed in my mind: "Never allow my Avery Family to perish!" I had accepted this sacred vow, binding my fate to theirs. Another responsibility on my shoulders, but one I would honor.

Tomorrow, I would crush the Crimson Flame Sect. Then, with this new power at my disposal, I would turn my attention back to the Veridia City Martial Guild and the rescue of the woman I loved.

The path forward was clear, and nothing would stand in my way.