Rise of The Abandoned Husband

I woke at dawn, power thrumming through my veins like electricity. The Avery family's gift—the Power of Martial Saint—had settled within me overnight, no longer foreign but integrated with my own energy. I flexed my hand, watching as golden light flickered between my fingers. This was intoxicating.

Rising from bed, I stepped onto the balcony of the guest chamber. The morning air was crisp, birds chirping in nearby trees, completely unaware of the storm brewing in this peaceful corner of the Proseponia Kingdom.

I closed my eyes, extending my senses outward. The new power allowed me to perceive the world differently—energy signatures bloomed like flowers in my mind's eye, each representing a living being. I could distinguish between ordinary humans and cultivators by the brightness of their signatures, and I could even sense the approximate strength of each cultivator.

The Avery compound bustled with nervous activity. Everyone was preparing for the Crimson Flame Sect's arrival tomorrow.

A soft knock on my door interrupted my observations.

"Enter," I called, turning from the balcony.

Tilda Avery stepped inside, bowing respectfully. "Master Knight, I hope you rested well."

"Better than expected," I replied. "This power... it's remarkable."

She nodded, her expression serious. "May I speak candidly?"

"Of course."

"The Power of Martial Saint you now possess—it's not quite what you might think." She closed the door behind her, lowering her voice. "It wasn't simply our ancestor's personal power."

I raised an eyebrow. "Explain."

"Our ancestor encountered a dying Martial Saint decades ago—a true one, at the peak of his power. This Martial Saint had been mortally wounded in a battle against a demonic cultivator and knew he couldn't survive. Rather than let his power dissipate, he entrusted it to our ancestor for safekeeping."

"So this power isn't native to your family at all?" I asked, surprised.

"No. Our ancestor was merely the vessel, tasked with finding a worthy successor who could use this power to maintain balance in the cultivation world." Tilda's eyes met mine. "He believed you might be that person."

This changed things. The power I now wielded was even more significant than I'd initially thought.

"Why are you telling me this now?"

"Because you need to understand its limitations. This is borrowed power—powerful, yes, but temporary. It will last perhaps a month before it begins to fade."

A month. Not much time, but enough to deal with the Crimson Flame Sect and hopefully rescue Isabelle.

"Thank you for your honesty," I said.

Tilda bowed again. "The family has gathered in the main hall. They're anxious to hear your plans for dealing with the Crimson Flame Sect."

"I'll join them shortly."

After she left, I spent a few minutes testing my new abilities. The power responded instantly to my will, boosting my strength, speed, and spiritual perception beyond anything I'd previously experienced. My attacks carried devastating force, and my defensive capabilities had multiplied tenfold.

This would be more than enough.

When I entered the main hall, the entire Avery family rose to their feet. Their expressions ranged from hopeful to skeptical to outright terrified. Mr. Avery approached me immediately.

"Master Knight, we're grateful for your intervention," he said, bowing deeply. "The ritual appears to have been successful?"

"It was," I confirmed. "The Power of Martial Saint has fully integrated with my cultivation base."

Relief washed over his face. "Then we stand a chance against the Crimson Flame Sect."

I looked around at the assembled family members—nearly forty people, from elders to young children. All of them now under my protection due to the ancestor's geas.

"You needn't worry about the Crimson Flame Sect," I assured them. "Their threat ends tomorrow."

Herman Avery, the family's head of security, stepped forward. "Master Knight, with all due respect, the Crimson Flame Sect isn't arriving with just Carver Nox. Our intelligence suggests they're bringing at least twenty elite disciples, all at the Core Formation realm."

His concern was understandable but unnecessary.

"Twenty or two hundred—it makes no difference," I replied calmly.

"How can you be so confident?" Herman pressed. "Even with the Power of Martial Saint, facing so many opponents simultaneously—"

I released a fraction of my power, just enough to create pressure in the room. The air grew heavy, making it difficult for the weaker family members to breathe. Golden light radiated from my skin, and the floor beneath my feet cracked slightly.

"This power is beyond what you imagine," I said, reining in the energy after making my point. "Trust me when I say the Crimson Flame Sect poses no threat."

No one questioned me after that demonstration.

Mr. Avery cleared his throat. "What is your plan for dealing with them?"

I considered my response carefully. The truth was, I needed more than just the defeat of the Crimson Flame Sect. I needed resources for my larger goal—rescuing Isabelle from the Veridia City Martial Guild.

"My plan extends beyond simply defending your family from the Crimson Flame Sect," I stated.

"What do you mean?" Tilda asked, her expression cautious.

"The Crimson Flame Sect isn't the only power in the Proseponia Kingdom that might threaten you in the future," I explained. "To ensure your lasting safety, more comprehensive measures are required."

Mr. Avery frowned. "What measures?"

"Every faction in the Proseponia Kingdom must submit to my authority," I said plainly. "Those who refuse will be eliminated."

Shocked silence filled the room. The Avery family members exchanged alarmed glances.

"Master Knight," Herman finally spoke, his voice strained, "there are nearly a hundred Marquis-level forces in the Proseponia Kingdom. You can't possibly intend to subjugate them all."

"I do," I confirmed. "And I will."

"But... why?" Tilda asked. "Defeating the Crimson Flame Sect would be sufficient to protect us."

"For now, perhaps. But what about next month? Or next year? I won't always be here to defend you." I met her gaze directly. "The only lasting solution is to establish a power structure that permanently places the Avery family above potential threats."

This wasn't the entire truth, of course. I needed the resources these factions possessed—specifically, their golden cores. Each core from a powerful cultivator would bring me one step closer to achieving the strength needed to rescue Isabelle. But the Avery family didn't need to know that part of my plan.

"This is..." Mr. Avery struggled to find words. "Rather extreme, isn't it?"

"Extreme circumstances require extreme measures," I replied. "The choice is simple: either these factions acknowledge my authority—and by extension, your protection—or they cease to exist."

I could see the family's perception of me shifting before my eyes. The grateful allies were now regarding me with a mixture of awe and fear. Good. Fear would ensure their compliance with my plans.

"When will you... begin this process?" Mr. Avery asked carefully.

"Tomorrow, with the Crimson Flame Sect. They will be the example that others follow—either willingly or forcibly."

No one dared to argue further. The meeting concluded shortly after, with the family dispersing to prepare for tomorrow's confrontation.

Later, as evening fell, Tilda sought me out in the garden where I was meditating.

"Your plan troubles the elders," she said without preamble.

"I expected it would."

She sat beside me on the stone bench. "Is there no alternative? The cultivation world operates on a delicate balance of power. What you're suggesting would upend centuries of established order."

I opened my eyes to look at her. "Sometimes the established order needs to be upended."

"To what end?"

I considered how much to reveal. "I need resources that these factions possess."

"What resources?"

"Golden cores," I answered honestly. "Specifically, those from cultivators at the Nascent Soul realm or higher."

Her eyes widened. "You intend to harvest golden cores? That's... that's..."

"Necessary," I finished for her. "For what I must accomplish."

"And what is that?"

"The rescue of someone very important to me," I said. "Someone being held by forces far more powerful than anything in the Proseponia Kingdom."

Understanding dawned in her eyes. "The woman you mentioned to our ancestor."

I nodded.

"Even so," Tilda pressed, "to kill cultivators just for their cores..."

"I won't kill those who submit," I clarified. "Only those who resist."

This didn't seem to comfort her much.

"Our ancestor trusted you with his power," she said softly. "I hope that trust wasn't misplaced."

I didn't respond. Her concern was valid, but it wouldn't change my course. The Power of Martial Saint had given me an opportunity I couldn't waste.

The next day arrived with tense anticipation hanging over the Avery compound. By mid-morning, sentries reported the approach of the Crimson Flame Sect delegation.

I stood in the main courtyard beside the Avery family leaders, waiting calmly as the compound gates swung open. Thirty figures marched in, led by a tall man with flame-red robes and a severe expression. Carver Nox, the infamous Blood Flame Marquis, radiated power that would have intimidated me just days ago. Now, it felt insignificant compared to what flowed through my veins.

Behind him came his disciples, each wearing similar but less ornate robes, their faces hard and confident. They formed a half-circle behind their master, clearly prepared for violence.

"Herman Avery," Carver called out, ignoring me completely. "I trust you've had sufficient time to consider my generous offer."

Herman stepped forward. "Sect Leader Nox, circumstances have changed since your last visit."

"Oh?" Carver raised an eyebrow. "How so? Has your pitiful family somehow found the courage to refuse me?" He laughed, a harsh sound that his disciples echoed.

"We have found protection," Herman replied, glancing briefly at me.

For the first time, Carver seemed to notice my presence. His eyes narrowed as he assessed me.

"And who might this be? Another desperate attempt to avoid the inevitable?"

I remained silent, watching him. Let him underestimate me.

"This is Master Liam Knight," Herman introduced me. "A powerful ally who has pledged to defend our family."

Carver snorted dismissively. "I sense some strength in him, but nothing that concerns me." He turned his attention back to Herman. "Now, enough delays. What is your answer? Will the Avery family join the Crimson Flame Sect as subordinates, or will I be forced to eliminate your bloodline today?"

"We decline your offer," Herman stated firmly.

Anger flashed across Carver's face. "Then you've chosen extinction." He raised his hand, flames dancing between his fingers as he prepared to strike Herman. "I'll start with you, as a lesson to the others."

As his hand descended toward Herman's throat, I moved. To everyone else, it must have seemed like I teleported—one moment standing several paces away, the next directly between Herman and Carver, my hand gripping the Sect Leader's wrist, stopping his attack cold.

"What the—" Carver's eyes widened in shock.

I looked directly into his eyes and saw confusion turn to disbelief, then to the first flickers of fear.

"You dare interfere?" he snarled, trying to pull free of my grip.

I held him effortlessly, my fingers like iron bands around his wrist.

"This is between me and the Avery family," Carver continued, his voice rising. "Stand aside or suffer the consequences!"

His disciples tensed, ready to attack at his command.

I smiled slightly. "I think you misunderstand the situation."

"And what situation is that?" he growled.

"The one where you're completely outmatched," I replied calmly.

Before he could respond, I raised my free hand and swung it in a casual arc. The impact of my palm against his cheek echoed like thunder across the courtyard. Carver Nox, the feared Blood Flame Marquis, went flying sideways, crashing through a stone pillar before skidding to a stop thirty feet away.

His disciples stared in stunned silence. So did the Avery family.

I walked slowly toward Carver as he struggled to his feet, blood streaming from his mouth, his eyes wide with shock and rage.

"You..." he gasped. "You slapped me!"

"I did," I confirmed. "Consider it a warning."

"A warning?" he sputtered, fury overcoming his shock. "Do you have any idea who I am?"

I stood before him now, my power barely restrained. "I know exactly who you are. And I know exactly what you're going to do next."

"Oh?" he sneered. "And what might that be?"

"You're going to kneel," I said simply.

"I am your father!" I snarled, the power of Martial Saint flooding through me as I delivered a slap that sent Carver Nox flying across the courtyard.