Rise of The Abandoned Husband

Dominic Ashworth took a step back, his face betraying the fear he was desperately trying to hide. The golden light surrounding me pulsed with each beat of my heart, ready to unleash destruction at my command.

"This isn't over, Knight," Corbin snarled, grabbing his son's arm to pull him back. "The Ashworth family doesn't forget insults."

I smiled coldly. "Neither do I. And what your family did to Isabelle wasn't an insult. It was an act of war."

Harrison remained where he stood, caught between his brother and me. The newfound courage in his eyes hadn't dimmed, though his hands trembled slightly at his sides.

"Take care of her," he said quietly to me. "Where I failed, you must succeed."

I gave him a curt nod. "I will protect her with my life."

Corbin's face contorted with rage. "Harrison, you're making a grave mistake. When you come crawling back—"

"I won't," Harrison interrupted, his voice firmer than I'd ever heard it. "For too long, I've let fear dictate my actions. No more." He turned to me. "May I see her? Before I go?"

I hesitated, studying his face for any sign of deception. Finding none, I replied, "Not yet. When she's stronger. The Pavilion Master will send word."

Harrison nodded, accepting my decision without argument. "Thank you."

Corbin gestured angrily to his remaining guards. "We're leaving. This farce has gone on long enough."

As they retreated, Dominic threw one last venomous glare over his shoulder. "You'll regret this day, Knight. Both of you."

I watched them go, the golden energy around me slowly dissipating. Only when they had disappeared from sight did I allow my shoulders to relax slightly.

Harrison stood awkwardly beside me, uncertainty written across his features. "What happens now?" he asked.

"You should find somewhere safe to stay," I advised. "Corbin won't forgive your betrayal easily."

He nodded, a sad smile crossing his face. "I've lived in my brother's shadow for too long. It's time I found my own path." He hesitated. "When Isabelle wakes... tell her I'm sorry. For everything."

With those words, he turned and walked away, his back straight and his head held high for perhaps the first time in years.

---

Hours later, I paced the hallway outside the treatment room where Mariana Valerius, the Pavilion Master, was examining Isabelle. Each minute felt like an eternity, my mind conjuring increasingly horrific possibilities about Isabelle's condition.

The door finally opened, and Mariana emerged, her face grave. My heart dropped to my stomach.

"How is she?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Mariana gestured for me to follow her to her private office. Once inside, she closed the door and sank heavily into her chair.

"It's worse than I initially thought," she said, her usual confident tone subdued. "The physical damage from the blood extraction can be healed with time and proper treatment."

I sensed the unspoken "but" hanging in the air. "What aren't you telling me?"

Mariana's eyes met mine directly. "The Veridia City Martial Guild has placed a spirit binding technique on her."

"A what?" I asked, dread pooling in my gut.

"Spirit binding. It's an ancient technique, forbidden in most cultivation circles because of its cruelty." She paused, selecting her words carefully. "It essentially binds a person's spirit to their body while severing their connection to consciousness. Isabelle is alive, but her spirit is... trapped."

I gripped the edge of her desk, my knuckles turning white. "What does that mean? Can she recover?"

"She's essentially a living dead," Mariana explained, her voice clinically detached but her eyes compassionate. "Her body functions, her meridians work, but her consciousness is locked away. She cannot wake, cannot speak, cannot respond. She exists in a void between life and death."

My legs nearly gave out. I sank into the chair opposite her desk, trying to process her words.

"There must be something we can do," I insisted, desperation clawing at my throat. "Some technique, some medicine..."

Mariana shook her head slowly. "The only known way to reverse a spirit binding is for the same person who applied it to willingly remove it. Or..."

"Or what?" I demanded.

"Or for that person to die. Sometimes, though not always, the technique dissolves with the death of its caster."

A cold fury settled in my chest. "Then I'll kill them all. Every last member of the Guild if necessary."

"It's not that simple," Mariana cautioned. "You would need to identify exactly who performed the technique. And the Veridia City Martial Guild houses hundreds of skilled cultivators, including some rumored to be at the Saint level."

I stood abruptly, knocking the chair backward. "I don't care if they have a thousand Saints. They hurt Isabelle. They turned her into a..." I couldn't bring myself to say the words.

"A living corpse," Mariana finished for me. "Yes. And they did it deliberately, as insurance. They knew someone might try to rescue her. This way, even if she was physically removed from their clutches, she remains their hostage in spirit."

My fists clenched at my sides. "I'll destroy them," I vowed, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "I'll tear down their entire guild, brick by brick, until I find the person who did this to her."

Mariana stood, coming around her desk to place a hand on my arm. "Your anger is justified, Liam. But rushing into battle against the Guild without preparation would be suicide. And what good would your death do Isabelle?"

Her words struck home, piercing through my rage. She was right. Dead, I could help no one.

"Show me to her," I said finally. "I need to see her."

---

Isabelle lay in a specialized medicinal pool, the glowing liquid surrounding her body designed to heal her physical wounds and strengthen her depleted meridians. Her skin was paler than I'd ever seen it, almost translucent. Her chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, but her eyes remained closed, her face unnaturally peaceful.

I knelt beside the pool, reaching out to touch her hand where it floated in the medicinal liquid. Her skin was warm, alive – a cruel contrast to the emptiness of her spirit.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice breaking. "I should have come sooner. I should have been stronger, faster, better."

Tears burned behind my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. Isabelle needed my strength now, not my weakness.

"I'm going to fix this," I promised her, squeezing her limp hand gently. "Whatever it takes, however long it takes. I'll find who did this to you and make them undo it. And then I'll make them pay for every second of suffering they caused you."

I stayed by her side for hours, speaking softly to her unresponsive form, telling her about Harrison's unexpected courage, about my plans to help her recover. Whether she could hear me or not, I needed her to know she wasn't alone.

Eventually, Jackson Harding found me there, still holding Isabelle's hand.

"The Pavilion Master told me what happened," he said, his gruff voice unusually gentle. "A spirit binding is a cruel fate."

I didn't look up from Isabelle's face. "I'm going to undo it."

"I know you'll try." He moved to stand beside me, looking down at Isabelle's still form. "But you need to understand what you're up against."

"The Veridia City Martial Guild," I said flatly. "I'm not afraid of them."

"You should be," Jackson replied bluntly. "Not out of cowardice, but wisdom. They've existed for centuries, accumulating power, techniques, and connections that most cultivators can only dream of."

I finally tore my gaze away from Isabelle to look at him. "What do you know about them?"

Jackson's weathered face was grim. "More than most. I've had... dealings with them in the past."

"Tell me," I demanded.

He sighed heavily. "The Guild as you know it is merely the surface. Beneath lies a complex network of secret realms, hidden training grounds, and forbidden techniques. The elders you've encountered so far? They're just the public face."

"You're saying there's more? Worse than what I've already seen?"

Jackson nodded slowly. "Much worse. The Guild is divided into three secret realms, each more powerful and secretive than the last. The technique used on Isabelle – the spirit binding – that's a specialty of their Second Secret Realm."

My blood ran cold. "How do you know all this?"

"Because I've fought them before," he admitted, his eyes darkening with old pain. "And lost."

Before I could question him further, Mariana joined us, her face showing the strain of hours spent researching possible treatments for Isabelle.

"Any progress?" I asked hopefully.

She shook her head. "I've consulted every ancient text in our library. The conclusion remains the same: only the caster can safely reverse the binding."

I turned back to Isabelle, watching the gentle rise and fall of her chest. "Then I'll find the caster and make them reverse it."

"That won't be easy," Mariana cautioned. "The Guild protects its own fiercely."

"I don't care," I said simply. "I'll do whatever it takes."

Jackson and Mariana exchanged a look I couldn't quite interpret.

"There's something else you should know," Jackson said finally. "During your escape from the Guild, you mentioned sensing an overwhelmingly powerful presence. Something that felt beyond anything you'd encountered before."

I nodded, remembering the crushing pressure, the sense of ancient, unstoppable power.

"I believe what you sensed was a Martial Saint," Jackson continued. "One of the most powerful beings in our world."

My breath caught. "A Saint? In the Guild?"

Mariana's expression turned grave. "If Jackson's right, the Guild is even more dangerous than we thought."

"Are you certain?" I pressed, looking between them. "A true Martial Saint?"

Jackson met my gaze steadily. "Yes, in the Second Secret Realm, there truly is a Martial Saint."