Rise of The Abandoned Husband

I stood at the entrance of the dungeon beneath the Celestial Apothecary Guild's headquarters, gathering my thoughts. The golden energy that had coursed through my veins during the confrontation with the Ashworths had diminished, a stark reminder of my borrowed time as a temporary Martial Saint. Soon, I would be vulnerable again.

The realization had been gnawing at me since my conversation with Jackson and Mariana. A true Martial Saint within the Veridia City Martial Guild meant I needed a sanctuary – somewhere to retreat when my power waned and the Guild inevitably came for me.

"They're confined," I muttered to myself as I descended the stone steps.

That was the key insight I'd gained while reflecting on Jackson's words. Martial Saints, for all their terrifying power, never seemed to leave their domains. The Guild's Saint remained within their Secret Realm rather than personally hunting down enemies. This wasn't coincidence – it was restriction.

The air grew damp and cool as I reached the bottom of the staircase. Two guards stood at attention, recognizing me immediately.

"Sir Knight," one greeted with a respectful nod.

"I'm here to see the prisoners," I replied. "Both of them."

The guards exchanged glances before opening the heavy wooden door. Inside, the dungeon was surprisingly clean and well-lit – Mariana ran her operation with characteristic efficiency, even in matters of confinement.

I walked past several empty cells before reaching the one holding Kenneth Minnx. The former Guild member sat cross-legged on a simple cot, his expression carefully blank when he saw me.

Across the hallway in another cell sat a young woman – the girl we'd rescued alongside Isabelle. Unlike Kenneth, her face showed open fear as I approached.

"You're... you're him," she whispered. "The one who broke into the Guild."

I stopped before her cell. "Yes. How are you feeling?"

She hesitated, clearly uncertain whether to trust me. "Better. They've been treating me well here."

I nodded. "Good. What's your name?"

"Elise," she replied quietly. "Elise Warren."

"Elise," I said, "I need you to tell me what happened to you at the Guild. How did you end up there?"

She wrapped her arms around herself, a defensive gesture. "I was recruited. They said I had special aptitude, that I could become a great cultivator with their training." Her voice grew bitter. "It was all lies. Once I was inside, they discovered something unusual about my blood composition. That's when they moved me to the special facility."

The same facility where they'd held Isabelle. The same place where they'd drained her blood and bound her spirit.

"Did they perform any techniques on you?" I asked, trying to keep my voice gentle despite the rage building inside me. "A binding of some sort?"

She frowned slightly. "I don't think so. They were still running tests when..." She trailed off.

"When I broke in," I finished for her.

She nodded. "They seemed most interested in another woman. They called her 'the prime specimen.'"

Isabelle. My fists clenched at my sides.

"Thank you," I said, taking a steadying breath. "Pavilion Master Valerius will ensure you're safely returned home, or you can remain under her protection if you prefer."

Relief flooded her features. "I can leave?"

"You're not a prisoner here," I confirmed. "Just someone we needed to keep safe while you recovered."

Turning away from her grateful expression, I faced Kenneth's cell. Unlike Elise, he was very much a prisoner – and one with information I desperately needed.

"Leave us," I instructed the guards, who promptly departed.

Once we were alone, Kenneth spoke first. "Come to finish me off, Knight?"

I studied him through the bars. Kenneth Minnx, once a rising star in the Guild, now reduced to a captive in a cell. His face bore the signs of recent healing – my handiwork during our last encounter had left its mark.

"That depends on you," I replied evenly. "I need information."

He laughed, a harsh sound in the quiet dungeon. "And why would I help the man who destroyed my career and left me to rot in this cell?"

"Because I'm offering you your life," I said simply. "Tell me what I need to know, and you walk out of here."

Kenneth's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What information could possibly be worth that much to you?"

"Mystic Realms," I said, watching his reaction carefully. "I need to know how to open them."

His expression flickered with surprise before settling back into careful neutrality. "Why would you think I know anything about that?"

"You were an inner member of the Guild. You had access to restricted knowledge." I leaned closer to the bars. "And right now, that knowledge is the only currency you have that's worth anything to me."

He studied me for a long moment. "Even if I did know something... why should I trust you'll keep your word?"

"Because unlike the Guild you served, I don't break promises," I replied coldly. "But make no mistake – if you refuse, you're of no use to me."

The implication hung heavy in the air between us.

Kenneth stood and approached the bars, his voice dropping to a whisper. "You don't understand what you're asking. The Guild doesn't just kill traitors – they erase them. If I tell you their secrets and they find out..."

"They won't find out," I assured him. "And soon, I'll have the power to protect those who help me."

He laughed bitterly. "Your arrogance is truly astounding. You think you can stand against the full might of the Guild? Against a Martial Saint?"

I met his gaze steadily. "Yes."

Something in my tone must have convinced him I believed it, because uncertainty crept into his expression.

"The Mystic Realms are beyond your reach," he said finally. "Each one requires specific conditions to enter – bloodline keys, astronomical alignments, ancient artifacts. It's not knowledge freely given, even within the Guild."

"You're stalling," I observed. "Final offer, Kenneth. Tell me something useful, or this conversation is over."

He gripped the bars tightly, frustration evident in every line of his body. "I can't help you. Not won't – can't. Those secrets are compartmentalized. I was never privy to that level of information."

I stared at him for several heartbeats, searching for deception. Finding none, I nodded once and turned to leave.

"Knight," he called after me. "Whatever you're planning – reconsider. The Guild has existed for thousands of years. Men far stronger than you have tried to challenge them and failed."

I paused but didn't turn back. "Then I'll be the first to succeed."

---

Later that evening, I found The Man with the Mustache hunched over a complex array of symbols in one of the Guild's workshop rooms. His fingers moved with surprising dexterity as he adjusted tiny formations within the larger pattern.

"Will it work?" I asked without preamble.

He jumped slightly, his mustache twitching with irritation. "Must you sneak up on a man while he's performing delicate arcane calculations? One wrong line and this entire building could become a smoking crater!"

I doubted that was true, but I stepped back anyway. "My apologies. I'm asking if the teleportation array will be functional."

He huffed, straightening his back with several audible pops. "Yes, assuming my brilliance continues uninterrupted. The connection to the Immortal Bane Sect should be stable enough for a one-way journey."

"Good," I nodded. "How much longer?"

"Three days, perhaps four," he replied, stroking his mustache thoughtfully. "Creating an unauthorized link to a major sect's teleportation network isn't exactly beginner's work, you know."

I frowned. "That might be cutting it close. My power is already beginning to wane."

"Then perhaps you should stop pestering the only man capable of saving your ungrateful hide and let him work?" he suggested with exaggerated politeness.

Despite everything, I almost smiled. "Fair enough. Just... work quickly."

His expression softened slightly. "I know what's at stake, Liam. For all of us."

I nodded gratefully and left him to his work, my mind already racing ahead to what needed to be done before we departed. The Immortal Bane Sect would provide temporary sanctuary, but I still needed a way to break Isabelle's spirit binding.

And for that, I needed someone who knew the technique.

---

In Veridia City, Ms. Hayward's hands trembled as she pressed the bank card into Broderick's palm.

"Take this," she insisted, her voice urgent. "There's enough money to get you far away from here. You must leave tonight."

Broderick stared at the card in confusion. "Mom, what are you talking about? Leave where? Why?"

The word 'Mom' seemed to physically pain her. Tears welled in her eyes as she gripped his shoulders. "Please, just this once, listen to me. The Guild will come for you. They'll use you to get to me, and I can't—" her voice broke. "I can't bear to see you hurt."

"You're scaring me," Broderick said, genuine concern in his eyes. "What's going on? What have you done?"

Ms. Hayward shook her head frantically. "There's no time to explain. Pack only what you can carry. Use cash only, no electronic transactions. Go somewhere remote, somewhere they won't think to look."

"I'm not leaving you," Broderick insisted, an unusual determination hardening his features. "Whatever trouble you're in, we'll face it together."

Fresh tears spilled down Ms. Hayward's cheeks. "My sweet boy," she whispered, cupping his face with trembling hands. "Always so stubborn. Just like your father."

The moment of tenderness was shattered by a knock at the door – three sharp raps that echoed through the apartment like gunshots.

Ms. Hayward's face drained of color. "They're here already," she breathed, terror evident in every line of her body. "Quick, the back window—"

"Open the door, Ms. Hayward," a familiar voice called from the hallway. "I know you're in there."

Broderick's eyes widened in recognition. "That's—"

"Liam Knight," I confirmed as Ms. Hayward reluctantly opened the door.

I stepped into their apartment, taking in the scene before me – the packed bag by the door, the terror on Ms. Hayward's face, the confusion in Broderick's eyes.

"I apologize for the intrusion," I said calmly, "but we have urgent business to discuss."

Ms. Hayward stepped protectively in front of her son. "Leave him out of this. Whatever you want from me—"

"I have no quarrel with your son," I interrupted. "But you and I need to talk."

Broderick moved forward, placing himself between us. "You should leave. Now."

I assessed him with a quick glance. The boy had courage, I'd give him that. But he was no match for me, even with my powers diminishing.

"This doesn't concern you," I told him firmly before returning my attention to Ms. Hayward. "I want to know the method to break free from the Spirit binding technique."

Ms. Hayward gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "How did you—"

"Isabelle Ashworth," I said simply. "The woman I love is trapped by a technique that I know you understand. And you're going to help me free her."