Rise of The Abandoned Husband

I sensed them before I saw them—Tyler returning with not just one, but two Martial Saints. The wounded female Saint from earlier was nowhere to be seen. Instead, two fresh powerhouses flanked Tyler, their imposing auras washing over the barren landscape like oppressive waves.

"Did you really think I'd just walk away, Knight?" Tyler sneered, his confidence restored now that he had new muscle backing him. "That little trinket of yours might have surprised us earlier, but I've brought proper reinforcements this time."

I remained silent, my mind racing. The Soul Bead pulsed warmly in my spatial ring, but I had no idea how to control it. Would it protect me again, or had its earlier display been a one-time occurrence?

The Martial Saints stepped forward, both middle-aged men with cold, calculating eyes. One was tall and lean with a scar running across his temple; the other stocky with hands like hammers. Their spiritual pressure was suffocating—each easily ten times stronger than me.

"This is the troublemaker?" the stocky one asked, sounding almost disappointed.

"Don't underestimate him," Tyler warned. "He has some sort of ancient artifact. It killed Saito instantly."

Both Saints narrowed their eyes at this information.

"Hand over the artifact, boy," the lean Saint demanded. "Do so, and we might let you live."

I laughed despite the dire situation. "We both know Tyler won't let me walk away. Why pretend?"

Tyler's face twisted with hatred. "Enough talking. Kill him and retrieve the bead!"

The stocky Saint moved first—faster than my eyes could track. One moment he was twenty feet away; the next, his fist was smashing into my chest.

The impact was devastating. Pain exploded through my body as I flew backward, crashing through a rock formation before skidding across the ground. Blood filled my mouth, and I felt ribs crack.

Before I could even gasp for breath, the lean Saint appeared above me, his hand glowing with spiritual energy. He drove his palm toward my face with enough force to shatter stone.

Instinctively, I rolled sideways, his strike missing me by inches and pulverizing the ground where my head had been. I staggered to my feet, desperately trying to reach for the Soul Bead in my spatial ring.

The stocky Saint was on me again, his huge fist connecting with my shoulder. I felt something dislocate as I was thrown sideways like a ragdoll.

"Is this really the man who's been causing so much trouble?" he laughed, watching me struggle to stand. "He can't even take a basic hit."

I spat blood and finally managed to access my spatial ring. The Soul Bead floated to my palm, glowing softly.

"That's it!" Tyler shouted. "That's the bead!"

Both Saints hesitated, eyeing the small orb cautiously. I held it before me like a shield, hoping it would activate as it had before.

Nothing happened.

"Looks like your trinket isn't working anymore," the lean Saint observed with a cold smile. "Perhaps it exhausted its power killing Saito."

Panic surged through me as he stepped forward again. I pushed my spiritual energy into the bead, willing it to respond.

Still nothing.

The stocky Saint laughed. "Let me finish this." He drew back his fist, channeling an enormous amount of spiritual energy into it. The air around his hand distorted with power.

I braced myself for an impact I knew would be fatal.

The blow came like a meteor strike. The pain was beyond anything I'd ever experienced—bones shattered, organs ruptured. I crashed into the ground so hard I formed a small crater.

But I wasn't dead.

Somehow, impossibly, I was still conscious, still breathing through the agony. The Soul Bead remained clutched in my bloody hand, still inert.

"He's still alive?" the lean Saint asked, genuinely surprised. "Your body is tougher than it looks, Knight."

The stocky Saint approached, frowning. "Let me try again."

His second blow hit even harder than the first. More bones broke. Blood vessels burst beneath my skin. Yet somehow, I remained conscious, clutching the bead.

Tyler stepped closer, his face a mixture of fascination and disgust. "What are you? How are you still alive?"

I couldn't answer if I wanted to—my lungs were filling with blood, my jaw likely broken. But I noticed something strange. Each blow should have been finishing me off, yet after the initial pain, I felt something happening within my body. As if the injuries were... stabilizing.

The lean Saint suddenly frowned, looking at the sky. "Something's wrong."

We all followed his gaze. The sky above had darkened unnaturally, as if night was falling too quickly. But this darkness was different—a swirling, malevolent energy spreading across the heavens.

"What is that?" Tyler demanded.

A chill crawled up my spine as I noticed the Soul Bead finally responding—not to protect me, but pulsing in rhythm with the darkening sky.

"The seal," the lean Saint whispered. "Breaking the seal didn't just release the bead. It released something else."

As if confirming his words, a point of absolute blackness formed above us, growing larger by the second. Dark energy began pouring from it like water from a burst dam.

"The Dark Heart," the stocky Saint said, his voice tight with fear. "I've heard the legends, but I never believed..."

Dark energy flooded the area, washing over us in waves. To my surprise, while it felt cold and oppressive, it didn't seem to harm me. The Saints, however, reacted differently.

"My qi," the lean Saint gasped, looking at his hands in horror. "I can't access it properly."

The stocky Saint tried to form an energy ball, but it fizzled weakly in his palm. "The dark energy is suppressing our spiritual power!"

I felt the Soul Bead grow warm in my hand, resonating with the dark energy filling the Mystic Realm. Understanding dawned—the bead hadn't been the true treasure. It was merely the key to unlock something far more powerful.

Something that was now changing the rules of the game.

Tyler backed away, his face pale. "What's happening? Why aren't you affected?" he demanded, staring at me.

I struggled to my feet, surprised to find my body responding despite the horrific injuries. The pain remained, but I could move. More importantly, I could feel my own spiritual energy—weaker than normal, but still accessible.

"I don't know," I answered honestly, testing my limbs. "But it seems your Saints aren't so saintly anymore."

The stocky Saint roared in anger and charged at me again. This time, however, his speed was merely that of an ordinary martial artist. His fist still carried tremendous physical power as it connected with my chest, but without his spiritual reinforcement, it was a blow I could withstand.

I skidded backward several feet but remained standing. The Saints exchanged alarmed glances.

"The Dark Heart is equalizing us," the lean Saint realized. "It's stripping away our advantage."

A grim smile formed on my battered face. For the first time since this confrontation began, I had a chance. These men were still physically superior—centuries of cultivation had enhanced their bodies beyond normal human limits—but without their overwhelming spiritual advantage, they were no longer untouchable.

"Let's see how you fight when the playing field is level," I taunted, spitting blood onto the ground.

Tyler's face contorted with rage. "Kill him now! Use your physical strength if you must!"

The stocky Saint charged again, relying on his massive frame rather than spiritual energy. His body was like tempered steel from centuries of cultivation—even without qi, he was a formidable opponent.

But I had something he didn't. With each blow I'd survived, my body had adapted, becoming stronger, more resilient. The golden light of my Saintly Body Skill began to emanate from beneath my skin, growing brighter with every passing second.

As the Saint's fist flew toward my face, I raised my own to meet it. The coming collision would determine whether I lived or died in this dark heart's gambit.