Rise of The Abandoned Husband

Two men in fine suits stood before me, nervously shifting their weight from one foot to the other. I recognized them immediately as Darian Bancroft's lackeys—the same ones who had reported my every move to him for months.

"Mr. Knight," the taller one began, his voice wavering slightly. "Master Bancroft sends his regards and wishes to—"

"Spare me the pleasantries," I cut him off. "Bancroft sent you to spy on me. To report on my activities now that I've escaped his little execution party."

They exchanged worried glances. The shorter one cleared his throat.

"We're simply here to maintain communication between—"

"You're here because Bancroft is furious that I slipped through his fingers," I said flatly. "He wants to know how I escaped, who helped me, and what I'm planning next."

Neither man denied it. Smart of them.

I stepped closer, satisfied when both men flinched back. "Tell Bancroft this: Jade Moon Villa is off-limits to his agents. The next ones he sends won't leave with just a warning."

The shorter man wiped sweat from his brow. "Sir, Master Bancroft merely wishes to—"

"I don't care what he wishes," I said coldly. "This is your only warning. Leave now, and don't return."

They retreated hastily, practically tripping over themselves to exit the villa grounds. I watched until they disappeared through the front gate, then exhaled slowly, releasing the tension I'd been holding.

"That might not have been wise," came Phoebe Reeves' voice from behind me.

I turned to find her standing in the doorway, arms crossed. As Jade Moon Villa's head of security, she never missed anything happening on the grounds.

"Maybe not," I admitted. "But I'm done playing by their rules."

Phoebe nodded, her expression thoughtful. "The Guild won't take this slight lightly. They've already increased patrols around our perimeter."

"Let them watch," I replied, starting toward the inner courtyard. "I have more important things to focus on than Bancroft's wounded pride."

"Such as?"

I paused, considering how much to share. "Getting stronger. Fast."

After my miraculous escape from execution, I knew I couldn't waste a moment. The reprieve I'd been granted—by whatever hidden forces had moved War God Bellweather to action—wouldn't last long. When the Guild came for me again, I needed to be ready.

"I'll be in the Spiritual Spring," I told Phoebe. "No interruptions unless it's an emergency."

She nodded, knowing better than to argue. As I walked away, I could feel her concerned gaze following me. She wasn't wrong to worry—my open defiance of the Guild was dangerous for everyone at Jade Moon Villa. But I couldn't afford to show weakness now.

The Spiritual Spring lay beneath the villa, a natural formation of concentrated spiritual energy that I'd discovered during renovations. I'd built a private cultivation chamber around it—a sanctuary where I could focus without distraction.

As I descended the stone steps, the ambient temperature dropped noticeably. The spring's blue-white glow illuminated the chamber, casting ethereal shadows against the walls. I settled into my usual spot and closed my eyes, beginning my breathing exercises.

After several minutes of calming my mind, I focused on the breakthrough I'd experienced during my imprisonment. Under extreme duress, my body had somehow accessed deeper reserves of power—shattering Authentic Rock as if it were common stone. I needed to understand that power, to harness it deliberately rather than reactively.

As I dove deeper into my meditation, a memory surfaced—something I'd almost forgotten in the chaos of recent events. The Ice Heart. That rare spiritual material I'd acquired months ago during an expedition with The Man with the Mustache.

I'd stored a piece of it in my spatial ring for emergencies. If there was ever a time I needed accelerated cultivation, it was now.

I retrieved the fragment from my ring—a translucent crystal that pulsed with cold blue energy. According to ancient texts, the Ice Heart could dramatically boost cultivation when absorbed correctly. The downside was its extreme cold, which could damage meridians if not properly managed.

A risk worth taking, given my circumstances.

I held the fragment against my chest and began circulating my internal energy. The effect was immediate and intense—like plunging into an icy lake. Cold spread through my veins, painful yet invigorating. I gritted my teeth and forced my breathing to remain steady as the Ice Heart's essence merged with my energy pathways.

The sensation was both excruciating and exhilarating. My meridians expanded, contracted, then expanded again, accommodating the rush of cold energy. I could feel my cultivation base strengthening with each passing minute—progress that would normally take days compressed into hours.

Time lost all meaning as I rode the waves of pain and power. My consciousness narrowed to a single point of focus: absorbing every drop of energy the Ice Heart had to offer.

---

While I cultivated in isolation, Veridia City was buzzing with news of my escape.

In the grand hall of the Veridia City Martial Guild, Darian Bancroft faced the wrath of two powerful family patriarchs.

"You guaranteed his execution!" Corbin Ashworth slammed his fist on the ornate table. "Yet somehow, he walks free again!"

"This is inexcusable," added Roderick Blackthorne, his voice coldly furious. "First my son's wedding, now this public humiliation. The Blackthorne family's reputation suffers with each of Knight's escapes."

Bancroft remained outwardly calm, though a muscle twitched in his jaw. "War God Bellweather's interference was... unexpected. Even I cannot override a direct command from someone of his status."

"Excuses," spat Corbin. "Your Guild's incompetence is becoming legendary. Perhaps it's time for new leadership."

"Careful, Ashworth," Bancroft's voice dropped dangerously low. "Question my leadership again, and you'll find your family's privileges with the Guild suddenly restricted."

An uncomfortable silence fell over the room. For all their bluster, both patriarchs knew they needed the Guild's favor for their businesses to thrive.

Roderick cleared his throat. "What's being done to recapture Knight?"

Bancroft's expression darkened. "I've dispatched my best tracker. A purple-robed warrior who specializes in hunting fugitives."

"Purple-robed?" Corbin's eyebrows rose. "You're taking this seriously, then."

"Knight has made this personal," Bancroft replied coldly. "He will not escape a third time."

The meeting concluded shortly after, with both patriarchs departing in simmering discontent. As Roderick Blackthorne left the Guild headquarters, his thoughts were interrupted by a familiar, unwelcome voice.

"Brother. I heard your meeting didn't go well."

Bryce Blackthorne stepped from the shadows, his handsome face twisted in a mocking smile. As the eldest son of the previous patriarch, Bryce had been passed over for leadership in favor of his younger brother—a slight he never let Roderick forget.

"This doesn't concern you, Bryce," Roderick said stiffly.

"Oh, but it does." Bryce fell into step beside him. "When the current patriarch fails so publicly, it reflects on all Blackthornes."

Roderick stopped walking. "What do you want?"

"To help, naturally." Bryce's smile didn't reach his eyes. "My sources tell me Knight has returned to Jade Moon Villa. Rather foolish of him, wouldn't you agree?"

"If you have information, take it to Bancroft."

"Bancroft?" Bryce laughed. "That bureaucrat? No, brother. This requires a more... direct approach."

Roderick's eyes narrowed. "What are you planning?"

"I'm planning to succeed where you've failed," Bryce replied coldly. "The Blackthorne name needs restoration. Since you've proven incapable, I'll handle Knight myself."

"You overstep your—"

"I overstep nothing," Bryce cut him off. "The family elders are watching, brother. One more failure, and they might reconsider their choice of patriarch."

With that thinly veiled threat hanging in the air, Bryce turned and walked away, leaving Roderick seething in impotent rage.

---

Days passed as I remained in deep cultivation. The Ice Heart's energy had completely integrated with my system, pushing my power to new heights. I could feel myself approaching the threshold of mid-term Military Marquis—a breakthrough that would normally take months to achieve.

My body hummed with energy, my meridians flowing with unprecedented smoothness. The pain had subsided, replaced by a cold clarity that sharpened my senses. When I finally opened my eyes, the chamber around me seemed different—colors more vivid, details more pronounced.

As I stood, testing my limbs, a familiar voice broke the silence.

"Well, don't you look refreshed! Nothing like a near-execution to put some color in your cheeks!"

I spun around to find The Man with the Mustache lounging against the chamber wall, twirling his ridiculous facial hair between his fingers. As always, he'd somehow bypassed all the villa's security measures without triggering a single alarm.

"How long have you been standing there?" I demanded.

"Oh, not long," he replied airily. "Just a few hours. Fascinating to watch someone cultivate, really. Like watching paint dry, but with occasional bursts of light."

I suppressed my irritation. For all his eccentricities, The Man with the Mustache was one of my most valuable allies—when it suited his purposes.

"What do you want?" I asked, already knowing it wouldn't be a social visit.

His expression shifted, becoming uncharacteristically serious. "Most of the materials have been gathered. Only the last remains."

I instantly knew what he was referring to. Months ago, he'd approached me about collecting rare materials for a mysterious purpose—one he claimed would be vital to my future. I'd agreed, partly out of curiosity, partly because his information had never led me astray.

"I came here this time for the last piece," he continued, straightening up. "We need to move quickly."

Despite having just completed an intensive cultivation session, I found myself nodding. "When do we leave?"

"Immediately," he replied, already moving toward the exit. "Pack lightly. Where we're going, excess baggage is a liability."

I hesitated only briefly. The Guild would be hunting me, and Isabelle was still with her grandfather—presumably safe for the moment. But The Man with the Mustache had never steered me wrong about important matters. If he said this was urgent, I believed him.

"Give me five minutes," I said, heading for the stairs.

His voice followed me. "Make it three. Time isn't our friend today, young Knight."

As I quickly gathered essential supplies, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was stepping into something far larger than I understood. But then, that seemed to be the story of my life lately—pawns rarely get to see the whole board.

Whatever game was being played, I was determined to emerge as more than just a piece to be sacrificed. And if this mysterious "last piece" would help me protect those I cared about, then there was no question about what I had to do.

Three minutes later, I rejoined The Man with the Mustache, ready to depart on yet another dangerous quest with my most enigmatic ally.