Rise of The Abandoned Husband

"What do you know about Clara?" I demanded, stepping between The Man with the Mustache and the girl who had become like a sister to me.

He couldn't take his eyes off her, even with me blocking his view. Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the cool air of the valley.

"Not here," he whispered urgently. "We need privacy."

I glanced back at Clara, who was watching us with unsettling calmness. "Clara, would you mind waiting here for a moment? I need to speak with my... colleague."

She nodded, sitting back down on the boulder, the mask clutched in her small hands. "I'll be right here."

I grabbed The Man with the Mustache by his arm and dragged him behind a large rock formation, far enough that Clara couldn't overhear us but close enough that I could still keep an eye on her.

"Talk," I commanded. "Now."

His mustache twitched nervously as he kept glancing around the rock toward Clara's position. "I've seen her before, Liam. Not her exactly, but someone who looks exactly like her."

"What are you talking about?"

"In my research on ancient artifacts, I discovered a portrait dating back thousands of years." His voice dropped even lower. "It depicted a woman wearing that exact mask. A woman who looked identical to Clara, just... older."

I frowned. "That's impossible."

"Is it? In a world with cultivation, reincarnation, and ancient powers beyond our understanding?" He shook his head. "The woman in that portrait was known as the Masked Demon. She single-handedly slaughtered entire armies, destroyed ancient sects, and nearly brought the world to ruin."

"And you think Clara is somehow connected to this... demon?" I asked skeptically.

"I think she might be her reincarnation." His eyes were wild with fear. "The legends say the Masked Demon was eventually defeated and sealed away, but promised to return. What if Clara is that return? What if the mask finding her was no coincidence?"

I thought about Clara's behavior since finding the mask—her increasing coldness, the distant look in her eyes, the way she spoke of seeing places and people she'd never met.

"Even if there's some connection," I argued, "Clara is still Clara. She's a good kid who's been through hell."

"For now," he whispered. "But what happens when the memories fully awaken? When the Masked Demon's consciousness overtakes hers completely?" He grabbed my sleeve desperately. "We should kill her now, while we still can."

My hand shot out, gripping his throat and lifting him off the ground. "Say that again," I growled, "and I'll end you where you stand."

He clawed at my hand, eyes bulging. I loosened my grip just enough for him to breathe.

"You don't understand the danger," he gasped. "If she fully awakens—"

"She won't," I stated firmly, dropping him. "I'll make sure of it."

He rubbed his throat, backing away from me. "How? You can't watch her forever."

"I'll protect her from whatever is happening. And if..." I hesitated, the words bitter in my mouth. "If she ever truly becomes a danger, I'll handle it myself. But no one touches her. No one."

The weight of my own declaration settled heavily on my shoulders. Could I really "handle" Clara if the worst happened? The memory of her floating above those assassins, power radiating from her small form, made me doubt.

"The mask is the key," The Man with the Mustache said, interrupting my thoughts. "It's what connects her to her past life. As long as she has it, the risk remains."

I nodded slowly. "Then we'll separate them."

"She won't give it up willingly."

"She will to me." I turned back toward where Clara was waiting. "Stay here."

I approached Clara, who looked up at me with those too-old eyes in her young face.

"Is everything okay?" she asked.

"Clara," I said gently, crouching in front of her. "I need to ask you for something important."

She tilted her head, waiting.

"The mask—I need to hold onto it for a while." I held out my hand. "Just until we figure out more about its powers."

Her fingers tightened around it. "It's mine. She chose me."

"I know," I said softly. "And I'm not taking it away forever. But it might be dangerous, and I need to protect you."

"I don't need protection." There was an edge to her voice that hadn't been there before.

"Everyone needs protection sometimes. Even me." I maintained eye contact. "Please, Clara. Trust me on this."

For a long moment, she just stared at me. Then, slowly, she extended the mask toward me.

"You'll give it back?" she asked, sounding like a child again.

"When it's safe," I promised, taking the mask carefully. "Thank you."

The moment it left her hands, I noticed a subtle change in her posture—a release of tension I hadn't even realized was there. Her eyes seemed clearer, more present.

I returned to The Man with the Mustache, mask in hand. "I'll keep this safe."

He eyed it warily. "It should be destroyed."

"Maybe. But not yet—not until we know more." I handed it to him. "For now, keep it hidden. Study it if you want, but don't try to use its power."

He accepted it reluctantly. "We should proceed with the ritual quickly, before she realizes it's gone."

I nodded. "Are the corpses ready?"

His expression turned sheepish. "About that... there's been a slight complication."

I narrowed my eyes. "What kind of complication?"

"The array platform needs some... adjustments. When I set it up, I was planning to, well..." He trailed off.

"To ambush us," I finished for him. "So you didn't set it up properly."

"I may have included some elements that would have made it easier to... subdue you," he admitted. "Those need to be removed before we can safely perform the ritual."

I sighed deeply. "How long will that take?"

"Three hours, maybe four."

"Fine. Get started." I turned back toward Clara. "We'll wait."

The next three hours passed slowly. Clara fell asleep, exhausted from the emotional strain of recent events. I sat beside her, watchful, while The Man with the Mustache worked on the array platform, frequently casting nervous glances in our direction.

As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the valley, he finally announced that the preparations were complete.

"The array is ready," he said. "I've laid out the corpses at the central points."

I nodded, gently waking Clara. "We need to move away from here for a little while," I told her.

"Where's the mask?" she asked immediately, looking around.

"It's safe," I assured her. "Come, let's get some distance from the array."

I led her to a small outcropping about fifty yards away, where she could watch without being in danger. "Stay here," I instructed. "Don't move, no matter what you see."

She nodded, her eyes already drawn to the two corpses lying on the platform—ancient warriors preserved by some unknown method, their bodies intact despite the centuries.

I returned to the array, where The Man with the Mustache waited impatiently.

"I need your blood essence," he reminded me. "A significant amount."

I drew my blade across my palm, letting my blood—infused with my cultivation energy—drip onto specific points in the array. The blood sizzled upon contact with the ground, activating ancient runes etched into the stone.

"Stand back," The Man with the Mustache warned. "Once I begin the incantation, the process cannot be interrupted."

I moved to the edge of the array, watching intently as he began chanting in a language I didn't recognize. The blood I'd contributed began to glow, lines of crimson light spreading through the array like veins.

The corpses on the platform twitched slightly—the first sign that the ritual was working. The air grew heavy with power, pressing down on us with increasing weight.

Suddenly, I stiffened, my senses flaring in alarm. Two powerful auras were approaching rapidly from the east—moving with incredible speed toward our location.

"Stop the ritual," I commanded, my voice tense.

The Man with the Mustache looked up, confused. "I can't stop now! The energies are already—"

"Two cultivators are coming," I cut him off. "Peak Form of Military Marquis, both of them."

His face drained of color. "How far?"

"Minutes away. Maybe less." I drew my sword. "They're heading straight for us."