Rise of The Abandoned Husband

The blinding light from Bancroft's Prajna Ruler engulfed George, forcing me to shield my eyes. The pressure was immense—like standing at the bottom of an ocean. I could feel our connection straining, threads of my divine sense beginning to snap one by one.

Then something unexpected happened.

A massive hand cut through the light. Vernon—George—moved forward, each step deliberate and powerful. The Prajna Ruler's energy seemed to part around him like water.

"Impossible!" Bancroft's voice cracked with disbelief.

I couldn't help but smile. "Nothing's impossible when you're desperate enough."

My heart hammered against my chest as George continued his advance. When he reached Bancroft, he simply extended his hand.

"Give me the weapon," I commanded.

Bancroft's face contorted with rage, but the fear in his eyes was unmistakable. "This is a Martial Saint Weapon! It cannot be—"

George's massive hand closed around Bancroft's wrist, applying just enough pressure to make the man gasp.

"I won't ask again," I said softly.

The Guild President's fingers uncurled reluctantly. The Prajna Ruler dropped into George's waiting palm. He brought it to me, and I took it carefully, feeling its power thrum against my skin.

"Now," I said, pocketing the weapon, "about Isabelle Ashworth."

Bancroft's composure fractured. "You've made a grave mistake, Knight. The consequences—"

"Spare me the threats." I cut him off. "Take me to Isabelle's cell. Now."

He hesitated, and I nodded at George, who took a menacing step forward.

"The basement," Bancroft finally spat. "She's in the basement level."

I kept my face neutral, though my heart raced at finally being so close to her. "Lead the way."

We descended through the Guild headquarters, past shocked faces and whispered conversations. Every cultivator we passed pressed themselves against the walls, giving us a wide berth. George walked directly behind Bancroft while Hadwin followed me, creating an intimidating procession.

The basement level was cold and damp, a stark contrast to the opulence of the upper floors. The lighting was dim, provided by spirit stones embedded in the ceiling that cast an eerie blue glow over everything.

"The prisoner cells," Bancroft announced, gesturing down a long corridor lined with heavy metal doors.

"Which one is hers?" I demanded.

"Cell seventeen," he replied. "At the end of the hall."

We moved quickly past the other cells. Through small barred windows, I caught glimpses of haggard faces watching our progress with dull curiosity. The air was heavy with the stench of unwashed bodies and despair.

Finally, we reached cell seventeen. My heart pounded so hard I thought it might burst through my chest.

"Open it," I ordered.

Bancroft produced a key from his robes and inserted it into the lock. The door swung open with a haunting creak.

I stepped forward eagerly, already reaching out—

The cell was empty.

I froze, my mind refusing to accept what my eyes were seeing. The small space contained only a thin cot with rumpled bedding and a metal bucket in the corner. There was no sign of Isabelle.

"Where is she?" My voice was dangerously quiet.

Bancroft's expression revealed nothing. "This is her cell."

"I can see it's empty!" I roared, grabbing him by the throat. "Where is she?!"

A weak voice called out from the adjacent cell. "They took her."

I released Bancroft and moved to the neighboring door. Through the bars, I could make out the shape of an elderly man lying on a similar cot.

"What did you say?" I asked.

The old man coughed. "They took her. Days ago."

My blood ran cold. "Who took her? Where?"

"Don't know where," he wheezed. "Middle of the night. Important-looking folks. She didn't come back."

I turned to Bancroft, fury building inside me like a gathering storm. "Explain."

"I don't know what he's talking about," Bancroft said, too quickly. "The prisoner must be confused."

George's hand landed on Bancroft's shoulder, fingers digging into his flesh. The Guild President winced but maintained his defiant expression.

"You're lying," I said, stepping closer. "And I'm quickly running out of patience."

Bancroft glared at me. "Do your worst, Knight. I've told you what I know."

I studied his face carefully. There was fear there, certainly, but also something else—a resignation that suggested he truly might not know Isabelle's whereabouts.

"George," I said quietly, "break his fingers. One at a time."

George moved with mechanical precision, taking Bancroft's right hand and bending back his pinky finger until a sharp crack echoed through the corridor. Bancroft's scream was short and strangled as he fought to maintain his dignity.

"Again," I ordered.

The ring finger snapped next. Sweat beaded on Bancroft's forehead.

"I swear," he gasped, "I don't know where she is!"

"Who would know?" I demanded.

Another finger broke. Bancroft's knees buckled, but George held him upright.

"The Council!" he finally shouted. "The High Council makes those decisions, not me!"

I signaled George to stop. "The High Council of the Guild?"

Bancroft nodded rapidly, cradling his injured hand. "I'm just the President. I handle day-to-day operations. The High Council controls everything else—especially high-value prisoners."

"And where do I find this Council?"

He laughed bitterly. "You don't. No one does. They summon you, not the other way around."

I paced the narrow corridor, mind racing. If what he said was true, Isabelle could be anywhere by now. The thought made me sick with worry and rage.

"Then they'll have to come to me," I decided.

I grabbed Bancroft by his collar and dragged him back toward the stairs. George and Hadwin followed silently as we retraced our steps to the main level of the Guild headquarters.

When we emerged into the entrance hall, dozens more Guild members had gathered. They backed away quickly at the sight of their President's bloodied hand and my murderous expression.

"Listen carefully," I announced, my voice carrying throughout the space. "Your President is now my hostage."

Murmurs rippled through the crowd.

"Here's my message to your High Council: I want Isabelle Ashworth returned to me, unharmed, within three days." I raised the Prajna Ruler for all to see. "In exchange, you get your President back alive and this weapon returned."

"They'll never negotiate with you," Bancroft hissed.

I smiled coldly. "Then they'll need to find a new President."

To demonstrate the seriousness of my threat, I turned toward George. "Take us outside."

We marched through the crowd, which parted like water before us. No one dared to interfere as we dragged their leader into the street outside the Guild headquarters.

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the courtyard as I surveyed the imposing Guild buildings that surrounded us. Without warning, I activated the Prajna Ruler, channeling my divine sense into it.

The weapon responded instantly, releasing a blinding beam of energy that struck the nearest building. The roof of the structure sheared off cleanly, stone and wood disintegrating under the weapon's power. The sound was deafening—a thunderclap followed by the crash of falling debris.

People screamed and ran for cover as dust billowed into the sky. When it cleared, the building stood with its top floor completely removed, as if sliced by a giant knife.

I turned back to the horrified Guild members who had followed us outside.

"That was just a demonstration," I said calmly. "If Isabelle isn't returned to me in three days, I won't stop at one building. I'll tear down every structure in this compound, and I'll execute your President where everyone can see."

I grabbed Bancroft by the hair, forcing him to look at me. "And make no mistake—I'll know if you try to trick me. I want Isabelle Ashworth, exactly as she was when you took her."

"You're insane," Bancroft whispered. "They'll hunt you to the ends of the earth for this."

"They're already hunting me," I replied. "The difference now is I've stopped running."

I scanned the crowd, meeting as many eyes as I could. "Three days," I repeated. "Not a minute more."

With George holding Bancroft firmly and Hadwin clearing our path, we began walking away from the Guild compound. No one followed us—they were too shocked by what they'd just witnessed.

Once we were several blocks away, I activated my communication talisman. "Vernon, change of plans. Meet us at the safe house. We have a guest."

The response came immediately. "Understood. Any complications?"

I glanced at our captive, then at the empty space beside me where Isabelle should have been.

"More than a few," I admitted. "Isabelle wasn't there. They moved her days ago."

A pause. "That complicates matters."

"Yes," I agreed grimly. "But we have leverage now. The Guild President and a Martial Saint Weapon."

"Powerful leverage," Vernon acknowledged. "But dangerous. The Guild won't take this lightly."

"I'm counting on it," I said. "I want their full attention."

We continued through the winding streets, keeping to shadows and alleyways when possible. Bancroft remained silent, his broken hand clutched against his chest, his eyes calculating. I could almost see his mind working, looking for weaknesses, planning his escape.

"Don't bother," I told him. "George doesn't sleep, doesn't eat, doesn't tire. And he only listens to me."

Bancroft's jaw tightened. "You can't win this, Knight. The Guild's resources are limitless."

"I don't need to win," I replied. "I just need Isabelle."

"And then what?" he scoffed. "You'll live happily ever after? The Guild has a long memory."

I stopped walking and turned to face him fully. "You still don't understand what you're dealing with, do you? I don't care about the Guild. I don't care about their rules or their power or their threats. I care about one thing."

"The girl," he said dismissively.

"Yes," I confirmed. "And for her, I'll burn your entire world to the ground if I have to."

Something in my tone must have finally reached him because fear flickered across his face—real fear this time, not the calculated kind.

"You really would," he muttered.

"Three days," I repeated. "If I don't see Isabelle Ashworth in three days... not a single soul will be spared!"