Rise of The Abandoned Husband

The crossbow in my hands was a masterpiece of lethal engineering. I traced my fingers along its polished surface, admiring the intricate runes etched into the metal. This weapon could pierce through a Martial Knight's defense like it was paper.

"Impressive, isn't it?" Bert Mercer's voice cut through my thoughts. "That's Guild technology, not meant for civilian hands."

I turned to face him, keeping my expression neutral. We were standing in the main hall of the Taoism Theory Library, surrounded by ancient texts and whispers of forgotten power. The situation was deteriorating by the second.

"I thought I'd examine it before putting you down with it," I replied, matching his casual tone.

Bryce Blackthorne stepped forward from behind Mercer, his eyes cold and calculating. "Liam Knight. Always picking fights you can't win."

Great. Another Peak Form Martial Marquis to deal with. The Blackthornes never missed a chance to join the hunt.

Mercer's eyes narrowed. "Enough talk." He raised his hand, and a shimmering barrier materialized around the perimeter of the room. "No one's leaving until I'm finished."

Panic erupted among the bystanders—scholars, students, and innocent visitors trapped in our deadly game. A woman clutched her child close, fear etched across her face.

"This is between us," I said, nodding toward the civilians. "Let them go."

Mercer laughed. "Witnesses complicate things. Better to clean up all at once."

I needed to act fast. My control over Vernon Sherman and Hadwin Webster—the two ancient corpses I'd bound to my will—was already beginning to wane. I could feel the connection slipping, like sand through my fingers.

With a mental command, I summoned Vernon Sherman. The air rippled as the imposing figure materialized beside me—seven feet of preserved muscle and bone, his eyes glowing with an eerie blue light.

Gasps rippled through the crowd. Vernon had been a legend in his time, a warrior whose name inspired fear even centuries after his death.

"Break the barrier," I commanded.

Vernon moved with frightening speed, his massive fist connecting with Mercer's energy field. The barrier shattered like glass, sending fragments of energy cascading through the air.

"Run!" I shouted to the civilians. "Get out now!"

They didn't need to be told twice. People scrambled for the exits, pushing and shoving in their desperation to escape.

Mercer's face twisted with rage. He raised the crossbow, aiming directly at Vernon's chest. The bolt flew true, a streak of silver cutting through the air—only to bounce harmlessly off Vernon's skin.

"Impossible," Mercer whispered, his composure cracking for the first time.

Bryce Blackthorne stepped forward, his eyes narrowing as he studied Vernon. "An ancient corpse," he said softly. "Very ancient. This isn't some recently deceased warrior."

I felt a chill. Bryce was too perceptive by half.

"Vernon Sherman," I announced, deciding to lean into the intimidation factor. "Perhaps you've heard the legends."

Mercer's eyes widened slightly. "Sherman died over eight hundred years ago."

"And yet, here he stands," I replied coolly.

I could feel my control slipping further. The connection to both Vernon and Hadwin was weakening rapidly—a sensation like trying to hold water in cupped hands. I needed to end this quickly or find another strategy.

"Impressive," Bryce said, circling us slowly. "But controlling ancient corpses requires immense energy. I wonder how long you can maintain it."

Damn him. Too observant by far.

Mercer recovered his composure, reloading the crossbow with practiced efficiency. "Ancient or not, everything dies. Again."

He fired three bolts in rapid succession. Vernon caught the first two in midair, crushing them to dust. The third struck his shoulder but barely penetrated the leathery skin.

Sweat beaded on my forehead. Each command to Vernon drained my energy faster. I needed to bluff my way out of this.

"You think these are my strongest assets?" I laughed, hoping the strain didn't show in my voice. "Vernon is merely a footsoldier. Hadwin Webster was a general."

On cue, I summoned my second corpse. Hadwin materialized beside Vernon—smaller but somehow more menacing, with fingers that ended in bone-like claws.

"The Swift Death," Bryce murmured, recognition flickering in his eyes. "They say he could kill ten men before the first body hit the ground."

The effort of controlling both corpses simultaneously sent pain lancing through my temples. I had minutes at most before my control failed completely.

"They're from the Mighty Realm," I declared, gambling on a lie so audacious it might just be believed. "Corpses of warriors who transcended beyond our world. Their power doesn't follow your rules."

Mercer hesitated, doubt creeping into his expression. The Mighty Realm was spoken of only in legends—a place where cultivation reached heights unimaginable in our world.

"Impossible," he said, but uncertainty tinged his voice. "No one has accessed the Mighty Realm in thousands of years."

"And yet," I gestured to my silent guardians.

Bryce was watching me carefully, his eyes never leaving my face. "If they truly are from the Mighty Realm, why not command them to kill us immediately? Why this conversation?"

I forced a smile. "Perhaps I enjoy watching you squirm."

In truth, I was buying time, desperately hoping for an opening or inspiration. My connection to Vernon was now hanging by a thread, and Hadwin wasn't far behind.

"Enough!" Mercer snarled, his patience exhausted. He channeled his energy into the crossbow, the weapon glowing with deadly power. "Die!"

The bolt he fired was different—wrapped in crackling energy that distorted the air around it. It struck Vernon square in the chest and...bounced off, clattering harmlessly to the floor.

Mercer staggered back, genuine fear replacing his arrogance.

"Impossible," he whispered.

I laughed, though inside I was panicking. That attack should have destroyed Vernon. The only explanation was that my control had already slipped so much that Vernon was acting independently, drawing on his original power.

This was bad. Very bad.

"Ready to surrender?" I asked, forcing confidence into my voice. "Or shall I let my friends show you what true power looks like?"

Bryce hadn't moved, his eyes calculating. I could almost see the wheels turning in his mind.

"Interesting," he finally said. "Vernon Sherman just deflected a Peak Form Martial Marquis attack without instruction from you."

My heart sank. He was seeing right through me.

"They have certain autonomous defenses," I improvised.

"Or perhaps," Bryce continued, his voice dangerously soft, "you're no longer controlling him at all."

The last threads of my connection to Vernon snapped completely. I could feel Hadwin slipping away too—another minute, maybe less.

"The corpses from the Mighty Realm don't need constant control," I claimed, desperately trying to maintain the bluff. "They're bound to me by oath, not just by technique."

Mercer was still shaken, but Bryce's confidence was turning the tide. I could see the doubt clearing from Mercer's eyes as he studied me more carefully.

"Then command them to attack," Bryce suggested, his tone almost friendly. "Just a small demonstration."

I was cornered. With my control gone, I couldn't make them do anything. But admitting that would be signing my death warrant.

"I don't perform on command," I snapped, buying seconds.

Bryce's smile widened. "No? Then perhaps your corpses have the same problem."

He stepped closer, completely unafraid now. "Vernon hasn't moved in over thirty seconds. Neither has Hadwin. And you're sweating profusely for someone in complete control of the situation."

I remained silent, mind racing for a solution.

"I know what a cultivation burnout looks like, Liam," Bryce continued. "You've exhausted yourself maintaining these corpses, and now you're barely hanging on."

Mercer stepped forward, confidence returning to his posture. "Is that true? Have you been bluffing this whole time?"

I forced a laugh. "You're welcome to test that theory. Vernon, show them a fraction of your power."

Nothing happened. Vernon remained perfectly still, a statue frozen in place. The last connection to Hadwin flickered and died in my mind.

"It seems your friends from the Mighty Realm aren't responding," Bryce observed. "How curious."

I was out of options. Both corpses stood motionless, and I had no way to make them move again. My bluff had failed spectacularly.

"Perhaps I'm conserving their energy," I suggested weakly.

"Or perhaps," Bryce said, his voice carrying clearly through the now-silent hall, "you've lost control entirely. Why else would you be standing here talking to us instead of commanding them to attack?"

The words hung in the air, a death sentence dressed as a question. Mercer's smile returned, cruel and confident.

"Is that true, Liam?" he asked, raising his crossbow once more. "Have your mighty guardians abandoned you?"