Rise of The Abandoned Husband

I stared at the Prajna Ruler in my hand, its golden light fading as Bert Mercer and Bryce Blackthorne's footsteps receded down the hallway. My temporary victory was sweet, but something about their retreat felt too easy.

The weapon pulsed once more in my palm before growing dim, almost as if it had exhausted itself. I frowned, studying its intricate engravings. Something wasn't right.

"That's quite the trinket you've got there," came Bryce's voice from the doorway. He hadn't left after all.

I spun around, raising the Prajna Ruler defensively. "I thought you were smarter than to come back alone."

Bryce leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossed. There was something different about his demeanor now—less hostile, more calculating.

"Mercer is a coward at heart," he said with a dismissive wave. "He's probably halfway back to the Guild by now, composing elaborate lies about what happened here."

"And you?" I kept the weapon pointed at him.

"I'm more curious than afraid." He pushed off from the doorframe and took a step toward me. "That's the genuine Prajna Ruler. I've seen illustrations in the Guild's ancient texts."

I remained silent, watching him carefully.

"Do you know what you're holding?" he asked.

"A Martial Saint weapon," I replied, stating the obvious.

"Not just any Martial Saint weapon." Bryce's eyes never left the golden ruler. "That particular one was created by Saint Prajna himself, one of the Original Seven. It's said to embody the principle of absolute judgment."

I felt the weapon warm slightly in my hand, as if acknowledging its own history.

"And what exactly does that mean?" I asked, buying time to assess his intentions.

"It means," Bryce said, taking another careful step forward, "that it judges those it encounters. Including its wielder."

That explained the odd sensation I'd felt when first holding it—like being examined from the inside out.

"It chose me," I said confidently.

"For now," Bryce agreed. "But there's something you should know about Saint weapons, especially those from the Original Seven."

I narrowed my eyes. "What's that?"

"They have limited uses."

The statement hit me like a physical blow. "What do you mean, limited uses?"

"Exactly what I said." Bryce's expression held a hint of satisfaction now. "Each Saint weapon can only be activated a certain number of times before the Saint's breath within it dissipates. The more powerful the effect, the more breath is consumed."

I glanced down at the Prajna Ruler. Could that be true? Was this weapon of unimaginable power nothing more than a fancy club after a few uses?

"You're lying," I said, but uncertainty crept into my voice.

"Am I?" Bryce raised an eyebrow. "Did you notice how it responded to your intention rather than a specific command? How it created that shield without you knowing how to activate it?"

He was right. The weapon had acted almost autonomously.

"That's because it used one of its charges," Bryce continued. "By my count, after that display, the Prajna Ruler probably has only two uses left before it becomes nothing more than an ornate piece of metal."

"Two uses?" I couldn't keep the dismay from my voice.

"At most." Bryce's smile was thin and knowing. "And now you face a dilemma. Do you use one of those precious charges to dispatch me right now? Or save them for when you truly need them?"

My mind raced. If what he said was true, I couldn't afford to waste the weapon's power. But how could I trust the word of a Guild enforcer?

"Even if what you say is true," I responded, "two uses of a Saint weapon is enough to change the course of battles. Maybe even wars."

"True enough," Bryce acknowledged. "Which is why I'm not going to fight you today."

His statement caught me off guard. "What?"

"I'm making a strategic retreat," he said simply. "Not out of fear, but out of respect for that weapon. And curiosity about you."

I studied his face for deception but found only calculated interest.

"The Guild is in turmoil," Bryce continued. "Darian Bancroft's revelations have caused... complications. It's not the time for rash actions."

So the Guild was feeling the pressure. That was valuable information.

"Then why tell me about the weapon's limitations?" I asked. "Wouldn't it be smarter to let me waste the remaining uses?"

Bryce's smile deepened. "Perhaps I have my own reasons for wanting you to use those charges wisely."

Before I could question him further, he gave a slight bow. "Until next time, Liam Knight."

With that, he turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing down the corridor. This time, I sensed he was truly leaving.

I exhaled slowly, looking down at the Prajna Ruler with new concern. Two uses left. If Bryce was telling the truth—and something in my gut told me he was—then this weapon was both more and less valuable than I'd initially thought.

I carefully placed it back in my spatial ring. I needed to research Saint weapons more thoroughly before risking another use.

---

The Veridia City Martial Guild's central hall buzzed with tension. News of Darian Bancroft's public revelations had spread through the city like wildfire, igniting outrage among citizens and cultivators alike. The Guild, once the unquestioned authority in martial matters, now found itself under unprecedented scrutiny.

"This is a disaster," muttered one of the eight senior officials gathered in the private chamber behind the hall. "Bancroft has exposed our dealings with the Blackthornes, our manipulation of resources, everything!"

Elder Zhao, the most senior of the eight, stroked his white beard thoughtfully. "The public is demanding accountability. We cannot weather this storm with our current leadership structure."

"What are you suggesting?" asked Elder Lin, her sharp eyes narrowing.

"We need a scapegoat," Elder Zhao said bluntly. "Someone to absorb the public's anger while we... reposition ourselves."

The room fell silent as the implication sank in.

"Emerson Holmes," Elder Chen finally said. "He's respected enough to have credibility, but not privy to our innermost operations."

Elder Zhao nodded. "We'll name him as the new Guild President, effective immediately. Let him handle the public relations nightmare while we operate from the shadows."

"And when the storm passes?" Elder Lin asked.

"Then we'll reevaluate his usefulness," Elder Zhao replied coldly.

The decision was made with clinical efficiency. Within hours, announcements were posted throughout Veridia City naming Emerson Holmes as the new Guild President, tasked with "reforming the Guild and addressing public concerns."

Emerson himself received the news with a mixture of pride and apprehension. As he stood before the Guild's ornate mirror adjusting his formal robes, he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd just been handed a poisoned chalice.

A knock at his door interrupted his thoughts.

"Enter," he called.

The door swung open to reveal Jagger Shah, publisher of Veridia City's most influential news journal and a notorious muckraker. Somehow, he'd gained access to the Guild's inner sanctum.

"Mr. Holmes," Shah said with a predatory smile. "Or should I say, President Holmes? Congratulations on your promotion."

Emerson stiffened. "How did you get in here?"

"I have my ways," Shah replied, pulling out a small notebook. "I'm here for your statement regarding Darian Bancroft's allegations. The public deserves answers."

"The Guild will issue a formal response in due time," Emerson said diplomatically.

Shah's smile didn't waver. "That's not good enough, I'm afraid. People are saying the Guild systematically exploited cultivators, manipulated resources, and conspired with the Blackthorne family for decades. Some are even calling for the Guild to be dissolved entirely."

Emerson felt sweat beading on his forehead. "Those are serious accusations that require careful investigation."

"So you deny them?" Shah pressed.

"I neither confirm nor deny anything at this point," Emerson replied carefully. "I've only just assumed office."

Shah scribbled in his notebook. "Interesting that the eight senior officials have all suddenly taken 'leaves of absence' just as this scandal breaks. Almost as if they're hiding."

Emerson's jaw tightened. He was on his own here, exactly as the elders had planned.

"Mr. Shah, I assure you that under my leadership, the Guild will address all legitimate concerns and implement necessary reforms."

"Empty words," Shah countered. "Will you open the Guild's financial records? Will you disclose correspondence with the Blackthornes? Will you explain why certain cultivators were systematically denied advancement despite meeting all qualifications?"

Each question felt like a dagger. Emerson had known the Guild had its secrets—all powerful organizations did—but the specificity of Shah's questions suggested the depth of corruption might be worse than he'd imagined.

"I will need time to review all relevant information," Emerson said stiffly.

Shah closed his notebook with a snap. "Time is a luxury the Guild may not have, President Holmes. The public wants accountability now."

With that parting shot, the journalist turned and walked out, leaving Emerson alone with the crushing weight of his new position.

---

I returned to Jade Moon Villa with my mind still churning over the Prajna Ruler's limitations. Two uses left. I needed to make them count.

The villa was quiet in the early evening, most of the disciples engaged in their training routines. I made my way to my private quarters, nodding to those who bowed respectfully as I passed.

Inside my room, I carefully extracted the Prajna Ruler from my spatial ring and laid it on my desk. Its golden surface caught the lamplight, making the intricate engravings seem to dance.

"Two uses," I murmured. "What would be worthy of such power?"

Saving Isabelle, obviously. But beyond that immediate priority, what threats loomed that might require a Saint weapon's intervention? The Guild was in disarray, according to Bryce, which could create both opportunities and dangers.

A soft knock at my door interrupted my thoughts.

"Enter," I called, covering the Prajna Ruler with a cloth.

The door opened to reveal Clara Vance, her wide eyes curious as always. "You're back," she said simply.

"I am," I replied with a small smile. The young girl's presence was always a welcome distraction from heavier thoughts. "How was your day?"

"Boring," she replied with characteristic bluntness. "Master Jackson made me meditate for hours. He says my dark energy is unstable."

I nodded, understanding Jackson's concern. Clara's unique constitution as a pure dark energy body made her cultivation path different from others. More dangerous, too.

"He's trying to help you control it," I explained.

Clara flopped dramatically onto a chair. "I know, but sitting still is so boring. I want to learn combat techniques like the other disciples."

"All in good time," I assured her. "Actually, I've been thinking about your training."

She perked up immediately. "Really?"

"Yes," I said carefully. "I believe it might be beneficial for you to visit the Immortal Bane Sect."

Clara's eyes widened. "The dark cultivators? But I thought they were enemies of Jade Moon Villa."

"Not enemies exactly," I corrected. "More like... competitors with a different philosophy. But they have extensive knowledge about dark energy cultivation that could help you."

"Would I have to go alone?" There was a hint of vulnerability in her voice.

"No," I reassured her. "I would accompany you."

Relief washed over her face. "When would we go?"

"Soon," I promised. "I just need to make some arrangements first."

Clara nodded, seemingly satisfied. She glanced at my desk, where the cloth-covered Prajna Ruler lay. "What's that?"

"Just an artifact I'm studying," I replied casually. "Nothing interesting."

She gave me a skeptical look but didn't press further. "Master Jackson says I should practice channeling my energy through objects. He gave me this." She pulled out a small black stone from her pocket.

"Void Absorption Stone," I identified with surprise. "Those are rare."

"Is that good?" she asked, turning the stone over in her palm.

"Very good," I confirmed. "It can help stabilize volatile energies."

Clara beamed with pride, clutching the stone tightly. "I'll practice extra hard with it."

"I know you will," I said warmly. "Now, why don't you go get some rest? If we're going to visit the Immortal Bane Sect, you'll need your strength."

She nodded eagerly and hopped off the chair. At the doorway, she paused. "Liam?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you for not giving up on me." With that simple statement, she slipped out the door.

Her words struck a chord within me. In many ways, Clara reminded me of myself at a younger age—grappling with powers beyond her understanding, trying to find her place in a world that viewed her as different. I was determined to give her the guidance I'd never had.

I uncovered the Prajna Ruler and studied it once more. Two uses. Would one of them need to be spent protecting Clara? The girl's potential was vast and largely untapped—which made her both valuable and vulnerable.

A different knock at my door—firmer, more authoritative—pulled me from my thoughts.

"Come in," I called, covering the weapon again.

Clarissa Johnson entered, her usual efficient demeanor somehow more pronounced today. She carried a folder tucked under one arm.

"Mr. Knight," she said with a respectful nod. "We've found out about the matter you asked us to investigate."