Rise of The Abandoned Husband

Gyeon City sprawled beneath our plane like a forgotten relic, its once-grand buildings now faded and crumbling. The locals called it the "Cursed City," and from my first glimpse, I understood why.

"Quite the ghost town, isn't it?" Clarissa remarked as we descended. "Hard to believe this was once the wealthiest trading hub in the region."

I studied the landscape below. Unlike the gleaming metropolis of Veridia City, Gyeon had an abandoned feel—empty streets, shuttered businesses, and an eerie stillness that seemed to permeate everything.

"What happened here?" I asked.

Clarissa's expression turned serious. "Official records say economic collapse. Locals tell a different story. They believe the city was cursed when a powerful cultivator's experiment went wrong twenty years ago."

The airport was nearly deserted when we landed. A single attendant manned the terminal, barely glancing up as we passed. Outside, a weathered taxi waited—the only vehicle in sight.

"The Ancient Quarter," Clarissa instructed the driver, who nodded silently.

As we drove through empty streets, I extended my divine sense, probing the city's energy. Something felt off—not dangerous, exactly, but unusual. The qi here flowed in strange patterns, almost as if it was being subtly redirected.

"You feel it too," Clarissa noted, watching my expression.

I nodded. "The city's energy is... distorted."

"That's why we're here," she replied quietly. "The Mystic Realm entrance we're seeking is connected to whatever changed this place."

The taxi stopped at the edge of what appeared to be the oldest part of the city—narrow streets lined with traditional buildings, their wooden facades worn by time but somehow better preserved than the modern structures we'd passed.

"We walk from here," Clarissa said, paying the driver.

The Ancient Quarter felt different from the rest of Gyeon. While still largely empty of people, it hummed with subtle energy. Lanterns hung from eaves, swaying gently despite the absence of wind. The scent of incense and tea filled the air.

"This area resisted whatever affected the rest of the city," I observed.

"Smart observation." Clarissa led me down an alley so narrow our shoulders nearly brushed the walls. "The locals believe it's protected by guardian spirits."

We emerged into a small courtyard with a modest teahouse at its center. Unlike the abandoned buildings elsewhere, this place showed signs of life—fresh paint on the door frames, potted plants along the entrance.

"We'll wait here," Clarissa said, gesturing to a table outside the teahouse. "My contact will find us."

An elderly woman emerged from the teahouse, bowing slightly. Without a word, she placed two cups of steaming tea before us and retreated.

I lifted the cup, inhaling the aroma. Something caught my attention immediately—a faint trace of qi infused in the liquid. Not harmful, but definitely deliberate.

"This tea is infused with spiritual energy," I said quietly.

Clarissa raised an eyebrow. "Is it? I don't sense anything unusual."

That surprised me. As a Military Marquis, Clarissa's perception should easily detect such things. I took a careful sip, allowing the liquid to linger on my tongue. The qi was subtle but distinctive—unlike any tea infusion I'd encountered before.

"It's very faint," I conceded. "But definitely there."

Curious now, I extended my senses further, exploring the courtyard and surrounding buildings. The same energy signature appeared in multiple places—strongest in the food and drinks served at the teahouse, but present in the very air of this section of the Ancient Quarter.

"Interesting," I murmured.

"What are you finding?" Clarissa asked, watching me intently.

"Everything here contains the same energy signature," I explained. "It's as if someone is systematically infusing the entire area with a specific type of qi."

Standing, I walked to the teahouse entrance. The elderly woman watched me warily but didn't interfere as I examined the various items for sale—dried herbs, preserved fruits, tea leaves. All carried the same energy imprint.

"May I?" I asked, holding up a packet of dried plums.

The woman nodded silently.

I purchased the plums and returned to our table. Opening the package, I confirmed my suspicion—the same qi signature, stronger than in the tea but fundamentally identical.

"What's so special about these?" Clarissa asked, taking one of the plums.

"Can you really not sense it?" I asked.

She concentrated for a moment, then shook her head. "Nothing unusual."

This was becoming more intriguing by the minute. How could I perceive something that eluded Clarissa's Military Marquis senses? I closed my eyes, focusing on the unique energy signature. Rather than analyzing it from the outside, I matched my own aura to its frequency—a technique I'd developed while working with complex alchemical reactions.

Suddenly, the pattern became clear. The qi wasn't just present in isolated items—it formed a path, flowing through the Ancient Quarter like an invisible river.

"It's a guide," I said, opening my eyes. "The qi forms a trail."

"A trail to what?" Clarissa asked.

"I'm guessing to your Mystic Realm entrance," I replied. "Or something equally important."

I stood, following the energy stream with my senses. It led deeper into the Ancient Quarter, winding through narrow alleys and quiet courtyards.

"This way," I said, starting to walk.

Clarissa fell into step beside me. "I'm not sensing any trail, Liam. Are you sure about this?"

"Positive," I answered, my confidence growing as the trail strengthened. "Someone has created an energy pathway that's only detectable if you know exactly what to look for—or if you happen to have the right kind of perception."

We followed the invisible trail through increasingly ancient parts of the district. The buildings here predated modern construction methods, their foundations sinking into the earth as if they were growing from it rather than built upon it.

"This area is at least three hundred years old," Clarissa commented, running her hand along a worn stone wall. "Some of the oldest continuous habitation in the region."

The qi trail grew stronger, pulsing now like a heartbeat. I felt certain we were approaching something significant.

"The energy is concentrated ahead," I said, pointing to a small shrine at the end of an alleyway.

As we approached the shrine, the trail suddenly vanished. I stopped, confused.

"It ends here?" Clarissa asked.

I knelt, examining the ground around the shrine. The qi signature was everywhere now, not a path but a pool of energy.

"Not ended," I corrected. "Transformed. The energy here is the same type but much more concentrated. It's as if all paths lead to this spot."

I placed my palm on the stone foundation of the shrine, sending a gentle pulse of my own qi into it. The response was immediate—a resonant hum that confirmed my suspicions.

"This is it," I said with certainty. "The entrance to your Mystic Realm, or at least a marker pointing to it."

Clarissa looked genuinely surprised. "You found it much faster than I expected. Our own agents spent weeks locating this point."

"The qi trail was subtle but clear once I knew what to look for," I explained. "I think it's meant to guide those with the right perception. A test, perhaps."

"Or a welcome," she suggested. "The Umbral Covenant didn't create this entrance—we discovered it, just as you have."

That was an interesting revelation. "So this Mystic Realm wasn't created by your organization?"

"No," she confirmed. "It's much older. We merely found a way to access and utilize it."

I studied the shrine more carefully now. It was simple—a stone pedestal with a worn carving that might once have been a face or symbol. Time had eroded its features beyond recognition.

"What happens now?" I asked.

"Now—" Clarissa began.

"Now you explain why you're trespassing in my territory," a deep voice interrupted.

We turned to find a man blocking the alleyway behind us. He was tall and powerfully built, with features that might have been handsome if not for the deep scar running from his left temple to his jaw. His qi signature was formidable—Military Marquis level at least, though carefully controlled.

"Gene Mercer," Clarissa said, her voice neutral. "I didn't expect to encounter you here."

The man—Gene—crossed his arms, his gaze fixed on me rather than Clarissa. "When strangers start following the spirit paths of Gyeon City, word travels quickly."

So the qi trail was known as a "spirit path" locally. Interesting.

"We meant no disrespect," I said, stepping forward. "We're here to—"

"I know who you are, Liam Knight," he interrupted. "Your reputation precedes you. The alchemist who rose from nothing. The man who challenged the Veridia City Martial Guild."

His tone made it clear these weren't necessarily compliments.

"And you are?" I asked, though Clarissa had already named him.

"Gene Mercer," he replied, squaring his shoulders. "Son of Tristan Mercer, guardian of what remains of Gyeon City's heritage."

Clarissa tensed beside me. Clearly, this name held significance.

"The Mercers have protected the Ancient Quarter for generations," she explained quietly. "They're... territorial about outside interference."

Gene's eyes narrowed at her words. "Protection is necessary when outsiders seek to exploit what they don't understand."

I studied him more carefully now. His hostility seemed directed more at the situation than at us personally. And beneath his aggressive stance, I sensed something else—worry, perhaps even fear.

"We're not here to exploit anything," I assured him. "We're investigating the unusual energies in your city."

"The 'unusual energies,' as you call them, are what's left of Gyeon's glory," Gene replied bitterly. "And they're not for outsiders to meddle with."

"Perhaps we could discuss this more civilly," Clarissa suggested. "The Umbral Covenant respects the Mercer family's position here."

Gene's laugh was harsh. "The Covenant respects nothing but power and ancient secrets. Why else would you bring the famous Liam Knight here?"

He stepped closer, his gaze locked on mine. The air between us thickened with tension.

"Many people boast that you're the top among the young generation," he said, voice dropping to a dangerous rumble. "I, Gene Mercer of Gyeon City, do not accept it!"

His declaration hung in the air between us—a clear and direct challenge.

Clarissa sighed beside me. "You should know," she said quietly, "that Gene's father, Tristan Mercer, is rumored to be responsible for Gyeon City's decline. The locals say his failed experiment twenty years ago triggered the curse that emptied this once-thriving metropolis."

Gene's expression darkened further at her words, but he didn't deny them. Instead, he shifted into a fighting stance, his intent unmistakable.

"Let's see if your skills match your fame, Liam Knight," he challenged. "Or if you're just another disappointment like all the others who've come seeking Gyeon's secrets."