Rise of The Abandoned Husband

I stared in disbelief as Dominic Ashworth and Broderick faced each other in the courtyard. The tension between them was thick enough to cut with a blade.

"You have no authority here," Broderick hissed at Dominic. "Scram before I make you regret your arrogance."

Dominic's face turned crimson with rage. Being told to "scram" by someone he didn't know clearly struck at his pride. The Ashworths weren't accustomed to being dismissed so casually.

"Do you have any idea who I am?" Dominic snarled.

I watched the exchange from a safe distance, my throat still raw from Broderick's earlier assault. Frederick stood beside me, his hand pressed against his ribs where he'd struck the pillar.

Broderick laughed, the sound unnervingly inhuman. "I know exactly who you are. Dominic Ashworth. A man who thinks his family name grants him power." His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "But names mean nothing to me."

Without warning, Broderick turned away from Dominic and fixed those serpentine eyes on me instead. The vertical pupils narrowed as his mouth curved into a predatory smile.

"You and I have unfinished business, Liam Knight."

Before I could react, Broderick unleashed an aura I'd never encountered before. It wasn't just the pressure of a powerful cultivator—this was something primal and ancient. The air around him shimmered with a greenish haze, and the temperature dropped sharply.

Then he attacked.

His movement was so fast I barely saw him coming. I raised my arms instinctively, channeling my spiritual energy into a defensive posture as his fist collided with mine.

The impact was catastrophic.

A shockwave erupted from where our fists met, shattering a nearby cherry tree and sending splinters flying in all directions. Students screamed and scattered, seeking cover from the debris. My entire arm went numb from the collision, but I held my ground.

"Impressive," Broderick murmured, sounding genuinely surprised. "Most men would have lost their arm from that strike."

I didn't respond, too focused on maintaining my stance. My body, strengthened by countless battles and the mysterious power of my bloodline, had withstood the blow—but just barely. The realization hit me harder than Broderick's fist: I was outmatched.

"You're wondering why you can't overpower me," Broderick said, reading my thoughts. "After all, you've defeated so many powerful opponents lately."

He circled me slowly, like a predator toying with its prey. "Allow me to educate you. I am the Heaven Swallowing Python, a being whose bloodline traces back to the Ancient Demonic Beasts. And I currently stand at the Peak Form of Military Marquis."

My blood ran cold at his words. Military Marquis was three entire realms above me. How could I possibly stand against such power?

"Three realms higher," I whispered, unable to hide my shock.

Broderick's smile widened. "Yes. And unlike those pompous human cultivators who rely on pills and formations to advance, my progress is natural. Pure. Unstoppable."

From the corner of my eye, I saw Dominic speaking urgently with Ricardo Beaumont, another senior member of the Ashworth family. Ricardo's expression changed from dismissive to alarmed as they conversed.

"Sir," Ricardo said, addressing Dominic with unusual deference. "That man is Broderick, disciple of Ms. Hayward."

"Who?" Dominic demanded, but his arrogant tone had diminished considerably.

"Ms. Hayward. She holds no official title within the Martial Guild, but her influence runs deeper than most know," Ricardo explained, keeping his voice low. "We would be wise not to antagonize her protégé."

I watched Dominic's face closely. The mention of this mysterious woman had clearly rattled him. He stepped back, his earlier bravado evaporating like morning dew.

Meanwhile, Broderick continued his assault. Each strike came faster than the last, forcing me to rely on instinct rather than technique. My spiritual fire created a thin golden barrier between us, but it was weakening with every impact.

"You fight well for a human," Broderick commented as he landed a devastating kick to my ribs. I felt something crack inside my chest. "But this is merely exercise for me."

I staggered backward, trying to catch my breath. The courtyard had emptied of students now, leaving only a handful of spectators watching from safe distances. Frederick looked desperately around, perhaps seeking help that wasn't coming.

"Why are you doing this?" I managed to ask between labored breaths.

Broderick paused, head tilting slightly. "Orders, primarily. But also curiosity. I wanted to see what kind of man has caused such commotion in the Guild." His tongue flicked out, tasting the air. "You smell of destiny. It's... intriguing."

He lunged again, this time moving so quickly he seemed to blur. I couldn't dodge in time. His hand clamped around my throat, lifting me off the ground just as he had before.

"But destiny or not, you're still just flesh and blood."

I struggled against his grip, my vision beginning to darken at the edges. Through the haze, I saw a new figure approaching—tall, distinguished, with the bearing of authority.

"Enough!" the man commanded.

Broderick turned, still holding me aloft, to face Emerson Holmes, the academy president.

"This behavior is unacceptable on academy grounds," Emerson stated firmly. "Release him immediately."

To my surprise, Broderick complied, dropping me unceremoniously to the ground. I collapsed, gasping for air.

"President Holmes," Broderick acknowledged with a slight bow that somehow managed to seem mocking. "I was merely providing a practical demonstration for the new student."

Emerson's face remained stern. "Save your demonstrations for the training halls, when properly scheduled."

"As you wish," Broderick replied smoothly. "Though I believe Ms. Hayward would agree that some lessons are best taught... spontaneously."

At the mention of that name again, I saw Emerson's composed facade crack slightly. There was that name again—Ms. Hayward. Who was this woman who could make even the academy president hesitate?

"Speaking of my master," Broderick continued, "here she comes now."

All heads turned toward the eastern gate, where a slender woman in elegant gray robes approached. She moved with effortless grace, her face partially obscured by a light veil. Despite her unassuming appearance, the air around her seemed to bend, as if reality itself made way for her passage.

"Ms. Hayward," Emerson greeted her, his tone carefully neutral. "I wasn't aware you would be visiting today."

"The best visits are unexpected, wouldn't you agree, President Holmes?" Her voice was melodious yet carried an undercurrent of iron. She turned to Broderick. "I see you've been making friends."

"Testing their mettle," Broderick corrected. "This one," he pointed at me, "has potential. Raw, undeveloped, but present."

Ms. Hayward studied me with cool detachment. "Indeed. How fascinating." She turned back to Emerson. "I hope you don't mind my disciple's enthusiasm. Young talents need challenge to grow stronger."

"There are proper channels—" Emerson began.

"Proper channels slow growth," she interrupted. "Wouldn't you agree, Liam Knight?"

The fact that she knew my name without introduction sent a chill down my spine.

"I prefer opponents closer to my own level," I replied carefully, getting to my feet.

She laughed softly. "No, you don't. You've always sought battles beyond your capabilities. It's what's brought you this far." Her eyes—a startling amber color—seemed to peer straight through me. "Though perhaps even you have limits."

"We should go, Master," Broderick suggested. "I've assessed him sufficiently for now."

"Yes," she agreed. "We have other matters to attend to." She nodded politely to Emerson. "President Holmes, always a pleasure."

As they turned to leave, she paused and looked back at me. "Do continue your education, Mr. Knight. I foresee many... learning opportunities in your future."

The way she emphasized those words made them sound like a threat. Or perhaps a promise.

Once they had disappeared through the gates, the tension in the courtyard dissipated visibly. Emerson Holmes approached me, his expression grim.

"Mr. Knight, come to my office immediately."

I glanced at Frederick, who nodded. "Go. I'll check on Clara and meet you later."

Following Emerson through the academy's ornate halls, I tried to process what had just happened. Broderick wasn't just powerful—he was in a completely different league. And this Ms. Hayward clearly held influence that transcended official hierarchies.

Emerson's office was spacious but austere, with walls lined with ancient texts and artifacts. He closed the door firmly behind us and activated what I recognized as a sound-blocking formation.

"Sit," he instructed, gesturing to a chair across from his desk. Once I complied, he studied me intently. "You need to leave the academy."

"What?" The blunt statement caught me off guard.

"Today. Now, if possible." His voice was deadly serious. "You've attracted attention from forces you cannot hope to contend with."

"I'm not running away," I stated firmly.

Emerson sighed heavily. "This isn't about courage, Mr. Knight. It's about survival." He leaned forward. "Broderick isn't merely strong—he's lethal. His kind don't follow human ethics or codes of conduct. If he decides to kill you, no one here can stop him."

"And Ms. Hayward?" I asked. "Who is she exactly?"

Emerson's expression darkened. "Officially? No one. She holds no position, commands no units, answers to no superiors."

"Unofficially?"

He hesitated, then seemed to make a decision. "No official position is needed. She controls the deployment rights of the purple robe and many guest officials of the Veridia City Martial Guild."

My mind reeled at the implication. The purple robes were the Guild's elite enforcers—individuals of immense power who answered only to the highest authorities. If this woman controlled them without holding any official rank herself...

"How is that possible?" I whispered.

"That's not for me to say," Emerson replied carefully. "What matters is that you understand the gravity of your situation. It's not just Broderick you need to worry about. Dominic Ashworth still wants you eliminated. Bert Mercer has placed a bounty on your head. And I've heard whispers that Bryce Blackthorne has not forgotten your humiliation of his family."

He stood, moving to the window where he gazed out at the academy grounds. "I cannot protect you, Mr. Knight. Not from all of them, and certainly not from Ms. Hayward if she decides you're a problem."

The walls seemed to close in around me as the full weight of his words sank in. I had known coming here would be dangerous, but the depth of the peril was only now becoming clear.

"I came for a reason," I said finally. "One I can't abandon."

Emerson turned back to me, his expression unreadable. "Isabelle Ashworth."

I didn't bother denying it.

"She isn't here," he said quietly.

"But the entrance to where they're keeping her is," I countered.

He didn't confirm or deny this statement, which told me everything I needed to know. Instead, he moved back to his desk and sat down heavily.

"You remind me of someone I knew long ago," he said softly. "Equally determined. Equally doomed."

The silence that followed hung heavy between us, filled with unspoken warnings and grim possibilities. Outside, the afternoon sun cast long shadows across the academy grounds—shadows that seemed to reach toward me like grasping fingers.