Rise of The Abandoned Husband

I leaned back in my chair, studying Emerson Holmes's face as he processed everything I'd just told him.

"Let me get this straight," he said, rubbing his temples. "You believe the eight senior officials of the Veridia City Martial Guild might be confined somewhere? Or that they're just... projections?"

"Think about it," I replied, keeping my voice low despite the sound-blocking formation humming around us. "Have you ever seen more than one senior official at the same time? In person?"

Emerson frowned, the lines in his forehead deepening. "Now that you mention it... no."

"Exactly." I leaned forward, resting my elbows on his desk. "Ms. Hayward controls purple robes without holding any official position. Don't you find that strange?"

"Many things about the Guild are strange," he conceded.

"What if the eight senior officials are being used? Their images projected while they're held somewhere, powerless? It would explain why the Guild is deliberately hindering other martial artists from advancing."

Emerson's eyes widened. "That's a dangerous theory, Liam."

"Dangerous because it might be true," I countered.

He sighed, the weight of my words visibly settling on his shoulders. "What do you want from me?"

"Get closer to these officials if you can. Watch for inconsistencies. And..." I paused, considering how much to ask. "I need to know when the first Mystic Realm opens."

"You're not seriously planning to—"

"I am," I cut him off. "It might be my only way to gain enough power quickly."

Emerson shook his head but didn't argue further. "I'll help where I can, but be careful. Eyes are everywhere in this academy."

I stood to leave, my ribs still aching from yesterday's encounter with Broderick. "I always am."

The corridor outside Emerson's office was empty, but I still kept my guard up as I made my way toward the eastern courtyard. I needed fresh air to clear my head and plan my next move.

I was halfway there when a familiar voice stopped me cold.

"Liam Knight. Just the man I was hoping to find."

I turned to see Blaise Rostova leaning against a marble column, arms crossed casually over his chest. His easy posture didn't fool me. I'd seen him fight once, dismantling three Martial Generals without breaking a sweat.

"Rostova," I acknowledged, keeping my tone neutral. "What brings you to the academy?"

He pushed off from the column and approached me with measured steps. "Business, mostly. But also... curiosity."

I tensed, ready to defend myself if needed. After Broderick's attack, I wasn't taking any chances.

Blaise noticed my stance and chuckled. "Relax. If I wanted to harm you, I wouldn't do it in broad daylight with witnesses."

"That's not as reassuring as you might think."

He laughed again, the sound surprisingly genuine. "I suppose not." His expression turned serious. "I saw your little encounter with Broderick yesterday."

"Were you impressed?" I asked dryly.

"I was surprised you survived," he replied candidly. "Few do when facing the Heaven Swallowing Python."

I studied his face, trying to read his intentions. "Why tell me this?"

"Because contrary to what you might think, not everyone in the Guild wants you dead." He glanced around, ensuring no one was listening. "Some of us are watching the current situation with... interest."

"Interest?" I echoed skeptically.

"The Guild hasn't faced a real challenge in generations," he said simply. "Stagnation breeds complacency."

Before I could press him further, he turned to leave. Over his shoulder, he added, "Consider this conversation a payment of sorts."

"For what?" I called after him.

He paused mid-step. "For Michael Ashworth. Let's just say I owe you one."

With that cryptic statement, he disappeared around a corner, leaving me more confused than before. I hadn't done anything for Michael Ashworth—I'd never even met Isabelle's grandfather.

Shaking my head, I continued toward my residence. The academy had provided me with modest but private quarters, which suited me fine. I needed space to cultivate and plan without prying eyes.

I found Frederick waiting outside my door, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. His face was grim.

"We need to talk," he said as I approached.

Inside my room, I activated my own privacy formation before turning to him. "What's wrong?"

"Broderick," he replied simply. "I've been asking around. The man's not just dangerous—he's lethal. Rumor has it he's killed seventeen challengers in the past month alone."

I grimaced. "I figured as much from our brief 'introduction.'"

"This isn't a joke, Liam," Frederick snapped, his usual calm demeanor cracking. "He's hunting you specifically. And he's at the late-term Military Marquis stage. You can't beat him."

"Not yet," I agreed. "Which is why I need to advance quickly."

Frederick paced the small room, frustration evident in every step. "You're already progressing faster than anyone I've ever seen, but there are limits to how quickly a human body can adapt to increased spiritual energy."

"My body isn't entirely human," I reminded him, thinking of the mysterious bloodline that had awakened within me months ago.

"Even so," he insisted, "you need more time."

"Time is the one thing I don't have," I replied, moving to the window to gaze out at the academy grounds. "Isabelle is still captive. Dominic is still searching for Clara. And now Broderick has marked me as his prey."

I turned back to him, determination hardening my resolve. "I need to reach the late-term Military Marquis stage, and I need to do it soon."

Frederick sighed heavily. "I've never known anyone as stubborn as you."

"Is that a compliment?"

"It's an observation," he replied dryly. "Fine. I'll help however I can. But promise me you won't confront Broderick directly until you're ready."

"I promise," I said, meaning it. I wasn't suicidal.

After Frederick left, I sat cross-legged on the floor, preparing to meditate. If I was going to advance quickly, I needed to maximize every opportunity to cultivate.

Closing my eyes, I extended my divine sense outward, searching for any trace of the Mystic Realm that supposedly existed somewhere on academy grounds. If I could locate it ahead of time, I'd have an advantage when it opened.

My awareness spread like ripples on water, passing through walls and courtyards, sensing the life forces of students and teachers alike. Nothing unusual yet.

I pushed farther, straining the limits of my perception. There—a faint distortion in the spiritual energy near the eastern mountains behind the academy. It wasn't the Mystic Realm itself, but perhaps a seal or marker indicating its location.

Just as I was focusing on this anomaly, another presence jolted me back to awareness. A familiar presence.

My eyes snapped open. It couldn't be.

Leaping to my feet, I rushed outside, following the distinct spiritual signature I'd detected. It led me to the academy's western gate, where a crowd of students had gathered, whispering excitedly.

I pushed through them, ignoring their protests, until I reached the front of the crowd.

And there he was. The Man with the Mustache, dressed in his usual flamboyant style, charming a group of female students with exaggerated tales of adventure.

He spotted me instantly, his animated gestures freezing mid-air. The color drained from his face.

"You!" he gasped.

Without another word, he turned and fled, his ridiculous cape billowing behind him. I gave chase immediately, ignoring the confused stares of onlookers.

"Stop running, you coward!" I shouted after him.

"Never!" he called back, weaving through startled students with surprising agility. "Every time I see you, disaster follows!"

The chase continued through courtyards and past classrooms until he finally ducked into an empty storage building. I followed, closing the door behind us.

He stood in the corner, panting, a handkerchief dabbing at his sweaty forehead. "Can't a man make an honest living without you showing up to ruin it?"

"Honest living?" I scoffed. "Since when is tomb raiding honest?"

"Archaeological consultant," he corrected, straightening his gaudy vest. "I'm giving lectures on ancient formations to the senior class."

I crossed my arms, studying him suspiciously. "What are you really doing here?"

He sighed dramatically. "If you must know, I'm hiding."

"From whom?"

"Everyone!" he exclaimed, throwing his hands up. "The Blackthornes want my head for helping you. The Guild has questions about certain... artifacts I may have acquired. And now I hear you've made enemies with a literal monster!"

I stepped closer, lowering my voice. "How do you know about Broderick?"

The Man with the Mustache snorted. "Everyone knows. News travels fast when someone survives an encounter with the Heaven Swallowing Python."

"Tell me what you know about him," I demanded.

He glanced nervously at the door. "Not here. And not with you. Do you have any idea what would happen to me if someone saw us together? I might as well paint a target on my back!"

"You already have a target on your back," I pointed out. "At least with me, you'd have protection."

He laughed bitterly. "Protection? You can barely protect yourself from that serpent!"

I couldn't argue with that assessment. "Fine. Then tell me what you know, and I'll leave you alone."

He hesitated, twirling his mustache thoughtfully. Finally, he sighed. "The Heaven Swallowing Python is among the most feared demonic beasts in existence. Unlike most beasts, it can take human form perfectly, making it the ultimate predator."

"I gathered that much from our encounter," I said impatiently.

"What you don't know," he continued, lowering his voice to a whisper, "is that it's invincible at the same level."

"What does that mean?"

"It means," he said gravely, "that no cultivator at the same realm can defeat it. Not even close. And against humans?" He shuddered. "We're even more disadvantaged. Our spiritual energy is like food to it. The more we use, the stronger it becomes."

I felt a cold dread settling in my stomach. "Then how does anyone defeat it?"

The Man with the Mustache looked at me with something like pity in his eyes. "That's the terrifying truth, Liam Knight. They don't."