Rise of The Abandoned Husband

The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife. The Man with the Mustache held the book between us, its skin-bound cover seeming to pulse with an otherworldly energy. Ms. Hayward stared at it with barely concealed apprehension, which gave me a flicker of satisfaction.

"This is the Heavenly Guardian Book," the Man with the Mustache announced, his voice carrying across the silent courtyard. "Once activated, it creates a soul contract that cannot be broken by any power in this realm."

I watched Ms. Hayward's face carefully. For all her arrogance, even she seemed wary of this artifact.

"Is such formality truly necessary?" she asked, her tone deliberately casual. "The Veridia City Martial Guild has upheld its honor for centuries without resorting to... trinkets."

The Man with the Mustache stroked his mustache, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Trinkets? My dear lady, this book has witnessed the fall of empires. Kings and queens have sealed their fates upon these pages." He paused dramatically. "But if you lack confidence in your victory..."

Ms. Hayward's eyes flashed dangerously. "I lack nothing, least of all confidence."

"Then there should be no issue," I cut in, enjoying her discomfort. "Unless the mighty guild master fears a mere 'trinket'?"

Around us, students whispered excitedly. The public challenge was impossible for her to back down from now.

"I fear nothing," Ms. Hayward hissed, her composure cracking. "Especially not you, Mr. Knight."

Broderick stepped forward. "Master, allow me to sign in your place. The terms concern our duel, after all."

I noticed the subtle relief in Ms. Hayward's eyes. She was actually trying to avoid the contract.

"No," I said firmly. "The terms are between me and Ms. Hayward. She's the one promising Isabelle's access to the bloodline awakening if I win."

Ms. Hayward's lips thinned. "My disciple speaks on my behalf. His signature carries the weight of mine."

The Man with the Mustache cleared his throat. "Actually, the book requires the principal parties to sign. Those who have the authority to fulfill the terms." He turned to me. "Liam Knight, you're offering your life and cultivation. And you, Guild Master Hayward, are offering access to your guild's sacred Mystic Realm ritual."

Ms. Hayward glared at him. "How convenient that you're such an expert on this artifact's requirements."

He shrugged, unperturbed. "I've dealt in rare artifacts for longer than you might imagine. Now, shall we proceed, or would you prefer to retract your challenge?"

Several students gasped at his boldness. No one spoke to the guild master that way.

"Proceed," she snapped.

The Man with the Mustache opened the book. The blank pages shimmered unnaturally, like water catching moonlight.

"State your terms clearly," he instructed. "The book will record them exactly as spoken."

I stepped forward first. "I, Liam Knight, agree to a formal duel against Broderick, disciple of Guild Master Hayward, one month from today. If I lose, my life and cultivation are forfeit to the Veridia City Martial Guild."

The book glowed softly, golden light tracing my words across the page.

Ms. Hayward's turn came. She hesitated, then spoke with practiced precision. "I, Selene Hayward, Master of the Veridia City Martial Guild, agree that should Liam Knight defeat my disciple Broderick in formal combat one month from today, Isabelle Ashworth will be granted access to the bloodline awakening ritual in the guild's Mystic Realm."

Her words appeared in crimson script beneath mine.

"The terms are recorded," the Man with the Mustache announced. "Now, to seal the contract, both parties must offer blood willingly."

Ms. Hayward's eyes narrowed. "Blood?"

"Just a drop," he assured her. "The book requires a physical component to bind the spiritual oath."

I bit my thumb without hesitation, drawing blood. I held it over the book, letting a single drop fall onto the page. It sizzled on contact, then vanished into the paper.

Everyone looked at Ms. Hayward expectantly.

"This is barbaric," she muttered, but I could see the real concern in her eyes. She knew this wasn't just symbolism—something powerful was happening.

Broderick stepped forward again. "Master, allow me—"

"No." She cut him off sharply. Then, with slow deliberation, she bit her finger.

A single drop of her blood—darker than normal, almost black—fell onto the page. The moment it touched the paper, a blinding flash erupted from the book.

I felt a strange sensation in my chest, like invisible threads weaving themselves around my heart. By Ms. Hayward's sharp intake of breath, I knew she felt it too.

"It is done," the Man with the Mustache declared solemnly. "The contract is sealed." He closed the book with a snap.

Ms. Hayward stepped back, visibly unsettled. "Satisfied, Mr. Knight?"

"For now," I replied coolly.

The Man with the Mustache tucked the book away and turned to address both of us. "The duel will take place one month from today, at noon. Both parties are bound by blood and soul to appear. Until then..." He paused, his eyes on Ms. Hayward. "Neither can harm the other, directly or indirectly, without breaking the contract and forfeiting their soul."

Ms. Hayward's eyes widened slightly. "That wasn't stated in the terms."

"It's a standard provision of the Heavenly Guardian Book," he replied smoothly. "Interference before the appointed time invalidates the contest."

I struggled to keep my face neutral. The crafty bastard had just ensured my safety for the next month without Ms. Hayward realizing it until too late.

"How... convenient," Ms. Hayward said through clenched teeth, clearly understanding the trap she'd fallen into.

The Man with the Mustache bowed slightly. "The book's magic is ancient and immutable, Guild Master. I merely serve as its temporary keeper."

Her eyes bored into him. "You're more than you appear, aren't you? Perhaps the guild could use someone with your... expertise."

"Me? Work for the guild?" He laughed nervously, tugging at his collar. "I'm afraid I'm rather committed to my current lifestyle of narrowly avoiding death while pursuing priceless artifacts."

"A shame," she said, though her tone suggested it was anything but. She turned to me. "Enjoy your month of preparation, Mr. Knight. It will be your last."

With that, she turned on her heel and walked away, her robes billowing behind her. Broderick lingered, giving me a long, calculating look before following his master.

As the crowd began to disperse, the Man with the Mustache let out a long breath. "Well, that went better than I expected! I half thought she'd incinerate me on the spot."

"That was brilliant," I admitted quietly. "You just bought me a month of safety."

He shrugged modestly. "The book does have that particular clause. I just... neglected to mention it until after she'd signed."

"Is it really as powerful as you claim?" I asked.

His expression turned serious. "The Heavenly Guardian Book is one of the most feared artifacts in the cultivation world. Breaking its contract doesn't just mean death—it means eternal damnation. Even the most powerful cultivators fear it."

Before I could respond, a cold voice cut in from behind us.

"Well, well. The desperate dog bares his teeth."

I turned to see Dominic Ashworth standing there, his face twisted with contempt. Frederick Cohen stood silently at his side, his expression unreadable.

"Dominic," I acknowledged flatly. "I don't have time for you right now."

"Make time," he snapped, stepping closer. "Your little display with the guild master was quite entertaining. Playing the hero for my niece? How noble."

I felt my blood beginning to boil again. "What do you want?"

"To finish what we started at the Ashworth mansion," he replied, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Before we were so rudely interrupted."

Frederick's hand moved subtly to his sword hilt. The message was clear—he would defend me if needed.

The Man with the Mustache stepped between us. "Gentlemen, perhaps this isn't the best—"

"Stay out of this," Dominic barked, shoving him aside.

I placed a restraining hand on Frederick's arm. "It's alright."

"It's not alright," Frederick growled. "This pompous fool needs to be taught a lesson."

Dominic's eyes flicked between us. "Your pet guard dog seems eager. Shall we see if he's as skilled as he is loyal?"

The golden light stirred within me again, responding to my anger. But I forced it down. I couldn't afford another confrontation today.

"Not now," I said firmly. "I have more important matters to attend to."

"Running away again?" Dominic sneered. "Just like when you fled Havenwood City with your tail between your legs."

I stepped closer to him, close enough that only he could hear my next words. "I didn't run from you, Dominic. I just had bigger problems to solve. But don't worry—your time will come."

He didn't back down. "When? Another month? A year? Or are you hoping someone else will solve your Dominic problem for you?"

I stared into his eyes, measuring him. Then I made a decision.

"One month," I said. "After I deal with the guild, I'll deal with you. Same terms as before—winner takes all rights to the Ashworth family leadership."

Dominic's eyes widened slightly, then narrowed with cruel satisfaction. "Finally showing some backbone. Fine—one month." He turned to leave, then paused. "I look forward to crushing you in front of whatever remains of my niece."

Frederick stepped forward, his hand on his sword, but I held him back.

"It's not worth it," I said quietly. "Not yet."

Dominic smirked, turning to walk away. "Fine, see you in a month."

As he disappeared from view, Frederick turned to me, his expression troubled. "You just committed to two life-or-death duels in the same month."

"I know what I'm doing," I replied, though I wasn't entirely sure that was true.

The Man with the Mustache studied me with concerned eyes. "I hope so, Liam. Because that book's magic is real, and Ms. Hayward isn't someone who takes defeat lightly."

I nodded, suddenly feeling the weight of what had just happened. In one morning, I'd managed to make enemies of two of the most powerful figures in Veridia City, and my life was now bound to a mystical contract.

But none of that mattered. Only Isabelle mattered.

As we walked away from the courtyard, I found myself touching the dragon mark on my arm. The power was growing, changing me from within. I just had to hope it would be enough—and that I could master it in time.

One month to prepare for two battles that would determine not just my fate, but Isabelle's as well.

The clock was ticking.