Rise of The Abandoned Husband

"You must be joking." The Man with the Mustache's voice cracked as we stood at the entrance to the Immortal Bane Sect. "After everything I told you, you still brought her here?"

I glanced at Clara, who was examining a strange rune carved into the stone doorway. Her small fingers traced the ancient symbols with unusual precision.

"I made my decision," I said firmly. "Clara stays with me where I can watch her."

The truth was more complicated. Yes, his warnings about the Death Empress had disturbed me deeply. But leaving Clara behind seemed more dangerous than keeping her close. If she truly harbored the essence of such a terrifying being, better to have her where I could monitor every change.

"You don't understand what you're dealing with," he hissed, twirling his ridiculous facial hair anxiously. "In every reincarnation cycle, the masked woman has destroyed everything in her path—including those who helped her!"

"What exactly happens in these... reincarnations?" I asked, keeping my voice low.

He glanced nervously at Clara before answering. "The pattern is always the same. She awakens, kills her parents first, then systematically eliminates anyone who ever knew her."

A chill ran down my spine. "Clara's father is already dead."

"Exactly!" His eyes widened meaningfully. "And did you see her mourn? Did she shed a single tear for William Vance?"

The memory of Clara's face at her father's funeral flashed through my mind—blank, emotionless, as though she were watching a stranger's burial. At the time, I'd attributed it to shock, but now...

"She's still just a child," I insisted, though my confidence wavered.

"A child who survived nine bolts of heavenly tribulation without a scratch," he countered. "A child whose body absorbed primordial death energy like a sponge."

I had no response for that.

Clara skipped back to us, seemingly unaware of our tense conversation. "Liam, these symbols are talking to me. Is that normal?"

The Man with the Mustache shot me an alarmed look.

"What are they saying?" I asked carefully.

She tilted her head, considering. "They're saying 'welcome home.' Isn't that strange? I've never been here before."

My mouth went dry. "Yes, that's... strange."

The Immortal Bane Sect lay mostly underwater now, centuries of flooding having submerged its grand halls and courtyards. Only the highest structures remained above the surface of what locals called the Dead Lake. The sect had been abandoned long ago after a mysterious catastrophe wiped out all its disciples in a single night.

The Man with the Mustache reluctantly set up his teleportation array—a complex arrangement of ancient talismans and mysterious powders that would transport us past the flooded sections to the heart of the sect.

"Last chance to reconsider," he muttered as he activated the final rune.

I ignored him, taking Clara's hand. "Ready?"

She nodded, excitement dancing in her eyes. It was the most animated I'd seen her since the breakthrough.

The array flared to life, golden light spiraling around us. For a moment, the world blurred and twisted, my stomach lurching as reality bent. Then we were standing in a vast, dark chamber, water dripping slowly from the ceiling.

The Man with the Mustache stepped away from us immediately. "I'll secure our exit point. You two... do whatever it is you came for."

His cowardice was predictable. Once he'd disappeared down a side passage, I turned to Clara.

"We're looking for a specific tomb," I explained. "According to the records I found, it should be directly beneath the main meditation hall."

"This way." Clara pointed confidently down a corridor I hadn't even noticed.

I frowned. "How do you know?"

She blinked, momentarily confused. "I don't know. I just... feel it."

Against my better judgment, I followed her lead. She navigated the maze-like passages without hesitation, turning at precisely the right moments, avoiding traps I wouldn't have noticed until too late. It was as if she had an internal map of the entire complex.

We descended multiple stairways, each taking us deeper beneath the earth. The air grew colder, heavier with each step. Strange phosphorescent fungi provided just enough light to see by, casting everything in an eerie blue glow.

"We're close," Clara whispered after nearly an hour of walking. "Can you feel it?"

I could. A strange pressure had been building in my chest, a mixture of anticipation and dread. My cultivation sense detected powerful energy ahead—ancient and undisturbed for centuries.

Finally, we reached a massive stone door carved with intricate patterns. At its center was a familiar symbol—the same mask Clara had found in the Huge Pit.

"This is it," I said quietly.

Clara stepped forward without hesitation, placing her small palm against the door. The stone responded immediately, ancient mechanisms grinding to life. Slowly, the massive door swung inward, revealing darkness beyond.

Cold air rushed out, carrying with it the scent of age and something else—something sweet and cloying that reminded me uncomfortably of death.

"Clara, wait—" I started, but she was already stepping through the doorway.

I followed quickly, summoning a ball of golden light to illuminate our surroundings. The chamber beyond was enormous, its ceiling lost in darkness above. At its center stood a raised platform with what appeared to be an altar or throne.

Clara moved toward it as if in a trance.

"Be careful," I warned, scanning the room for traps. "We don't know what—"

My words died as the ground beneath us suddenly trembled. A low rumbling filled the chamber, rising quickly to a howl. From somewhere deep below, a powerful wind erupted, swirling around the room with unnatural precision.

It ignored me completely, focusing entirely on Clara.

"Clara!" I shouted as the wind engulfed her, forming a whirlwind that lifted her small body off the ground.

Her eyes widened in surprise rather than fear. The wind seemed to speak—a thousand whispers blending into an unintelligible chorus. Within the vortex, Clara's expression changed, her childlike features shifting subtly into something older, more refined.

"Clara!" I called again, trying to push through the whirlwind. My golden energy flared protectively around me, but the wind pushed back with equal force.

Within the vortex, Clara's eyes slowly closed, her head tilting back as if in rapture. The air around her began to shimmer with that same white energy I'd seen during her breakthrough—primordial death energy, according to the Man with the Mustache.

I pushed harder against the barrier, channeling more power into my golden light. "Clara! Answer me!"

No response. Her small body hung suspended in the swirling energy, face now hidden in shadows. The whispering grew louder, more insistent, though I still couldn't make out the words.

Was I witnessing the awakening the Man with the Mustache had warned me about? Was I losing Clara to the ancient entity he called the Death Empress?

Fear gripped me—not for myself, but for the innocent girl I'd sworn to protect. What had I done by bringing her here?

"Clara!" I shouted one more time, throwing all my power against the barrier.

The whirlwind suddenly contracted, collapsing inward with such force that it created a vacuum that nearly pulled me off my feet. When my vision cleared, Clara was standing on the platform, perfectly still, her back to me.

Something had changed. I could feel it in the air, see it in the way she held herself. The childlike posture was gone, replaced by an elegant poise that seemed impossible for her small frame.

"Clara?" I asked cautiously, taking a step forward.

She turned slowly, and my heart stopped.

Her face remained in shadow despite my golden light. All I could see clearly were her eyes—and they were no longer the innocent eyes of Clara Vance.

They were ancient, knowing, and completely, terrifyingly black.