Rise of The Abandoned Husband

Dawn broke over the ancient valley, painting the sky in hues of amber and gold. I stood at the edge of a steep cliff, overlooking what locals called the Divine Basin—a massive depression in the earth rumored to have been created by a falling star millennia ago. If the legends were true, this was where the Ten-thousand-year-old Celestial Grass would appear.

"Are we really going down there?" The Man with the Mustache fidgeted beside me, his eyes darting nervously between the gathering cultivators below. "Because I'm seeing at least fifteen Military Marquises already. That's fifteen ways to die, Liam."

I ignored his complaints, focusing on the energy patterns rippling across the basin. "The herb will appear somewhere near the center. We need to get closer."

Clara stood silently on my other side, her gaze unusually intense as she studied the landscape. Since our conversation last night, I'd been watching her carefully, looking for any sign of the Masked Woman's influence. So far, she seemed like her normal self—if unnervingly focused.

"There's a path down the eastern slope," I said, pointing to a narrow trail winding down the cliff face. "Let's go."

We made our way down carefully, joining the growing crowd of cultivators at the basin's edge. The tension in the air was palpable—everyone eyeing each other warily, assessing threats, forming temporary alliances through subtle nods and gestures.

I kept my energy signature subdued, not wanting to attract unnecessary attention. The Noble family cultivators would arrive soon, but until then, we needed to remain inconspicuous.

"Well, well, look who decided to join the party." A familiar voice cut through my concentration.

Lowell Pauley. The arrogant young master of the Pauley Clan stood blocking our path, arms crossed and a smug smile on his face. Beside him, Preston Elliott mirrored his posture.

"Didn't expect to see you here, Knight," Preston added with mock surprise. "Treasure hunting is a game for the big boys. Shouldn't you be mixing potions somewhere?"

I kept my expression neutral. "I'm not here to play games."

"Oh? Then what are you here for?" Lowell stepped closer, his voice dropping to a threatening whisper. "Because last I checked, this herb is spoken for. The Veridia City Martial Guild has claimed it."

"I didn't see their name on it," I replied evenly.

Lowell's eyes narrowed. "You're making a mistake, Knight. Ms. Hayward herself is overseeing this operation. Do you really want to make an enemy of her?"

"She's already my enemy," I said simply.

A flash of genuine surprise crossed his face before he masked it with a sneer. "Your funeral, then." He glanced at Clara, his expression shifting to something predatory. "Though it's a shame to drag a child into your mess. Perhaps the young lady would prefer more... reliable protection?"

Clara stepped forward, her small face twisted into a scowl. "I'd rather eat dirt than stand with you, pig face."

Preston's hand twitched toward his sword, but Lowell caught his wrist. "Now, now. The little girl has spirit." He looked back at me. "Last chance, Knight. Walk away. This isn't your fight."

"I think I'll stay," I said calmly. "But you're welcome to leave."

Lowell's smile turned cold. "Remember this moment, when you're bleeding out later today." He turned, gesturing to Preston. "Come. We have better things to do than waste time on dead men walking."

As they stalked away, The Man with the Mustache let out a shaky breath. "Great. Just great. Now we've poked the hornet's nest."

"They were never going to help us anyway," I said, scanning the growing crowd. "We need to find a position closer to the center."

We pushed forward through the throng of cultivators, ignoring the hostile glares and whispered comments. I recognized many faces from The Warrior's Scroll—famous masters and young prodigies alike, all drawn by the promise of the rare herb.

We'd almost reached a promising vantage point when a hush fell over the crowd. I turned to see eight purple-robed figures entering the basin, forming a protective circle around a slender woman with hair pulled back in a severe bun.

Ms. Hayward had arrived.

Her cold eyes swept the gathering, lingering momentarily on me before moving on. She whispered something to one of her escorts, who nodded and began directing the other purple-robed cultivators to strategic positions around the basin.

"They're setting up a formation," I muttered, recognizing the pattern. "They'll try to funnel the energy when the herb appears."

"What does that mean for us?" The Man with the Mustache asked nervously.

"It means they'll get first access," I replied grimly. "Unless we can disrupt their formation at the critical moment."

Ms. Hayward broke away from her escorts and began walking directly toward us. Her purple robes rustled softly with each measured step, and the crowd parted before her like water.

"Mr. Knight," she said, her voice carrying just enough to be heard by those nearby. "I'm surprised to see you here. This event requires a certain... caliber of participant."

I met her gaze steadily. "I meet the requirements."

"Do you?" She smiled thinly. "Military Marquis status grants you entry, true. But obtaining the herb requires more than mere strength. It requires connections, influence, position." She gestured elegantly to the gathered crowd. "Look around you. Masters of ancient clans. Representatives from the Four Great Sects. Imperial envoys. Where do you fit among such company?"

Each word was calculated to diminish me in the eyes of others. I felt the stares of nearby cultivators, some curious, others dismissive.

"I don't need to fit," I replied. "I only need to succeed."

She laughed—a cold, crystalline sound devoid of humor. "Admirable confidence, Mr. Knight. Misplaced, but admirable." Her gaze shifted to Clara. "And who is this interesting young lady?"

Clara met her gaze defiantly, but remained silent.

"This is my ward," I said, placing a protective hand on Clara's shoulder. "She's here to observe."

"Is she now?" Ms. Hayward's eyes narrowed slightly. "Such unique energy for one so young. Pure dark energy body, if I'm not mistaken." She crouched down to Clara's eye level. "Young lady, you should know that the Veridia City Martial Guild has excellent programs for gifted children. We could nurture your talent properly, give you opportunities this... alchemist... simply cannot."

Clara's response was immediate and crude. She spat on the ground directly in front of Ms. Hayward's perfectly polished boots.

Ms. Hayward's expression didn't change, but the temperature around us seemed to drop several degrees. "Charming," she said as she straightened. "Such behavior confirms my assessment of your guardian's influence."

She turned back to me. "When you fail today—and you will fail, Mr. Knight—remember that your stubbornness denied this child a better future." With that parting shot, she glided away, rejoining her purple-robed escorts.

"Did you see her face?" Clara whispered gleefully. "She looked like she swallowed a lemon!"

Despite the tension, I couldn't help the small smile that tugged at my lips. "Let's focus on the task at hand. The herb should appear within the next two hours."

We continued making our way toward the center of the basin, finding a position that balanced proximity with defensibility. All around us, cultivators were doing the same—some openly displaying their strength, others concealing their true capabilities behind friendly facades.

"There's Pat Noble's people," The Man with the Mustache murmured, nodding toward a group of cultivators in understated but clearly expensive attire. "They're spreading out, just like you said they would."

I nodded. The Noble family's strategy was subtle but effective—positioning themselves to intercept rather than confront directly. If all went according to plan, they would secure the herb while the major powers were busy fighting each other.

A sudden stir in the crowd drew my attention to the basin's entrance. A tall, lean figure had appeared, moving with unhurried confidence through the parting cultivators. Even from a distance, I recognized him immediately.

"Master Baldwin Daniels," The Man with the Mustache breathed, awe evident in his voice. "The Hunter of Ancient Treasures himself."

Baldwin Daniels was a legend in treasure-seeking circles—not for his martial prowess, though he was undeniably powerful, but for his uncanny ability to predict exactly where and when treasures would appear. It was said he'd never failed to accurately locate a hidden relic, no matter how obscure the clues.

"If he's here, we're definitely in the right place," I said, watching as cultivators subtly repositioned themselves to be closer to the renowned master.

Baldwin Daniels moved to the very center of the basin, closed his eyes, and extended his hands, palms down. After a moment of perfect stillness, he began to walk with deliberate steps, his eyes still closed, guided by some invisible sense that only he possessed.

"He's doing a reading," The Man with the Mustache explained unnecessarily. "Tracking the earth's energy to pinpoint where the herb will emerge."

I watched intently as Master Daniels stopped at a spot approximately thirty yards from our position. He opened his eyes and nodded once, confirming his assessment.

Ms. Hayward immediately dispatched her purple-robed escorts to surround the area, establishing an invisible boundary that other cultivators respected—grudgingly, but still respected.

"We need to hear what he's saying," I decided. "Stay here with Clara. I'll get closer."

Before The Man with the Mustache could protest, I was moving, using the crowd as cover. I kept my head down and my energy signature subdued, carefully navigating toward the periphery of the group surrounding Master Daniels.

I'd almost reached a position where I could overhear their conversation when a purple-robed cultivator stepped directly into my path.

"This area is restricted," he said flatly.

"I just wanted to pay my respects to Master Daniels," I replied, keeping my tone respectful. "His reputation—"

"Move along," the cultivator interrupted. "Master Daniels isn't receiving visitors."

I hesitated, weighing my options. Before I could decide, Ms. Hayward's voice called out from behind her escort.

"Is there a problem?" She appeared at the cultivator's shoulder, her eyes cold as they fixed on me.

"No problem," I said smoothly. "I was hoping to speak with Master Daniels briefly."

"Master Daniels is extremely selective about his company," she replied with exaggerated patience. "And you, Mr. Knight, are not on that select list."

I looked past her to where Baldwin Daniels stood examining the ground. "Perhaps he should decide that for himself."

Ms. Hayward's smile was venomous. "He already has." She stepped closer, lowering her voice so only I could hear. "You're making a spectacle of yourself. Look around—everyone is watching the desperate alchemist clutching at straws. Is this how you want to be remembered? As a pathetic outsider begging for scraps of information?"

Her words stung more than I wanted to admit. I was indeed conscious of the many eyes watching this exchange, some with curiosity, others with thinly veiled contempt.

"Master Daniels," she called out, her voice carrying clearly. "This gentleman was hoping for a moment of your time. Would you care to speak with him?"

Baldwin Daniels looked up, his aged eyes sweeping over me with clinical detachment. After a moment of uncomfortable silence, he turned away dismissively.

"I'm busy," he said simply, returning to his examination of the ground.

The rejection was public and absolute. Nearby cultivators exchanged glances, some smirking openly at my humiliation.

"You have your answer," Ms. Hayward said with mock sympathy. "Now, please return to your... associates." She emphasized the last word with barely concealed disdain.

I had no choice but to retreat. Each step back through the crowd felt heavier than the last, weighted by the stares and whispers that followed me. By the time I returned to Clara and The Man with the Mustache, my face was burning with a mixture of anger and embarrassment.

"What happened?" Clara asked, her eyes wide with concern.

"We need another plan," I said tersely, avoiding the question. "They're not going to let us anywhere near the herb when it appears."

The Man with the Mustache glanced nervously between me and the group surrounding Master Daniels. "So what do we do now?"

I looked around the basin, reassessing our options. The Noble family cultivators had positioned themselves strategically, but they were keeping their distance from Ms. Hayward's people—waiting for the right moment to act.

"We wait," I decided, my jaw tight with determination. "And when the chaos starts—because it will—we make our move."

As I spoke, I could still feel Ms. Hayward's eyes on me from across the basin, her satisfaction at my public humiliation radiating like a physical force. She thought she'd won this round, establishing her dominance in front of the gathered powers.

Let her think that. Let them all think that.

Because when the Ten-thousand-year-old Celestial Grass finally appeared, they would learn what I was truly capable of—and what I was willing to do for the woman I loved.