Rise of The Abandoned Husband

I couldn't help but smirk as Ms. Hayward's face twisted with shock at Master Zhou's words. The realization that her prized herb was only five thousand years old—half the age she'd assumed—was clearly a devastating blow.

"Five thousand?" she sputtered, staring incredulously at the crystal box in her hands. "That's impossible!"

Baldwin Daniels looked equally shaken. He stepped forward, his voice cracking slightly. "Master Zhou must be mistaken. My divination pointed clearly to a ten-thousand-year-old herb in that location!"

Master Zhou merely shrugged, his weathered face impassive. "Divination is an art, not a science. The herb speaks for itself."

The Man with the Mustache nudged me discreetly, a hint of nervousness still evident in his posture despite our victory. "Let's go while they're distracted," he whispered. "Before this turns ugly."

I nodded slightly, but kept my attention on Ms. Hayward. Something about her reaction seemed off. The initial shock was giving way too quickly to calculation.

"Nevertheless," Ms. Hayward said, her voice regaining its usual cold confidence, "a five-thousand-year-old herb is still valuable. The Guild will be pleased."

She snapped the crystal box shut with unnecessary force, her eyes never leaving our jade container. "Enjoy your find while you can, Liam Knight. Remember that treasures bring attention—not all of it welcome."

With that thinly veiled threat hanging in the air, she signaled her group to withdraw. Baldwin Daniels lingered a moment longer, his gaze burning with resentment before he too turned away.

"That was strange," I murmured as I watched them leave. "She accepted defeat too easily."

Guy Noble nodded in agreement. "Ms. Hayward isn't known for her gracious losing. Stay alert."

We carefully packed our equipment, the precious jade container now secured in a special pouch against my chest. Master Zhou had departed shortly after Ms. Hayward, offering only a cryptic warning: "True treasures attract true dangers. Guard it well."

As we made our way back toward the mountain path that would lead us out of the basin, Clara suddenly tugged at my sleeve.

"Someone's watching us," she whispered, her eyes darting toward a cluster of rocks to our right.

I tensed, scanning the area carefully. "Where?"

Before she could answer, a commotion erupted from the eastern side of the basin—the direction Ms. Hayward's group had headed earlier.

"Not again," the Man with the Mustache groaned, his hand automatically moving to his weapon.

We paused, listening to distant shouts that quickly turned to screams. Guy Noble signaled to his cultivators, who formed a protective circle around us.

"What's happening?" Clara asked, pressing closer to my side.

I shook my head. "I don't know, but—"

My words died in my throat as Ms. Hayward herself came racing over the ridge, her normally composed face contorted with panic. Behind her, several of her followers ran in similar disarray, including a limping Baldwin Daniels.

"Ambush!" Guy hissed, drawing his sword. "Prepare yourselves!"

But no attackers appeared. Instead, Ms. Hayward's group fled past us without even a glance, racing toward the basin exit as if demons were at their heels.

The Man with the Mustache's eyes widened. "What in the world could scare the Veridia City Martial Guild like that?"

"Whatever it is, I don't want to meet it," I replied grimly. "Let's move."

We quickened our pace, the unnatural silence that had fallen over the eastern ridge sending shivers down my spine. Clara kept glancing backward, her small face pinched with worry.

Three hours later, we made camp in a small clearing, far enough from the basin to feel relatively safe. Guy's cultivators established a perimeter while the Man with the Mustache fussed over our cooking fire.

"Should we check the herb again?" Guy suggested quietly as we sat beside the fire. "After all that excitement..."

I nodded and carefully withdrew the jade container from its pouch. Opening it just enough to peek inside, I felt a wave of relief wash over me. The True Celestial Grass lay undisturbed, its gentle glow pulsing steadily.

"Still perfect," I confirmed.

Guy relaxed visibly. "Good. My father will be pleased."

After a simple meal, Clara drifted off to sleep beside the fire. Guy's cultivators took turns standing watch, while the Man with the Mustache fidgeted nervously with his dagger.

"Something's been bothering me," I finally said, turning to him. "You were the one who insisted we wait in the southeast corner of the basin, even when all signs pointed east."

The Man with the Mustache tugged at his facial hair, a habit I'd noticed emerged whenever he was uncomfortable or hiding something.

"Well, you see," he began hesitantly, "I've hunted ancient herbs before. There are... patterns."

Guy leaned forward, his interest piqued. "What kind of patterns?"

"The older and more valuable the herb, the more cunning it becomes," the Man with the Mustache explained. "They develop... intelligence, of a sort. Survival mechanisms."

I frowned. "You're saying the herb deliberately misled us?"

"Not us specifically," he clarified. "But yes, the most ancient herbs often use lesser specimens as decoys."

"That's why you stopped me from telling Ms. Hayward about her herb's true age," I realized suddenly. "You knew all along it was only five thousand years old."

The Man with the Mustache nodded, looking slightly embarrassed. "I suspected. The timing was too perfect—a spectacular emergence just as we were settling in to wait? Classic diversion tactic."

Guy stared at him incredulously. "You mean to tell me that herbs... plants... can strategize?"

"Ten thousand years of absorbing spiritual energy changes things," the Man with the Mustache replied solemnly. "The truly ancient ones develop awareness. They don't want to be harvested."

I thought about this, remembering the gentle pulse of energy I'd felt from our herb. "So the five-thousand-year-old herb was a sacrifice? The ten-thousand-year-old one sent it out to be discovered?"

"More or less," the Man with the Mustache confirmed. "The younger one gains valuable nutrients and protection from the older one during its growth. When danger approaches—like us—it serves as a distraction."

"But how did you know the real herb would be in the southeast?" Guy pressed.

The Man with the Mustache smiled smugly. "Ancient texts mention that the True Celestial Grass always grows in opposition to its decoy. If the distraction appears in the east—"

"The real herb will be in the west or south," I finished, understanding dawning. "You split the difference."

He nodded, clearly pleased with himself. "Exactly! And it worked perfectly."

"But what happened to Ms. Hayward's group?" Clara asked sleepily from her bedroll, apparently not as deeply asleep as we'd thought.

The Man with the Mustache's expression darkened. "That's what worries me. Sometimes, the decoy herb isn't the only protection mechanism."

"What do you mean?" I asked, a chill running down my spine.

"Ancient herbs often attract guardians," he explained reluctantly. "Spiritual beasts that protect them from harvesting. Usually, they attack whoever takes the real herb, but..."

"But what?"

He tugged nervously at his mustache again. "But sometimes, if the decoy is taken and the real herb is still threatened, they'll attack whoever has the decoy first."

Guy sat up straight, his hand moving to his sword. "You think something attacked Ms. Hayward's group?"

"It would explain their panic," I mused, recalling their terrified expressions.

The Man with the Mustache nodded grimly. "And if I'm right, whatever scared them might come for us next."

We sat in tense silence for a moment, the implications sinking in. Finally, I spoke.

"We need to move faster," I decided. "Get back to the city as quickly as possible."

Guy nodded in agreement. "We'll break camp at first light."

As the others settled in for the night, I volunteered for the first watch. Sitting with my back against a tree, I kept the jade container close, occasionally checking its precious contents.

The True Celestial Grass continued its gentle pulsing, almost like a heartbeat. Looking at it now, knowing what the Man with the Mustache had told us, I couldn't help but wonder—was it aware? Did it know we had taken it from its home?

"You're quite the strategist," I whispered to the herb. "Sacrificing your younger cousin to save yourself."

For just a moment, I could have sworn the herb's glow intensified slightly, as if in response.

The night passed slowly, each sound in the darkness keeping me on edge. When dawn finally broke, we quickly packed up camp and continued our journey, moving at a much faster pace than before.

"How long until we reach the city?" Clara asked, struggling a bit to keep up with our brisk pace.

"Another day at least," Guy replied, scanning the horizon warily. "Less if we push hard."

The Man with the Mustache suddenly froze, his head tilted as if listening. "Wait," he whispered urgently. "Do you hear that?"

We all stopped, straining our ears. At first, I heard nothing but the usual forest sounds—birds, rustling leaves, the distant gurgle of a stream. Then I caught it—a faint rhythmic thudding, like heavy footsteps, coming from behind us.

"Something's following us," Guy confirmed, his voice tight.

The Man with the Mustache's face had gone pale. "We need to run. Now."

"What is it?" I demanded, even as I took Clara's hand, preparing to flee.

His eyes met mine, wide with genuine terror. "If it's what I think it is—a Guardian Beast—we don't want to find out."

The thudding grew louder, accompanied now by the crack of breaking branches.

"Run!" Guy commanded, and we all burst into motion, racing through the forest as if our lives depended on it—because they very well might.

As we ran, I clutched the jade container tightly, feeling the herb's energy pulse against my chest. What had we gotten ourselves into? Had the herb deliberately lured us into this danger?

"Wait!" the Man with the Mustache called suddenly, skidding to a halt so abruptly that I nearly collided with him.

"What are you doing?" I gasped, ready to drag him forward by force if necessary.

He turned to me, his eyes bright with sudden realization. "The herb! The real one—it's not in that container!"

"What?" I stared at him in disbelief. "Of course it is. I've checked it multiple times."

He shook his head frantically. "No, no, you don't understand. That's another decoy—a better one! The real ten-thousand-year-old herb is still back where we were waiting. It's still coming!"