Rise of The Abandoned Husband

Chapter 528 - 528 - Clara's Startling Proposal

## Liam's Perspective

"My son will grind that upstart into dust," Corbin Ashworth declared, swirling brandy in his crystal glass. "The wedding will proceed exactly as planned."

Dashiell Blackthorne's lips curled into a cruel smile. "I've already killed a Martial Marquis in single combat. What chance does a Half-step Marquis have against me?"

Their confident laughter echoed through the Blackthorne mansion.

Meanwhile, I sat cross-legged in Eamon's underground chamber, frustration burning through me. Ten days of intense cultivation had brought me to the precipice of the Martial Marquis realm. I had the power, the energy, the qi. Everything was in place.

But the breakthrough wouldn't come.

"Dammit!" I slammed my fist into the stone floor. Cracks spiderwebbed outward from the impact.

I'd absorbed all the dark energy from the Yin Side. My meridians were packed with qi, straining against their limits. Yet the final threshold remained just out of reach.

A knock on the door broke my concentration.

"Liam?" Eamon's voice called through the reinforced barrier. "It's been three days since you last ate. You need to take a break."

I uncrossed my legs and stood, muscles protesting after days of stillness. My disappointment was a bitter taste in my mouth.

"Coming," I answered, my voice hoarse from disuse.

When I opened the door, Eamon's eyes widened. "You look like hell."

"Feel like it too," I muttered, following him upstairs.

In Eamon's dining room, I found a gathering of concerned faces. Adrian Whitlock, his usually immaculate appearance slightly disheveled. Conrad Thornton, arms crossed, frowning at me. William Vance, radiating worried energy. And his daughter Clara, her young face lined with distress.

"The walking dead appears," Conrad remarked, his gruff tone masking concern.

I collapsed into a chair. "Still not dead."

Eamon placed a steaming plate before me. "Eat. Then talk."

I devoured the food mechanically, barely tasting it. The others watched in silence.

Adrian finally broke the tension. "Any progress?"

I swallowed before answering. "I've hit a wall. I have the power for the Martial Marquis realm, but I can't break through."

"How close?" Adrian pressed.

"Millimeters from the threshold," I replied. "But those millimeters might as well be miles."

William Vance leaned forward. "The wedding is in three days, Liam."

As if I needed the reminder. Every passing second was another tick of the clock counting down to Isabelle's misery.

"I know," I said through clenched teeth.

"Dashiell killed Jin Zhao last week," Conrad added grimly. "A full Martial Marquis with thirty years of experience."

The table fell silent. We'd all heard the news. Dashiell Blackthorne had challenged the seasoned Martial Marquis to a public duel and slaughtered him in minutes.

"I'm going anyway," I stated flatly.

Everyone stared at me.

"That's suicide," Eamon protested.

I met his gaze steadily. "I promised Isabelle I would come for her."

"You'll die," Conrad said bluntly.

"Probably," I agreed. "But I'll make it to the altar first."

Clara's hands trembled as she clutched her teacup. "There has to be another way."

Adrian shook his head slowly. "Breaking through to Martial Marquis isn't just about accumulating power. It requires an epiphany, an opportunity. Something that transforms your understanding of energy."

"I don't have time for epiphanies," I snapped. "Isabelle's wedding is in three days."

"Then you'll face Dashiell as you are," Adrian stated simply. "Half-step Martial Marquis against a true Martial Marquis who just killed one of his own rank."

The blunt assessment hung heavy in the air.

Clara abruptly stood, her chair scraping loudly. "Excuse me," she whispered, rushing from the room.

William sighed. "She's very attached to both you and Isabelle. This situation is hard on her."

I nodded, guilt adding to my burden. Clara was young, barely sixteen. She shouldn't have to worry about life and death battles.

"When do you leave for Veridia City?" Eamon asked.

"Tomorrow morning," I replied. "I need to scope out the cathedral before the ceremony."

We finished the meal in somber silence. These might be the last moments we shared together. No one said it, but everyone knew.

After dinner, I returned to my room to pack what little I owned. My jade pendant. A few weapons. The healing elixirs I'd created.

A soft knock interrupted me.

"Come in," I called.

Clara Vance slipped into the room, closing the door behind her. Her face was pale, her eyes red-rimmed.

"Liam," she began hesitantly. "Can we talk? Alone?"

I gestured to the chair by the desk. "What's on your mind?"

Instead of sitting, she paced nervously. "You can't die," she stated, as if declaring it would make it fact.

"I'll do my best to avoid it," I replied with a weak smile.

"That's not good enough!" Her sudden intensity startled me. "Isabelle needs you. I need you."

I sighed. "Clara, I appreciate the concern, but—"

"There's a way," she blurted out. "A way for you to break through to Martial Marquis before the wedding."

That stopped me cold. "What are you talking about?"

Clara took a deep breath. "You know about my... condition."

I nodded slowly. Clara's "pure dark energy body" was rare and dangerous. She naturally absorbed dark energy from her surroundings.

"What about it?"

She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "There's a technique. An ancient method for rapid advancement when two complementary energy types meet."

Understanding dawned, sending a chill down my spine. "Dual cultivation."

She nodded, her cheeks flushing. "Your Chaotic Body can handle both light and dark energies. My body is pure dark energy. Together..."

"Clara, no," I cut her off sharply. "You're sixteen. I'm not going to—"

"I'm offering energy transfer, not my virtue!" she snapped, embarrassment making her fierce. "There are ways to dual cultivate without... that."

I ran a hand through my hair, conflicted. "Even still, it's dangerous. For both of us."

"More dangerous than facing Dashiell Blackthorne as a Half-step Martial Marquis?" she challenged.

She had a point. T%hi@s is [email protected] of a s$e@ries$ f!r&o.m My Virt*ua%l& Library E&m.p&ir!e ($*)-.

Clara approached, determination in her eyes. "I've studied the technique. My father's ancient scrolls describe it. Your Chaotic Body needs balance between light and dark to advance. I can provide the dark element in concentrated form."

"And what happens to you during this process?" I demanded. "What's the risk to you?"

She hesitated just long enough for me to know there was significant danger.

"Clara..."

"I might be unconscious for a few days," she admitted. "My energy will be depleted. But I'll recover."

I shook my head. "I can't let you risk yourself for me."

"It's not just for you!" Her eyes flashed. "It's for Isabelle too! And if you die, what happens to all of us who depend on you?"

Her words hit harder than any physical blow.

"Please, Liam," she whispered. "Let me help you. Let me give you this chance."

I stared at her—this brave, foolish girl willing to risk herself to save others. The offer was tempting. Too tempting.

"How would it work?" I asked finally.

Clara's expression brightened with hope. "We sit facing each other. I channel my dark energy into you while you stabilize with your light energy. The combination should trigger the breakthrough you need."

It sounded simple. Too simple. "And the risks?"

"If my energy overwhelms you, you could lose control of your Chaotic Body," she admitted. "And if you take too much from me..."

She didn't finish the sentence. She didn't need to.

I closed my eyes, weighing Isabelle's fate against Clara's safety. An impossible choice.

"Liam," Clara said softly, placing her hand on mine. "I'm offering this freely. Let me help save Isabelle. Let me help save you."

I opened my eyes to find her watching me intently. In that moment, she seemed far older than her sixteen years.

"If I sense any danger to you, we stop immediately," I said firmly.

Clara nodded, relief washing over her face. "Thank you. We should begin now. There's not much time left."

As she began arranging the room for the ritual, moving furniture to create space, I wondered if I was making the biggest mistake of my life.

Or perhaps, accepting the only chance I had left to save the woman I loved.

Clara sat cross-legged on the floor and looked up at me, her young face solemn with purpose.

"Are you ready?" she asked.

I took my position across from her, our knees nearly touching.

"I'm ready," I replied, bracing myself for whatever would come.

"Then take my hands," she instructed, extending her palms toward me. "And whatever happens, don't let go."