Rise of The Abandoned Husband

Chapter 611 - 611 - A Hero's Stand Against a Resurfacing Darkness

I struck the beast core with all my might, feeling its energy surge through my body like lightning. This was the seventh core I'd consumed in as many days. My meridians burned with raw power, but I welcomed the pain. Pain meant progress.

The chamber around me trembled as my energy levels soared. Dust rained from the ceiling, ancient stone groaning under the pressure of my cultivation.

"Almost there," I muttered, wiping blood from my nose.

Consuming beast cores directly was dangerous—potentially fatal—but I had no choice. Each core pushed me closer to breaking through my current cultivation level, closer to escaping this prison.

I'd lost track of time completely. Days? Weeks? It didn't matter. Only power mattered now.

The final beast core sat before me, pulsing with energy. Grade eight—the highest I possessed. Consuming it could either elevate my power dramatically or kill me outright.

"Well, Isabelle," I whispered to the emptiness, "I promised I'd come back to you. One way or another."

I placed the core against my lips and began to absorb its essence. Immediately, my body convulsed. The rush of power was overwhelming, like trying to channel a raging river through a drinking straw.

My vision blurred as crimson lines spread across my skin—meridians threatening to rupture. I gritted my teeth, focusing every ounce of my will on controlling the wild energy.

When the final tremor subsided, I rose slowly to my feet. Power radiated from me in visible waves, distorting the air itself.

I approached the ancient door, the one that had defied all my previous attempts. This time would be different.

I placed both palms against the cold stone and pushed.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, with the sound of grinding stone that had stood unmoved for centuries, the door began to open.

I stepped forward into freedom, my eyes narrowing as they adjusted to light for the first time in what felt like an eternity.

"Isabelle," I whispered, "I'm coming home."

---

Frederick Cohen wiped blood from his face as he stood in the courtyard of Jade Moon Villa. His breath came in ragged gasps, each one sending spikes of pain through his broken ribs.

Across from him, Dudley Lowell smiled—that unsettling, feminine smile that didn't belong on the face Frederick remembered.

"You've improved since our last encounter," Dudley said, his voice carrying that strange dual tone. "But not nearly enough."

Frederick spat blood onto the stone tiles. "You won't set foot inside this villa while I still breathe."

"That," Dudley replied, "can be arranged."

The Black Gold Stones at Dudley's waist pulsed with malevolent energy. Frederick could feel their power from across the courtyard—ancient, hungry, corrupt.

Behind him, the remaining disciples of Jade Moon Villa had formed a defensive line. Most were wounded already from Dudley's initial assault. They wouldn't last long if Frederick fell.

"Run," Frederick called to them over his shoulder. "All of you. I'll hold him here."

"We won't abandon you," Phoebe Reeves replied, her voice steady despite the fear in her eyes.

Frederick's heart swelled with pride and sorrow. They were loyal, these disciples of Liam Knight. Too loyal for their own good.

"This isn't your fight," he insisted.

"Jade Moon Villa is our home," Eamon Greene answered, stepping forward with blood running down his arm. "That makes it our fight."

Dudley laughed, the sound like breaking glass. "How touching. You can all die together."

The Black Gold Stones flared again, and Dudley's form seemed to blur. Frederick had faced many opponents in his long life, but never one like this—a fighter who seemed to exist partially outside reality itself.

"What has Julian done to you?" Frederick asked, buying seconds to regain his breath.

Dudley's smile widened. "Julian? He merely opened the door. My true master has given me far more."

Before Frederick could respond, Dudley attacked. One moment he stood twenty paces away; the next, he was directly in front of Frederick, palm striking toward his heart.

Frederick barely blocked in time, the impact sending him skidding backward. His arms burned from the contact—whatever energy Dudley wielded, it corroded everything it touched.

"You're no longer human," Frederick gasped, seeing the black veins spreading across Dudley's neck.

"I am becoming something better," Dudley replied. "Something this world hasn't seen in millennia."

Frederick launched his counterattack, drawing on his decades of combat experience. His fists glowed with golden energy as he unleashed his most powerful technique—the Nine Heavenly Palms.

For a moment, it seemed to work. Dudley staggered under the onslaught, black ichor seeping from wounds that opened across his chest.

Then the Black Gold Stones pulsed once more. Dudley's wounds sealed instantly, black veins spreading further across his skin.

"Is that all?" Dudley taunted, his voice changing, becoming more feminine with each word. "The legendary Frederick Cohen, reduced to this?"

Frederick knew he was outmatched. Whatever dark power flowed through those stones, it was beyond anything he could counter.

But he wouldn't yield. Not with the disciples of Jade Moon Villa behind him. Not when he had promised Liam he would protect what he had built.

"Everyone," Frederick called out, "formation three!"

The disciples moved instantly, arranging themselves in a specific pattern around the courtyard. It was a desperate gambit—a combined attack Liam had taught them for situations exactly like this.

"How quaint," Dudley sneered, seemingly unimpressed.

Frederick closed his eyes briefly, centering himself. When he opened them again, determination hardened his gaze.

"Now!" he shouted.

Golden energy surged from each disciple, flowing like rivers toward Frederick. He became the focal point, the conductor for their combined strength.

For a brilliant moment, Frederick glowed like a second sun. The pain of his injuries vanished as raw power coursed through him.

Dudley's smirk faltered for the first time. "Interesting."

Frederick didn't waste breath on words. He struck with everything he had, everything the disciples had given him.

The impact was catastrophic. Stone tiles shattered beneath their feet. Windows throughout the villa cracked from the shockwave.

When the dust settled, Frederick stood over Dudley's prone form, his chest heaving with exertion.

"It's over," he gasped.

But it wasn't.

The Black Gold Stones pulsed once more, brighter than before. Black tendrils emerged from them, wrapping around Dudley's limbs, lifting him upright even as he should have been unconscious—or dead.

"A commendable effort," said a voice that was no longer Dudley's at all. "But futile."

The counterattack came with unimaginable speed and ferocity. Frederick raised his arms to block, but the dark energy passed through his defenses as if they weren't there.

Pain exploded through his chest as Dudley's hand—now more claw than human appendage—punched clean through his ribcage.

The disciples screamed in horror as Frederick collapsed to his knees, blood pouring from the gaping wound.

Dudley withdrew his hand with a sickening squelch, examining Frederick's blood as it dripped from his fingers. "Beautiful," he whispered, before licking it from his skin.

Frederick tried to rise, to continue fighting, but his body wouldn't respond. Through blurring vision, he saw the disciples rushing forward, throwing themselves at Dudley in desperate rage.

They didn't stand a chance. Dudley moved among them like a dancer, each strike precise and lethal. Bodies fell one by one.

"No," Frederick choked out, forcing himself to his knees through sheer willpower. "Stop!"

Dudley paused, turning back to Frederick with amusement. "Still conscious? Impressive." Content first released on *.

The disciples who could still move had formed a protective circle around their fallen comrades. Their faces showed terror, but none fled.

"Leave them," Frederick pleaded, blood bubbling from his lips. "They're just children."

"Children grow into threats," Dudley replied coldly. "My master has been quite clear about that."

Frederick managed to stand, swaying on his feet, blood soaking the front of his robes. "Who is your master?" he demanded. "Not Julian. Not anymore."

A strange smile twisted Dudley's face. "You've met her already. The Lady in the Mask."

Frederick's blood ran cold. Ancient legends, stories told in hushed whispers among the highest echelons of cultivators—they spoke of such a being.

"The Void Empress," Frederick whispered in horror.

Dudley's smile widened. "So you do know. Good. You can die with understanding."

With blinding speed, Dudley closed the distance between them. Frederick tried to defend himself, but his movements were sluggish, his strength fading.

A savage blow sent him crashing through one of the villa's support pillars. He landed in a heap of broken stone and splintered wood, coughing blood onto the courtyard tiles.

"Frederick Cohen," Dudley announced, standing over him, "once called the Guardian Lion. Look at you now. A mangy cat awaiting the final stroke."

Through the haze of pain, Frederick saw something that Dudley didn't—a flicker of movement at the villa's main gate. A shadow passing through the entrance.

Hope flared in his failing heart.

"You talk too much," Frederick spat, buying seconds with his defiance.

Dudley laughed that unnatural laugh again. "Perhaps. But our conversation is at its end."

He raised his hand, now twisted into something barely human, dark energy coalescing around his fingertips.

"Frederick Cohen... don't worry, I'll send you on your way right now!"

Just as the killing blow began its descent, a blinding golden light flooded the courtyard. Dudley's attack halted mid-strike, his body suddenly frozen in place.

A voice thundered across the villa grounds, a voice Frederick had feared he would never hear again:

"Touch him, and I will tear you apart piece by piece."

Liam Knight stood at the entrance to the courtyard, radiating power unlike anything Frederick had ever felt before.

Dudley's face contorted with shock and rage. "Impossible! You were trapped!"

"I was," Liam replied, his eyes burning with golden fire. "I'm not anymore."

Human body cannot withstand long without spiritual energy. Dudley Lowell was going to die, as Frederick Cohen stood against a resurfacing darkness.