Rise of The Abandoned Husband

Chapter 650 - 650 - The Crimson Spectacle and a Hero's Entrance

The golden morning light streamed through the tall windows of The Aegis Academy, illuminating the polished white stone of the ceremonial hall. I stood hidden among the shadows of a service corridor, my breath steady despite the rage building inside me. After weeks of searching, planning, and healing, I was finally close enough to see her.

Isabelle.

The hall was filling with Veridia City's elite – young aristocrats in expensive robes chattering excitedly as they took their seats around a circular altar. At the center of this grotesque theater hung the woman I loved.

They had suspended her from a metal frame, arms stretched overhead in cruel restraints. Clear tubes ran from her body to collection vessels positioned strategically around the platform. Her once vibrant face was now ashen, dark circles framing eyes that stared vacantly at nothing. They'd dressed her in a thin white gown that emphasized her frailty, making her appear more like a sacrificial offering than a person.

"Quite the spectacle, isn't it?" Dominic Ashworth's voice carried across the hall as he addressed the gathered audience. "Welcome to the first Ashworth Blood Ceremony. Today marks a historic opportunity for Veridia City's finest young talents."

I clenched my fists so hard my knuckles turned white. Last night's rescue attempt had failed spectacularly – Mariana and I had been detected before we even reached the maintenance shaft. The Guild had anticipated every approach, forcing us to retreat and regroup. Now, I was alone, having insisted Mariana stay behind. This final, desperate gambit would be mine alone.

"Some of you may wonder why we've gathered for this unusual demonstration," Dominic continued, his voice smooth with practiced charm. "The answer is simple – power. True power, derived from the purest Ashworth bloodline."

He gestured grandly toward Isabelle. "My cousin possesses genetic qualities unmatched by any living cultivator. For generations, our family has protected and nurtured this bloodline. Now, under the guidance of Guild President Bancroft, we share its benefits with Veridia City's most promising talents."

My eyes scanned the room, cataloging enemies. Dominic stood front and center, playing master of ceremonies. To his right was Darian Bancroft, the Guild President whose orders had authorized Isabelle's torture. Guild enforcers lined the walls, at least thirty of them, their expressions vigilant. And scattered throughout the audience, I recognized several faces from the young aristocracy – including Dashiell Blackthorne, whose cold smile suggested he was enjoying Isabelle's suffering.

"Is this... ethical?" A female voice rose from the crowd. I recognized Daphne Grenville, daughter of the Commerce Guild leader. "She doesn't appear to be a willing participant."

Dominic's smile didn't falter. "My cousin understands her duty to family and city. The temporary discomfort she experiences is nothing compared to the advancements her contribution enables."

"Temporary discomfort?" Daphne persisted. "She looks half-dead."

"I assure you, the procedure is carefully monitored," Darian Bancroft interjected. "Miss Ashworth receives the finest care between extractions."

Lies. I had witnessed the truth of their "care" firsthand during my brief infiltration of their facility. The memory of Isabelle's cell – sterile and cold, with medical equipment designed for efficiency rather than comfort – still haunted me.

"If there are no further questions," Dominic said with thinly veiled impatience, "President Bancroft will explain today's demonstration."

Bancroft stepped forward, his tall frame commanding immediate attention. "Distinguished guests, what you witness today is the culmination of months of research. The Ashworth bloodline contains unique properties that dramatically accelerate cultivation. Many of Veridia City's martial artists already benefit from diluted forms of this resource."

My stomach turned. Resource. That's all she was to them – a resource to be harvested.

Bancroft continued, "Today's extraction will be more comprehensive than our usual procedures, allowing you to observe the full process. Afterward, selected participants will receive samples for immediate application." Enjoying the story? Find more at *.

I watched as technicians moved around Isabelle, adjusting equipment. One of them pressed something against her neck, causing her body to jerk slightly. Her eyes fluttered, suddenly more alert – they were forcing her to remain conscious for the spectacle.

"Liam..." I heard her whisper, though her voice was too faint for others to catch. "Liam..."

She was calling for me, even now. The realization nearly broke my restraint.

A petite figure approached Isabelle – Daphne Grenville had left her seat and climbed onto the platform despite the disapproving glares of the Guild enforcers.

"Are you all right?" Daphne asked softly. "Can I get you water?"

Isabelle's cracked lips moved slightly. "Liam Knight... is he..."

"He's safe," Daphne lied, her eyes kind despite the deception. "Don't worry about him."

Relief flickered across Isabelle's face, and something in my chest constricted painfully. Even in her torment, her concern was for me.

"Miss Grenville," Bancroft called sharply, "please return to your seat. The demonstration is about to begin."

Daphne hesitated, then squeezed Isabelle's hand before complying. As she descended from the platform, her eyes swept the shadows where I hid, almost as if she sensed my presence.

"Now," Bancroft announced, "we begin the extraction."

A technician adjusted a dial, and the tubes connected to Isabelle's body began to fill with crimson. Her face contorted in pain, though she didn't scream – either from pride or lack of strength, I couldn't tell. The collected blood glowed faintly as it filled the vessels, an unnatural luminescence that spoke of power beyond ordinary human limits.

"The extraction process activates latent energies within the bloodline," Bancroft explained clinically. "This activation is what causes temporary discomfort but also what makes the final product so effective."

Temporary discomfort. The euphemism for torture made my vision blur with rage.

"As you can see," Dominic added, "the luminescence indicates potency. Today's batch is particularly powerful."

In the audience, most of the young aristocrats leaned forward with interest, their momentary ethical concerns forgotten in the face of potential power gain. A few looked uncomfortable – Daphne among them – but none moved to intervene.

Isabelle's face grew increasingly pale as more blood drained from her body. Her eyes, which had briefly shown alertness, began to dull again. Her lips moved silently, perhaps in prayer, perhaps calling my name.

"We'll proceed to distribute samples once the primary extraction is complete," Bancroft continued. "Those selected will—"

"How much more can she take?" Daphne interrupted again, her voice tight with distress. "She's turning gray!"

"The Ashworth bloodline has remarkable regenerative properties," Dominic replied dismissively. "We've conducted extensive testing to determine safe extraction limits."

Another lie. I had seen their research notes during my infiltration – they were pushing her far beyond safe limits, gambling that her bloodline would keep her alive just long enough to serve their purposes.

Isabelle's body suddenly convulsed, her back arching painfully against her restraints. A technician hurried forward, checking monitors and muttering to Bancroft.

"Increase the stimulant dosage," Bancroft ordered quietly. "We can't have her losing consciousness during the demonstration."

The technician complied, injecting something into one of the tubes. Isabelle's eyes flew open, her expression one of sheer agony as the chemicals forced her awareness through the pain.

That was the moment my restraint finally shattered.

"DARIAN BANCROFT, YOU MOTHERFUCKER!" My voice thundered through the hall as I burst from my hiding place, black energy crackling around my clenched fists.

The elegant gathering dissolved into chaos. Aristocrats scrambled from their seats, screaming and shoving to escape the path of my fury. Guild enforcers rushed forward, drawing weapons as they moved to intercept me.

I didn't slow down. Every technique, every ounce of power I'd cultivated focused into a single purpose – reaching Isabelle.

"Knight!" Bancroft's shocked voice carried over the commotion. "Seize him immediately!"

The first wave of enforcers reached me, their weapons glinting in the morning light. I didn't bother drawing my sword – these men weren't worth the effort. My fist connected with the first enforcer's chest, the impact sending him flying backward into three of his colleagues. A second tried to flank me, but a sidekick shattered his knee before he could complete the movement.

"Liam..." Isabelle's voice, weak but filled with hope, cut through the noise of battle.

Her voice fueled me, each syllable adding strength to my limbs as I carved a path toward the platform. Guild enforcers fell before me like wheat before a scythe – bodies tumbling, bones breaking, blood spattering across the pristine white stone.

"All elite forces, converge on the main hall!" Bancroft was shouting into a communication talisman. "The target has appeared!"

Dominic Ashworth had retreated behind a wall of guards, his face twisted with fear and rage. "Kill him! Kill Knight now!"

I laughed – a cold, deadly sound that echoed through the hall. "You had your chance to kill me when I was weak," I called to him as I dispatched another enforcer with a brutal elbow strike. "That opportunity has passed."

More guards poured through the entrance doors, elite fighters judging by their uniforms. I glanced up at Isabelle – still suspended, still connected to those horrific tubes, but her eyes were now locked on mine, a fragile hope kindling in their depths.

"Hold on," I called to her. "I'm coming."

An enforcer's blade sliced toward my neck, but I caught his wrist, crushing it before hurling him into his approaching colleagues. Another tried to hit me with a fire technique, but I dissipated the flames with a pulse of my own energy before driving my fist into his solar plexus.

"Knight possesses forbidden techniques!" Bancroft shouted. "Use suppression talismans!"

Several enforcers produced glowing yellow tags, activating them with quick incantations. I felt the pressure immediately – a heavy weight designed to crush cultivation energy – but my rage burned too hot to be suppressed. I pushed forward despite their efforts, leaving broken bodies in my wake.

I was halfway to the platform when Dashiell Blackthorne stepped into my path, a cruel smile on his handsome face.

"We meet again, trash," he sneered, dropping into a fighting stance. "This time, I'll finish what I started at the engagement ceremony."

I didn't waste breath responding. This man – who had once humiliated me, who had tried to claim Isabelle as his prize – was merely another obstacle to remove.

He attacked with impressive speed, his technique refined and powerful. Under normal circumstances, he might have been a worthy opponent. But these were not normal circumstances. I dodged his first strike and countered with a palm thrust that sent him stumbling backward, blood trickling from his mouth.

"Impossible," he gasped. "You're nothing but a—"

My next strike silenced him, a precise hit to his temple that dropped him unconscious before he could finish his insult.

I continued my advance, closer now to Isabelle with each step. The Guild was throwing everything at me – enforcers, techniques, talismans – but nothing could stop my progress. My body moved with fluid precision, each strike calculated for maximum efficiency as I fought my way toward the woman I loved.

"Liam..." Isabelle called again, her voice stronger despite her weakened state. "Behind you!"

I spun just in time to avoid a killing blow from Darian Bancroft himself. The Guild President had joined the fray, his cultivation level far beyond his subordinates.

"Impressive display, Knight," he said coldly, circling me with predatory focus. "But this ends now."

"You're right," I replied, my voice dangerously calm as I settled into my stance. "This does end now."

I would reach Isabelle. I would free her from these monsters. And nothing – not Bancroft, not the Guild, not the entire power structure of Veridia City – would stand in my way.