Rise of The Abandoned Husband (Liam Knight) novel Chapter 207

207 Chapter 207 – The Ashworth Intervention: Retribution, Release, and a Sinister Sc…

207 Chapter 207 – The Ashworth Intervention:

Retribution, Release, and a Sinister Scaffold

Two of the Grandmasters stepped forward, channeling energy into their palms. With synchronized movements, they struck the platform. The wood splintered with a deafening crack, the formation symbols flaring briefly before fading to nothing.

The cellblock had grown eerily quiet. All eyes were on me – the condemned man who showed no fear. Some watched with pity, others with curiosity, a few with a strange sort of respect.

“Stay strong, Knight!”

Conrad’s throat went dry. The Ashworth family from Veridia City was not just wealthy – they were one of the most powerful families in the country, with connections that reached into every corner of society.

“But sir, everything is prepared—”

“Your son attacked him first,” Isabelle replied coldly. “I’ve been fully briefed on the

situation.”

In the center stood a massive wooden scaffold, far more elaborate than I had expected. Intricate markings were carved into the wood, forming patterns that seemed to pulse with hidden energy. This was no ordinary execution platform.

I watched with growing fascination. Isabelle Ashworth wielded her power with effortless grace, commanding respect without raising her voice. And she had come all

this way to save me.

Isabelle rose, following Conrad to the second floor where Tristan Mercer lay unconscious, his face pale and drawn.

When Isabelle Ashworth stepped out, the entire courtyard seemed to hold its breath. Her beauty was matched only by the aura of power and authority that surrounded her.

“How can you stay so damn calm?” whispered a prisoner from the next cell over. “They’re going to kill you out there.”

Gage Mcbride stepped forward, unrolling a scroll. “Liam Knight, you have been found

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guilty of crimes against the Thornton family. The sentence is death, to be carried out immediately.”

Across town, the atmosphere in the Thornton family manor was charged with tension. Conrad Thornton paced his study, occasionally glancing at the clock. In less than an hour, Liam Knight would be dead, and the insult to his family would be washed away

with blood.

The executioner stepped forward, raising a ceremonial blade that gleamed in the morning sun. The crowd fell silent, anticipating the final moment.

Conrad hesitated, then nodded. “He’s upstairs.”

I opened my eyes, glancing at the man. “We all die someday. The only question is how we face it.”

“Nothing serious,” I assured her. “I’m more curious about how you knew I was here.”

Isabelle regarded Conrad with cold detachment. “That’s how easy it would be. Your

son’s life hangs by a thread, and I can cut it whenever I choose.”

An elderly man with kind eyes entered the room, carrying a medical bag. After a thorough examination, he turned to Isabelle.

An older prisoner pressed his face against the bars of his cell. “If you somehow make it out of this alive, Knight, remember me. I could be useful to you.”

Conrad’s face drained of color. “I… I wasn’t aware-”

To demonstrate her point, she glanced at one of her Grandmasters. “Kill the son.”

His smirk faltered.

Isabelle moved to the window, looking out at the horizon in the direction of the Martial Arts Association. Her fingers gripped the windowsill tightly.

As we walked toward her car, surrounded by her Grandmaster guards, I couldn’t help but wonder what new chapter was beginning in my life. The Ashworth family’s interest

in me couldn’t be coincidental.

A chill ran down my spine. “Seems excessive for someone whose only crime was

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refusing to heal an attacker.”

“Hold on, Liam,” she whispered. “I’m coming.”

I looked him straight in the eyes. “Just remember what I promised you.”

“Are you hurt?” she asked, her voice carrying genuine concern.

She took a seat uninvited, crossing her legs elegantly. Her eight Grandmaster guards remained standing, their eyes never leaving Conrad.

“Miss Ashworth,” Conrad stammered, his face paling. “This is… unexpected.”

I remained seated on the cold stone floor, my back against the wall, eyes closed in meditation. The chains around my wrists were heavy, but my spirit refused to be weighed down.

“I’ll call the Martial Arts Association right away,” Conrad said, scrambling to his feet. “But the execution is scheduled to begin soon. I’m not sure if there’s enough time…”

“It’s not a standard execution formation,” I observed.

“His condition is serious but not untreatable. With proper care, he should recover in

time.”

“Not quite,” she replied coolly. “This platform. What is it?”

Mcbride turned, confusion evident on his face. “Sir? What’s happening?”

“NO!” Conrad screamed, throwing himself between the Grandmaster and his son.

“Please!”

The Grandmaster stopped, his hand hovering inches from Tristan’s throat.

“Touch Clara Vance,” I said quietly, “and I promise you, death will feel like a mercy

when I’m finished with you.”

“Now you understand,” she said softly. “This is the difference between your power and mine. Between your family and the Ashworths.”

“Any last words?” Mcbride asked with a smirk.

“Save your excuses,” Isabelle turned to her guards. “Destroy it.”

Mcbride’s smile faltered slightly. “You refused to heal the son of Conrad Thornton. The

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punishment for such defiance is death.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Isabelle cut him off. “This is a Soul Binding Formation. Such things are forbidden except for the most heinous criminals.”

The guards opened my cell, securing additional restraints around my ankles before marching me forward. As we moved through the cellblock, prisoners called out to me.

Conrad felt the blood drain from his face. “Knight? He’s… connected to your family? But he’s just a-”

“Your family’s honor?” Isabelle’s laugh was brittle. “Let me be clear, Mr. Thornton. Your regional influence means nothing compared to the power of the Ashworth family.”

“Miss Ashworth, with all due respect, Knight refused to heal my son after he was grievously injured. My son could die because of him.”

A small smile touched her lips. “Clara Vance called me. It seems you have loyal friends.”

“Like what you see?” Mcbride whispered behind me. “It’s a special formation, designed specifically for you.”

My eyes narrowed as I studied the platform more carefully. The markings weren’t just decorative – they formed a complex suppression formation, designed to neutralize a cultivator’s energy. Whatever they had planned for me, it went beyond a simple beheading.

Murmurs rippled through the crowd at the mention of the Ashworth name. Mcbride paled, signaling the guards to unlock my restraints.

Guards pushed me forward, up the steps onto the platform. The crowd’s murmurs grew louder as I was positioned in the center of the formation. The markings beneath my feet began to glow faintly.

“Choose your next words with extreme care, Isabelle cut him off, her voice like ice. “The man you’ve imprisoned saved my life. He’s under the protection of the Ashworth family.”

I walked with my head high, refusing to show weakness. The morning sun blinded me momentarily as we stepped into the courtyard. A crowd had gathered – officials, martial artists, and ordinary citizens, all come to witness my execution.

“I don’t understand,” he said carefully. “What property of yours have I taken?”

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I stood at the base of the execution platform, studying the intricate patterns carved into the wood. Each symbol seemed to pulse with malevolent energy, forming a complex formation I’d never encountered before.

Conrad hesitated. “A standard execution-”

As we prepared to leave, I paused beside Conrad Thornton. “Your son will recover,” I told him quietly. “But remember this moment the next time you consider moving against me.”

Conrad rushed from the room, shouting for his car to be brought around.

Suddenly, the sound of screeching tires broke the silence. A black car skidded to a halt at the edge of the courtyard. Conrad Thornton leapt out, his face flushed and panicked.

His eyes widened slightly, but he said nothing.

The main door to the cellblock swung open with a metallic groan. Gage Mcbride strode in, flanked by four armed guards. His face was set in cruel satisfaction.

Isabelle’s hand touched my arm gently. “Come. My grandfather wishes to speak with

you.”

Isabelle stepped into the room, her movements graceful despite her obvious anger. “Is it? Did you think you could touch what belongs to me without consequences?”

The Grandmaster moved with blinding speed toward Tristan’s bed.

Whatever that formation had been designed to do, I had only narrowly escaped it. And I had a feeling its purpose went far beyond a simple execution.

As the chains fell away, I rubbed my wrists, looking at Conrad with newfound interest. “The Ashworth family? Would that happen to include Isabelle Ashworth?”

“However,” she continued, “I’m not unreasonable. Show me to your son, and I’ll have my personal physician examine him.”

She gestured for the Grandmaster to step back. “Release Liam Knight immediately, and I’ll consider this matter closed.”

“It’s time, Knight,” he announced. “The public has gathered to witness justice being

served.”

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The sudden slam of his front doors being thrown open jolted him from his thoughts. Heavy footsteps approached, and before his guards could react, his study door burst open.

Conrad couldn’t meet my eyes. “This execution is canceled. You’re free to go.”

My eyes scanned the crowd, searching for any sign of allies or an opportunity to escape.

The formation was already affecting me, draining my energy, making my limbs feel heavy.

He nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. “Very perceptive. This is a Soul Binding Formation, originally designed to execute rogue cultivators. It doesn’t just kill the body – it traps the soul, preventing reincarnation.”

“Perhaps,” the elder conceded. “But Conrad Thornton insisted. He wants to make an example of you.”

His face flushed with anger. He stepped closer, lowering his voice so only I could hear. “I’m going to enjoy watching you die today. Maybe I’ll visit that pretty Vance girl afterward… to offer my condolences.”

“Big words from a dead man,” he scoffed, but his voice wavered slightly.

Isabelle Ashworth stood in the doorway, her face a mask of cold fury. Behind her loomed eight black–clad figures – Grandmasters from the Ashworth family, their auras radiating deadly intent.

Isabelle nodded, then faced Conrad again. “Now, about Liam Knight.”

“Impressed?” asked a voice behind me.

Isabelle turned to Conrad, who bowed deeply in deference. “Is everything resolved to your satisfaction, Miss Ashworth?”