Rise of The Abandoned Husband Chapter 53 - 53 - A Rare Herb and an Entitled Rival

A month. Just one month until the Traditional dicine Conference. Elder Harding's words echoed in my mind as I paced the floor of my hotel room.

"I need to be better," I muttered, running a hand through my disheveled hair. "Much better."

The conference wasn't just an opportunity—it was my chance to prove myself worthy of the knowledge that had been gifted to . More than that, it was a way to show Isabelle that I could stand among the elite. That I could be soone she deserved.

My thoughts drifted to her face, elegant and beautiful, those eyes that seed to see right through . I hadn't been able to stop thinking about her since our last eting.

A knock at my door jolted from my reverie.

"Enter," I called out.

Roman Volkov's massive fra filled the doorway. "Mr. Knight, it's dawn. The morning market opens soon, as you requested."

I nodded, grateful for his punctuality. "Thank you, Roman. I'll be ready in five minutes."

"Sebastian Hawthorne has been making threats about you all over the city," Roman said, his expression grim. "My sources say he's been drinking heavily and vowing revenge."

I shrugged, pulling on my jacket. "Let him. We have more important matters to attend to."

The truth was, Sebastian's anger was the least of my concerns. With the Traditional dicine Conference looming, I needed to focus on gathering rare ingredients to practice with. Ti was not on my side.

---

The morning market of Havenwood City was a riot of color and noise. Vendors shouted their wares as early shoppers haggled over prices. The scent of fresh produce mingled with the earthy aroma of herbs and spices.

Roman walked slightly behind , his presence keeping most people at a respectful distance. Beside him was Alaric, his most trusted bodyguard, silent and watchful. This is a sample from My Virtual Library Empire. Read the rest on *.

"What exactly are we looking for, Mr. Knight?" Roman asked.

"Rare herbs," I replied, scanning the stalls. "Things that might appear at the conference. I need to familiarize myself with as many as possible."

For two hours, we moved thodically through the market. I purchased several uncommon herbs, testing myself by identifying them blindfolded as Elder Harding had suggested. But nothing truly rare had appeared.

Then I saw it – a withered root lying almost forgotten at the corner of an old woman's stall. My heart quickened as I approached.

"Grandmother," I said respectfully to the elderly vendor, "may I see that root?"

She squinted at suspiciously before handing it over. The mont it touched my palm, I knew.

"This is Angelica dahurica," I said quietly, examining its gnarled surface. "And quite old too. Where did you find this?"

The old woman's eyes widened. "You know your herbs, young man. Found it in the mountains last spring. Been trying to sell it for months, but no one recognized its value."

Though withered and seemingly unremarkable, this herb was a potent ingredient for treating various ailnts and could be crucial in certain traditional dicine formulations.

"How much?" I asked.

"For soone who knows its worth?" The old woman's leathery face creased into a smile. "Thirty thousand."

Roman made a choking sound behind . "Thirty thousand for that dried-up root?"

I ignored his outburst. "It's worth every coin. I'll take it."

As I reached for my wallet, a slender hand darted in front of and snatched the herb from the vendor's table.

"I'll give you forty thousand for it," a female voice declared.

I turned to face a young woman dressed in expensive clothes, her hair styled elaborately and adorned with jeweled pins. She couldn't have been more than twenty but carried herself with the entitled confidence of soone who had never been denied anything.

"Excuse ," I said politely, "but I was in the process of purchasing that herb."

The young woman looked up and down dismissively. "And now I'm purchasing it. That's how a market works." She turned back to the vendor. "Forty thousand. Take it or leave it."

The old woman looked uncomfortable, caught between us. "Well, the gentleman was here first..."

"Do you know who I am?" the young woman snapped, her voice rising. "My father is Declan Donovan. Does that na an anything to you, old woman?"

The vendor paled visibly, and even Roman tensed beside .

"The Declan Donovan?" Alaric whispered to Roman. "The city's strongest man?"

Roman nodded grimly. "And that's his daughter, Nora Donovan. Notorious troublemaker."

I kept my voice level. "Miss Donovan, I understand your interest in the herb, but I was already completing the purchase. Perhaps we could discuss—"

"There's nothing to discuss," she cut off. "I want it, so it's mine. That's how things work in Havenwood City." She dangled the herb between her fingers. "Unless you think you can take it from ?"

A challenge, plain and simple. I could feel the crowd around us growing, sensing the drama.

"I wouldn't dream of taking anything from you," I said softly. Then I flicked my finger subtly, channeling a tiny burst of energy.

The herb leapt from her grasp as if pulled by an invisible thread and landed neatly in my palm.

Nora's jaw dropped. "What—how did you—"

I turned to the old woman and counted out thirty thousand. "As agreed. Thank you for this treasure."

The vendor quickly accepted the money, relief evident on her face.

"You!" Nora's face contorted with rage. "Do you have any idea what you've just done? Nobody crosses a Donovan in this city!"

I t her gaze calmly. "I didn't cross you, Miss Donovan. I simply completed my purchase."

"Give it back!" she demanded, stepping toward . "Give it back now, or I'll make sure you never set foot in Havenwood City again!"

"Miss Donovan," Alaric intervened, stepping between us. "Please calm yourself. This is a public place."

"Who asked you to speak?" she snarled at him. "You're just a bodyguard. Know your place!"

Alaric remained professionally impassive. "I'm simply trying to prevent a scene, Miss."

"Prevent a scene?" Her eyes widened manically. "I'll show you a scene!"

Before anyone could react, Nora's hand flew out and struck Alaric across the face with a resounding slap. The crowd around us gasped.

"You ungrateful thing, why don't you grab my thing back!" she scread, her face flushed with fury.