Legacy of Hatred-Chapter 141: Drawbacks

Liam truly wanted to faint. He craved that restorative shut-down, but his condition kept him conscious and awake, as if wanting to punish him to balance out his miraculous feat.

Everything hurt, and quite vividly at that. Liam was supposed to be numb, but he felt every inch of his body screaming in pain, from the tip of his head to his toes, from his skin to his very soul.

Liam’s foundation was also a mess. He leaked Qi nonstop, feeling his ten spiritual roots wriggling and shaking, drying themselves out, seemingly ready to snap at any moment.

Yet, the auditory hallucination was the worst offender. The screams and voices Liam had burned into his memory shouted in his ears, a bottomless hiss accompanying them, echoing in the background.

Naturally, Liam’s forearm itched to no end, the urge to scratch it stronger than ever, only for the weakness that filled him to prevent him from appeasing it.

The multilayered assault and the powerlessness to stop it threatened to drive Liam crazy, and his awareness helped with that, as if by design.

The Primal Urge provided an extreme physical empowerment, and that wasn’t limited to mere strength. It enhanced all of Liam’s functions, including those involving his brain, making him feel far more and sharpening his thoughts.

A mind wasn’t supposed to feel so much, which was why only basic, primal instincts emerged during the Demonic Art. Still, Liam had turned it off now, but that sharp clarity had remained, as if the technique was meant to make him experience that suffering. 𝒻𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝘯𝘰𝑣ℯ𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝘮

And, since Liam wasn’t new to the experience, he knew that the Primal Urge was intended to have such drawbacks. Most martial arts had those, so it only made sense for a Demonic Art to feature them in far worse fashion.

Nevertheless, for the same reason, Liam knew what he had to address first.

Liam voiced a long grunt as he mustered his remaining strength to reach for his robe’s edge, lifting it so that the pipe could fall on the floor. Next, Liam wriggled down, crawling while letting his pouch slide up.

That put the pouch a few centimeters above Liam’s head, but that distance felt impossible to overcome for his arms. Instead, he bit on its strap, pulling it closer until he could do the same with its tip.

Liam slowly opened the pouch until he could bury his nose in it. A wet mess had spread, but he only focused on retrieving the container with his poisonous powder with his teeth.

Filling the pipe in that condition was impossible, let alone lighting it with the foundation in disarray. Liam’s core was still wilding out, so he stuck his tongue inside the container, drawing out all the powder that clung to it to gulp it down.

The powder was disgusting, definitely not meant to be eaten. Still, Liam fought against the urge to puke, emboldened by the revitalizing sensations that spread inside him to stick his tongue into the container again.

By the fourth gulping of the poisonous powder, Liam’s core finally stabilized, his foundation stopping shaking and leaking Qi on its own. Some strength also returned to him, allowing him to turn belly up.

Liam closed his eyes, sending his mind toward his foundation. He saw the reddish, pulsating canvas, as well as his dark-green core and the ten roots growing from it. He had to count multiple times due to his screaming ears, but the result defused his greatest worry.

None of the roots had broken. Liam’s foundation had survived the first iteration of the Primal Urge in an actual battle. His cultivation looked weak, sickish, and a bit frail, but nothing had withered or suffered permanent damage.

Despite the Demonic Art, a talent labeled as divine was undoubtedly tough. Liam’s core and roots were far more resilient than they let on. He only had to nurture them back to health through rest and nutrients now.

Liam’s performance had reflected his advantage. The strength he had unleashed had vastly surpassed Cecilia’s, allowing him to rip her apart with his bare hands.

The Demonic Art could have those effects on everyone, but Liam was ready to believe that his greater basic strength had led to an even greater empowerment.

And, surprisingly, the Demonic Art hadn’t even turned Liam into a mere beast. His battle experience, sense, and training had remained, blending with the primal urges and bottomless hatred that had filled his mind to unleash a reckless but proper fighting style.

Liam reopened his eyes at that point. Now that his foundation had stabilized, Qi had slowly started to return to him, circulating through his body to deal with it next.

In the same way that a mind wasn’t supposed to experience so much simultaneously, Liam’s body wasn’t ready to exert such strength. He lacked the Qi and tissues to do so.

Liam used the faint strength coursing through him to sit up, only to risk falling forward. He remained on his butt by supporting his chest on his knees, but everything about him felt unstable and weak.

The strong body that had always characterized Liam seemed to be no more, reduced to a trembling bag of torn and damaged muscles and ligaments. He looked at his hands, finding new broken fingers and bleeding injuries, knowing that they were self-inflicted.

A similar pain afflicted Liam’s right elbow, left shoulder, knees, and ankles. Every attack or sprint that had surpassed what his level could endure had damaged his body, leaving it in far worse condition than his foundation.

Of course, the faint strength Liam was exerting didn’t come from his messed-up body. The magical energy coursing through him allowed him to function somehow, but he remained weak and exhausted.

Still, the auditory hallucination wouldn’t wane, and Liam’s previous tests with the Primal Urge had told him that it would take a while for it to leave. He couldn’t sleep even if he tried.

So, Liam carefully reached for the pipe lying on the floor, picking it up with both palms before securing it in his mouth. Next, he did the same with the smaller pouch, pouring its powder into the bowl, uncaring of what fell out.

Once the pipe was ready, Liam summoned his Qi, slowly creating enough friction to ignite the powder, allowing him to breathe in dense, revitalizing smoke.

And, while dark smoke blew through the teeth holding onto the pipe’s bit, Liam reached for his broken and dislocated fingers, popping them back into place one at a time.