Legacy of Hatred-Chapter 152: Butcher

Liam was completely aware, but also wasn’t. He felt stronger than ever, but also not in control. The hiss raged in his ears, summoning a bottomless hatred both foreign and personal, commanding his body to move.

The experience was different from the past hisses. It was closer to the time with Crazy Uncle, albeit far deeper. It wasn’t that Liam couldn’t stop himself. He didn’t want to, and it was unclear whether that desire was his own or the Snake’s.

Yet, the source didn’t change the result. Liam’s mind had never worked faster, heightening everything about him, while keeping him in that quasi-hypnotized state.

Countless problems manifested through that heightened awareness. Liam had just realized how much more careful he had to be. Still, he was acting despite those who could witness something that could link him to Krosstoen village.

That would usually be enough to stop Liam. He had sworn revenge, but that couldn’t come at the cost of his loved ones’ lives. Yet, his figure only picked up speed, compelled to listen only to his hatred that night.

That hatred wasn’t completely brainless. Despite the strange state, Liam heeded Maxwell’s warning, ripping off the remaining cloth on his leg and wrapping it around his face.

That cover was far from perfect, but Grasspeak village was up ahead, so Liam’s steps turned quiet, eventually prompting an equally stealthy jump.

Liam landed on one of the houses’ roofs, the bundle of straws making no sound at his arrival, while the hiss in his ears aided his hearing, almost scanning the area.

No more voices resounded, but small noises still echoed everywhere. Liam heard moving furniture, doors closing, faint clatter of cups, as well as some footsteps, and one resonated with his hatred.

Liam darted as soon as his hatred stirred, leaping from roof to roof, his figure too fast and silent to attract any attention, only to stop when he was in full view of his prey.

There, Liam finally saw it, as well as hearing it again. Down on the next house, an overweight middle-aged man with a long, dirty black beard and oily black hair stood before an open door, half-slurring something while a female voice responded with complaints.

A third voice eventually arrived. A child’s shrill cry resounded from the open door, intensifying the argument between the man and woman, eventually leading to the violent shutting of that entrance.

Liam had obviously heard everything, but had no interest in the discussion’s contents. Everything else had paled and grown muffled after confirming the middle-aged man’s voice.

Nothing could matter in front of one of the voices from the auditory hallucination resounding in Liam’s ears.

The urge to jump down and crush that man’s head in a swift blow invaded Liam, but he held it back, waiting for his prey to reach the perfect location for his hunt.

The drunken man didn’t disappoint. He slammed his fists on the door, half-slurring another complaint, before heading for the house’s side, eventually sitting on the grass.

The man burped and closed his eyes, his breathing growing deep and steady. He looked ready to fall asleep, but his eyelids snapped open when a bandaged hand closed on his mouth, suppressing his voice and threatening to crush his jaw.

Surprisingly enough, that wasn’t the end. The man was quite overweight, but his figure left the grass, lifted by his own belly.

The additional weight didn’t hinder Liam at all. He lifted the man above his head and shot away from the village, running at full speed until the houses became nothing more than tiny dots on the horizon.

Liam threw the man down at that point, making sure he hit his back, only for his hand to return to his mouth as soon as he gasped for air.

"Don’t scream," Liam ordered from behind the dirty cloth covering his face. "Talk only to answer my questions."

The experience had snapped the man out of his drunken haze. His dark eyes were wide and awake, and his bloated face tried to nod, stopped only by the bandaged hand on his mouth.

Liam let go of the man, straightening, looking deeply down at him. That dirty, almost old mortal seemed too harmless and inconsequential to have left such a deep scar on his psyche, but his ears never lied.

"Were you part of the Bloodline Screening?" Liam asked, and the man’s eyes immediately went wide, understanding something.

"E-Exalted Immortal-!" The man began to gasp, only for the bandaged hand to cover his mouth again. Liam had also put his face right before his, the cloth unable to hinder the deep killing intent in his eyes.

"Only answer my questions," Liam reminded. "I will hurt you otherwise."

Liam didn’t wait for another attempted nod. He straightened himself again, his black eyes telling the man what he wanted.

"I-I was," The man hesitantly whispered, too frightened to remain silent or lie.

"Krosstoen village," Liam mentioned. "Do you remember performing the Screening there?"

The man diverted his gaze, lost in thought. It took him a while to look back at Liam, only to voice an infuriating admission. "Exalted Immortal, I don’t remember the names of the villages I went through."

There it was, a man who couldn’t be punier in Liam’s eyes, not even recalling the greatest tragedy of his life.

Liam couldn’t help but get down again, whipping out his knife, placing it on the man’s throat, miraculously managing not to cut it right away.

Actually, that was no miracle. Liam’s hatred was smart. It knew that he had something else to get from that butcher.

"There were three more with you," Liam declared. "Where are they?"

"Three more?" The man wondered, his eyes going wide again, what he recalled managing to overcome the fear of the knife on his throat. "No, Exalted Immortal, we had orders-!"

The man couldn’t finish his line since Liam covered his mouth while stabbing the knife into his shoulder. That action had been instinctive, swifter than anything Liam’s thoughts could produce. He had never tortured anyone, but hurting someone was easy.

"The three with you," Liam repeated. "I want their names. I want to know where they are, and I want the same about the person in charge of your team."

"Exalted-!" The man voiced a frightened complaint as soon as the hand left his mouth, only to immediately cover it again, accompanied by another stab on his already injured shoulder.

The painful scream died in the man’s throat. He breathed deeply, taking a while to calm down, but time couldn’t save him from the cultivator on top of him. Those black, half-covered eyes told him that nothing else mattered to him.

"Josh d-died during the Screening," The man revealed once Liam let him speak. "Kirk disappeared, but Rick and t-the Team Leader went to Dimmere last time I heard."

’Kirk, and Dimmere,’ Liam thought, seeing no lies in the man’s terrified face. Something in his hatred almost vouched for the truth the butcher had spoken.

"Please, Exalted Immortal," The butcher begged. "I was only following orders. I have a family-!"

Once again, Liam covered the man’s mouth, his knife already pointed at his chest, muttering words almost to himself. "I had one, too."

Liam stabbed the knife deep into the man’s chest and stood there, watching as life abandoned his eyes. His heightened awareness made him experience every detail of that kill, burning it in his memory.

But the compulsion wasn’t over. Liam stood up, and the auditory hallucination returned, this time lacking one voice but adding a human hiss.

’You swore,’ The hiss reminded. ’Eat their children. Burn their lairs.’

The hiss turned Liam’s face, pointing his gaze at the relatively distant village, knowing exactly where the butcher’s home was.