Legacy of Hatred-Chapter 63: Red

"Is that how you spend your time?" The Alchemy Elder scolded. "Fighting when you should be practicing?"

Liam didn’t think much of that. The Elder always scolded him angrily as soon as he entered the balcony, even if he had no reason to do so. That night, he simply had one.

"At least you won," The Alchemy Elder muttered, pointing his cane at the pile of logs in the corner before turning toward the balcony’s edge.

Liam blinked. That almost sounded like a compliment, which couldn’t have a more unlikely source. Also, it showed how quickly information ran in the Sect, summoning a doubt, two actually.

"Master, shouldn’t I have won?" Liam questioned.

The Alchemy Elder peeked past his shoulder, inspecting Liam through one of his less intense glares.

"You should always win," The Alchemy Elder scoffed. "Power always attracts conflict. It’s unavoidable, so it’s always better to show everyone that you aren’t to be messed with, and in a dramatic fashion at that."

The Alchemy Elder started pacing at that point, dwelling in his memories. "When I was in the Inner Circles, I lost count of how many so-called Masters tried to poison me or tamper with my batches."

"Master, is that how you hurt yourself?" Liam wondered.

"Of course, not!" The Elder cried. "How could I, Horace Rauret, fail to gauge an ingredient’s quality? That was my fault and my fault alone! I couldn’t control such a powerful alchemical flame, and it blew back at me!"

The obsessive training with the logs gained even more sense now, but Liam decided to ask something else. "Master, what did you do with those Masters?"

"I killed them," The Elder proudly claimed, resuming pacing around. "Or I destroyed their cultivation. At times, I even ruined their Sect’s soil, forcing them to relocate. I did whatever I felt was the right punishment."

"And did they stop messing with you?" Liam asked, not sure how much of that boasting he should believe, but still interested in the topic.

"Obviously, not," The Elder exclaimed, his voice more solemn. "In the cultivation world, if someone can’t have something, they’d rather destroy it to prevent others from obtaining it."

The Elder suddenly stopped pacing, turning toward Liam to issue a warning. "That applies to you, too. Do you think the other Sects will simply let the Pale Moon Sect groom a nine-spiritual-roots talent? They’d rather kill you than risk seeing you flourish and create a power imbalance."

"Do other Sects know about me?" Liam gasped. "How?"

"Every Sect has leaks," The Alchemy Elder explained. "But, in your case, the Pale Moon Sect has probably shared the information itself."

"What?" Liam gasped again, even more confused. "Why?"

"To brag!" The Elder snorted. "Now that the other Sects know that a talent like yours has appeared, they might become warier about messing with the Pale Moon Sect."

That power struggle was so beyond Liam’s concept of the world that he failed to picture it in his mind. However, it reminded him of his second doubt.

"But, Master," Liam called, his innocence leaking into his face and tone. "Then, why haven’t you told the Disciplinary Elder that my foundation is complete?"

"Why indeed," The Alchemy Elder muttered under his breath while slamming his cane on the balcony’s railings before pointing it at the logs again.

Liam’s confusion didn’t disperse, but it was clear the Elder wouldn’t solve it, so he went to seize a log and brought it to the balcony’s center.

Nevertheless, Liam’s face perfectly highlighted his mental state, making the Elder sigh. "It’s clear that you have an advantage over the other kids."

Liam had just sat down, but those words made him lift his gaze, watching as the Elder approached him.

"Most disciples learn to fight in the Sect," The Alchemy Elder explained. "They are taught to abide by rules, hence limited by them. The real world doesn’t care for them. You understand what I’m saying, don’t you?"

Liam nodded, diverting his gaze in thought. It wasn’t just about the rules of engagement that Randall had tried to enforce. His mindset was incomparable to Liam’s.

Randall fought to demonstrate superiority, to win, as if putting up a show. Instead, Liam instinctively went for the kill, only holding back when the situation allowed it.

’But,’ Liam thought, ’If Master understands so much, why hasn’t he told anyone?’

Of course, Liam couldn’t be sure of that, but the matter remained confusing. Yet, the cane hit his head twice, distracting him from those thoughts.

"You forgot to address me as Master a few times," The Elder responded to the questioning gaze that rose to him, "And you didn’t seize your log immediately."

The urge to argue rose through Liam, but those two weeks had taught him better. He kept his mouth shut, lowering his gaze to the log, taking a deep breath to clear his mind of any hindering thoughts.

Liam placed his hands at the log’s sides, sending Qi from both so that those waves of energy could clash. The process was too soft to break anything, but the gradually accumulating friction force eventually created a spark.

Out of nowhere, fire appeared, quickly taking over the log. Liam still needed both hands to perform that basic alchemical technique, but it was progress nonetheless, and he couldn’t really say the same for what came next.

All Qi carried intrinsic features, especially the one coming from cultivators.

Liam was an extreme case due to his core’s incredible affinity. His Qi was so poisonous that it tainted anything it touched.

Yet, the alchemical flame demanded utmost control. Different concoctions required different types of fire, and Liam couldn’t let his poisonous Qi get in the way. Anything he tried to make would turn out toxic otherwise.

Naturally, Liam didn’t mind that, but his strict Master had argued his case quite well. Control was everything in alchemy. Without it, backlashes were bound to happen, and they grew scarier with each concoction rank.

So, Liam had to master control, and the first step toward that was to fuel the alchemical fire without affecting its properties at all. Typically, that only required a soft approach, but Liam’s extreme features demanded proper suppression.

Liam closed his eyes, willing his Qi to release the tiniest and faintest sliver of energy. The process replicated what happened in his heart during the circulation technique, applying a narrow mental filter that would refine his Qi to the intended shape.

More and more Qi escaped Liam’s hands, but he didn’t open his eyes, his entire attention remaining on the mentally taxing procedure. The slightest distraction would lead to failure, and with that came the cane.

Yet, as the seconds passed, Liam noticed something odd. The annoying cane wasn’t interrupting him, so he timidly opened his eyes, squinting to peek at the scene. 𝘧𝓇𝑒𝑒𝑤ℯ𝑏𝓃𝘰𝑣ℯ𝘭.𝘤ℴ𝘮

And, after two weeks of that annoying, obsessive training, the greatest sight Liam could have ever wished for welcomed him. He was still releasing Qi, fueling the flickering flame, but its vibrant red color hadn’t darkened at all.