Legacy of Hatred-Chapter 97: Kowtow

Truth be told, everything had happened so quickly that Liam hadn’t really thought about his punishment.

Three months stuck in a cave was a long time, probably longer than Liam’s period inside the Divine Cult, but those problems couldn’t find the way to the conscious side of his mind that day.

Liam seemed possessed. Ever since returning to his cave, he had never stood still, alternating books with logs, not wasting a single second over something that couldn’t advance his expertise.

It got so bad that Liam eventually took a bath to change into a clean robe, only to bring a fiery log with him, washing himself while continuing to experiment with the alchemical flame.

That trend continued until night, not that Liam noticed. He wouldn’t have even stopped if his cave’s entrance hadn’t started opening on its own.

Liam blinked at that unexpected sight, quickly hiding the Primal Urge’s tome and wooden knife in his robe, holding the dark smoke he had just breathed in.

Still, the figure that appeared before the cave made Liam exhale the smoke and put the fuming pipe down, prompting a genuine question out of him. "Master, can the Elders open the disciples’ caves?"

For some reason, the Alchemy Elder now stood in front of Liam’s cave. Actually, his cane hinted at what his purpose could be.

"I have special privileges as your Master," The Alchemy Elder scoffed, stepping forward so that the entrance could close behind him.

The Elder’s icy-blue eyes ran over the cave, absorbing its messy state, only to feel somewhat satisfied. Alchemists had to keep their laboratories tidy and clean, but Liam wasn’t there yet, and the chaos showed clear signs of his efforts.

"You made quite a mess," The Alchemy Elder announced, starting to pace around the cave. "Killing three disciples of the Crimson Warrior Sect, killing your Senior Brother, and even monopolizing the attention of one of the Sect’s beauties."

Liam wasn’t sure about the last part, but the rest of the statement had clear implications. The Elders must have learned what happened in the ruins, and he couldn’t really blame Joel for telling the truth.

To be honest, Liam would have proudly declared his deeds himself to improve his reputation and stave off threats.

"Well," The Elder continued before Liam could say anything. "Did you get anything good out of it?"

The Elder’s disregard for what he had previously listed startled Liam for a second, only for his eyes to glance at his chest, where he had hidden his findings, eventually triggering a nod.

"Good!" The Elder cried. "Foolish kids. Who did they think your Master was? Serves them well!"

Somehow, the Elder had made Liam’s feats about himself, but that was hardly surprising. Liam had long since grown used to his Master’s arrogant side.

"But," The Elder added, continuing to stroll, but adjusting his direction to approach Liam gradually. "You’ll now have more dangers to face."

Liam could already guess where the Elder was getting at, but let him continue.

"Power always attracts conflict," The Elder announced, repeating his past words. "You have shown the Crimson Warrior Sect that your ridiculous talent is worth fearing, that you are more than just your spiritual roots."

’That’s good, right?’ Liam considered. That was how he understood reputation after all.

"To control the narrative and prevent the Crimson Warrior Sect from spreading lies," The Elder continued, "The Pale Moon Sect will spread the news itself so that all the neighboring Sects and beyond will learn about it."

Liam blinked at that point. His Master had described something too vast for his brain and knowledge to conceive, and he didn’t know how to take it.

"The Elders will also share what you did to Disciple Randall," The Elder revealed. "Of course, they’ll say that you acted in self-defense. They think the story will stop other disciples from trying anything against you."

’I was right, then,’ Liam thought. If the Elders wanted to use the same strategy, it had to have value.

"But you had to lay your hands on a girl a core disciple fancies," The Elder scoffed. "The other Sects will also stop at nothing to dispose of you now that they know you wield true potential, so you’ll face dangers both inside and outside."

’Lay my ...’ Liam wondered, initially confused, before sensations that wouldn’t leave his mind provided some clarity. ’Oh! Is it about the Simon Joel mentioned?’

Liam couldn’t delve deeper into that reasoning since a familiar pain spread from the top of his head. The Elder had reached him, and the same went for his cane.

"Fool, this isn’t the time for lecherous thoughts," The Elder scolded. "Use that energy to study. Women are a temporary amusement, but alchemy is forever!"

The Elder then pointed the cane at Liam’s face, his cold tone gaining threatening traits. "In light of these new dangers, I expect you to spend every breathing second of your mandatory seclusion focused on mastering the basics. We’ll resume from the alchemical flame today."

The Alchemy Elder was ready to point the cane at one of the piles of logs in the cave, only for Liam to surprise him with a request.

"Master, I can manage the alchemical flame," Liam promised. "I want to move to the cauldrons."

The Elder was ready to unleash one of his angry scoldings, only to spot something different in Liam’s face. The request had no youthful exuberance. Instead, Liam’s expression showed firm, unwavering resolve.

"Why?" The Elder asked, bringing the cane to his shoulder.

"I want to learn more," Liam said, diverting his gaze to find the best words to express his desire. "I want more."

"And why is that?" The Elder snorted, wanting to get to the bottom of that request.

"Alchemy is the only noble art that can defy the Heavens," Liam repeated his Master’s past words. "I want to learn to defy the odds. I want to know how."

The Alchemy Elder didn’t need to probe any further. Clearly, something in the mission had prompted that change. Liam had always been hardworking, but the Elder saw a proper spark of interest inside him now.

Of course, that wasn’t out of love for alchemy, but Liam seemed to have finally acknowledged it properly. It was a subtle difference that could bring radically different results.

"Maybe you are ready," The Elder muttered, mostly to himself.

"And," Liam added, slightly hesitant, "I read about the Master-disciple relationship. Is that what we are?"

Truth be told, Liam hadn’t really understood what he had read. The Master-disciple relationship was described as a sacred bond thicker than blood, deeper than what fathers had with their children, demanding utter loyalty, with genuine guidance on one side and pristine dedication on the other.

And it was now the Alchemy Elder’s time to hesitate. He had taken his duties seriously, especially after acknowledging his failure, but there was a gap he had yet to cross.

Horace Rauret was a proud man who had dedicated his entire life to alchemy, always too busy pursuing greater heights to accept disciples. He had never even considered that topic since he saw no reason to teach others what he could do himself.

However, the injury had changed that, and quite drastically. It ruined the Elder, preventing him from exploring even higher levels of alchemy. He could still study, but his inability to perform greater concoctions created a gap that no amount of knowledge could fill.

And the Elder had been ready for that to be it, for his life’s work to end with him. After all, that was how he had always lived. He was far from satisfied but had no regrets.

Then, a twist of fate happened. A disciple with the so-called perfect nine spiritual roots and a poison core had appeared.

For all intents and purposes, that disciple was doomed. No one could survive the amount and quality of poison that such a miraculous talent demanded.

Yet, the disciple’s core had also turned out to possess an unfathomable affinity to poison, so deep that he might have a chance to survive.

The disciple was also decent, dull, but hardworking. He was strong, and women seemed to like him for some reason. He was mature for his age, aware of his ignorance, with none of the arrogance that talented kids usually developed.

In many ways, that disciple was perfect, and he had just become more perfect, since he had moved past mere necessity to learn alchemy, transforming it into proper desire.

Liam could be what the Alchemy Elder had never considered, a way to reach even greater heights, his second chance at pushing alchemy farther than his talent and life had ever allowed him to push.

Just like with trees, the Elder could plant a seed that might continue his life’s work, flourishing higher than he ever did. He only had to cross that last gap to claim that opportunity.

"Did you also read what the relationship requires?" The Elder asked.

"Yes," Liam nodded before diverting his gaze, "But I don’t know what a kowtow is."

"It’s an act of extreme respect and submission," The Elder explained, his usual anger failing to manifest. "You kneel and bow down until your forehead touches the floor. Do it nine times, and you’ll pledge your life to me as my disciple, while I’ll welcome you as your Master."

The air had grown tenser, and the same went for the general mood. Despite some cluelessness, Liam couldn’t fail to understand the seriousness of the ritual.

Yet, Liam welcomed that seriousness. He wasn’t good with unclear stances anyway, and he already owed his Master a lot. More than alchemy, his inspirational speech had saved Liam from his sad emptiness. It had given Liam’s life a proper drive, and he knew how priceless that was.

Nevertheless, as Liam broke his cross-legged stance to get to his knees, the Elder pointed the cane at his face, interrupting him.

"I shall vow to take responsibility for you and teach you everything I know," The Elder declared. "But you must surpass my heights. If you fail to do so or bring shame to the noble art of alchemy, I’ll kill you myself."

Liam held back a gulp, but firm words soon escaped his mouth. "I promise."

The Elder looked deeply into Liam’s black eyes before lowering his cane and taking a step back. Liam had enough room to perform that ritual now, so he bowed down and counted in his mind as his forehead touched the floor.

Once the number nine arrived, Liam straightened himself, finding the Elder watching him through a solemn, meaningful look, a sentiment that his following words echoed.

"Rise," The Elder ordered. "You are now Horace Rauret’s first disciple. May the honor I have bestowed upon you be one day mine."

Liam stood up, and the Elder reached for his shoulder, holding it tightly.

"Now, disciple," The Alchemy Elder continued, his gaze and voice turning chilling while reeking of uncompromising ambition. "I hope you are ready for the hell I’ll put you through in these three months."