Legacy of Hatred

Of course, philosophical reasoning could only go so far. At some point, empirical applications had to take over, and Liam found something irreconcilable there.

’It’s one thing to swallow the Ancestral Beasts for personal growth,’ Liam considered, ’But to actually train in their methods ...’

Whatever the Demoness had used, it was a specialized application of the Qi. Liam hadn’t actually seen that, but their conversation had more than suggested as much.

Still, that wasn’t Liam’s first time facing a similar crossroads. It was the same issue that had put him in a pickle back in the Pale Moon Sect, one that had actually become more difficult to navigate after shedding his cluelessness like snakes shed skin.

Liam’s success in creating a rank 3 poison despite not being at the stage’s peak came from mathematical factors, namely his black Qi and his Qi reserves.

However, if anyone with the right tools could perform concoctions successfully, the world would be filled with alchemists. Instead, they were few and far between because it took skill to make use of the field’s requirements.

In short, while Liam did indeed possess unique tools, his success had come from his growing abilities as an alchemist, which he had achieved through the absolute, obsessive immersion he had learned from his great Master.

On the opposite side of the spectrum, Liam’s physical strength had also gone through similar growth, albeit mostly in understanding and confidence.

Liam now perfectly knew how strong he was. Most importantly, he had learned how to use that inborn trait and what advantages it provided. He could think about the topic for himself, and there was an undeniable conclusion.

To maximize that inborn trait, Liam had to drop knives and wield a weapon that truly suited him, something that would bring out the most of what he possessed, namely a greatsword.

There just wasn’t any doubt in Liam’s mind. That was the right path as long as his idea of perfecting himself, of improving the recipe that represented him, remained his goal.

To be fair, Liam would be doing that already if it weren’t for something far bigger than him. His great Master had warned him against that.

Only complete immersion and abandonment could lead to excellence. Meanwhile, splitting that focus into two or more fields would ensure that Liam would never reach such heights in any of them.

Childish and seething sides of Liam told him that he could do both. He wanted it all, and that declaration hadn’t been just for show. He wouldn’t have been able to take in the Hatred from his lineage otherwise.

However, on a purely logistical level, a greatsword and poison truly didn’t mix. Liam was born with the ability to be unmatched in both, but they were so opposite in nature they actually conflicted.

Liam could see that as a challenge from his unique status, a way to create a fighting style only he could possess, but that warning kept stopping him, and there was no ignoring it.

Learning about life’s intricacies had led Liam to break some vows, or at least reinterpret them. Yet, matters of the heart were known for those complex nuances, while the warning wasn’t.

If Horace Rauret had said that pursuing the path of the sword would prevent Liam from achieving excellence in alchemy, that was the truth. His Master always knew best.

Liam had diverted his gaze sometime in his reasoning, but he brought it back to the boundless figure still grinning at him, a yielding resolve filling his face.

"Senior Demoness," Liam called. "My life is forfeited the moment I decide to master anything but alchemy. If you are unable to accept this answer, just kill me."

A vein popped on the Demoness’ temple, her boundless existence about to convey her anger, when she saw a smile broaden on Liam’s face.

Liam was looking death in the eye, so it was time to laugh. That was what his Master had taught him. He had a few regrets, but he had lived life exactly how he wanted in the last period. If that random encounter were to be his end, he would simply smile in its face.

Truth was, the Demoness had never expected things to get so complicated, especially over something she had pursued almost on a whim. She was a fearsome leafing expert in the end. Anyone would see her interest as the luckiest event in their lives.

But Liam never once knelt, and not out of arrogance or delusions. He perfectly saw how outclassed he was and had chosen death over compromising his vow to alchemy.

Realistically, the Demoness should kill Liam. She had done so for far less, but an instinctive part of her seemed to like that absurdly strong rooting expert, and his resolve to die had only deepened that feeling.

The Demoness’ whim had merely been a matter of suitability with greatswords, but she saw the stuff of a worthy disciple now. The issue was pushing that resolve where she wanted.

"Boy, you might not fear death," The Demoness announced. "But what about that pretty thing living with you?"

Liam’s hair abruptly shot up, fluttering wildly among the gales of black Qi blowing out of his figure. The Demoness obviously didn’t have to fear that energy, but the ground did.

The soil under Liam’s feet darkened, the few patches of grass wilting and dying on the spot. The ground itself seemed to become brittle, melting into something slimy that defied its original nature.

"You touch my Grace," Liam threatened, his eyes wide, the hisses in his ears so loud he could barely hear his own words, "You’d better kill me, or you’ll die screaming."

Liam wasn’t boasting. He was actually being quite accurate. His venom would be his main weapon even in the future, and he knew exactly what it did to his victims.

"Interesting," The Demoness calmly commented, crossing her arms, "But no. There would have been a point only if you relied on my arts to get revenge."

Liam blinked, his Hatred subsiding, his black Qi receding. While the danger for Grace had been real, the Demoness had also used it as a test, and he had lost it completely. Honestly, snapping so suddenly had been a surprise for him, too.

"Since you are playing alchemist," The Demoness considered, tilting her head in thought, "You do what I say, and I’ll give you ingredients."

Liam voiced a faint snort, turning to walk away. The very Grace the Demoness had just threatened had already filled his shelves. Ingredients were the last thing he needed.

"Rank 3 ingredients," The Demoness specified, and Liam halted his steps, his ears twitching, slowly turning his head to peek past his shoulder.

With a grin, the Demoness pointed her thumb at the silver greatsword stabbed into the ground, adding a few orders. "A thousand swings in each direction. Then, you will repeat them all with each hand."

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