Legacy of Hatred

Strength in numbers remained true in the cultivation world, but with caveats.

Liam had already fought and won against a similar number of foundation experts. Yet, they had been lone cultivators who wouldn’t even cut it as a Sect’s outer disciples.

Instead, the encirclement featured five mindless weapons, all wielding poisoned knives. There was great danger in their lack of fear, in their nigh-suicidal drive. Liam would know it since that was how he had killed Cecilia.

Still, the inspection was short-lived. After a mere second, the five hooded cultivators charged ahead without needing additional orders, converging on Liam from all sides.

But Liam didn’t let the sight frighten him. Calculations ran through his mind at an unfathomable speed, reaching a single, liberating conclusion.

Simon was dead. Liam had no need to hold anything back anymore.

When the five cultivators were almost upon Liam, creating an inescapable circle with their knives, a thunderous noise cut through the silent charge, lifting soil and burnt grass.

The spot the hooded cultivators were converging on exploded outward, carving a hole, but dirt wasn’t the only thing that flew. A head clad in dark cloth also rose into the hair, detached from the neck that used to host it.

One foundation expert fell, but the other stopped to turn, disregarding their dead companion, only for an ethereal arrow to fly in their midst, finding another head.

An explosion followed, and another hooded cultivator fell, but the remaining three scattered, performing erratic moves Liam recognized from his imprisonment. His opponents zigzagged over the grass while charging at him, but he had already stored his bow.

The three foundation experts moved too erratically for arrows to hit them at that distance, but not clouds. Since they were converging on Liam, two eventually got close enough to snap his sleeve at them.

The two cultivators separated at the sight of the incoming small object. However, the item targeted the ground, and colliding with it made it explode into dark waves of expanding smoke.

The cloud’s edges caught the two foundation experts, delaying their steps by a mere second. They reacted quickly. The training the Divine Cult had carved into them had made them close their eyes and stop breathing as soon as they noticed the poisonous substance, limiting its effects.

Chances were the Divine Cult’s drug had even increased the hooded cultivators’ tolerance to such a non-deadly poison. Still, they weren’t alone in the cloud. Liam had never bet on it to kill his opponents.

The cloud dispersed quickly in that open environment. Liam reappeared, wielding a wooden knife dripping blood, while standing among two lying figures. That brief delay had been enough for him to claim his opponents’ lives.

The last foundation expert was already charging at Liam, perfectly matching the cloud’s dispersion, swinging his knife at him, only for a clinging noise to resound.

This time, Liam refrained from relying on his rank 1 weapon’s sharp properties, instead using it to deflect the incoming blade and open his opponent’s guard.

The foundation expert tried to thrust his palm forward, but Liam was faster, grabbing the exposed hooded head and squeezing until he felt his fingers touch inside his opponent’s skull.

Another corpse fell lifelessly to the ground. The battle was won. Liam had been faster, deadlier, and prepared in ways his opponents couldn’t compare, but there was no happiness or pride to be found there.

Liam could always act first due to the high-grade circulation technique, but each of those swifter moves depleted far more Qi. That was the price to pay for superior power.

The high-grade circulation technique stuffed Liam’s body with more Qi than average, delaying the depletion that would demand the slow refilling from his foundation. However, that greater price compensated for it, no matter how much Liam had tried to save energy.

The sprints, Metal Hand, and rank 1 knife were manageable, inconsequential even, but Liam had also relied on the Lightning Step. He had even unleashed a fully powered Seismic Palm earlier.

Most importantly, Liam had made heavy use of the Black Bow, especially against Simon, unleashing as much energy as possible to secure that kill. His reserves weren’t empty, but they were running low faster than the elixir and smoking session could refill.

Which was unavoidable since Liam wielded power no foundation expert should possess or be able to endure, but the existence of a far greater threat could turn it into a death sentence more than his already doomed predicament.

"Astonishing," The white-masked man complimented, clapping his hands a few times. "You are indeed a different breed. I knew that nine spiritual roots didn’t earn the name perfection by mistake, but to see them for myself ..."

Liam didn’t reply, holding his ground, firmly wielding his dripping knife, ready to unleash the last card he had left to play.

"Liam of the Pale Moon Sect," Elder Basil announced. "The genius who killed a rooting expert, a level two magical beast, and now his former batch of seeds."

That last part managed to make Liam’s eyes go wide, bringing them to the corpses lying at his feet. He reached for the nearest head, lowering the cloth with his shoe, uncovering his face.

There, on the face with open, lifeless eyes, Liam saw a man no older than himself. He recognized one of the kids the Divine Cult had kidnapped alongside him, one he had left behind when deciding to escape alone.

The math didn’t add up. The underground prison only had four survivors beyond Liam, but he could guess who the fifth foundation expert was. After all, there had been two hooded jailers.

Still, Liam didn’t focus on the fact that the only person left alive who might know about his past and origin stood right in front of him. He honestly didn’t care now. All he felt and radiated was a bottomless hatred when he looked at the fake Elder again.

"No need to be so upset about it," Elder Basil sighed, reading Liam’s furious expression. "They were inferior products, a mere one-year investment. You are worth hundreds of those, thousands even."

Liam barely heard those words. The hiss in his ears had now grown deafening, carrying a self-inflicted hatred.

Liam had done something he hadn’t wanted to experience anymore. He had claimed lives he hadn’t wanted to claim. Sure, those hooded cultivators were more weapons than people, probably brainwashed beyond repair, but Liam blamed himself nonetheless.

After all, at least when it came to four of those corpses, Liam could have done something. He could have saved his fellow prisoners, sparing them the struggle he had to overcome on his own, creating a different fate for them.

However, Liam had been lost back then. He had been just a clueless kid, weak, too burdened by everything he had suffered, immersed in a greater world he didn’t even know how to begin to understand, to accept the weight of other lives.

Liam believed that killing the jailer and leaving without the key would have compensated for his selfish decision. Still, it had come back to haunt him, transforming into another indelible sin.

And there was nothing wrong with being selfish, especially in the cultivation world. Liam had merely prioritized himself. Even now, he had acted in self-defense, but hatred easily won over reason.

Because that wasn’t the life Liam wanted to carry out, and he couldn’t fix it anymore, but he could make it right in the only way he knew.

"Even if this is the last thing I do," Liam exclaimed, his voice low, almost like a hiss in the making, "I will make you pay."

"There’s still some of that little beast in you," Elder Basil chuckled before his smile froze, his senses alerting him to a strange event that culminated in blood vessels spreading and expanding in Liam’s eyes.

Nevertheless, something far greater suddenly descended. An oppressive aura that interrupted whatever Liam was doing and brought his and Elder Basil’s eyes to the sky descended in the area, culminating in a loud boom.

Liam couldn’t even try to follow the event. Dirt flew everywhere, blown by harsh gales that forced him to cross his arms before his face and lower himself to retain his balance.

Then, a familiar pain spread from Liam’s head while he was still dealing with the natural catastrophe, accompanied by a grumpy voice. "Foolish disciple! Can you not get caught in a mess once?! Just once?!"