Legacy of Hatred

What followed was swifter than anything Liam could hope to track, and its consequences could only be described as a natural catastrophe.

Before Liam knew it, gales even wilder than earlier blew on his face, threatening to lift him off the ground and send him flying away.

Mere bending couldn’t suffice there. Liam went down, crouching on the ground while shielding his face with his arms, struggling to keep his eyes open and abide by his Master’s order.

Liam’s vision eventually stabilized enough to bring clarity to the scene. Both Elder Basil and his Master had moved, meeting at the exact center of the distance that used to separate them, their stances hinting at a clash.

Elder Basil had formed a blade with his right hand, but Horace had deflected it with his left arm.

Meanwhile, Horace had delivered a palm strike with his right arm, only for Elder Basil to block it with his left forearm.

A crack had opened on the ground between the two branching experts, as if attempting to separate them. Tiles of grass and soil had risen, and the many empty patches hinted at the fact that some had been blown away.

But, more than the clash’s unfathomable violence, Liam focused on its outcome. The exchange seemed to have ended in a draw, but he smelled new blood.

A small red patch expanded from Horace’s left arm, the limb that had deflected Elder Basil’s sharp fingers. It seemed Horace had failed to block the attack completely, but his following shout lacked any trace of worry.

"Did you see, disciple?" The Alchemy Elder exclaimed. "I’ve used only a fraction of the Qi this Junior employed, but my burst had been more immediate and denser, matching his superior quantity."

Liam would be lying if he said that he had seen anything. Honestly, he wasn’t sure he could with the violent repercussions those clashes unleashed.

Yet, trust won over impossibility. Horace had all the loyalty and resolve Liam could offer, so the latter believed that a lesson existed behind those unnatural catastrophes.

Luckily, the next exchange featured something slightly more recognizable.

Elder Basil moved faster than Liam’s sharp eyes could register, only becoming visible at the last frame of his attack. The white-masked man appeared behind Horace, his clawed hand already in front of his spine.

However, despite being less than a centimeter away from such a vital spot, Elder Basil’s hand slowed down, as if attempting to pierce an invisible barrier that depleted its momentum.

And something unfathomably deep shook, making Liam’s hair stand on end despite the lack of any visible threat. Waves of formless and colorless energy spread through the area, resonating with each other until something impossible unfolded.

Elder Basil’s fingers finally touched Horace’s back, but failed to pierce anything. They merely stopped there, not even cutting through his pale grey robe.

"By chaining a series of precise releases of Qi," Horace announced, "You can achieve the opposite energy signature necessary to disperse the power of any attack."

Dots clicked in Liam’s brain. The event and explanation resonated with his knowledge, uncovering a truth he found unbelievable.

Many fields demanded high levels of Qi manipulation. However, most pursued a specific, single outcome.

Instead, alchemy demanded flexibility. Alchemists had to learn to make their Qi soft, dense, narrow, or widespread to manipulate the alchemical flame according to their needs.

Apparently, that skill could be elevated until it had meaningful battle applications.

The first layer of mastery involved the synchrony between the circulation technique and muscles. The second saw the raw Qi as a blunt weapon, like when Anastasia set it on fire, or Simon used it to blow away the poisonous mist.

That second layer was probably limited to rooting experts, but an even higher level existed. Just like only specific alchemical flames could refine certain ingredients or work in distinct concoction’s phases, Qi in a precise shape could achieve powerful effects that resembled martial arts.

Elder Basil didn’t let that unexpected block interrupt his assault. He promptly swung his other arm, and blood spilled.

A magical weapon had materialized in Elder Basil’s free hand, which was now stabbed in Horace’s back. However, the fake Elder frowned, struggling to complete the cut or pull the blade out.

"If you condense your Qi to satisfying levels," Horace stated, "It can act as a protective barrier that even blades can’t pierce."

Complete understanding dawned upon Liam now, his imagination running wild despite his eyes remaining glued to his Master.

If Liam could force his Qi to become heavy, that weight would carry on to his punches or palm strikes.

If Liam could prompt his Qi to achieve a specific elasticity, his sprints would become faster, fueled by a more suitable energy.

The applications were endless. Even if Liam didn’t have his ten spiritual roots’ unparalleled advantage, mastery in Qi manipulation would still allow him to unleash greater effects at the same energy cost.

Of course, the mastery required to achieve such effects through Qi alone was simply unfathomable. Affecting the alchemical flame was one thing, but Liam couldn’t even imagine how good he had to become before his raw energy could reflect that power during a battle, especially in such a meaningful manner.

Despite being unable to pull out the knife, Elder Basil’s surprise quickly waned, replaced by killing intent that made him pull back both his arms.

Meanwhile, something spread over Horace. His sickish complexion paled even further as the blood vessels on his hands, neck, and forehead popped out, seemingly on the verge of bursting.

As a poison master or a beginner in the field, Liam recognized the effects of his specialty. Elder Basil’s knife had injected a debilitating substance, probably a procoagulant venom, and he planned to use that window to attack.

Nevertheless, as Elder Basil thrust both his clawed hands forward, Horace’s blood vessels abruptly deflated. Even his complexion improved, followed by a half-turn so smooth it left afterimages.

The turn culminated in a palm strike that released a booming noise. Horace hit Elder Basil’s chest, sending him flying away with such violence that the trunk he crashed into exploded and split.

"Delusional Junior," Horace snorted, the thudding noise caused by the falling tree failing to suppress his voice. "To use poison against me! I could manipulate my Qi to replicate the effects of antidotes when you were still in the womb!"