Legacy of Hatred

’Peerless,’ Liam thought, that being the only word his brain could concoct to describe the astonishing sight.

Liam couldn’t begin to fathom the mastery level needed to add specific properties to raw Qi so that it could be useful in battle. After all, such manipulation required mental filters, and each would lower the power output.

Liam had faced that challenge when concocting healing pills. His Qi struggled to bring the alchemical flame to the required temperature due to the broad, thick mental filters he had to employ.

However, Liam could understand, or at least accept, that a far higher mastery level could allow his Qi to have battle applications.

Still, that only applied to simple effects like heaviness, density, and flexibility, which were somewhat in the realm of what Liam could imagine as reasonable if he squinted.

But Horace had pushed that field one step further. He had manipulated his Qi to replicate antidotes. Liam had just learned to concoct those, so he knew how intricate their properties were.

The sole idea of manipulating the Qi to such intricate shapes tried to give Liam a headache. Yet, there his Master was, performing something so complex it could only be deemed unthinkable, as if it were normal to him.

Liam’s respect for his Master had long since reached its peak. He literally lacked the ability to feel it in greater intensity.

But now, at the sight of such an impossible feat, Liam experienced proper awe. His Master was so grand that he escaped what he could conceive. Horace Rauret was a mountain so colossal that Liam couldn’t even hope to guess where its apex was.

And that was Horace Rauret at his weakest. As for how great he had been in the past, Liam lacked the brain capacity, knowledge, and experience to imagine it.

But greatness, past or present, was a matter of perspective when it came to the sheer brutality of battle.

A figure calmly walked from behind the fallen tree. Elder Basil re-entered the small clearing, not a trace of blood, dirt, or sweat on his smiling face or green robe.

"My deepest apologies," Elder Basil politely announced. "Master Horace, I meant no disrespect. I merely didn’t think it possible to neutralize poison with Qi alone."

"Consider yourself enlightened," Horace scoffed.

"May I expand my offer?" Elder Basil wondered. "I wish to add your incredible expertise to our ranks. You’ll also be able to continue grooming your disciple if you join us."

"Will you make me the leader so that I can use all your resources for myself?" Horace questioned.

"I’m afraid that wouldn’t be possible," Elder Basil rejected.

"The offer is not worth considering then," Horace groaned. "Now, Junior, I don’t know why you let me finish my lesson, but I’m inclined to feel insulted."

"I couldn’t let our precious seed’s education remain incomplete," Elder Basil explained. "However, since the lesson is over ..."

Liam had half-hoped that his eyes would grow accustomed to the might of that vastly superior stage the more he inspected the battle, only to be proven utterly wrong.

Despite crouching on the ground, Liam ended up in the air, blown away by winds so wild that the previous ones resembled gentle breezes.

The ground shook so violently that it exploded in several spots, breaking and rising everywhere else, filling the world with a cacophony of deafening rumblings.

Roars also took over the sky, making the very air tremble. Multiple deafening shockwaves expanded in quick succession, attempting to make all of Liam’s orifices bleed when they reached him.

As for the two Elders, Liam had to wait until his back landed on a trunk to force his eyes open and inspect the battlefield, finding no one there. The fight was happening, but not where or in a way he could inspect.

Nevertheless, the chaos didn’t stop. It only intensified. Liam never fell since the winds kept pressing him on the trunk, until the tree itself moved.

Trees began to fall left and right, with some uprooted by the natural catastrophe. Countless leaves fell, only to shatter before they could touch the breaking ground.

The clear sky became visible, but patches of darkness occasionally spread over it, only for the very atmosphere to twist under the might of the following shockwaves.

The world was ending, and Liam was nothing more than a powerless ant caught in its destruction.

There was nothing remotely mortal about the event. When branching experts fought, even Qi-enhanced environments like the Evergreen Canyon fell apart, unable to withstand their might.

Luckily, despite falling, the tree Liam had slammed into had deep roots that clung to a surviving patch of soil.

The gales blew Liam away, making him roll over the tilted trunk, but his arms managed to wrap around sturdy branches to which he clung as if his life depended on it, which it probably did.

The gales still blew, but Liam remained on the branches, his body lifted and swaying. That was all he could do. The entirety of his concentration had to be on not flying off, and he somehow succeeded, filled with profound awe toward the terrifying levels cultivators could achieve.

Liam had learned that his duty as a cultivator was to impose his will on the world, but the teaching had remained vague. He had also lacked the means to imagine something so grand, but not anymore.

Moreover, that was only the branching stage. The six Sects already featured stronger experts, and chances were the Inner Circles would have even bigger monsters.

With such devastating power, affecting something as vague as the world wouldn’t even be a challenge. It would be the norm of beings so superior to humans that they could very well belong to a different species.

At some point, the gales abruptly stopped. Liam’s body flopped down on the branches, but he didn’t dare to stop clinging to them. Yet, he forced himself to look up, finding his Master’s frame.

Horace was in a sorry state. More injuries had opened over his figure, tainting his robe with still-expanding patches of blood. His left cheek also had a long, vertical cut, with red drops dripping out of it.

The knife previously stabbed in Horace’s back was no more, but Liam instinctively focused on the item between his teeth. A red pill rested there, and he crushed it without hesitation.

’Boiling Blood Pill?’ Liam barely had the time to think before his Master’s presence intensified, becoming so oppressive it seemed able to squash him on its own.

The heavy aura was short-lived since the world resumed shattering. The apocalypse returned, lifting Liam’s body again and forcing him to exert the entirety of himself on clinging to his thick branch.

The numbing process lasted for an unknown amount of time. Liam just couldn’t keep track of it when the effort demanded so much from him.

However, eventually, everything calmed down again. The loud shockwaves had long since made Liam’s ears buzz, but he didn’t hesitate to look up, only to find his Master and Elder Basil on the ground.

Horace’s condition had somehow worsened. Liam couldn’t see any trace of his robe’s original color anymore. Blood had taken over everything, and even his complexion had paled beyond what sounded manageable.

Yet, Horace’s caved-in, dripping-with-sweat face remained stern, chilling resolve burning in his icy-blue eyes pointed at the seemingly unharmed Elder Basil.

Elder Basil wasn’t smiling anymore, but he didn’t hesitate. He charged forward, planning to end that battle, but Liam noticed something strange. He was somehow following that movement.

The white-masked man noticed that strangeness, too, but his figure kept slowing down. Soon, one of his legs bent on its own, and the other followed, bringing him to his knees and filling his face with shock.

Elder Basil tried to support himself with his arms, but they bent, too. His figure crashed to the shattered ground, unable to move, only allowing a weak voice to escape his throat.

"When?" Elder Basil asked.

"I’m an alchemist!" The Alchemy Elder cried, his best efforts to shout failing to hide the exhaustion in his voice. "Is there even a time when I shouldn’t rely on alchemy?!"

Horace stepped forward, his figure firm as always, but reeking of the struggle it took him to remain upright.

"Of course, branching experts require special treatment," Horace announced. "I used citotoxins, neurotoxins, and hemotoxins all in quantities too limited for you to notice."

Horace stopped right before his lying opponent, completing his explanations. "They are all complementary, and the chain reaction will culminate in three, two, one ..."

Once the countdown reached zero, entire patches of Elder Basil’s body exploded outward, releasing blood everywhere. Some of that was black, too, and the process didn’t only affect his superficial flesh.

The outburst rolled Elder Basil to his back, but he remained motionless. Blood and chunks of his very organs accumulated in his throat, filling his mouth as life abandoned him.

"I gave you the chance to leave," Horace reminded, placing his foot on Elder Basil’s ribcage. "Any last word?"

Elder Basil smiled, the effort cracking the skin on his cheeks. Blood and teeth flowed out as soon as his lips parted, but a weak, bubbly, final whisper managed to escape his mouth.

"Nine is perfection," Elder Basil said, his gaze lost on the sky as if chanting his faith at it. "T-ten is diabolical."

Once those words finished echoing in the air, Horace put weight on his foot, crushing Elder Basil’s sternum and everything underneath.