Legacy of Hatred

A silence Liam couldn’t help but find eerie followed the stomp. After the world had shown signs of ending, peace had returned, but not to Liam’s mind.

Liam had no words to describe what he had just witnessed and endured. His understanding of the higher cultivation stages had transformed through clues he had been unable to follow.

Then, Liam had also witnessed something else. One of the superior beings who could shake the world by merely exerting his power had died in front of his eyes.

It was as if Liam had just learned that gods existed, only to see one of them fall.

Still, Horace suddenly bent forward, a violent cough assaulting his lungs and making his entire figure tremble, prompting Liam to ignore his broadening mindset.

"Master!" Liam called, jumping out of the branches, disregarding the many holes and scrapes on his sleeves and arms to reach the Alchemy Elder.

If Liam’s eyes were to be believed, and they always were, his Master had eaten a Boiling Blood Pill during the fight. Its effects were similar to the Primal Urge, so it was a miracle that the Alchemy Elder was standing at all.

Yet, when Liam reached his Master, he was greeted by a familiar pain.

"What did I tell you about worrying about me?" Horace snorted, retrieving his whip-sleeve. "And it was merely a branching expert. Horace Rauret hasn’t fallen so low as to needing rest after a battle against such a minor opponent."

Liam couldn’t find the strength to be shocked. His Master might have deemed the greatest fight he had ever witnessed as minor, but his complexion was far from convincing. Even the cut on his cheek still released blood.

"Now," Horace exclaimed, positioning himself at Liam’s side to place a hand on his back. "Let’s leave."

"Master, wait!" Liam gasped. "What about Senior Sister Anastasia? What about the other disciples?"

"When your Master gives an order," Horace scolded, not hesitating to whip Liam with his sleeve again, "You comply. And the other disciples will be fine. Someone will have noticed the battle."

Liam couldn’t argue with that. His Master and Elder Basil had unleashed the literal apocalypse. Chances were the Evergreen Canyon couldn’t hide that, but another thought suddenly popped into his mind.

"Master!" Liam called, earning himself a glare from the Alchemy Elder. He even lifted his arm to prepare another scolding blow, stopped only by the blinding innocence he saw.

"Can we ...," Liam hesitantly asked, pointing at the corpse under him, "Loot him?"

The battle had blown away the other corpses, but a dead branching expert lay right at Liam’s feet. Such a powerful being had to possess priceless belongings, and Liam felt he was owed them due to his history with the Divine Cult.

And, surprisingly, the Alchemy Elder chuckled, wearing a rare genuine smile.

"There’s no time," Horace shook his head, "And it might leave a trail. Now, hold your breath."

Liam barely had the time to comply before the world transformed. The entirety of his perception spun, stabilizing to show a completely different environment.

The thick, flourishing, hot forest was no more. The autumn’s cold returned, as well as the expanse of fake, yellow hills. Somehow, Liam was outside the Evergreen Canyon.

"Don’t breathe just yet," The Alchemy Elder ordered, and the world changed once again.

That happened multiple times, to the point that Liam felt dizzy and on the verge of throwing up. He appeared among a yellow grassland, then a patch of wilting trees, then a relatively tall hill, and things didn’t end there.

By the time the afternoon was closer to the night than to midday, the Elder stopped resorting to sprints that only someone at his level could perform. Liam could catch a breath, gasping loudly, until his dizziness receded enough for him to inspect his surroundings.

A yellow and brown forest expanded in front of Liam, stretching far in the distance, with short mountains he didn’t recognize standing among it.

Meanwhile, a relatively flat grassland expanded behind Liam and everywhere else. A river even cut through it, but the unfamiliarity remained, and only looking at the horizon uncovered a familiar landmark.

Far in the distance, Liam recognized Half-Moon Mountain, the landmark that separated the two Outer Circles. Looking at the sky completed that picture, giving him a vague idea of where he was.

For some reason, the Elder had brought Liam further west than he had ever been, way past the outermost Outer Circle. That wasn’t the direction of the Pale Moon Sect, or any of the six neighboring Sects, for that matter.

"Master?" Liam called. "Master, where are we?"

Liam looked up at the Elder, but he kept his caved-in face lowered, something akin to resolute helplessness filling his expression. Horace even sighed, gulping before straightening himself and speaking without meeting Liam’s gaze.

"Disciple," Horace said. "You must leave."

Liam blinked. His ears had stopped buzzing. Even the hiss had finally waned, but he struggled to understand what had reached them.

"What?" Liam asked.

"This incident is too great," Horace explained. "It will warrant the arrival of external investigators. Much will come to light, and my intervention will involve you in it."

Liam’s eyes went wide. His Master was right. The Divine Cult had overplayed its hand. Even an Elder had died. Actually, officially, two were now dead, creating a mess of unfathomable proportions.

It was unclear how many hooded cultivators the Sects would intercept. Liam didn’t even know what they might reveal. However, his Master’s involvement had been suspicious, and that would bring the investigation to Liam.

One thing might lead to another. Liam’s involvement with the Divine Cult might come out, demanding a more intrusive investigation that could reveal his biggest secret.

Liam had been ready for that moment, or rather, he believed he had been. He had always known that he would have needed to leave the Pale Moon Sect. Still, now that the time had arrived, a childish unwillingness rose through him.

"But, Master," Liam muttered, lowering his gaze, his eyes darting left and right to find ways out of the predicament. "Can’t you hide me?"

The Elder finally turned toward Liam, but to hit him. However, this time he had used his hand instead of his sleeve, slapping him.

Liam’s head snapped up, only for his Master to place his hands on his broad shoulders, keeping him still to shout right in his face.

"Don’t be a fool!" Horace scolded. "Do you think being the son of the Ancestral Snake is a joke?! They’d tear your foundation root from root and cut your bones to pieces to use your marrow to find anyone remotely connected to your bloodline!"

Horace had wanted to sound angry. He truly did his best, but the Master-disciple relationship went both ways. Just like he had learned about Liam, the latter had learned about him, allowing him to recognize the sadness behind the scolding.

Also, Liam saw something else. His Master had never explicitly said what he was, and he had never shared that information. They were under the explicit agreement not to voice such things to remain safe from investigative methods.

The fact that Horace wasn’t using half-words to describe the situation added a trace of finality to the matter.

"But-!" Liam instinctively gasped.

"Don’t but me!" Horace interrupted. "Disciple, I’ve seen them. The Dragons are monsters, so drop any trace of naivety you still harbor."

"Dragon...s?" Liam asked.

"I don’t know how the Dragon King has done it," Horace cursed, letting go of Liam. "He must have found a way to spread his bloodline consistently. Disciple, there’s an army of them in the Inner Circles."

Honestly, Liam had no idea how to take the news among the rollercoaster of emotions he was experiencing, but a memory did resurface.

’For the son of the Dragon has disrupted the balance in his pride,’ Liam heard Crazy Uncle’s words in his mind. He couldn’t be sure, but chances were he was referring to exactly that.

"That’s what you are up against!" Horace declared, joining his hands to do something. "So, you can’t leave anything to chance. Get as far away from here as you can. Change your name. Don’t even claim to be my disciple!"

"Never," Liam responded, this time not out of childish naivety. He owed everything to his Master. He would forever be Horace Rauret’s disciple and become so great that the entire world would chant his name.

Horace sighed, but he couldn’t bring himself to scold Liam. That resolve made him proud to have found such a perfect disciple, but that was exactly why he had to ensure his survival.

"Disciple, you must," Horace said, his voice calmer now as he took Liam’s hand to place something in his palm. "You must become the most dreadful fiend in the world just to hope to survive the enemies your bloodline attracts."

Horace retracted his hand, and Liam inspected his palm, finding a black ring in it.

"You must forsake all you hold dear until you are strong enough," Horace said, closing Liam’s hand. "You can’t bring honor to my name if you are dead, so promise that you won’t utter it until you are confident you can bear the consequences."

That was a request more than an order, which weighed more on Liam’s chest. He wanted nothing more than to reject it, but his gritted teeth eventually leaked the opposite.

"Master, I promise," Liam swore.

"Good," Horace nodded, smiling, stepping back. "Now, go, and don’t bind that until three days have passed. Just focus on running."

Liam squeezed the fist holding the black ring, now understanding why his Master had been willing to leave even before fighting Elder Basil, but still harboring two doubts he couldn’t suppress.

"Master, what about you?" Liam wondered. "And Melissa?"

"What did I tell you about insulting me?" Horace scoffed, some of his grumpiness returning. "You are a century too young to worry about the great Horace Rauret."

Liam didn’t know why, but he felt the strange urge to chuckle despite not feeling any happiness.

"As for Disciple Melissa," Horace continued, "I told you that, too. Your only duty is to learn and grow strong while your Master takes care of everything."

A complicated expression appeared on the Alchemy Elder’s face, culminating in a sigh. "I won’t promise it will be easy, but if the Heavens will it, you’ll meet again."

Liam trusted his Master, so he could only make a small request. "Master, can you tell her that I’m sorry for leaving like this?"

"What don’t you understand about taking care of everything?!" Horace cried. "Don’t forget that you have to be alive to hope to meet her again!"

"And, Master, will I meet you again, too?" Liam asked.

Horace knew he was burdening Liam with a lot already, so he didn’t add the truth to that weight.

"Who can even hope to take on the great Horace Rauret?" Horace claimed. "Foolish disciple. Stop using that little brain of yours for such pointless problems. Just keep yourself alive and grow strong!"

Liam didn’t want the conversation to be over, but it was, so he got to his knees, performing a single kowtow accompanied by the politest tone he could muster.

"Master, disciple is leaving," Liam announced, straightening himself, dwelling in his Master’s nod for a second before shooting inside the forest.

As for Horace, he followed Liam’s departure until he was far enough away to relax. A trail of blood fell from the corner of his mouth at that point, but he calmly wiped it off as a genuine wish resounded in his mind.

’Safe travels, my disciple,’ Horace thought before his figure disappeared from the area.