Legacy of Hatred

Despite the unfathomable, unparalleled strength Liam’s gargantuan body possessed, he felt a bit tired, as well as uneasy.

The battle among the seven of them had been unavoidable, long overdue even. Beings at Liam’s level would keep growing, widening the power imbalance until a fight was nothing short of a certainty.

Yet, Liam had to admit that the effort had surpassed his expectations, as well as its cost.

Liam glanced to his right. Far in the distance, two gargantuan figures floated motionlessly in the vast expanse, surrounded by an expanding sea of bright blood.

The Ape, Liam’s greatest ally, had most of its fur burned to a crisp, two of its three heads nothing more than charred stumps, its six burly arms turned into a mess of exposed muscles and bones that kept leaking blood.

The Ape’s opponent, the hypocritical pacifist of the Phoenix, had gone dark, the flames that enveloped it fully extinguished, leaving behind a mountain of grey, shriveled feathers that carried no traces of its blinding, fiery greatness.

Far away to Liam’s left, two more towering figures floated lifelessly through space, their stances still conveying their mutual finishing blows.

The Wolf had its huge claws stabbed deeply into the Qilin’s torso, while the latter had its mouth sealed on the former’s neck.

In hindsight, Liam should have known. The Qilin never made wrong bets. The fact that it had opposed him should have warned him about that outcome.

Another gargantuan figure also stood behind Liam, still trapped in his coils. The Turtle, that treacherous traitor, had stopped moving with its horns still stabbed in his scales, the battle having shattered many more of those.

If it hadn’t been for the Turtle’s sneaky decision to join the clash, the two sides would have been equally matched. However, Liam had won, and his opponent’s blood was still dripping from his fangs.

Nevertheless, there was still one Liam had to face, one who, unlike him, hadn’t suffered any injury, his only equal, and the only one who could be his superior.

Looking up, Liam saw vast wings glistening with blue scales supporting a magnificent, giant body. White flames leaked out of its partially open mouth, while its reptilian eyes were fixed on him.

Liam was bigger, far bigger, but even he felt inferior under the sheer superiority the Dragon radiated. After all, the Dragon was born to represent Perfection, the best of them all.

And Liam hated that superiority, the confidence that bordered on pity in those eyes. Even now, at the end of everything, the Dragon showed no weakness or hesitation. It didn’t have any, and it never would.

But the white flames kept intensifying, becoming a blinding attack while remaining inside the Dragon’s maw. That wasn’t an issue for Liam, but the situation didn’t look good. His injury made that fight quite unfair, more than it already was.

Still, Liam wasn’t one for excuses. They never crossed his mind. He might not win, but he would at the very least make Perfection bleed.

"Brother!" Liam hissed a last battlecry as the flames finally fell, painting the dark expanse white.

The whiteness suddenly vanished. Liam saw a smooth ceiling shining with a dim yellow light. His own hiss reached his ears, coming out of his open mouth raised at that bright surface.

A sense of weakness followed. For some reason, Liam was standing, but his balance faltered, bringing him to his knees. He even had to plant his hands on the floor to support himself, experiencing some confusion at the fact that he had limbs.

The pain that followed snapped Liam out of his confusion. He grunted, gritting his teeth as all his tissues quivered, moving, condensing, and more.

Liam felt the strain as deeply as his bones. Creaking noises resounded inside him, echoing in his mind. His body was rearranging itself as it had done in Crazy Uncle’s pool.

But something else stood out. A bloatedness inside Liam’s jaw brought his writhing hand to his neck to check the spot. He didn’t feel anything off, not superficially, but something kept expanding.

Liam crouched down and spread his mouth, feeling something akin to the urge to spit. Drool leaked down his lips until his brain managed to activate a muscle he didn’t know he had.

A yellow liquid joined the falling saliva, producing a sizzling noise once it touched the floor. A scent Liam couldn’t help but understand also reached his nostrils, intensified by the smoke that corrosive substance was producing.

Another odd detail stood out in that crouched position. The arms that supported Liam were of the wrong color, but everything clicked when he saw his hands leaving similarly black and smelly stains on the floor.

Liam’s skin hadn’t changed color. His body was covered in slimy goo, the impurities it was expelling.

The stench was unbearable, and it strangely assaulted Liam from two sides. He didn’t know why, but he smelled it in his mouth or tasted it. Even he wasn’t sure.

But the rearranging eventually stopped. The writhing waned. Liam’s body slowly relaxed, signaling the end of the process, and making room for something far greater.

Strength spread through every inch of Liam’s body, or rather, it surged, as if a dormant function had been activated. That trend also intensified, leaving the physical realm to touch upon levels Liam had never experienced.

Liam closed his eyes, focusing on the aspect of the circulation technique that brought his mind to the reddish, pulsating canvas. There he saw his cultivation, which was in one piece, and more.

The dark-green color had intensified. It looked brighter and a bit ominous, conveying something more profound and powerful than before.

The core and ten spiritual roots were also there, looking as healthy as always. Yet, something else had joined them.

At the spiritual roots’ tips, where the cracks used to be, additional roots had sprouted. They were tiny, like minor protuberances, but undeniably there and new.

Also, new cracks had appeared alongside Liam’s spiritual roots, already showing signs of wanting to sprout something. He counted them, and their identical number hinted at a specific design his Master had taught him.

After all, each spiritual root carried exactly ten spots from where minor roots would grow alongside the rooting stage, the stage Liam had finally reached.