Liam and Grace didn’t linger long inside the tent, but the environment had already transformed by the time they came out.

The crowd that had been a constant presence around the tent was no more, instead filling the stages, eager to see the formerly unknown figure who had monopolized the valley fight.

Even Chief Leo and Chief Kent were on the stages, alongside Guild members from other tents. Every available client was on the valley’s slopes anyway, so there was no point keeping their shops open.

The black-haired woman had also left, arranging talismans on one of the fighting platforms. Those rings weren’t intended to host rooting experts, so she had to reinforce them.

Meanwhile, Lancelot had remained true to his word, waiting in the exact spot where he had promised he would be, this time failing to notice Grace entirely.

No words were thrown. Once Liam and Grace got close enough, Lancelot merely turned, heading for the platform his Sister had arranged.

Grace was understandably tense, but hid it behind her stern mask, alongside something else. She felt she somehow knew Liam now, at least how he was, so she could read his inexplicable confidence despite his hood.

Theoretically, the battle’s outcome was already decided. Liam was at the beginning of the rooting stage, while Lancelot was a genius peak rooting expert with all the benefits his position as Head Disciple could provide. The gap was simply hopeless.

However, Liam had killed experts of that caliber when he was just at the foundation stage. Sure, it hadn’t happened in a straight fight, but he just couldn’t fear them as others did.

If anything, Liam was more worried about making sure he held back.

Lancelot jumped on the short platform as soon as he reached it, and Liam followed suit. Meanwhile, Grace joined the black-haired rooting expert below, considering probing her before the two fighters reclaimed her attention.

"There’s nothing better than a fight to know each other," Lancelot exclaimed, turning once he reached the center of one half of the platform. "William, don’t you think so, too?"

Liam imitated Lancelot, occupying the platform’s other side, a doubt overriding the confusion from that unfamiliar name.

"Is this like a mock battle?" Liam asked.

As stupid as mock battles still sounded, Liam believed that was better than fighting for real in front of so many witnesses.

But, in response, Lancelot snapped his arm forward, launching something fiery and fast.

Gasps resounded among the spectators, replaced by utter silence. Lancelot had released another dense, fiery bullet, something even the rooting experts among them would struggle to track, but not Liam.

The bullet lost power once it crossed the platform’s boundary, compelled to disperse by the talismans. Still, its arrival there meant that it had missed, and in quite the shocking fashion.

The attack had aimed for Liam’s hood, and he hadn’t evaded or resorted to sudden evasive maneuvers. He had merely tilted his head, dodging it entirely, or almost.

Liam glanced to his right. His hood’s edge had slightly receded, showing signs of burning. He knew the flames hadn’t touched it, but their heat had been enough to cause that reaction.

’His fire is stronger than Anastasia’s,’ Liam realized.

"You would have blocked it," Lancelot answered his previous question. "I bet you would have even continued concocting afterward."

Lancelot was correct, but Liam wouldn’t give confirmation. Things were already beyond that. The fiery bullet wasn’t deadly, but it was a proper attack, telling Liam what kind of fight that was.

So, overthinking was pointless. Actually, thoughts left the equation entirely.

Liam disappeared, turning into a blur to appear directly in front of Lancelot, his fist already heading for his face. He had been fast, faster than he had ever been, but words somehow reached his ears.

"Higher, higher," Lancelot chanted, "I am fire."

Liam’s superhuman senses recorded the heat before anything tangible unfolded, but that arrived, too.

Flames materialized all over Lancelot’s figure and exploded outward, reaching Liam before his punch could connect, forcing him to cross his arms instead.

The fire washed over Liam in no time, dense, scorching, and something else. Those flames didn’t behave like what he knew. They sought him, changing direction to hit his back, too, as if each of those fiery tongues possessed a will of its own.

’It’s living fire, not fire,’ Liam recalled, making a split-second decision.

Generating something dense and precise as Simon had done was still beyond Liam’s skills, but he could achieve a similar result by letting loose.

Liam released his Qi wildly and from everywhere, creating ethereal tides that opposed the converging flames until they dispersed altogether.

The area cleared, showing Liam’s cloak littered with burned holes that expanded for another second before settling. The hood still hid his face, but most of the fabric on his back and legs was gone, revealing his skin and trousers.

Even Liam’s sleeves were a mess, almost revealing the harness where his needles rested, but he couldn’t focus on that, his gaze instead on the figure sliding to his right.

Lancelot rode wisps of flame, as if floating over the stone tiles, his figure straight but partially on fire. His right side released fiery tongues, even his face, which didn’t burn his silver robe or hair.

"Don’t bore me by holding back," Lancelot sighed, his previous smile nowhere to be seen. "There’s nothing I hate more than boredom."

But Liam didn’t hear those words. The hiss resounding in his ears filtered away those useless sounds, summoning a boundless, personal hatred over what others would see as trivial.

The black cloaks were special to Liam. His Master had taught him what they meant, and their presence inside the space-ring couldn’t have been random. Nothing inside it had been.

The way Liam saw it, that was proof of his Master’s confidence in the poison master he would become, and one cloak now had more holes than cloth. He had spares, but that wasn’t the point. Actually, there wasn’t one.

Hatred in its purest form didn’t need reasons to exist.

And, perhaps due to that irrational but intense simplicity, something Liam had been working on for a while finally clicked, like countless tassels shifting just enough for everything to fall into place and create a single picture.

From Liam’s heartbeat to his meridians, everything became one. The asynchrony of the past vanished, becoming less than a memory, the just achieved unity between flesh and Qi feeling too right for anything different to have existed.

Suddenly, the name "Qi mastery" felt wrong. There was nothing to master, nothing to control. People didn’t manage their blood flow, so cultivators didn’t need to think about using their magical energy. It was just there, and it was theirs, something their bodies knew how to use better than their conscious brains ever could.

Naturally, that was a state only training could create. Enlightenment had descended upon Liam, becoming another weapon of his hatred.

Liam sprinted again, as he believed he had always done, but everything felt smoother, connected. Instead of just eye-hand coordination, his Qi joined that unified system, unleashing speed that using it as an external party never could.

Lancelot was still sliding casually when a flicker ran through his brown eyes, the tips of blade-like fingers filling his vision.

That speed was something Lancelot could match and surpass. After all, his mastery was no less complete, but he had far more Qi. His fully developed minor roots allowed far greater bursts of energy.

Yet, the sudden, meaningful improvement Liam had shown took Lancelot by surprise, forcing rash moves. The flames on his right side rose, accelerating his slide left, albeit not quickly enough.

Liam’s fingers missed Lancelot’s eye but scratched the right side of his face. There were tall flames there, but Liam felt wetness, as well as the smell of burning blood.

And in that mere fraction of a second, Lancelot’s smile returned, accompanied by a chant that seemed to defy time. "Higher, higher, I fly through fire."

Flames exploded outward, filling Liam’s vision, but he was ready for them, his Qi blowing out before they could touch him. Tinges of dark-green hues even flickered among those ethereal gales as they extinguished the fire.

Still, Liam was already looking up, his perception having kept up with his opponent’s movement.

Lancelot was several meters above the platform, the flames that had propelled him there leaving a trail in the air, but brighter objects rested in his hands, partially hiding his spread arms.

Two bigger versions of the fireballs Liam had seen the Scorching Sun Sect’s disciples unleash stood above him like miniature stars, and Lancelot didn’t hesitate to throw them down.

The fireballs’ speed was only slightly inferior to the previous bullets’, but they weren’t attacks Liam could dodge. They were too big, and what they would unleash would be even more widespread.

Moreover, those were spells, not mere ignition of Lancelot’s Qi.

The audience saw Liam standing still before the fireballs crashed on him, exploding into an inferno of raining fire. Fiery waves even washed over the platform, filling it, leaking over its edges as many talismans burned at their passage.

That was a direct hit, something even the use of a rank 2 defense-oriented martial art would have struggled to block completely. Lancelot had simply filled his spells with too much Qi, but his heated gaze kept looking down, the flames under his feet slowing down his descent.

Then, screeches resounded. The bed of flame over the platform shook and wailed, as if it were a living being releasing a dying cry. Something also boiled underneath the fire, and black patches spread over it, soon tainting it completely.