Legacy of Hatred-Chapter 175: Original

Naturally, the Alchemy Elder could also partially confirm his disciple’s success from a distance, his thoughts even going beyond that victorious instance.

Liam didn’t pant but was drained, his bloodshot, heavy eyes vouching for the concoction’s difficulty. The process had been challenging, strenuous, and long, requiring countless calculations and adjustments.

Truth be told, the Elder knew that such a concoction was beyond Liam’s current skills. He had improved quickly through his unwavering, unyielding, and uncompromising resolve, but he remained an apprentice with little over five months spent with a cauldron.

That time was too little to produce anything remotely close to a peak rank 1 concoction, no matter the dedication and effort. Even if Liam’s talent granted him greater stamina, enabling more intense and longer training sessions, the math still fell below the required standards.

Liam didn’t even possess any specific talent for alchemy or innate insights. He was a brutish mass of determination, eager and hard-working, but nothing beyond that.

Yet, Liam did have an advantage, something that could close that gap. His core’s inclination had made him focus on poisons, so his skill in that specific field had advanced farther than the rest.

Liam wasn’t good enough to be a specialist yet, but he was on the right path.

Also, that last concoction involved no mental filters, meaning that Liam’s Qi could compensate for minor flaws resulting from a barely sufficient procedure. He even only had to succeed once instead of making that a permanent part of his skillset.

Liam should have still failed, or at least taken longer than five days, but success was more undeniable than theory, and the Alchemy Elder knew that luck wasn’t involved.

Maybe traces of enlightenment had finally begun to descend, at least when it came to poison. The Elder didn’t know what specifically had enabled that with Liam, but only the fact that it had happened mattered.

If anything, that small miracle made the Elder proud to have such a driven disciple so much so that he almost considered uttering a proper praise, only to prioritize something else over that embarrassing option.

The Alchemy Elder approached the cauldron, even if the damage it had suffered pretty much settled the matter. That tool wasn’t quite a rank 1 magical item, but it was Qi-enhanced enough to endure concoctions, and breaking it vouched for the sizzling’s source’s power.

Looking into the cauldron confirmed that point. A fist-sized puddle of a pale liquid rested at its bottom, the sizzling noises hinting at its attempts to corrode the metal.

Whatever that liquid was, it was beyond the original recipe, a job that Liam’s Qi took full merit of. The intended poison had no such corrosive properties, but Liam’s tailoring it for his core had added that effect.

Honestly, that wasn’t ideal considering what Liam had to do. Ingesting the poison would be quite a terrible experience.

Still, the result reaffirmed how extreme Liam’s affinity for poison was. His black alchemical flame could expand an already unparalleled deadliness. It couldn’t push it beyond its rank, but it could add physical properties.

Nevertheless, the most important feature was that the poison was pure. It was no messy mass of disparate toxic traits. It was a stable, deadly substance, one that was perfect for what Liam had in mind.

"I approve of it," The Alchemy Elder announced. "Disciple, you can use this for the breakthrough."

Liam’s tired eyes lit up as he straightened his back, but the Elder poured cold water on his naive excitement.

"Fool, rest first," The Elder scolded, not using his cane. "The breakthrough isn’t something you can tackle in this condition."

Liam nodded, groaning as he stood up to retrieve his pipe. He wasn’t physically tired, but a headache had long settled in his mind.

"Disciple," The Elder called once Liam put the pipe in his mouth. "This is your first creation. It is derivative, but original nonetheless, and it deserves a name."

Liam knew that practice, which didn’t only apply to alchemists. He simply hadn’t realized that his training had finally culminated in that achievement. He was also too distracted from his goal and mental exhaustion, but his Master was right.

The concoction used an existing recipe, but the result was a different iteration specific to Liam’s Qi. Original sounded like a stretch, but only Liam knew how to produce it, making it unique, hence deserving of a name.

Liam had never named anything in his life, but his mental exhaustion removed useless thoughts and pointed in a specific direction, the aspect he knew had made him succeed earlier than expected.

"Boar’s Touch," Liam said, looking down at his hands while blowing black smoke out of his mouth.

The Elder couldn’t have thought of a worse name, but a smirk somehow found its way toward his face. It wasn’t mighty nor noble, but it suited Liam’s brain.

It could even become part of a trend if Liam kept naming his creations in such an odd way, something worth adding to his eventual, unavoidable biography. He was Horace Rauret’s disciple after all.

"Let the Boar’s Touch rest in the cauldron," The Elder ordered. "It’s useless now anyway, and ordinary flasks would just melt."

Liam inhaled from the pipe again before putting it aside, crossing his legs, and closing his eyes. He had depleted a lot of Qi for the concoction, and the circulation technique would fix that.

As the hours passed, Liam recovered, but he didn’t stop at anything below his top condition. He even fell asleep for a while, only to wake up soon after in perfect shape.

The Alchemy Elder was still in the cave, ready to accompany Liam to the very end of that road, only providing minimal support. That was Liam’s path to tread after all, but his presence still warmed him.

Nevertheless, Liam couldn’t dwell on that affection. He had something more important to do, so he stood up, avoiding smoking on purpose and undressing.

If the process were successful, Liam’s body would expel impurities, the black goo, again, so there was no point in wearing clothes.

As for the pipe, Liam wanted to smoke, but he couldn’t risk overwhelming his core with poison. While nourishing, that substance could still kill him, so he had to limit the dangers.

Liam seized a wooden cup while he reached the cauldron. The corrosion had stopped, but not due to a lack of deadly properties. Part of the pale-grey poison had fused with the metal, creating a hole that could endure its properties.

Liam exchanged a look with his Master standing ahead, who nodded through his chilling but fiery gaze, before immersing the cup in the cauldron, scooping up what was left of his creation.

The sizzling resounded again. The Boar’s Touch melted through the cup quickly, but Liam immediately sat down, taking a deep breath before gulping down that deadly substance.