Legacy of Hatred-Chapter 107: Variables

As boring as it could look, there was a compelling interactivity to concoctions. From the outside, the practice appeared mostly about patience due to the long periods of stillness, but that couldn’t be further from the truth.

Alchemists never stood still, even when they didn’t move. The alchemical flame required constant attention since the slightest change in the amount or nature of Qi fueling it could affect the entire concoction, and that was only the beginning.

The variables were too many to count. No ingredient was identical to the previous, even if it came from the same plant. The cauldron also changed after each use despite its planned resilience, and that issue applied to the environment, too.

The air’s composition, the cave’s temperature, the alchemist’s state, and even mere specs of dust could create new variables that affected a concoction.

Of course, most variables were impossibly slight, but had multiplicative effects that became relevant as their number increased. Some were also unavoidable, forcing alchemists to compensate for them.

More than the mere memorization of recipes and procedures, an alchemist’s challenge lay in the conflictingly strict flexibility a concoction demanded.

A recipe had to be followed to the letter, but alchemists also had to adjust it during the concoction to compensate for the variables.

If the alchemists strayed too much from the recipe, the concoction would create something unusable. Instead, if they ignored the variables, the result would be a far cry from the intended product.

Obviously, the possibility of dangerous backlashes existed in both cases.

So, each moment of a concoction featured countless calculations and split-second decisions, since certain variables only became visible during it. Some reactions also unfolded too quickly for alchemists to tackle, and that was even truer for foundation experts.

Liam might have sharp senses, but even he failed to keep up with the variables he recognized. He often spotted them only after they had already applied their effects, preventing him from adjusting to them, and that was still only about what he could see.

But that wasn’t something that quick-thinking could solve. According to the Alchemy Elder, thoughts were too slow for concoctions, and things only worsened for high-rank ones.

As unscholarly as it sounded, only instinctive reactions could catch the variables in time to fix them, which was why the Alchemy Elder seemed to turn into a lifeless ingredient when concocting. He had to kill his ego so that his body could keep up without requiring thoughts.

That had sounded closer to spiritual enlightenment than mere mastery when Liam had heard the explanation. However, the method to get there was something he could understand. He had to study and practice endlessly until that knowledge became second-nature to him.

And, truth was, Liam was good with endless repetition. He had done it with his bow, circulation technique, and now alchemy. As long as his goal demanded it, he could perform the same soul-crushing training again and again, confident that he would improve.

Naturally, Melissa couldn’t see any of the continuous calculations happening in Liam’s mind, but his long periods of stillness were no less compelling.

Both in the ruins and during that morning’s lesson, Melissa had been unable to see Liam’s face, so she had no idea what he looked like in his serious moments.

That changed now. Liam didn’t show his usual expressive face. He didn’t even wear his chilling killing intent. Instead, he gained stern hints of intense, feral danger, as if he were a predator stalking prey despite only having a cauldron in front of him.

Unknowingly to Liam, his feral upbringing had made him develop the expressions of the very animals he had shared the mountain with. He even used to launch roar-like shouts, but the Divine Cult had beaten that habit out of him.

The unexpected face fueled a vast assortment of thoughts that kept Melissa entertained throughout the succession of lengthy procedures. Her imagination ran wild, going from the kind of life Liam had lived to develop such an expression to things too improper to voice.

And, despite some initial opposition, the lengthy training eventually made Melissa focus on those improper sides, especially since those thoughts wouldn’t stop filling her mind.

Melissa’s justified wariness of men had never given her the chance to learn what kind of woman she was in those regards, but she now had plenty of hints.

Melissa had clung to Liam in public on her own, even getting closer to him on purpose, as if wanting to provoke the weird thoughts he had warned her about.

The interaction with Lucy had stirred Melissa’s possessiveness, even leading her into Liam’s cave at the mere mention of that woman.

Then, there had been that sudden kiss, and Melissa couldn’t even begin to explain what had taken over her back then. Still, her imagination had only gone further in front of that feral face, forcing her to accept the undeniable.

Women were supposed to be pure, especially in the cultivation world, but Melissa now knew that she was the very opposite of that.

That embarrassing realization matched Liam’s sudden slap on the cauldron’s side, almost making Melissa jump on the spot. Still, he kept ignoring her, using another flask to scoop what he had concocted.

Liam repeated his previous action, lifting the flask to the ceiling. The liquid’s blueness had brightened after his many attempts, even gaining a fresher scent, but it still couldn’t match what he had used in the ruins.

’My head is about to explode,’ Liam sighed internally, sealing the flask and storing it in his robe. ’I can’t concoct anything in this state.’

The endless calculations in the perpetual tension the concoctions created had weighed on Liam’s mind. He usually took baths and smoked when he faced that mental limit, but that idea crumbled when he noticed Melissa in his cave.

"Oh, Senior Sister!" Liam gasped, sitting in front of Melissa in a hurry. "I’m sorry. I lost track of time."

Melissa could only stiffly shake her head due to her still-lingering embarrassment, but that did little to reassure Liam.

Liam had never stopped feeling guilty about the free ingredients. He had even spent the whole morning copying Melissa’s stances, which she had probably long since mastered, and now he had forced her to watch him concoct for hours on end.

There was a limit to how much Liam could abuse such kindness, especially since he didn’t know how to react to it. He honestly had no experience there. He had problems expressing gratitude to Cyrus, let alone an incomprehensible woman who made him feel all kinds of strange stuff.

So, Liam did the only thing he could think of. He made a promise.

"I’ll get better at alchemy," Liam swore. "Once I do, I’ll help you with your cultivation."

Melissa experienced profound shame at the scene. Liam was offering his support in its most pure form, but his serious face ended up rekindling her improper imagination.

Such basic urges were an insult to Liam’s blinding innocence, so Melissa tried her best to distract herself, her eyes eventually falling on his knuckles. His left hand still carried traces of the previous wound, and she couldn’t help but seize it.

"D-did you ...," Melissa muttered, not sure if she should ask that question, but curious nonetheless. "Did the Divine Cult do this?"