Concocting with a hyper-sensitive, partially unresponsive arm wasn’t ideal, especially since Liam used his left one to manage the alchemical flame.

Liam faced issues with the first alchemical practice he had ever learned. The flame burning under the cauldron was a concoction’s most crucial factor, and his arm couldn’t keep up with it.

The issue wasn’t about releasing Qi, be it in the right quantity or nature. There was simply a delay between what Liam’s brain ordered and what came out of his arm.

And yet, Liam wore a bitter smile while he adjusted to the gradually shrinking delay. His Master had been right as always. Liam had indeed found the opportunity to concoct with more than broken fingers.

Liam’s arm gradually improved, and the same went for his ability to account for that temporary issue. He soon saw entire concoctions to their end, but that didn’t imply success just yet.

The last smoking powder’s recipe dated back to Liam’s twenty-fifth minor root, and it had even grown ineffective by then. He now had over double that number, with requirements beyond that additional amount. To make something that worked at his level, he would have to go all out.

Experiment after experiment, Liam eventually removed any rank 1 ingredient from the equation. While many rank 2 recipes used them, he was simply beyond that realm now.

The success arrived after over a day of tests. Liam used five rank 2 ingredients of the highest quality to create a slimy layer as black as death. He scooped it away and left it out to dry, eventually crushing it into a powder.

The Alchemical Refinement showed its value once Liam retrieved his pipe. Yellow shades had joined its black body. Three months inside the special container with his venomous powder had changed it, strengthening it in the process.

The pipe was still just a rank 1 item, but Liam activated its ability once he started smoking. Grace had specifically commissioned it. Qi could enhance its sturdiness, so nothing melted while that powerful poison burned in its bowl.

Liam coughed violently as the black smoke ran down his throat. His mind spun, debilitating him, making him lose his balance. When he recovered, he found himself lying on the floor, but that was the mark of success.

If the poison could hurt Liam, it meant it was effective for his growth, and his cultivation confirmed it. His core cheered at the nutrients flowing through it, triggering growth.

There was also a second-order effect. Through the nutrients’ empowerment, Liam’s body started to address his still-hurting meridians. Sharp pain flared everywhere inside him, warning him that his circulation technique had been involved, but he squinted his eyes to endure it.

Healing pathways at the core of the cultivation journey was no enjoyable process. It caused suffering down to Liam’s very existence, with a depth similar to when he had attempted the breakthrough.

It was like teaching a broken leg to walk again. Tendons had to be stretched. Muscles needed to grow anew. It was a painful, long process, more spiritual than physical.

Still, Liam smoked again, repeating the action once his awareness returned. Such sharp debilitation went against the smoking powder’s advantages, but Liam knew he would build tolerance to it. He just had to continue abusing it.

Cycles of unconsciousness and pain unfolded. Liam even had to take breaks at times when he felt sick. Poison could still kill him after all, and he had uses for spare time.

The new recipe worked, but Liam had only made enough to last a week. It was a prototype. He needed to confirm its viability before making an actual batch.

Experiments on the batch followed. Liam added rank 1 ingredients to delay the expiration date, and far fewer failures occurred thanks to his familiarity with the procedure.

Eventually, Liam emptied his poison-related stash to concoct enough powder to last him six months, but he wasn’t done with the cauldron yet.

As short as the mission had been, Liam had used a rank 2 healing pill, a rank 2 body-enhancing pill, two Qi-Storage Pills, and a Qi Recovery elixir. There was also the rank 3 product that had saved Grace, but that wasn’t among what he could refill.

Liam worked on restoring his collection, making improvements where he could. The healing pills and Qi Recovery elixirs were products perfected throughout centuries of alchemy, so Liam wouldn’t mess with them, but the others could benefit from changes. At least, he would.

Nothing in the world had been created with someone like Liam in mind. He was a being beyond the Heavens, with a body and capacity that broke every natural limitation.

As such, standard alchemical products might fall short of Liam’s needs. He had to create larger Qi-Storage Pills for personal use due to how much energy his body could contain.

That was also preparation for the future, for when Liam achieved the unfathomable number of one hundred minor roots and gained access to an extreme-grade circulation technique.

The same applied to Liam’s physical limits. The body-enhancing pill was a weaker, safer version of the self-destructive Boiling Blood Pill, but the test run in the mountain had shown that he could endure more.

What was self-destructive for others might merely be an uncomfortable strain for Liam. He had that unique endurance, his personal upper limits, so he had to exploit them to make full use of his lineage.

To be fair, Liam wondered if he could shake off the Primal Urge’s drawbacks entirely once he reached the stage’s peak.

A week passed, and then two. Liam refilled and improved his collection. His new arm recovered completely, as if he had never lost it, and even his tolerance to the new powder increased. It was still debilitating, but he could remain straight at least.

The meridians were the only aspect that lagged behind that recovery, but they also showed signs of improvement. It didn’t hurt as much to circulate the Qi anymore.

Two more minor roots finished developing, too, bringing their total number to fifty-three. Liam was steadily getting better, surpassing his previous level, but the greatest gift arrived in the third week.

The fan was the first to notice it. Its high-pitched whines flooded the underground room as it shot into the air and darted left and right before charging at Liam.

Liam had the pipe in his mouth when the fan landed on his head. It didn’t hit him as it had in the past. It was more of a thug, with both happiness and a sense of urgency screaming from the mental connection.

Then, a soft moan resounded from the other side of the room. Grace coughed a few times before her eyelids parted slightly. She was still in a daze, groaning as she lifted her head.

The first scene that hit Grace’s eyes was her chest. Her robe was partially open, dark blood staining her skin, but nothing could hide the nasty scar between her breasts.

However, Grace’s inspection stopped there because her figure left the floor. She inhaled sharply, confused, instinctively struggling, only for that to become timid tension once memories and awareness returned.

Liam had basically leaped to the other side of the room, lifting Grace while sitting on the floor. He kept her in his arms, one hand around her nape, the other hugging her from above, lying on her back to press her against him.

A small smile soon replaced Grace’s confused expression, but that was the limit of what she could do due to how hard Liam was squeezing her.

"You are suffocating me," Grace chuckled, her breath strained due to the validity of her complaint.

"I don’t care," Liam said, slightly relaxing his hug.

Grace chuckled again and used the opportunity to wrap her arms around Liam’s neck, resting her head on his chest like when the two flew together.

"It took me almost dying to get a spontaneous hug," Grace teased. "Master, you drive a hard bargain. I’m not sure I can afford what comes next."

"I’ll give you everything you want," Liam promised, his hand digging into Grace’s hair. "Just don’t die."

Grace had only wanted to reassure Liam with her usual teasing, but that serious promise was a truly insidious attack. Her cheek flushed as she squeezed Liam’s neck, lowering her head on his chest.

"You should be wary about what you say," Grace timidly warned. "Words have weight. I’m not such a poor merchant as not to hold you to them."

Liam didn’t reply, not with words. As much as Grace was clinging to him, he was lifting her, so he could easily pull her head away to place it under his eyes.

Grace still looked pale. Dried blood stained her chin and her mouth, but her eyes went wide when she saw Liam lowering his face toward hers.

Liam gave the answer he had been putting off in the form of a kiss. It was simple, merely pressing lips against lips, but its pressure conveyed his feelings.

Grace’s eyes remained wide for a whole second, but the hand pressing on the back of her head eventually reassured her. She abandoned herself to the action, sliding her fingers to Liam’s face.

The kiss broke soon after. Both Liam and Grace tilted their mouths away, but she kept her forehead on his, caressing his face.

"I am your woman now," Grace whispered. "Forever."