Of course, the math was not exact. Some ingredients were tougher, requiring more time under the alchemical flame, while Liam’s window had merely been a few seconds. He had barely made it.

Still, the next few minor roots, or even just one, would expand Liam’s capacity further, granting him the leeway from which he could draw confidence.

But that initial success gave Liam some wild ideas.

’If I can manage this at fifty-five minor roots,’ Liam pondered, summoning his pipe and personal green jade. ’What could I do at one hundred?’

Liam noted down what he had learned from the concoction while smoking, adding personal considerations and his current reasoning, just like he had read in his Master’s inheritance.

The black Qi claimed all the praise. Liam was certain of that. His cultivation was vast, but there were others who surpassed his current level, few, but enough to confirm that point.

If anyone with a talent of over seven spiritual roots could refine rank 3 ingredients, the cultivation world would have already learned about it. Liam’s black Qi had compensated through sheer power, allowing him to use less energy to obtain the same results.

It was the Hatred-born Qi that had granted fifty-five spiritual roots the ability to touch upon the higher stage, not the other way around.

And yet, Liam could still grow a lot.

’Would I be able to concoct rank 3 products in general at one hundred minor roots?’ Liam couldn’t help but wonder.

Compound concoctions aside, Liam relied on his unique superiority in Qi reserves and his core’s unnatural compulsion toward poison to close the gap from the superior rank.

The black Qi had enhanced that part, but Liam’s reserves would likely more than double by the time he reached the stage’s peak. In theory, he might have enough energy to fuel other versions of the alchemical flame to gain access to all kinds of rank 3 concoctions.

’While I might be able to afford it in terms of sheer amount of Qi,’ Liam calculated, ’The issue is whether I can refine rank 3 ingredients despite mental filters.’

That was the biggest roadblock. The mental filters necessary to create different alchemical flames weakened the power output of Liam’s Qi, likely making it too weak to affect those superior resources.

Still, it remained something Liam looked forward to testing. If he truly could move to rank 3 products before becoming a branching expert, his entire way of tackling the cultivation journey would change.

Of course, there was the issue of the ingredients. Finding them was nigh-impossible, let alone having enough to build proper skills in those superior concoctions, all the while being a rooting expert.

Liam let the poisonous powder accelerate his recovery as he moved to the bubbling spot of death in the basin. He studied it like his Master had taught him, recording smell, texture, and even taste, as well as whatever it caused inside him.

Each reaction was an additional insight into what Liam had created, how the ingredient had behaved, where he might change his approach, and more. Being thorough might save him some failures, which was priceless with the resources involved.

Naturally, Liam had forgotten that he had an audience. Alchemy always did that to him, but the matter became impossible to ignore once he finished updating his jade.

Lucas and Troy couldn’t keep their eyes off of Liam, and for good reason. They didn’t know alchemy, so they couldn’t judge the result, but they had still watched a rooting expert waste a rank 3 ingredient, or at least part of it.

Adding Liam’s tired but unfazed expression and the dangerous thing he was smoking created a picture the two swordsmen just had no idea how to address.

"You two are by far the oddest Daoists I have ever met in my life," Lucas eventually commented.

"I’m surprised, too," Liam admitted, leaning back a bit to look at the two better. "I’m grateful, but I didn’t think disciples of a Demonic Sect could be so trustworthy, especially toward outsiders."

"On the contrary," Lucas showed his empty smile. "It’s exactly because we know we can’t trust locals that we took the risk."

After learning more about the border, Liam couldn’t help but agree. He and Grace had established themselves through lies and deceit, too, albeit part of that had now become truth.

"I learned a bit about Sword Qi," Liam commented, some childish curiosity making him ignore the cultivation world’s customs to inquire on the matter. "Yours look different."

"And I don’t know anything about alchemy," Lucas exclaimed, his gaze growing sharp as he pointed at the white cauldron, "But I’m certain that’s not normal."

A veiled sharpness even rose through Troy’s emotionless face, an unspoken understanding settling in the air. Information was a currency. If Liam wanted to satisfy his curiosity, he had to give something in exchange.

"Alchemy is expensive," Liam announced, "Grooming alchemists even more so. Skill is built on top of countless failures, and that applies to every ingredient and recipe."

Obviously, Lucas’ inquiry was about the surprising view of a rooting expert handling rank 3 ingredients, but Liam couldn’t explain that point. Still, the two swordsmen weren’t stupid. They understood what they could and let the willful ignorance slide.

"Swordsmanship is the very opposite," Lucas stated, standing up, stretching his arm to point his weapon at the ceiling. "Swordsmen don’t need anything, not even swords. We are the weapon. We are the blade."

Liam spotted similarities with alchemy, as well as stark differences. The alchemists also became one with the concoction, but they nullified themselves. Instead, Lucas had seemed to enhance himself during the spar.

There was also something else Liam understood. Lucas’ explanation had been as basic as his own. Liam was receiving what he was giving.

"There are many possible alchemical flames," Liam revealed, "Each causing different reactions and of varying intensity, each requiring Qi manipulation."

"Sword Qi is an enhancement," Lucas explained, "A sharpening of a cultivator’s very being, a slow conditioning of our existence to push it closer to a blade."

Lucas lowered his sword at that point, throwing an empty smile at Liam.

"But Sword Qi isn’t all there is," Lucas said, an obvious offer in his voice.

Liam and Lucas were trading secret for secret. If Liam wanted to learn more, he would have to address his shocking actions.

"You have seen my Qi," Liam uttered, his face growing feral. "The alchemical flame it produces can affect rank 3 ingredients. One, that is."

"To what end?" Lucas wondered, but Liam didn’t reply. It was Lucas’ turn to share something now.

"Sword Qi is a sharpening of the Qi," Troy joined in, standing up, stretching two fingers before his face. "It’s a pure blade, what righteous arts pursue, but it’s not all."

Qi enveloped Troy’s fingers, invisible, but sharp. Liam felt it on his very skin. Yet, a silver light sparked inside that ethereal membrane, brightening it, turning it into an unstable, trembling, almost angry energy.

"Emotions pollute," Troy explained, "But also contain strength. They can dull a blade, but sharpening them can surpass what raw Sword Qi can achieve."

Liam had already suspected it, but watching that unstable silver membrane and receiving a proper explanation confirmed it. That was the realm of demonic arts.

Sharpening Qi was no different from the flexibility alchemy was teaching Liam. However, sharpening emotions was a different endeavor. It would cut deep, into what made a person. It was a sacrifice similar to what the Primal Urge inflicted.

"Mine is commonly referred to as Furious Sword Qi," Troy concluded, letting the silver membrane disperse and retracting his hand.

"I’m a not-so-humble pursuer of the Mad Sword Qi," Lucas added, performing a deep, sarcastic bow.

’So cool,’ Liam instinctively thought, still puffing from his pipe. In those friendlier environments, his childish curiosity about those aspects of the cultivation world could come out.

"Products last longer than ingredients," Liam responded to the previous question now that he had obtained his answer. "I’m learning to extract the properties to make concentrates."

"Can you do it for our roses, too?" Lucas asked.

"Does it change you to sharpen your emotions?" Liam questioned, knowing it was his turn. "Does it hurt?"

"Yes and yes," Lucas replied.

"No," Liam addressed the previous question.

Silence fell, the two sides inspecting each other, probing more with eyes alone, deciding on their next question, when the tent opened.

Grace was in her casual attire, her hair down, sheets in her arms, only to halt her steps before the scene. Still, instead of the strange tension in the air, she focused on the cauldron.

"My dear," Grace wore her dangerous smile. "I hope you made our guests pay for the performance. If I have to share some of your handsome sides with others, I expect to receive money in return."