Mystic Eyes: My Eyes Steal the Laws of Cultivation

Chapter 339: New Teachers (3)

The three weeks in the military branch of the Blood Court passed like a gust of wind.

The sun, or what passed for a sun beneath the dark clouds of the Northern Territory, rose and set, and Kyrian was there at every dawn, standing at the center of the training platform, waiting for his twenty disciples.

They arrived out of breath, some still adjusting their robes, others already with their hands wrapped, ready for training. None were late. In the first week, two had arrived late. Kyrian did not shout at them. He did not punish them. He only looked into their eyes for a long second, and they were never late again.

Kyrian could not teach Court techniques, after all, he did not use any, and they would not learn much in three weeks.

Techniques took months to be mastered, and years to be perfected. What he could teach was more fundamental. More important.

He could teach how to fight.

”The basic foundation is everything in a fight.” Kyrian said as he walked among the aligned disciples.

”A powerful technique executed on a weak foundation is like a sharp sword in the hands of a child. It can cause damage, but it is more likely to injure itself.”

His crimson eyes swept over every posture, every breath, every flow of Qi. He saw everything.

”You.” he said, pointing to a thin boy with dark hair.

”Your left shoulder is higher than your right. That creates unnecessary tension in your spine. In a prolonged fight, that tension will accumulate and will make your movements slower.”

The boy adjusted his shoulder, surprised that Kyrian had noticed something so small.

”You.” He pointed to a girl in the back row.

”Your breathing is shallow. You are holding the air in your lungs instead of letting it flow. Qi follows the breath. Trapped breath means trapped Qi.”

The girl exhaled slowly, inhaled deeply, and felt the immediate difference, the Qi that had been stagnant in her meridians now moved more fluidly.

”You.” He pointed to a muscular young man in the front.

”Your feet are too far apart. You think that gives stability, but it actually reduces your mobility. A faster opponent will circle around you, and you will not be able to keep up.”

The young man brought his feet closer, feeling strange at first, but then more agile.

Correction after correction. Adjustment after adjustment. Kyrian did not tire. His eyes did not fail.

In the first week, the disciples were uncoordinated. In the second, they began to move as a unit. In the third, Kyrian decided to test them.

”All of you against me,” he announced, standing at the center of the platform.

”You may use what you have learned. You may fight as a team. You may try to surround me. Try to hit me.”

The twenty disciples exchanged glances. Twenty against one. It seemed easy.

It was not.

Kyrian moved among them like a living shadow. Every strike they attempted met empty air. Every attempt to surround him was thwarted by a step here, a dodge there, and an unexpected turn. He did not counterattack. He only evaded.

His hands were clasped behind his back.

The disciples attacked again, all at once, coordinated, using the flanking techniques Kyrian had taught them.

Kyrian simply took a step forward and turned.

The dodge was so subtle that most of the disciples did not even realize what had happened. Suddenly, they were misaligned, striking at each other, creating openings that Kyrian could have exploited if he wished.

None touched his clothes.

The fight lasted five minutes. When Kyrian finally stopped, the twenty disciples were out of breath, some fallen on the ground, others leaning on their knees. None had touched him.

”You have improved.” Kyrian said, and there was truth in his words.

”But there is still much room to grow.”

The disciples looked at him with new eyes. It was no longer fear. It was respect.

From that day on, the training became more intense. The disciples arrived earlier and left later. They practiced the basic movements repeatedly, stances, breathing, Qi flow, dodges, and simple attacks. Kyrian corrected them tirelessly.

And slowly, they transformed.

A boy named Lian, who could barely hold a sword correctly in Kyrian’s view, now wielded his blade firmly. A girl named Yu, who had some fear of physical contact, now attacked with confidence.

A young man named Feng, who had been arrogant and inattentive, now listened to every word Kyrian said with attention.

Not all stood out. Some were naturally more talented than others. But all improved. All evolved.

At the end of the third week, Kyrian looked at his twenty disciples and felt something close to satisfaction. They were not ready warriors. They were not even close to what he would consider ”strong.” But they were no longer novices.

They knew how to fight.

...

The three weeks were not only training.

Kyrian also spent time with Bai Zhu and the others.

Dong Zhen had mentioned that Kyrian would leave soon, and everyone wanted to make the most of their last moments together. They did not know when they would see each other again, if they ever would.

The one who showed this the most was Mei Li.

On several days, she woke Kyrian early. She knocked on his door before dawn, just as she had done in the Cloud Empire, when they shared the Crimson Lotus Residence.

Kyrian opened the door, and there she was, already dressed, already ready, her eyes shining in the dim light.

”Still sleeping?” she asked, even knowing that Kyrian had already been awake for hours.

”You know I’m not.”

”Then come.”

She entered the room and sat on the bed, or on the stone chair, or simply on the floor, leaning against the wall. Kyrian sat as well.

They talked about anything.

Mei Li talked about her disciples, about how some were stubborn and others dedicated. Kyrian talked about his.

Mei Li talked about the future, about how she wanted to grow stronger, travel, and see the world.

Kyrian talked about the Central Territory, about what he expected to find there, powerful forces, ancient treasures, and challenges that would test his limits.

Usually, Mei Li guided the conversation. Kyrian responded. But he did not dislike it.

In the last weeks, before the journey to the Central Territory, those morning conversations were a moment of calm before the training, the fights, and the departures.

On one of those mornings, Mei Li remained silent for a long moment. Kyrian did not ask what was wrong. He knew she would speak when she was ready.

”I’m going to miss you.” She said finally, without looking at him.