Mystic Eyes: My Eyes Steal the Laws of Cultivation

Chapter 443: Pavilion of the Ten Thousand Scriptures

It was a majestic structure. Seven stories tall. Red walls, so red they resembled blood beneath the sunlight.

Golden details adorned the edges, the corners, and the windows.

Dragon sculptures decorated the entrance pillars, each scale detailed, each claw sharp, each eye lifelike.

Guards, armed, attentive, and vigilant, observed everyone who entered.

As soon as Kyrian crossed the doors… he was greeted by the aroma of old paper.

Not the acrid smell of ancient scrolls, the scent of time and dust. But a gentler fragrance, of ink, wood, knowledge. Scrolls. Books. Jade slips. Hundreds. Thousands.

They were techniques and information gathered from all five regions, all present there, within that single building.

A young woman approached.

She wore a light blue robe with the pavilion’s symbol embroidered upon her chest, an open book with a flame above it.

“Young master, are you looking for a specific type of technique?”

“Cultivation techniques.”

She smiled, a professional smile, yet genuine.

“What realm range?”

“All of them.”

Her expression became slightly surprised, her eyebrows rising, her eyes widening.

“All of them?”

“All of them.”

Even so, she led him to the second floor first.

There, the basic techniques were located.

Shelves organized according to elemental affinity.

Fire. Water. Earth. Metal. Wind. Wood.

Kyrian began reading descriptions.

Some emphasized cultivation speed, promising rapid but unstable advancement.

Others focused on Qi purity, guaranteeing refined energy, but at a slow pace.

Still others emphasized physical endurance, strengthening the body while neglecting the spirit.

His goal was not to practice them. It was to understand them. To study their structures. To find patterns.

After nearly two hours…

He selected six basic techniques, techniques useful up to the Qi Release Realm.

Each followed completely different philosophies.

One utilized breathing, synchronizing the flow of Qi with the body’s natural cycles.

Another depended upon circulation through the meridians, guiding energy through specific pathways.

Another focused on slow and steady absorption, accumulating Qi drop by drop.

The combined price was sixty thousand spiritual stones.

Afterward… they ascended to the third floor.

Techniques up to the Core Formation Realm. The difference was evident.

The descriptions became more complex, with detailed diagrams and profound explanations.

The prices were much higher. Kyrian selected two.

One focused on condensing extremely stable cores, prioritizing safety and durability.

Another prioritized quantity of Qi over quality, accumulating maximum energy regardless of purity.

Sixty thousand spiritual stones.

Finally… the fourth floor. Spiritual Awakening.

There were few techniques available, perhaps half a dozen in total.

The protections surrounding the scrolls were visible security formations, Qi barriers, and seals.

The spiritual pressure present within the environment itself was greater, as though the air had become denser, heavier.

Kyrian examined them carefully.

One technique focused on strengthening spiritual sense, expanding perception, and increasing awareness.

Another explored the connection between body and element, merging the cultivator with their natural affinity. After much reflection… he chose both.

The attendant took a deep breath while informing him of the price.

“One hundred thousand spiritual stones.”

Nearly all of his remaining money vanished. Even so… Kyrian did not hesitate.

Upon leaving the pavilion…

His spatial ring contained ten new cultivation techniques. His pocket… was nearly empty once more.

Even so. It was worth it.

Now, all that remained was finding a suitable place to stay.

The sun had already begun descending toward the horizon when Kyrian started his search.

The central areas, near the markets and temples, were far too busy.

Noisy. Crowded. Unsuitable for study. Besides being expensive.

He headed toward the more peripheral regions of the Sky Caravan.

The buildings became simpler, the facades less ornamented, and the signs less luxurious.

The streets grew narrower, barely wide enough for two people to walk side by side.

Fewer merchants, their voices no longer echoing through the walls.

More permanent residents, families, elders, and children at play.

After visiting several unsuitable places… he found a small rental agency.

The owner was a short, pot-bellied man, his skin reddish, his hands plump, his eyes bright.

“Looking for a courtyard?”

“Yes.”

“How many people?”

“Just me.”

The man appeared confused, his forehead wrinkling, his eyes narrowing.

“Alone?”

Kyrian nodded.

The owner led him to several properties.

The first was luxurious, too large, and too expensive. The second… too small.

The third… finally caught his attention.

Located near the edge of the Sky Caravan, where there was less activity and greater silence.

The residence had simple stone walls, low but sturdy.

A small wooden gate, fitted with iron hardware, rusted by time.

Inside… there was a modest courtyard. Sufficient for training. Cultivating herbs. Or testing formations.

The house itself possessed only two main rooms.

A bedroom with a simple bed, a narrow window, and a small table.

A living room, which also served as a kitchen, containing a stone stove, a counter, and a shelf.

The roof displayed signs of old repairs, tiles replaced in certain areas, and the wood reinforced.

The walls were simple, yet solid. At the back… a small open area received sunlight throughout much of the day. Ideal for alchemy.

Kyrian walked slowly through the place. Quiet. Isolated. Safe. It was exactly what he needed.

“How much?”

The owner smiled, his teeth yellowed, his eyes gleaming.

“Twenty thousand mid-grade spiritual stones for a one-year lease.”

Kyrian paid immediately.

He received the key, iron, heavy, with an engraved mark upon it. And was left alone.

The silence of the small courtyard contrasted completely with the commotion of the main streets.

Kyrian slowly crossed the property. He felt the ground beneath his feet, packed earth, firm.

He opened the house’s door, the wood creaked, and the interior was clean. Simple.

A dark wooden table, marked by use.

Several chairs, their legs uneven, yet stable.

A bed with a straw mattress and thin blankets. Nothing more.

He closed the door behind him. Click.

For several seconds… he remained motionless.

Then, slowly, he removed various items from his spatial ring.

The Endless Needles scrolls, the original, the notes, the studies. The black sapling, within its wooden box, was silent and motionless. The needles are protected within their leather case. The ten newly acquired techniques are arranged in ascending order of complexity. Alchemy materials, a cauldron, flasks, essences, and herbs. Formation materials, raw jade, silver ink, brushes.

Everything was organized carefully.

Upon the table… the ten techniques were aligned side by side.

Kyrian observed each of them.

Ten different paths. Ten different philosophies. Ten different answers to the same question.

How does one cultivate?

He slowly sat down. The accumulated fatigue from studying, negotiating, and walking finally began to manifest.

But alongside it… there was anticipation. Excitement. Curiosity.

For the first time, he felt that he was close to finding something truly his own. Not an inherited technique. Not an incomplete legacy.

But something created by his own hands. A technique that integrated everything he had learned. His different ocular paths. The knowledge acquired through countless battles.

His fingers rested upon the first scroll. Then upon the second.

Ten techniques. Hundreds of years of knowledge. Condensed before him.

Outside…

The Sky Caravan remained alive.

Merchants concluded their business, storing merchandise and closing their stalls.

Cultivators returned home, some weary, others satisfied.

Lights gradually appeared throughout the streets, spiritual lanterns igniting, windows illuminating.

But within that small, isolated courtyard… a new stage was beginning.

Kyrian lifted one of the scrolls.

He slowly unrolled it, the paper rustling as the folds stretched open.

His violet eyes, with the subtle lightning hidden within the depths of their irises, moved across the first lines.

The first instructions. The first theories. Then…

It finally began.