Mystic Eyes: My Eyes Steal the Laws of Cultivation

Chapter 472: Exploring the Festival (2)

The tiger did not try to confront it head-on. Its body darted from side to side in swift, light, elegant movements, like a deadly dance.

Blasts of wind continuously erupted, invisible blades slashing across the bear’s body and leaving shallow scratches on its armor. Even so, the metallic plates protected nearly everything, absorbing most of the damage.

The bear finally managed to close the distance. Its enormous arm came crashing down like a gigantic hammer.

‘Boom!’

The ground exploded into a cloud of dust, but the tiger had already leaped backward with astonishing agility. Without wasting a moment, it unleashed another blast of wind, then another, then another, creating a wall of invisible blades.

Kyrian noticed something curious. The two beast tamers remained completely motionless. They gave no orders and made no gestures.

Even so, the beasts reacted at exactly the right moment, as though they perfectly understood what their masters wanted, as if an invisible connection linked their minds.

‘Mental command…’ Kyrian narrowed his eyes slightly. It was not an ordinary contract. There was some kind of technique involved, one capable of transmitting thoughts directly to the spiritual beast, instantly and silently.

It was extremely useful, far more efficient than giving verbal commands during a battle, where every fraction of a second could determine the outcome.

The battle continued. After several minutes of intense exchanges, the bear finally managed to seize one of the tiger’s legs.

The massive beast spun its entire body with tremendous force and hurled the tiger against one of the arena’s walls.

‘Boom!’

The impact was violent, echoing throughout the arena. Before it could get back up, the bear was already upon it, its enormous paw crashing down like a heavenly anvil.

The tiger desperately tried to create a barrier of wind. It held for only an instant before shattering completely beneath the weight of the blow.

The judge immediately raised his hand.

“Victory for the Iron-Plated Bear!”

The entire arena erupted into applause, a wave of sound that seemed to shake the very walls. The two beast tamers approached each other. Despite his defeat, the tiger’s master smiled and greeted his opponent with a handshake.

The two beasts also appeared calm. Neither continued trying to attack, as though the competition had been nothing more than a game.

Kyrian continued watching for a few more seconds, processing what he had just seen.

‘This is actually quite interesting…’

Controlling spiritual beasts in that manner would be incredibly useful, an additional ally on the battlefield, a partner who could fight by his side without the need for words.

Perhaps in the future, if he came across a good beast-taming technique, it would be worth purchasing. After all, one never knew when a spiritual beast might become an important ally.

That thought naturally brought another memory to mind, Luz, the little white fox who had accompanied him for a time.

Kyrian remained silent for a few seconds. Since they had parted ways, he had never heard any news of her, nor of Mu Yanyu.

He had no idea where the two of them were now. Perhaps they had found a great sect. Perhaps they were far away from here.

A small, almost imperceptible smile appeared on his face. He sincerely hoped they were both doing well, that they had found the path they had been seeking.

Setting those thoughts aside, he left the arena. Not long afterward, another aroma drew him in. Food stalls occupied an entire street, each specializing in dishes from a different region, fragrant steam rising into the air and mingling together. Kyrian decided to give them a try.

He started with skewers made from the meat of a beast from the far north, seasoned with herbs he had never tasted before. Then he sampled an extremely spicy soup from the Southern Region that pleasantly burned his tongue.

He tried bread stuffed with spiritual honey, sweet and sticky, and sampled small pastries made with crystallized fruits he had never seen before, crispy on the outside and soft on the inside.

As he walked, he continued eating, his eyes wandering over the stalls in search of new delicacies.

Farther ahead, he found several children playing. Some ran around carrying small wooden swords, while others imitated famous cultivators, pretending to unleash spectacular techniques with exaggerated gestures. The adults around them simply laughed, watching them fondly.

A little farther on, two cultivators occupied a small circular stage. It was not an official competition, merely a friendly duel.

Hundreds of people watched as the two exchanged blows with smiles on their faces, executing their techniques with precision but without any intention of harming one another.

Whenever one of them managed to land a hit, the spectators applauded. There was no hostility in the air, only amusement and camaraderie. Kyrian watched for several minutes before continuing on his way.

The sun was already beginning to sink below the horizon when another place caught his attention, a massive open-air weapon shop with a dark wooden facade stretching across several city blocks.

In front of the shop, numerous forges remained lit, their flames dancing in the evening breeze that had begun to blow. The heat could be felt even from several meters away, a wave of hot air that made the skin tingle.

Huge blacksmiths worked tirelessly, their muscles tightening with every strike as gigantic hammers rose and fell without pause.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Every blow sent sparks flying through the air like shooting stars, illuminating the faces of the spectators.

Bars of spiritual metal glowed bright red as they were shaped with surgical precision. Some blacksmiths forged swords, others spears, axes, daggers, and hammers, all before their customers’ eyes, who watched the creation of their custom weapons with fascination. A crowd gathered around them, absorbing every detail of the masters’ craftsmanship.

Kyrian stopped as well. His gaze remained fixed on the movements of those men. Every hammer strike possessed its own rhythm, a cadence that only constant repetition could produce.

The metal was heated, folded, hammered, heated again, and then plunged into special liquids before returning to the fire. It was almost a dance, choreographed by time and experience.

‘In the future…’ he thought silently, his eyes recording every detail of the process.

‘If I ever need more spiritual needles to use the Endless Needles technique, I’ll probably have to forge them myself.’

The few needles he possessed had been a gift, a generous gesture from Eryon, but only a temporary solution.

He could not rely on luck to obtain more, nor on the kindness of strangers. Perhaps learning blacksmithing would also become necessary one day, just as he had done with alchemy and formations.

Kyrian remained there in silence, carefully observing every detail of the blacksmiths’ movements, engraving every step into his memory. The Celestial Descent Festival still had many days ahead of it, and he had barely begun to explore everything it had to offer.

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