Mystic Eyes: My Eyes Steal the Laws of Cultivation

Chapter 615: Elimination and Consolidation

Sun Luguo remained silent for a few seconds, his eyes fixed on Kyrian. Then, a broad smile appeared on his face, a smile that illuminated his wrinkled features.

“Not bad. You learn faster than I expected.”

He placed the two weapons on the workbench, a gesture that marked the end of the demonstration.

“Very well. Tomorrow you will begin practicing. Not just observing, but doing. Let’s see if the theory translates into skill.”

Kyrian nodded, his determination renewed.

“Understood. Then I will start tomorrow.”

Hours had passed without him noticing, the midday sun giving way to the golden twilight spilling through the windows of the workshop. When he finally left the place, the sky of the Sky Caravan was still partially bright, painted in shades of orange and red.

Kyrian walked through the bustling streets of the Festival, carrying everything he had learned in his mind. Spiritual forging was far more interesting than he had imagined, not merely a practical skill but a philosophy, a way of understanding the world.

But there was something even more interesting. He was beginning to realize that many of the principles he had learned in that workshop could be applied beyond blacksmithing. Understanding the nature of something without trying to dominate it through force. Finding its flow, adapting to its essence, working with it rather than against it.

It was almost similar to cultivation, to the way a cultivator must learn to harmonize with the Qi of the world.

Thinking about this, he entered a small restaurant near his residence. He did not want to waste time looking for a sophisticated establishment, so he chose any table and ordered beast meat, rice, and some simple side dishes.

The food arrived quickly, and Kyrian ate everything with an appetite that still surprised even himself. His body, constantly growing and adapting, required increasingly larger amounts of energy.

When he finished, he leaned back in his chair and breathed contentedly. For some reason, however, a comparison naturally arose in his mind. The food that night was good, very good, but it could not compare to that meal at the Moonbound Tavern, with its carefully prepared dishes and flavor that seemed to carry a soul.

He remained silent for a few seconds, observing the activity of the restaurant around him. Then he realized the true reason. It was not the food, it was the company.

The memory of Gao Ziyue appeared in his mind, clear and vivid. Her smile, the laughter that echoed like music, her hand holding his, the warmth of that embrace before their farewell. The moments they had shared, their confessions, the birth of Djiva.

Kyrian remained still for a few seconds, allowing the memory to slowly fade. Then he shook his head, a faint smile on his lips.

“There are still a few years before I reach the Central Region. It’s too early to think about that.”

He stood up, paid the bill, and returned to the courtyard. The familiar silence welcomed him like an old friend, and he took a quick bath, changed his clothes, and lay down.

The day had been long, very long. But it had also been productive, every hour filled with learning, every moment with growth.

His eyes closed, and within a few minutes, he fell asleep.

…

The next morning, Kyrian woke up before most of the establishments in the Caravan had even opened their doors, the sky still bearing a dark-blue hue that heralded the coming dawn. He put on his cultivation clothes, tied his hair, and left.

His first destination was the alchemy competition, where that day’s test proceeded without much difficulty. Kyrian passed through the stages with his usual precision, his knowledge, memory, and observational ability working in harmony.

When the results were announced, his name was among the finalists. The final would take place the following day.

Kyrian left the hall without displaying any exaggerated emotion. Another stage completed, another step toward his goal. Now there was something more important.

The battle.

He headed directly toward the arenas of the Core Formation Realm, his steps firm and determined. When he arrived at the corresponding arena, he immediately noticed that his opponent was already waiting, a figure emanating a sharp and swift energy.

He was a young man, perhaps slightly older than Kyrian, his green hair tied into a high ponytail that left his face completely exposed. His eyes were narrow and piercing, like those of a hawk watching its prey. His combat clothing was extremely light, designed not to restrict his movements, and a dagger gleamed in his hand.

But what truly drew attention was his revealed cultivation, Wind, a swift, light, cutting energy that circulated around him like an invisible whirlwind. The young man was at the eighth stage of the Core Formation Realm, a level considerably higher than the cultivation Kyrian intended to use.

The young man also noticed the difference, his gaze sweeping over Kyrian with an assessment that was both curious and disdainful. Then he slightly furrowed his brow, confused.

Kyrian, on the other hand, was completely calm. He could win easily; all he needed to do was release his true cultivation or use his greater strength. The Eyes of Ice could freeze everything before him, especially if he used his freezing aura. The Eye of Fire could crush him with destructive power, reducing his defenses to ashes. If he used either of them, the battle would end within seconds.

But that was not the goal. Kyrian wanted to consolidate the Third Mirror Eye. He needed pressure, a battle in which he could not simply crush his enemy.

He needed to feel danger, to be forced to react, to test his limits against an opponent who could not be dominated through brute force alone.

Therefore, his pressure began to decrease. His powerful cultivation was compressed, receding, receding even further, until it finally stopped at the peak of the Qi Liberation Realm.

The young man’s expression changed, his eyes widening with a mixture of surprise and confusion.

“You…” He looked at Kyrian in disbelief.

“Are you underestimating me?”

Kyrian did not answer. He simply drew his saber, the metal gleaming beneath the lantern light.

‘Shing!’

Violet lightning immediately coursed across the blade, strands of electricity dancing like snakes of light.

The young man narrowed his eyes, an expression of determination replacing his confusion. Then he smiled, a smile that was more challenge than pleasure.

“Fine. If that’s how you want to play…”