Mystic Eyes: My Eyes Steal the Laws of Cultivation

Chapter 617: Forging the First Spirit Weapon

Kyrian walked through the streets of the Sky Caravan with a slight feeling of anticipation in his chest. It was not anxiety but expectation, an important difference that he had learned to recognize throughout his journey.

Anxiety made someone fear the outcome, worry about what could go wrong, and imagine scenarios of failure. Expectation, on the other hand, made someone want to discover it and feel the excitement of the unknown and the joy of what was to come.

And Kyrian was genuinely curious.

After several days of watching Sun Luguo work, studying the principles of spiritual forging, and absorbing every explanation from the old blacksmith like a sponge absorbing water, the moment had finally arrived. He would cease to be merely an observer.

Today, he would forge his first spiritual weapon, not merely an ordinary blade, but something that would carry his essence, his energy, and his identity as a cultivator.

The Heavenly Descent Festival continued in full swing around him, a cacophony of sounds and colors that filled the air like a chaotic symphony. Vendors occupied the sides of the streets, advertising pills, talismans, weapons, ores, and countless other objects meant for the cultivators who passed by in a constant stream.

“Mid-Grade Spiritual Crystal! Only three thousand spirit stones!”

“Freshly refined recovery pills! Guaranteed effect within three hours!”

“Sky Serpent Skin! Excellent material for light armor!”

“Spiritual Bone Fragments! Perfect for pill refiners!”

The voices overlapped one another, creating a constant mass of sound that seemed to vibrate through the very air. Cultivators hurried past, some carrying newly acquired weapons, others discussing the results of the competitions, their voices rising with excitement or frustration.

Kyrian even heard some conversations about the third comprehension test, fragments of dialogue reaching him like distant echoes.

“I heard fewer than twenty people managed to pass!”

“There were seventeen so far.”

“Seventeen? Out of so many participants, only that many?”

“Yes. And they’re still evaluating some participants. But most have already been eliminated.”

“That test was truly difficult. The technique involved multiple principles…”

Kyrian showed no reaction, his eyes fixed ahead as he continued walking. He had already expected the third test to be much more difficult than the previous ones. The organizers had made it clear that the difficulty would increase progressively, and he was not surprised by the elimination rate.

His own performance had been relatively smooth, his sharp comprehension allowing him to overcome the challenges with an ease that had surprised even some of the judges. But that did not mean the technique was simple.

On the contrary, the difficulty of that test lay precisely in understanding the deep relationships between different principles, in seeing connections that were not obvious at first glance.

For someone with little experience, a single misinterpretation could cause the entire structure of the technique to collapse, turning hours of work into failure. Kyrian, however, had found the thread connecting everything, the underlying logic that united all the elements.

But now that was temporarily out of his mind. His destination was elsewhere, and his steps quickened slightly toward it.

As he advanced through the streets, the luxurious architecture of the central regions of the Caravan gradually fell behind. The buildings became simpler, more functional, with weathered stone facades and dark wooden roofs. The shops gave way to workshops, where blacksmiths, craftsmen, and specialists in various trades worked on their materials.

The aroma of spiritual food began to disappear, replaced by the smell of burning charcoal, quenching oil, hot metal, and substances used to temper weapons. It was a smell Kyrian had already learned to appreciate, one that awakened memories of the hours he had spent in Sun Luguo’s workshop.

Then he heard it. Clang! A hammer. Even from a considerable distance, he immediately recognized the sound, the impact of metal against metal, and the reverberation echoing off the stone walls.

Another blow came shortly afterward.

‘CLANG!’ Stronger, deeper, as if the blacksmith were working on something important.

Kyrian smiled faintly, a smile meant more for himself than for anyone around him. That workshop was already beginning to feel familiar, a place where he felt increasingly at ease, where learning flowed naturally.

When he finally arrived in front of the small building, he found the door slightly ajar, a gap allowing a wave of heat to escape, contrasting with the cool morning air. Kyrian pushed the door open, and the environment immediately enveloped him.

The heat from the furnace was intense, but not uncomfortable for someone at Kyrian’s cultivation level. His skin adapted quickly to the elevated temperature, his meridians responding to the environment with natural fluidity.

The stone walls were marked by years of work, some areas bearing small dark stains caused by fire and metal, scars from countless forging sessions that told the story of the place.

Sun Luguo stood before the furnace, his imposing silhouette outlined against the orange glow of the flames. The old man held a metal bar with a pair of tongs while carefully observing the color of the material, his experienced eyes evaluating every nuance of temperature.

Upon noticing Kyrian’s arrival, he did not turn around immediately, his eyes remaining fixed on the metal, his concentration unwavering.

“You’ve arrived.”

“Yes, Master.”

Sun Luguo finally looked back, his eyes meeting Kyrian’s with an assessment that was both stern and encouraging.

“Today you will work. Not just observe, you will do it.”

Kyrian nodded, determination clear in his violet eyes.

“That’s what I expected.”

The old man let out a small laugh, the hoarse sound echoing through the workshop.

“Then sit down first.”

Kyrian obeyed, finding his usual place on a wooden bench near the wall.

Sun Luguo walked over to a small side table and took out a rather old book, his calloused hands holding the volume with the reverence of someone who knew its value.

The cover was worn, some parts having completely lost their original color, and the edges of the pages appeared to have been handled countless times over the course of decades.

He placed the book in front of Kyrian, and on the cover, several ancient characters formed the title.

“Method of Spiritual Forging Induction.”

Kyrian raised his eyebrows, his curiosity awakened.

“Is this the method I will use?”

“Yes.” Sun Luguo crossed his arms, adopting the posture of a master.

“There are better methods, more advanced, more powerful ones. I know several of them.”

Kyrian opened the book, his hands carefully touching the ancient pages.

“Then why use this one?”

“Because I know it better.” The answer was simple and direct, without any embellishment.

“I found this method more than a hundred years ago, during a journey. At that time, I was still learning the fundamentals of spiritual forging, and this book was a revelation. I spent decades perfecting every step, every technique, every nuance.”

Sun Luguo lightly tapped a finger against the cover, a gesture that was almost a caress.