Mystic Eyes: My Eyes Steal the Laws of Cultivation

Chapter 618: Forging the First Spirit Weapon (2)

“There are much more sophisticated induction techniques. Some require specific cultivation, others depend on spiritual souls, while still others rely on fire techniques or extremely complex circulation methods that take years to master.”

He shook his head, his eyes fixed on Kyrian.

“I don’t need them. A technique doesn’t have to be the most powerful to be good. If you completely understand a simple tool, it can produce much better results than an extraordinary tool that you barely understand. Mastery lies in knowledge, not sophistication.”

Kyrian nodded, understanding the wisdom behind the words.

“I understand.”

“Then read. Absorb every word, every diagram, every explanation. When you finish, you’ll know whether you’re ready.”

Kyrian opened the book, and its pages were filled with diagrams and explanations. Lines represented the paths of Qi through a weapon, showing how the energy should flow through the metal.

There were detailed explanations about temperature, pressure, the amount of spiritual energy, the frequency of hammer strikes, and, most importantly, the exact moment when the Qi should enter the metal.

Kyrian read. One page, two, ten, twenty. His eyes moved quickly, absorbing every piece of information with the efficiency of someone accustomed to processing large amounts of knowledge.

The technique was not particularly complex for him, but it contained several details that could not be understood through a superficial reading alone.

The Method of Spiritual Forging Induction did not simply consist of pouring Qi into the metal. That would be equivalent to destroying its structure, overloading its essence. The goal was to use the hammer strikes as a kind of channel, a bridge between the blacksmith and the material.

With each impact, the Qi had to be guided into the material. The strike created momentary pressure, a compression that opened space for the energy. The Qi used that pressure to penetrate the deeper layers of the metal. Then the hammer pulled away, and during that brief interval, the material needed to reorganize itself, finding a new balance. Then came the next strike, and the cycle repeated.

It was a rhythmic process, almost musical, impact, induction, and reorganization. Impact, induction, and reorganization. Kyrian immediately realized the importance of the rhythm, the pause between each stage, and the time needed for the metal to assimilate the energy.

Fifteen minutes later, he closed the book, his eyes rising to meet Sun Luguo’s.

Sun Luguo observed him, evaluating his understanding.

“Finished?”

“Yes.”

“How many times did you read it?”

“Once.”

The old man fell silent, his eyes fixed on Kyrian with an expression that was difficult to decipher. Then he shook his head, an ironic smile appearing on his lips.

“You really are annoying.”

Kyrian smiled, a smile meant more for him than for the old man.

Sun Luguo stood up, his movements firm despite his age.

“Come.”

The two approached the furnace, the heat intensifying with every step. The old man chose a dark-blue metal bar from a shelf, his fingers running across its surface with the familiarity of someone who knew every gram of his stock.

Kyrian immediately recognized the material.

“The same metal as yesterday.”

“Exactly.” Sun Luguo handed him the bar, the metal heavy and cold against Kyrian’s hands.

“I want a dagger. Simple, functional, efficient.”

He pointed toward the anvil, the polished metal gleaming beneath the light of the furnace.

“The shape doesn’t need to be perfect. I’m not evaluating your ability to make a beautiful or aesthetically pleasing weapon. What I want to see is whether you can make the metal accept your Qi without destroying its own nature.”

Kyrian held the bar, feeling its weight and texture.

“Understood.”

He placed the material into the furnace, and the spiritual flames enveloped the metal. Initially dark blue, its surface began to take on a reddish hue, then orange, then an intense yellow. Finally, an orange glow spread across the entire bar, indicating that the ideal temperature had been reached.

Kyrian watched attentively, his violet eyes capturing every nuance of color. The temperature was correct. He removed the metal, a wave of heat passing through the workshop.

‘Fwoosh!’

Kyrian placed the bar on the anvil, the hot metal hissing against the cold surface. He gripped the hammer, his fingers wrapping around the handle with a familiarity that grew with each passing day.

Sun Luguo stood behind him, his eyes fixed on every movement.

“Begin.”

Kyrian took a deep breath, centering his mind.

‘CLANG!’ The first strike hit the metal, the bar deforming under the impact.

‘CLANG!’ Second strike, the tip beginning to take on a narrower shape.

‘CLANG!’ Third, Kyrian is adjusting the position of the metal.

‘CLANG!’ Fourth, the structure of the dagger is beginning to appear.

Until that moment, everything was familiar. It was simply forging, the same process he had practiced countless times over the previous days. But then came the truly important part, the moment when ordinary forging transformed into spiritual forging.

Kyrian began guiding Lightning Qi through his meridians, the violet energy flowing like a controlled river. A thin current traveled down his arm, humming softly.

‘Zzzzt…’ The energy entered the hammer and then passed into the metal, finding its way through the atomic structure.

Kyrian’s eyes lit up. He could see his Qi penetrating the structure, the lines of energy spreading like roots through fertile soil. Everything was working.

He raised the hammer. CLANG! Another amount of Qi entered. CLANG! Another. CLANG! The violet energy began spreading through the internal veins of the metal, creating a pattern that was both beautiful and functional.

Kyrian continued, each strike more confident than the last.

‘CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!’

Then—

‘BOOOOOOM!’

An explosion shook the workshop, the thunderous sound echoing through the stone walls. Kyrian was forced to retreat, his eyes widening in surprise. Incandescent fragments flew in every direction, shining like falling stars before going out.

‘Bang! Bang!’

Some embedded themselves in the wall, leaving dark marks on the stone. Others fell onto the stone floor, still glowing with residual heat. Bluish smoke rose from the anvil, spreading like a cloud of poison.

Kyrian looked at the remains of the blade, his mind processing what had happened.

Silence.

He was not injured, but he was confused, very confused. His eyes traveled across the fragments, trying to understand where he had gone wrong.