Mystic Eyes: My Eyes Steal the Laws of Cultivation

Chapter 641: Last days on the Caravan (2)

The technique required great precision; an error involving even a small amount of Qi could cause the illusion to disappear completely, leaving the user exposed.

For cultivators in the early realms, however, it was a fairly useful technique, a tool that could create openings at critical moments.

If someone could make an enemy believe that there was a person behind them, for example, it could create an opening large enough to attack.

It could also make a corridor appear longer, disorienting the perception of distance. An object could appear to be several meters away from its actual position, or the enemy could be led to believe that they were hearing footsteps that never existed.

However, there was a major problem: the more powerful the cultivator, the sharper their senses became.

After the Spiritual Awakening Realm, when spiritual sense was awakened, techniques of this level began to lose much of their effectiveness.

A cultivator with a powerful spiritual sense could quickly perceive that something was wrong, the distortions becoming obvious to their heightened perception.

Even so, completely comprehending that technique was not easy. That was precisely the difficulty of the test—not merely executing it, but understanding its essence, the principles behind its execution.

Kyrian spent the first few minutes analyzing the structure, his eyes scanning every detail with meticulous attention.

Then he began to reproduce it, his Qi flowing through his meridians in precise patterns. Small waves of energy spread around him, creating the foundation of the illusion.

The first attempt was completed, and the illusion appeared. Before him, a small stone seemed to disappear, its form dissolving into the air. Kyrian observed it, his eyes evaluating the result with harsh criticism. He was not satisfied; the technique worked, but there was a flaw in the distribution of Qi, a subtlety that he could see clearly.

He corrected it, adjusting the flow of energy with surgical precision. He tried again, and the stone disappeared, then reappeared, the transition so smooth that it was almost imperceptible. Then Kyrian began to advance, expanding his comprehension into deeper layers.

He comprehended the second layer, then the third, discovering how to alter the perception of sound, how to distort the direction from which sounds seemed to come. Then the spatial aspect, learning how to make a space appear larger or smaller than it actually was.

Finally, he managed to unite all the parts, integrating each layer into a coherent and natural illusion.

The illusion created around him became extremely natural, so subtle that even someone looking directly at him might have difficulty noticing what had happened. It was the mark of true comprehension, not merely execution, but essence.

Kyrian opened his eyes, his breathing calm. The technique was complete. He looked around, assessing the progress of the other participants.

Almost all of them were still concentrating, their faces furrowed with effort. Some had only just begun executing the technique, their movements hesitant.

Others wore frustrated expressions, unable to make the illusion work. One man tried three times, and the illusion simply fell apart, its structure unstable.

A woman managed to create an image, but it constantly trembled like a flame in the wind. Another participant remained motionless, apparently unable to comprehend the structure, his eyes fixed on the jade in search of answers that never came.

Kyrian simply stood up, his movements calm. An examiner noticed his departure, his eyes widening in surprise.

“Finished?”

Kyrian nodded, his expression calm.

The examiner approached and observed the technique, his eyes scanning the illusion Kyrian had created. His expression changed, surprise giving way to professional admiration. He tried to check it again, searching for flaws, imperfections, or any sign that the comprehension was incomplete. He found nothing.

“The comprehension is complete.”

The examiner recorded the result, his fingers moving quickly across the scroll.

Kyrian had once again been the first, leaving the other ninety-nine participants behind. He did not wait for the others, leaving the competition area with the same calmness with which he had entered.

His trial had been quick, another test completed, another technique comprehended. And even though it was a relatively useful technique, Kyrian knew that it could be improved in the future. Perhaps, with sufficient comprehension, it could even be used against stronger cultivators. Everything depended on how it was developed.

But that could come later. As soon as he left the place, Kyrian headed directly to Sun Luguo’s workshop, where the rest of the afternoon would be dedicated to forging.

Time passed quickly, the hours transforming into a continuous flow of learning and practice.

The comprehension competition ended, the results were recorded, and Kyrian would discover that only forty-five people had managed to advance to the next stage, less than half of the original participants, a testament to the increasing difficulty of the trial.

But the most important news came shortly afterward. The next trial would be the final, and it would take place the following day. With it, the Heavenly Descent Festival would also come to an end, marking the conclusion of days of competitions and celebrations.

Along with the closing ceremony, there would also be the final grand auction. In fact, it would not exactly be an ordinary auction. The festival’s four major auctions would be brought together into a single final event, a fusion of treasures that promised to be the largest auction of the entire celebration.

Kyrian stored this information in his mind, but he still did not know whether he would participate. Everything would depend on the available items and his mood the next day. But he had no time to think about that at the moment; Sun Luguo was already waiting, his imposing figure silhouetted against the light of the furnace.

“You’re late.”

Kyrian looked at the old man.

“Only a few minutes compared to the other days.”

“For a blacksmith, a few minutes are enough to destroy an entire weapon.”

Sun Luguo laughed, the hoarse sound echoing through the workshop. Kyrian also smiled slightly, the tension of the day dissipating in the familiarity of the surroundings.

Then the lesson began, and the workshop filled with the rhythmic sound of metal being struck.

‘Clang! Clang! Clang!’

Sun Luguo continued teaching, his voice occasionally rising to give instructions or corrections.