Mystic Eyes: My Eyes Steal the Laws of Cultivation Chapter 2: Become Strong

Upon catching sight of the first character, Kyrian instantly knew it was from his mother and concentrated fully.

Shaky fingers unfolded the letter, as he still struggled to accept that his mother had...

Slowly, he went through the words, fresh tears spilling anew—ones he figured had long dried up.

"My baby. You are special. I feel it. Your eyes are a gift, not a curse as others say."

"Don't hide them. Live. Fight. Become so strong that nothing can bring you down. Stronger so you don't lose to anyone, that's what your father would want. So strong that no one can hurt you. That is what I want most."

"And also, leave the village when you're older. You are a genius child in absolutely everything you've done. The world is big... and I want you to know it, instead of staying in this small place."

"Have many children too. Understand? You are my only son, you need to let our lineage spread more. I always wished for many grandchildren."

"And please. Be happy. You are my love, my pride. And the best son I could have. Sorry for not being able to stay with you a little longer."

...

Once done reading, Kyrian fell silent. His tears ceased at last.

His gaze shifted to his mother's face.

A faint smile crept onto his lips.

"I understand. Mom, don't worry. I will definitely become stronger. Stronger than you could ever imagine."

"I..."

"I definitely will. Live, for you, Mom. The best life I can." Kyrian vowed in his still-boyish voice, hints of change creeping in.

The subtle smile vanished as he brushed away his tears. Next, Kyrian approached the fireplace in his home—the sole stone feature there.

He removed the cloth draped around his neck and tossed it into the flames, which crackled fiercely as it burned to ash.

Kyrian resolved then: he would never conceal these eyes his mother bestowed upon him again.

He cast the letter into the fire too. When the blaze died down, he extinguished the hearth.

Afterward, he stepped outside.

Minutes passed before he came back with the village chief, who beheld Liora's body and let out a sorrowful sigh.

The chief considered speaking to Kyrian but held back upon noticing the boy's utterly serene expression.

"I want to bury her by the big trees behind the house. It was the place she liked to be the most."

Kyrian stated evenly, though his breath hitched recalling his mother under the tree, calling out to him joyfully.

"Alright. I'll bring a coffin and shovels. And some people to help dig." The chief replied before turning to go, but Kyrian halted him.

"No, just bring the coffin. And one shovel. I want to do this alone." Kyrian declared, fist tightening.

"No one in this village helped my mother while she was sick."

He knew aid was impossible for her.

Yet nobody had even attempted help during all that time.

He refused to let any of them lay hands on her.

The village chief got it. Soon after, he arrived bearing a plain wooden coffin and passed the shovel to Kyrian.

With two pats on the boy's shoulder and another heavy sigh, he headed home.

Thus, Kyrian set to work.

Summer neared in the region, making the air less biting than typical. He cleared away the snow from his chosen digging spot.

Then, grabbing the pickaxe propped against the house, his mother's words echoed.

"Your father used it in the coal mine on the mountain to help the village."

The tool weighed a ton for Kyrian, yet he ignored it. Pouring every ounce of strength into his slender arms, he hammered the slightly frozen soil. Bit by bit, it fractured, allowing the shovel to take over.

Right then, his heart pounded wildly as if to burst free, breaths coming in ragged gasps.

His frame shook while his palms blistered and bled from the pickaxe's grip, but the agony and crimson drops meant nothing.

He pressed on.

Suddenly, a memory surged.

"LIVE!"

"..." Kyrian paused.

He collapsed into the snow, staring skyward as night descended gradually.

His breaths steadied.

"Mom wants me to live. I can't let emotions overwhelm me. Digging nonstop without breaks will wreck my body... I must grow swiftly..."

"No. That's due to my weakness. Mom's correct. Strength. I require strength." Kyrian murmured aloud, lifting a hand toward the heavens.

In his sight, the particles he always perceived danced like silver strands all around.

Free of the cloth now, he could employ his eyes completely and sensed a shift.

Nothing seemed to evade his vision. Still, those airborne particles remained a mystery. From the moment he first beheld them, he had drawn them instinctively into his eyes.

He now believed that habit improved his eyes progressively. Yet they appeared capped. The particles resisted entry anymore.

"If I head to the city, will anyone recognize what these things are? Mom always said the city differed vastly from our village and dreamed that someday I could go there..."

"The closest city lies... two weeks' journey on foot. Yet tomorrow morning, the village caravan departs to trade coal for food..."

"I must complete the digging before they depart, or the next chance will drag on forever. I refuse to wait that long."

With his mind made up, Kyrian rose to his feet, his petite figure sharply outlined against the snow.

Then, countless hours dragged by at a snail's pace.

The night bit with icy chill. Kyrian drew in the frigid air, his frame shivering uncontrollably.

He chose to push on without breaks, fearing that stopping would sap his will to continue.

Thus, despite his arms feeling like they might detach, he persisted in excavating.

Just as the pitch-black night started fading, a sufficiently deep pit had formed under the tree.

Collapsing onto his knees in utter exhaustion, his palms raw and bleeding. Fatigue weighed him down like an iron chain, pulling him into oblivion.

Darkness crept into Kyrian’s sight.

’No... I mustn’t pass out...’

’I CAN’T!’ he roared silently in his thoughts, resolve surging as his body faltered. Right then, a shift occurred.

Abruptly, Kyrian sensed his eyes stirring—the glowing specks surrounding him, those he’d always perceived, rushed together and surged into his pupils with blinding velocity.

Following that, a piercing agony erupted from his eyes, racing through his nerves across his entire form for three agonizing seconds.

Once the torment ebbed, a chilling wave washed over his body like an icy flood.

He gulped air, his muscles seizing up fiercely.

Soon after, his breaths eased, and his physique felt transformed from moments ago.

"What...?"

Effortlessly, Kyrian rose, staring at his hands. He flexed them open and shut, then balled them into fists.

He snatched the dropped shovel from the ground with ease, as though it were featherlight. Indeed, he felt...

"Stronger?"

"What just occurred? What in the world... are these things?" he wondered aloud, reaching for a nearby speck and drawing it in. It dove straight into his right eye.

"Ahh! They’re entering my eyes once more!"

"..."

"Now’s not the moment to ponder my actions," Kyrian noted, realizing dawn had broken, and hurried into the house. The sight of his mother’s form reignited sorrow. Yet alongside it burned fierce resolve.

He drew near, sliding one arm beneath her knees and the other behind her shoulders.

Like a cherished princess, Kyrian bore her body with utmost tenderness.

Reaching the rear of the house, he gently lowered her into the wooden coffin.

He settled her head on her favorite pillow. Then, he gazed upon her face for the final time.

Even in death, her delicate smile lingered. Her flowing black locks cascaded across the coffin’s interior.

"Farewell, Mom. I’ll cherish your memory eternally. When I have kids of my own, I’ll nurture them just as you did me. I love you beyond all else. May we reunite someday..."

Kyrian swallowed his tears, unwilling to weep before her again. A soft smile graced his lips...

The lid sealed the coffin. Swiftly, Kyrian shoveled soil atop it, dirt piling rapidly around the wooden box.

Scents of soil and snow filled his nostrils. Perched in the tree above, a snowy bird trilled. The sole noise amid the shovel’s strikes on moist ground.

Cherished recollections flooded his thoughts. Moments he’d carry forever.

Within under an hour, Liora’s coffin vanished under the soil.

He exhaled deeply, eyeing the white bird in the branches. It ceased its song, unfurled its wings, and soared off.

A broader smile lit his features.

’As pure as her smile, right?’

"I’ve grown a bit stronger, Mom. One day, as the mightiest, I’ll return here and share it all with you. Just hold on." He mused before pivoting and reentering the home.

Kyrian grabbed a modest sack with spare clothes and the final two fruits from home.

The future remained a mystery to him, utterly unknown.

Truth be told, anticipation thrilled him.

Without a backward glance, he marched toward the village caravan.

Fearless.

His eyes now beheld the road ahead, his destiny.

He’d pursue it relentlessly, surpassing every dream his parents held for him.