Mystic Eyes: My Eyes Steal the Laws of Cultivation Chapter 331: Inside the Gate (5)

A shiver coursed through the young man.

"Curses!" he cried out, instinctively recoiling.

"What in the blazes? Wasn't he a cultivator of the blood path? How does he possess lightning Qi now?"

He scrambled behind his guardian, his gaze locked onto Kyrian. The arrogance that had previously swelled in his chest had vanished entirely. In its stead, a cold, encroaching dread settled.

He hadn't perceived the incoming strike. He hadn't sensed the Qi that approached. There was no time to raise his sword for a block.

The middle-aged man extricated himself from the wall, his expression hardening like stone. With the back of his hand, he wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth.

"I have no idea either, Young Master," he stated, his voice low and measured.

"But... he appears transformed."

Indeed, it was true. Kyrian still donned the Blood Court's crimson robe. He still brandished the familiar blood dagger. Yet, something about him had fundamentally shifted.

The aura radiating from his being was distinct. It was more than the pressure of a blood path cultivator; it felt ancient, more ferocious. As if thunder itself had taken corporeal form.

"Stay behind me," the man commanded, positioning himself to shield the young master.

"And prepare your protective treasure. It seems killing him will not be as simple as anticipated."

Admitting it was difficult. He stood at the zenith of Core Formation, several stages beyond Kyrian. In any conventional confrontation, he ought to have effortlessly subdued a first-stage opponent with minimal effort.

However, Kyrian was no ordinary adversary.

The sight of the purple eyes fixed upon him instilled terror. There was an element within them that triggered his primal survival instincts. And the sheer speed of Kyrian's counterattack... it defied comprehension.

The man clenched his fists, channeling every iota of Qi within his body into his palms. His Qi claws grew more substantial, more menacing. If victory by skill was unattainable, he would rely on sheer power.

Kyrian observed the unfolding events with a frigid demeanor.

In his grip, the dagger forged from blood remained – the beast blood acquired from his inheritance.

Now, infused with Kyrian's lightning Qi, it possessed an unprecedented lethality.

Lightning crackled around Kyrian's form, akin to a living cloak. Tiny electrical arcs leaped from his hair, his shoulders, and the tips of his fingers. The incessant rumble of thunder pervaded the chamber, a deep, resonant thrum.

Kyrian moved.

The thunderous roar escalated. The chamber flooded with violet luminescence.

In a blur, Kyrian materialized at the rear of the room. In the very next instant, he stood before the middle-aged man.

The movement was so swift that the man barely registered it. At the last possible second, he thrust his hand, forming a Qi claw, between his chest and Kyrian's blood dagger.

The two forces met.

The impact was devastating. The clash of the dagger against the Qi claw produced a sound like a fractured bell. Red and violet sparks erupted, scattering in every direction.

The man was propelled backward once more.

His body slammed against the wall with enough force to fracture the stone. He coughed up blood, not a mere trickle, but a torrent that stained his gray robe. His arms trembled uncontrollably. His Qi claws had disintegrated upon impact.

He collapsed onto his knees, gasping for air.

Then, the realization struck him.

He was no match for Kyrian.

The disparity in cultivation stages was irrelevant. The years of dedicated training, the accumulated martial techniques, the wealth of combat experience – all paled in comparison. Kyrian operated on an entirely different plane.

The man lifted his head, his gaze locking with the young master's. A crucial decision was being forged in that moment, a choice no guardian relished making.

"YOUNG MASTER!" he bellowed, his voice echoing throughout the chamber.

"I shall hold him off! Flee at once!"

He struggled to his feet. Though his legs quaked, he stood firm. The last reserves of Qi within his body surged into his hands, his arms, and permeated his entire being. Victory was not his objective. Merely buying time was sufficient.

The young man did not falter.

Even before the man's words fully concluded, the young master was already sprinting towards the chamber's exit. His feet skimmed the ground. His breaths came in short, ragged gasps. He did not cast a glance backward.

There was no need.

He understood his guardian's intent. And his own desperation to escape was paramount.

Kyrian observed the young man's flight. He saw his figure vanish into the shadowy corridor leading away from the mountain.

However, he did not immediately pursue.

The middle-aged man was positioned between him and the escape route. And that individual, despite his injuries and exhaustion, still posed a significant threat. Kyrian would have ample time to eliminate him first. Subsequently, he would track down the fleeing young master.

The man surged forward.

It was a straightforward assault, devoid of intricate techniques or flamboyant maneuvers. It was simply a man channeling his remaining Qi into a single, desperate strike.

His hands contorted into claws, not merely two, but six, then eight. Claws formed of Qi swirled around him like a demon's appendages, each possessing an edge sharp enough to cleave steel.

"Demonic Wind Claw Technique!"

He lunged forward in attack.

Kyrian moved with incredible speed.

Once again, the unmistakable sound of thunder reverberated. The chamber was bathed in a violet luminescence.

With a swift, arcing motion, Kyrian's blood dagger sliced through the air. Not once, not twice, but five times in rapid succession. Each thrust was swifter than the last, each precisely targeted at a different part of the man's body.

The amassed Qi claws attempted to intercept. The first claw was severed. The second met the same fate. The third, the fourth, and the fifth were all bisected by the lightning-infused blade.

Kyrian's sixth strike found its mark on the man's shoulder.

The seventh impacted his chest.

His right arm was struck by the eighth, severing it and causing it to fall to the ground with a sickening thud.

The man sank to his knees.

Blood erupted from his wounds, staining his formerly gray robe a deep, saturated crimson. His eyes, though unfocused, remained aware, yet he was still conscious.

"Run... Young Master..." he managed to whisper before his body succumbed and collapsed onto the cold stone floor.

Kyrian paused, observing the fallen adversary for a brief moment. The man was still drawing shallow breaths, clinging to life by a thread.

He lacked the time to deliver the final blow.

The young man he sought had already vanished into the distance.

With a decisive turn, Kyrian sprinted towards the chamber's exit, his boots leaving trails of lightning etched into the stone. Ahead, a dark corridor stretched, culminating in an opening that led to the open sky.

He ran with all his might.

The wind whipped against his face, and the thunderous roar pursued him.

By the time Kyrian finally burst forth from the mountain's embrace, the sun had long since dipped below the horizon, leaving the sky a canvas of darkness adorned with the faint glimmer of stars.