Mystic Eyes: My Eyes Steal the Laws of Cultivation Chapter 333: End of the Battle

Kyrian pointed a finger at the young man.

"If you're prepared to kill," he stated, his voice low and composed.

"You should also be prepared to face death."

Lightning began to coalesce at his fingertip once more. A violet luminescence bathed the hillside, casting the young man's pallid, sweat-drenched countenance into sharp relief.

The young man's features contorted.

It was no longer mere fear he displayed, but something far surpassing it. A profound, primal dread warped his visage into a tableau of sheer terror. He understood, with chilling certainty, that he could not possibly withstand such an assault. His protective barrier had been shattered. His protector was slain. His steed lay dead.

He was utterly alone.

"THIS ENDING WILL NOT STAND!" he bellowed, his voice raw from exertion.

"I SWEAR I WILL TAKE YOUR LIFE! YOU WILL PERISH! YOU WILL DIE BY MY HAND!"

Kyrian unleashed his attack.

The searing bolt of violet light erupted from his finger simultaneously, streaking through the air directly towards the young man's heart.

However, at the precise instant of impact, an unforeseen event transpired.

A new barrier materialized before the young man. It differed starkly from the fractured, golden shield he had employed previously; this one was entirely distinct.

Brighter, as if forged from concentrated sunlight.

Kyrian's energetic projectile collided with this barrier, fragmenting instantly and erupting in a spectacular shower of violet and white sparks.

Following this, an peculiar energy permeated the young man's entire being.

This was no ordinary Qi. It was neither wind, fire, earth, water, nor wood. It emanated a pure, intense white radiance, enveloping every inch of the young man's form like a luminous cocoon.

The young man began to laugh.

It was a hysterical, unhinged sound, his eyes wide, his mouth stretched into a smile devoid of any mirth.

"YOU ARE FINISHED!" he shrieked.

"YOU HAVE LOST, WRETCH! I SHALL RETURN! AND WHEN I DO, YOU WILL..."

The white luminescence detonated.

Kyrian instinctively raised an arm to shield his eyes from the blinding flash. As the intense light subsided, the young man had vanished.

No corpse lay upon the ground. Not a trace of blood or fragmented flesh remained.

Only the vacant space where he had stood, and the deceased beast lying a few yards distant.

Kyrian lowered his arm.

His piercing violet gaze swept across the hillside, the heavens, and the encircling mountains. He pushed his unique ocular abilities to their absolute limit, striving to perceive any lingering sign of the young man.

Nothing was found.

The young man had, quite simply... disappeared.

Kyrian's brow furrowed. He recognized this as a type of rare artifact, ancient relics that activated spontaneously when their wielder faced mortal peril. Some generated defensive shields.

Others mended grievous wounds. And some...

Some facilitated instantaneous teleportation to a secure location.

This particular artifact, he surmised, was exceptionally rare. Indeed, exceedingly so.

'The young man must possess a significance far greater than I initially surmised,' Kyrian mused internally.

He let out a soft sigh.

His concern remained minimal.

The young man had indeed evaded capture. He would undoubtedly resurface one day, likely accompanied by reinforcements, seeking retribution. Yet, such prospects held little sway over Kyrian at this juncture.

Kyrian dispelled the gathered lightning.

The violet intensity of his eyes receded, replaced by his usual crimson hue. The residual crackle of thunder faded, and the ensuing silence of the night descended once more.

Only the mountain wind persisted, a chilling, indifferent presence. The rocky incline, moments prior ablaze with violet discharges, was now enshrouded in the natural darkness of the night.

Kyrian remained motionless for a brief interval, absorbing the profound quietude. The young man had vanished. The monstrous beast lay deceased. The guardian was expiring within the confines of the chamber.

Yet, an item of importance remained unaccounted for by Kyrian.

He turned and commenced his trek back towards the stone portal embedded in the mountainside. His gait was unhurried, almost languid, betraying no sense of urgency.

And indeed, there was none. The young man was already distant; if the teleportation treasure had conveyed him to safety, pursuit was futile.

The entrance to the tomb remained ajar, the dark stone gate gaping like a ravenous maw. Kyrian re-entered the shadowy corridor, his crimson irises instantly adapting to the profound absence of light.

The mingled scent of blood and ozone still permeated the air.

Within the primary chamber, the middle-aged man lay prone upon the ground, utterly still. The blood that had hemorrhaded from his injuries had coalesced into a dark pool surrounding his form, faintly reflecting the illumination emanating from Kyrian's eyes.

Kyrian approached.

The man was undeniably dead. His eyes, wide and unseeing, were fixed upon the stone ceiling, as if still seeking something lost. His right arm had been severed with clean precision at Kyrian's eighth calculated strike, while his chest gaped open from a deep gash that exposed shattered ribs.

Kyrian experienced no flicker of remorse.

He knelt beside the corpse and carefully took the man's left hand. Adorning the ring finger was a unassuming spatial ring, its surface gleaming faintly – a band of dark metal, unadorned and purely functional.

Kyrian removed it and transferred its contents into his own personal ring.

He then rose to his feet.

He cast one final glance at the deceased individual, then at the exposed stone sarcophagus, within which the ancestor's remains still rested. The chamber now exuded an unbroken silence, as though it had never been disturbed.

Kyrian turned and departed.

Outside, the night had deepened further. Clouds had obscured the stars, and a frigid wind swept down from the north, carrying the faint aroma of approaching rain.

A sharp whistle split the quiet night, the sound produced by Kyrian echoing clearly across the mountainside.

High above, where clouds drifted, a dark silhouette stirred. Arcon, descending in a rapid dive, sliced through the night sky with its black wings, sharp as blades. The fearsome beast touched down beside Kyrian with surprising gentleness, a stark contrast to its immense presence. Its crimson eyes ignited the darkness, while its nostrils flared, keenly sensing the metallic tang of blood lingering in the atmosphere.

Kyrian calmly clambered onto the back of the imposing black creature.

"Let's depart," he instructed, his hand giving the beast's neck a gentle pat.

Arcon responded by beating its powerful wings.

A fierce wind erupted, swirling around them with enough force to send small stones skittering across the ground. Its wings fully unfurled, Arcon launched itself upwards with a mighty surge, leaving the earth behind.

The mountain vanished below.

Kyrian's gaze remained fixed forward; he didn't cast a backward glance. He observed the jagged outline of the peak diminish into the distance, the entrance gate shrinking to a mere speck on the slope, and finally, it dissolved entirely into the enveloping darkness.