Mystic Eyes: My Eyes Steal the Laws of Cultivation Chapter 343: City of Red Smoke

The initial three days of the journey unfolded uneventfully.

Expanses of barren plains gradually transitioned into rolling hills, adorned with a sparse, yellowish grass that rippled like languid waves under the wind's caress. Small gatherings of beasts dotted the slopes, their heads lifting skyward as Arcon's imposing shadow swept over them.

Kyrian's gaze caught sight of several modest cities interspersed along the route, their stone and wooden structures huddled together within protective walls.

Within them, he observed cultivators engaged in training within open courtyards, merchants transporting wares along the thoroughfares, and children darting playfully between the dwellings.

He opted not to descend into any of them, deeming it unnecessary.

By the fourth day, the scenery underwent a distinct transformation.

The gentle undulations of the hills yielded to a dense, ancient forest. Towering trees, characterized by stout trunks and expansive canopies, formed an interwoven ceiling overhead, obscuring the forest floor from view. Kyrian navigated above the dense foliage, beholding a verdant expanse stretching towards the distant horizon.

The atmosphere grew noticeably more humid, carrying with it the rich aroma of damp earth and decaying leaves.

Below, he noticed a winged creature in flight – a substantial beast with leathery wings and a elongated tail. It regarded him briefly before plummeting towards the forest, presumably in pursuit of sustenance.

Kyrian remained indifferent.

...

On the sixth day, his flight path took him over the domain of a 4th-level power.

He identified it by the distinctive emblems adorning the banners that flapped above the city's ramparts: a silver crescent moon set against a deep blue backdrop.

This was the Silver Moon Sect, one of the factions that had dispatched emissaries to the Domain Gathering.

Kyrian maintained his pace, offering no indication of his presence. He simply soared onward, a fleeting shadow in the heavens, imperceptible to the majority.

Nevertheless, someone within the fortress likely registered his passage. Kyrian sensed a spiritual probe directed his way, an inquisitive scan, probably emanating from a curious elder.

He neither obstructed nor acknowledged the probe, continuing his flight unabated.

The probing sensation persisted for a few moments before receding.

Kyrian pressed onward.

...

The seventh day marked the end of the forest's dominion.

Abruptly, the trees vanished, replaced by a rugged, stony plateau, stark and unadorned. The ground below lay strewn with loose rocks and bore the scars of ancient impact craters, as if some colossal entity had descended from the heavens eons ago.

Kyrian perceived an unusual quality within the locale's Qi. It felt... tainted. Oppressive. As though an unseen force was corrupting the very spiritual essence of the region.

He scanned his surroundings with his crimson eyes, seeking the origin of this anomaly.

Nothing was immediately apparent. At least, nothing within the visible spectrum.

He committed the observation to memory and continued his aerial journey.

...

The eighth and ninth days were consumed by the passage across a vast desert. The air was arid, almost painfully sharp for ordinary individuals. Arcon exerted more effort with each wingbeat, clearly distressed by the conditions.

Kyrian provided the steed with a few spirit stones, enabling their continued advance.

In the heart of the desert, he encountered remnants of past civilization.

Ancient structures, partially submerged by the shifting sands, lay in ruin: fragmented columns, collapsed walls, and statues devoid of discernible features.

Kyrian could not ascertain which power these ruins had once belonged to, nor the duration of their abandonment.

...

On the tenth day, the landscape shifted once more.

The desert receded, giving way to low-lying hills blanketed by gnarled, creeping flora. The air, once dry and challenging to inhale, began to subtly alter.

It grew perceptibly warmer.

Kyrian's brow furrowed. He elevated his gaze.

On the distant horizon, a formidable mountain loomed.

This was no common peak. It was a volcano. A colossal volcano, its summit enshrouded in dark, brooding clouds. From its caldera, plumes of crimson smoke ascended in dense columns, imbuing the surrounding sky with a deep, blood-orange hue.

With every wingbeat of Arcon, Kyrian felt the intensification of the heat. The black-winged steed issued a distressed whinny but persevered in its flight.

Kyrian retrieved Dong Zhen's map, consulting its markings.

There it was. The volcano was clearly indicated on the map, accompanied by a cautionary annotation.

"Active. Dangerous. Maintain a safe distance."

And situated to the south of the volcano, a journey of several days, lay the City of Red Smoke.

Kyrian refolded the map.

He could now comprehend the origin of the city's name. The volcanic smoke undoubtedly pervaded the entire region, casting a reddish tint upon the sky. It must present a truly striking spectacle.

For Kyrian, however, it was merely another waypoint on his extensive journey.

He directed Arcon to ascend higher, endeavoring to circumvent the more potent thermal currents emanating from the volcano's slopes. From this elevated vantage point, the mountain's structure became more discernible: its flanks carpeted in dark, volcanic rock, fissures venting wisps of smoke, and rivers of molten lava steadily coursing down its sides.

Kyrian maintained his course.

...

On the eleventh day, Kyrian's flight took him over a small settlement situated on the periphery of the volcano.

The structures were low-lying, constructed from dark stone, their roofs steeply pitched to prevent the accumulation of volcanic ash. The streets appeared largely deserted, though Kyrian observed a few cultivators moving between the buildings.

He noted that many of them wore sashes bearing symbols of flames or mountains. These were likely affiliated with localized powers, perhaps minor sects specializing in fire-based techniques, leveraging their proximity to the volcano.

Kyrian did not descend, continuing his onward flight.

...

On the twelfth day, he detected another volcano.

Though this one was smaller than the first, it still possessed an imposing presence. Red smoke emanated from it, casting a crimson stain across the surrounding sky. Kyrian began to grasp the region's geography; it wasn't a singular volcano, but rather a volcanic chain that stretched for many kilometers.

The heat intensified considerably. Kyrian could feel his robe clinging to his skin, and even Arcon appeared to be feeling the discomfort.

He then switched from his blood path crimson eyes to his ice eyes.

Causing the temperature around Kyrian and Arcon to plummet by several degrees.

More spirit stones were fed to the horse, and they pressed onward.

...

On the thirteenth day, Kyrian flew over a scene of devastation: a battlefield.

The conflict was not recent; the bodies had been cleared, and the weapons retrieved. Yet, the scars upon the land remained—craters gouged by potent techniques, trenches etched by sword strikes, and areas where the earth had been fused by extreme temperatures.

Kyrian gauged the magnitude of the conflict. Dozens, perhaps hundreds, of cultivators had been involved. At least some were in the Core Formation Realm, and possibly even higher.

He pondered the identities of the warring factions and their motivations for such a clash. However, there was no one to query. Only the scorching wind and the lingering marks on the ground bore witness.

Kyrian continued his flight.

...

On the fourteenth day, the initial structures of the City of Red Smoke came into view.

Initially, only a scattering of isolated dwellings appeared on the periphery, humble constructions wrought from dark stone. These were followed by small hamlets, complete with open-air markets and unpaved roads. Subsequently, suburbs emerged – densely packed residential zones characterized by narrow thoroughfares and shadowed alleyways.

And then, the walls.

The City of Red Smoke was encircled by imposing ramparts, fashioned from dark volcanic rock, with watchtowers strategically placed at regular intervals. Crimson banners fluttered atop the parapets, and Kyrian observed guards diligently patrolling the walkways.

Beyond the fortifications, the city ascended in tiers, built upon the slopes of a modest hill. The rooftops were uniformly dark, uniformly stained by volcanic ash. And presiding over it all, the sky was veiled in red, a hue imparted by the smoke billowing from distant volcanoes.

Kyrian had Arcon circle the city from above, taking in the sights.

It was expansive; while not rivalling the scale of the Ancient Forest Sect's floating city, it was nonetheless impressive. Kyrian estimated its population to be in the hundreds of thousands, possibly more.

He discerned temples, bustling markets, residential districts, and, at the city's core, a towering edifice that dominated the skyline – likely the central command of the governing power in the region.

Kyrian was unaware of this dominant force. Dong Zhen’s map had offered no such specification.

He signaled for Arcon to descend.

The beast alighted in an open expanse on the city's outskirts, adjacent to a small copse of gnarled trees. Kyrian dismounted and guided Arcon.

He donned a cloak to conceal his crimson robe, obscuring the insignia of the Blood Court. He possessed no knowledge of the local powers' disposition towards the blood path. It was prudent not to court unnecessary risk.

Kyrian proceeded towards the city gates.

The thoroughfare teemed with activity. A ceaseless stream of travelers, merchants, and cultivators flowed into and out of the city. Kyrian merged with the throng, his face partially obscured by the cloak's hood.

At the entrance, guards armed with spears scrutinized those seeking entry.

He passed without incident after tendering low-grade spirit stones.

Within the city's confines, the pungent aroma of ash and sulfur was pervasive. Kyrian drew a deep breath, sensing the local Qi – distinct from the Qi he was accustomed to within the Blood Court. It was hotter, more volatile, as if the very air itself were aflame.

He navigated the narrow streets, observing the myriad shops and markets. An array of goods was available: weapons, pills, scrolls, beast pelts, and rare minerals. Merchants loudly extolled their wares, vying for patrons. Children darted between the legs of adults.

Kyrian experienced a sensation he hadn't felt in a considerable time.

He was alone.

Not in a literal sense, for people surrounded him in abundance, dozens, hundreds. Alone in the profound realization of having no one beside him. No allies. No companions. No master.

Only himself.

Kyrian deferred this reflection for a later time and continued his walk.

He required lodging.

The City of Red Smoke marked merely the initial waypoint on an extensive journey. Nevertheless, Kyrian was resolved to derive maximum benefit from his sojourn there.