Mystic Eyes: My Eyes Steal the Laws of Cultivation Chapter 344: City of Red Smoke (2)

Kyrian dismounted from Arcon on the outskirts of the City of Red Smoke.

The heat rose from the ground like the constant breath of a distant furnace, vibrating the air and distorting the view of the horizon.

The black-winged horse flapped its wings once, clearly bothered by the high temperature, its red eyes glowing with impatience.

A city guard, wearing light armor of black scales that gleamed under the diffuse light of the red clouds, approached upon noticing the high-level beast.

His eyes widened slightly when he saw Arcon’s imposing figure, a winged horse was not common even in the Northern Territory, where exotic beasts were more frequent.

"Quite a mount, sir." Said the guard, making a respectful bow.

"Would you like to leave it in the city’s official stables? We have specialized handlers."

Kyrian nodded without saying anything. The guard gestured for him to follow.

They walked down a side street wide enough for large beasts. The municipal stable was just a few minutes from the main gates, a sturdy construction of volcanic stone with a reinforced roof and several spacious stalls. The smell of hay mixed with ash and beast manure filled the air, a characteristic odor of any city that housed cultivator mounts.

Inside, several handlers worked, some brushing beasts, others carrying buckets of water and feed. A robust middle-aged man with old burn marks on his arms approached quickly, his eyes evaluating Arcon with experience.

"How long do you intend to leave the beast here, young man?" he asked, his voice rough but professional.

"A few days." Kyrian replied, his voice calm.

"Take good care of him. He doesn’t like excessive heat."

The handler looked at Arcon with respect and a bit of apprehension. High-level beasts could be temperamental, and that black horse exuded a pressure that made the other animals in the stables instinctively move away.

"We’ll place him in the coolest stall, at the back." Said the handler, pointing to a more shaded area.

"It has natural ventilation and shade all day. No other animal will be kept near him."

Kyrian took out several mid-grade spirit stones from his ring and handed them to the man. The stones glowed faintly, pulsing with pure Qi, more than enough for a week of care.

"That should cover his care and feeding for a week. If I take longer, I’ll return with more."

The handler’s eyes lit up at the quality of the stones. He made a respectful bow, deeper than before.

"You can leave him with us, sir. Your mount will be treated as if it were our own."

Kyrian gave Arcon one last look. The black horse watched him with intelligence, its ears upright, as if it understood every word. Kyrian briefly touched its snout, a quick, almost imperceptible gesture, before turning and leaving.

The horse neighed softly, like a farewell.

...

Now alone, Kyrian walked toward the center of the city.

The heat was absurd.

Even being at a relatively safe distance from the great volcano whose red smoke stained the sky, the air seemed to vibrate with accumulated heat. The black stone ground retained the day’s temperature and released it slowly, turning the streets into a slow oven. Each breath carried the smell of sulfur and ash, as if the very air were burning.

Ordinary cultivators sweated profusely, some using Qi techniques to cool themselves minimally. Merchants fanned themselves with improvised fans. Pack animals panted in the shade of buildings.

Kyrian, however, did not sweat.

His eyes were still in their ice form, white pupils shaped like delicate snowflakes, glowing with a supernatural coldness that violently contrasted with the surrounding environment.

A crisp, cold energy emanated from his body, creating a small pocket of mild temperature around him. Wherever he passed, people felt an unexpected breeze. Some turned their heads, surprised. Others whispered among themselves. Most simply stepped aside, feeling the icy energy that seemed to repel the heat.

"Look at his eyes..."

"Ice Qi. In this city? That’s somewhat rare."

Kyrian did not care about the attention.

If he could remain comfortable using his own power, why wouldn’t he? Hiding out of fear of others’ gazes was not his style.

...

The City of Red Smoke was enormous.

It’s impossible to explore everything on foot in just one day. The streets rose and fell along the slopes of the hill, forming a labyrinth of alleys, stairways, and connected squares.

Dark rooftops, stained with volcanic ash, stretched as far as the eye could see. Red and orange banners fluttered everywhere, emblazoned with symbols of flames and mountains.

Kyrian walked at an unhurried pace, his eyes scanning shop facades, smaller temples, and inner courtyards where disciples trained. The architecture was unlike anything he had seen, sturdier, more functional, and adapted to the heat and constant ash.

Water channels, probably for cooling, were integrated into the design of many structures along the walls.

It was the distinct scent that initially grabbed his attention.

A robust fragrance of roasted meat, seasoned with unique spices—a blend that was spicy, earthy, and subtly sweet—wafted from a three-story establishment characterized by a black stone exterior and red lanterns, illuminated even in the daytime.

Kyrian’s stomach, having subsisted primarily on roasted beast meat during the fifteen-day journey, sent a clear signal.

While sustenance wasn't a necessity for his survival—he could endure weeks, even months, absorbing Qi to maintain his body, a common capability for cultivators at the Core Formation Realm—Kyrian found pleasure in eating.

It was one of the few uncomplicated joys he had cherished since his youth.

During this extensive expedition to the Central Territory, he had made a resolution: to sample the cuisine of every locale he traversed, recognizing that each city, each power, and each culture offered its own distinct flavors, all of which Kyrian was eager to experience.

He stepped inside the restaurant.

A young attendant, clad in a light-hued robe and with hair bound by a red scarf, approached swiftly, but paused momentarily as she sensed the chill radiating from Kyrian. Her eyes widened in surprise upon observing his snowflake-shaped pupils.

"W-Welcome, sir," she stammered, regaining her composure.

"Would you prefer a seat on the first floor or...?"

"Second floor," Kyrian replied succinctly.

The young woman swallowed nervously and led him up the stairs.

On the ground floor, as he had already discerned from the ambient energy, were only cultivators of lesser cultivation levels, belonging to the Body Refinement and Qi Accumulation realms.

The air was filled with casual chatter, boisterous laughter, and the potent smell of inexpensive alcohol. Rough hides and worn robes were common attire, indicating patrons who had just begun their cultivation journey.

Ascending to the second floor, the ambiance shifted, becoming more tranquil and sophisticated.

Tables were occupied mostly by cultivators in the Qi Liberation Realm, with a sparse number belonging to the Core Formation Realm.

The quality of their robes improved, and their accessories suggested greater wealth. Their conversations were subdued and measured.

As Kyrian reached the top of the staircase, the cold emanating from him permeated the hall like an unexpected winter gust.

Numerous heads turned, and conversations momentarily ceased.

He paid no attention to the glances he received.

Selecting a table set slightly apart, near a window that offered a view of the bustling street, he took a seat. His cloak partially concealed his Blood Court red robe but did not entirely hide his distinctive eyes or the icy energy surrounding him.