Mystic Eyes: My Eyes Steal the Laws of Cultivation Chapter 347: A Visit

By afternoon, Kyrian had visited two more eateries.

One featured a steaming volcanic seafood stew, crafted from creatures dwelling in subterranean, geothermally heated lakes. These peculiar beings, encased in hard shells, yielded tender white meat, slow-cooked in a broth infused with fiery herbs.

The second establishment offered delectable pastries sweetened with honey from industrious fire bees. The taste was an intense fusion of spicy and sweet, a paradoxical sensation that simultaneously seared the tongue and brought a sense of comfort.

This city pulsed with vitality and stark contrasts. The persistent warmth, the sky painted with crimson smoke that cast an orange hue over everything, and the resilient populace shaped by life near the erupting volcanoes collectively forged an atmosphere unlike anything Kyrian had encountered in the entire Northern Territory.

It stood apart from the Blood Court, with its oppressive darkness and the scent of blood. It was dissimilar to the Verdant Sword Sect, characterized by its lush forests and whispering winds.

This was a metropolis born from fire and ash, its people mirroring this fiery origin in every movement and expression.

...

As dusk began to settle, deepening the smoke's crimson and orange tones, Kyrian found himself in a sprawling central plaza.

He halted, taken aback by the sheer density of the assembled crowd.

Thousands of cultivators and townspeople converged, completely filling the expanse. The plaza was packed to capacity, with spectators even occupying staircases and balconies of the surrounding structures.

A low, pervasive hum arose – a blend of excited chatter, nervous giggles, and whispered speculations. Yet, an undeniable current of anticipation saturated the air, as thick and palpable as the smoke blanketing the sky.

Driven by curiosity, Kyrian advanced, smoothly navigating the throng. His innate cold Qi naturally prompted people to yield, creating space without any verbal request.

Dominating the plaza's center was a raised dais of polished black stone, its surface smoothed by countless interactions. Four elders stood upon it, each clad in distinct robes signifying their respective factions.

Their voices, amplified by Qi, resonated through the plaza with pristine clarity.

Kyrian quickly grasped the situation.

The four elders were proclaiming the launch of a grand joint expedition to probe the most perilous and final volcano in the range – the Great Volcano, whose fiery emissary of red smoke commanded the horizon.

"... All united forces strive for the inheritance bequeathed by Ancestor Ming Hai!" declared an elder, his long beard flowing and robes adorned with flame patterns, his arms outstretched in a dramatic flourish.

"Any cultivator with the will to participate may join this expedition. We shall depart with the first light of dawn tomorrow!"

Another elder took up the announcement, his tone deeper and more somber.

"Each contingent will be guided by a representative from one of the four great powers present. Our objective is straightforward: to locate Ming Hai's tomb."

"Upon the discovery of the inheritance, it shall be equitably distributed amongst all contributing forces. Those who render significant aid to the expedition, particularly the one who pinpoints the tomb's precise location, will be bestowed with abundant rewards. This includes ancestral techniques, high-tier treasures, mid-grade spirit stones, and a distinguished position within their respective sects!"

A wave of excited murmurs swept through the crowd. Countless young cultivators' eyes gleamed with aspiration and avarice, envisioning themselves uncovering the tomb and reaping rewards far exceeding their wildest fantasies.

Kyrian remained in the plaza for nearly thirty minutes, absorbing the details. The elders outlined rudimentary safety protocols, designated rendezvous points at the volcano's base, and elucidated the reward structure for any discoveries made. The collective enthusiasm was tangible, almost infectious.

Nevertheless, Kyrian felt no compelling desire to join.

He had already solidified his immediate plans: he would dedicate another day or two to further exploring the city, sampling more of its unique cuisine, and ensuring he was adequately rested. Following this, he intended to resume his journey towards the next major urban center marked on Dong Zhen's map.

The Central Territory remained a considerable distance away.

As the announcements concluded and the assembly began to disperse into animated clusters, Kyrian turned and exited the plaza.

He sought out a more tranquil eatery situated near his inn for his evening meal. A dish of grilled fish accompanied by a zesty volcanic herb sauce and a carafe of mellow spiritual wine were ordered. He dined deliberately, contemplating the day's events, the peculiar city, and the expedition he intended to bypass.

The City of Red Smoke presented an intriguing spectacle, alive with energy and potential. However, it was not his ultimate destination.

Completing his repast, he settled the bill and made his way back to the Golden Ash Pavilion. Ascending to his chamber, he cleansed himself once more, washing away the day's sweat and clinging ash, before retiring to the comfort of the soft bed.

The city's distant sounds still permeated the air – echoes of animated discussions about the expedition, the brisk rhythm of footsteps on stone thoroughfares, and the warm wind carrying fine ash particles that gently tapped against the windowpanes.

Kyrian closed his eyes.

The following day, his agenda included exploring the final district he had yet to visit. Post that exploration, he would make preparations for Arcon and continue his southward journey.

Sleep claimed him swiftly and peacefully.

...

A series of knocks sounded at the door.

Kyrian's eyes snapped open instantly, his senses on high alert. The early morning light filtering through the balcony suggested the sun hadn't fully crested the horizon; it was unusually early for unexpected guests.

He swung his legs out of bed, swiftly donning his ice-blue robe before proceeding to the door. His innate cold Qi was already stirring, his unique snowflake eyes shimmering in the room's dim illumination.

He opened the door.

Five individuals stood waiting.

A frown creased Kyrian's brow; the situation felt peculiar. He couldn't place any of them. Their attire varied, with some clad in fine silks and others in more humble, yet impeccably clean and maintained, garments.

A tall young man in a striking scarlet robe was present, alongside a young woman with her hair elegantly swept into a high bun, dressed in dark blue. A slender man in a gray robe adorned with silver embroidery, a woman with a severe demeanor in green, and a youth with a round face garbed in yellow completed the group.

Kyrian's gaze swept over each of them, his icy eyes, capable of perceiving subtleties others might miss, cataloging every detail.

Then, his sharp memory clicked into gear.

He recognized one among them – the young man in the scarlet robe. A familiar face from a distant table at the restaurant where Kyrian had dined the previous day.

While eating, Kyrian had registered him peripherally but dismissed it. Now, however, this same man appearing at his doorstep so early was far from a mere coincidence.

"What is it you require?" Kyrian inquired, his voice level yet firm.

"You are here for me. What is the reason?"

The five young people exchanged fleeting glances. The young man in scarlet stepped forward, seemingly designated as their spokesman. His gaze locked onto Kyrian's glacial eyes, scrutinizing them with a mixture of awe and deference.

"Young Master," he began, executing a respectful bow.

"We seek your assistance with a matter. We are prepared to compensate you for your help."