Mystic Eyes: My Eyes Steal the Laws of Cultivation Chapter 350: Great Volcano (2)

Kyrian maintained a consistent stride beside Pan Zheng as the group journeyed towards the volcano. A searing wind, laden with ash particles that settled on skin and attire, buffeted them. However, his ice Qi formed a subtle shield, preserving his coolness and cleanliness.

The scenery had undergone a radical transformation. The rolling hills and gnarled flora found at the city's edge had yielded to a desolate, unforgiving environment, capable of sustaining only the most tenacious lifeforms. Kyrian's snowflake eyes meticulously observed his surroundings.

"You appear to hold Ming Hai's history in high regard and possess considerable knowledge of it," Kyrian remarked, his gaze fixed on the horizon where the Great Volcano loomed, resembling a colossal edifice of stone and flame.

"Was he truly that formidable and significant?"

Pan Zheng offered a nod, his breathing measured as he ran. Despite the exertion, his voice remained steady.

"The sect's ancient chronicles depict Ming Hai not merely as strong, but as a veritable monster in his era. He faced no peers his age across the entire volcanic mountain range. It is said he spent over four centuries within the volcanoes of this region, engaged in direct meditation over molten magma."

Kyrian absorbed this information in thoughtful silence. Four hundred years. That duration dwarfed the lifespan of many established powers and exceeded that of most common cultivators.

"He did not cultivate by absorbing Qi in the manner we do," Pan Zheng elaborated, his eyes alight with an admiring gleam.

"He consumed fire. It is theorized that he possessed a unique physique and an ancient, enigmatic technique, something no one has successfully replicated since."

"Indeed, some of the most senior elders avow that he forged a connection with a fire spirit, one born within the heart of a volcano."

Kyrian's eyebrows lifted ever so slightly.

Spirits. He recalled reading about them in the Blood Library. These were entities spontaneously generated in locales saturated with exceptionally dense Qi, resulting from millennia of coalescence and natural evolution.

They were not human creations, nor could their genesis be compelled.

According to the records, spirits were sentient, possessed consciousness, and exhibited highly capricious temperaments.

While some were benevolent, others remained indifferent, and a few were openly hostile. Yet, a shared characteristic bound them: a profound sense of superiority over humanity.

This stemmed from the fact that while humans required thousands of years of dedicated cultivation to ascend to higher realms, a spirit emerged endowed with immense inherent power.

The instances of humans forging amicable relationships with spirits were exceedingly rare. Even more uncommon were those cases where a spirit consented to accompany a human or share its power.

'Fascinating,' Kyrian mused.

'If a spirit indeed resides here, I hope for the opportunity to witness it at least once.'

He harbored no illusions about forming a pact with a being that perceived itself as divinely appointed. However, simply beholding a spirit with his own eyes, an experience denied to many cultivators throughout their lifetimes, would be reward enough.

Pan Zheng continued his narrative, oblivious to Kyrian's introspective thoughts.

"And the reason for the tomb's specific placement within the Great Volcano?" Kyrian inquired, refocusing on the primary subject.

"Actually, it was the four major powers of the City of Red Smoke who unearthed an ancient testament belonging to Ming Hai many years prior," Pan Zheng responded.

"The testament spoke of his inheritance awaiting the fated individual and indicated its location somewhere within the volcanic mountain range."

"Thus commenced the great pursuit. For years, these powers meticulously scoured every corner of the range – every minor volcano, every cavern, every crevice. Numerous ancillary treasures were unearthed, reinforcing the conviction that the primary inheritance genuinely existed. Yet, Ming Hai's tomb remained elusive."

He paused briefly to draw breath.

"After several years, only one location remained uncharted. The final volcano. The most colossal. The most ancient. The most perilous in the entire range. The Great Volcano."

The young man gestured towards the imposing silhouette dominating the skyline.

"In my estimation, it is entirely logical for the tomb to be situated there. The other volcanoes are akin to its offspring – smaller, younger, and less potent. Ming Hai would surely have selected the most powerful peak for his eternal repose. At least, that is my conviction."

Kyrian remained silent for a moment. The reasoning held water. A cultivator of Ming Hai's caliber would not choose an unremarkable site for his interment. He would select a location befitting his immense power.

Their conversation flowed for some time as they proceeded. Pan Zheng recounted ancient legends, detailing how Ming Hai purportedly devised techniques enabling him to manipulate lava as if it were liquid water, and tales of his battles against mythical beasts dwelling in the depths of the volcanoes. Kyrian listened intently, mentally sifting through embellishments to discern accounts grounded in potential reality.

The terrain grew increasingly severe.

The gentle slopes gave way to stark, black rock faces, fractured by centuries, perhaps millennia, of volcanic upheaval.

Beneath their boots, the ground, once soil, had transformed into a dense mass of ash and stone, yielding with a dry, crumbling sound.

A potent, sulfurous stench mingled with the aroma of burnt rock filled the air, so overpowering it left Kyrian’s tongue feeling completely numb.

After an arduous trek lasting nearly four hours, with minimal pauses for rest, the party finally arrived at the periphery of the Great Volcano.

They stood at the mountain's base, amidst its lower foothills, the true climb yet to commence. Yet, the oppressive heat here already surpassed anything they had endured in the City of Red Smoke.

The very air appeared to boil, distorting their sightlines like looking through rippling water.

Several of the group's less resilient members had already erected full Qi barriers to shield themselves, sweat coursing down their faces in relentless streams, their breaths coming in harsh, labored gasps.

Kyrian, however, remained entirely unfazed.

His ice eyes were still active, emanating a gentle azure glow that stood in stark opposition to the fiery reds and oranges of their surroundings. The frigid Qi radiating from his form generated a localized zone of comfort, extending barely a meter around him.