Mystic Eyes: My Eyes Steal the Laws of Cultivation Chapter 353: Great Volcano (5)

The elder observed the white mist blanketing the entire group, his gaze narrowed, a mixture of grudging surprise and poorly disguised irritation on his face.

The palpable relief among the cultivators—their deep sighs, the relaxation of their shoulders, their calming breaths—only served to amplify his displeasure.

"Tsc."

A low sound, almost a grunt of disapproval, escaped his lips. He uttered no further words, yet his disdain was as clear as pristine water. He was unwilling to concede, perhaps even to himself, that Kyrian’s intervention was proving exceptionally beneficial to the entire contingent.

Kyrian perceived the hostility.

It wasn't overt rage, nor was there any killing intent or desire for confrontation. It was something more subtle, more petty—the kind of animosity that stems from wounded pride. The elder disliked being surpassed, especially by someone younger and seemingly of a lower cultivation level.

Without altering his stoic expression, Kyrian subtly adjusted his focus.

The expanse of ice Qi encircling the group contracted slightly, shifting its boundary in a particular direction. The frigid mist persisted in shielding all the cultivators, establishing a comfortable sanctuary amidst the volcanic inferno, enveloping each person in a delicate aura of coolness that stood in stark contrast to the oppressive heat.

The elder was intentionally excluded.

The elder felt the shift instantaneously. The extreme heat bore down upon him with its full intensity once more, as if a protective shield had been withdrawn solely around him.

A bead of sweat traced a path down his temple, a rare occurrence for an individual at the fourth stage of the Core Formation Realm, who was accustomed to meticulously controlling his own physicality.

He cast a piercing glance at Kyrian, but the young man with eyes shaped like snowflakes did not even deign to turn his head in the elder’s direction. He simply continued onward, his countenance serene, as if no change had occurred.

The elder clenched his jaw.

He refrained from voicing a complaint. His pride would not permit it. How could he possibly request something he had just moments before dismissed with disdain?

He merely continued his trek, his fire Qi barrier functioning with heightened intensity to counteract the absence of the cooling mist.

The group pressed onward, venturing deeper into the Intermediate Area of the Great Volcano.

This time, a noticeable shift had occurred within the group's dynamic.

The disciples naturally created space for Kyrian. He now walked directly behind the elder, positioned almost alongside him, occupying a space that had previously been reserved for Pan Zheng or other more seasoned disciples.

No one voiced any objections.

Following his demonstrated prowess—the ice spike that impaled the Armored Mole, the barriers that deflected jets of fire, and the cold mist that shielded them from the searing heat—even the most doubtful acknowledged his rightful place among them.

Pan Zheng discreetly moved closer to Kyrian as they navigated a fractured incline where slow, incandescent lava flowed. The terrain was precarious, demanding meticulous caution with every step.

"Kyrian..." he began, his voice modulated to a low timbre, ensuring the others wouldn't overhear.

"You must be expending a significant amount of Qi to maintain your protection and ours. Should you require rest, please inform me. I possess some high-quality Qi recovery pills."

Kyrian regarded him for a moment.

The young man clad in the crimson robe appeared genuinely concerned. It transcended mere apprehension about losing a valuable ally; there was a deeper sentiment present.

Respect, admiration, and a sentiment akin to camaraderie were evident. Despite being the one who had secured Kyrian’s services, Pan Zheng did not conduct their association as a simple commercial exchange.

Kyrian offered a brief nod.

"That will not be necessary. My consumption is not substantial."

This statement was accurate. Possessing two fully formed cores, his Qi reserves were exceptionally vast, far exceeding those of a typical cultivator at the first stage.

The application of ice intent refined his Qi, rendering it pure and highly efficient. Moreover, the flawless command over his ice eyes enabled him to sustain the chilled environment without expending excessive energy.

He could maintain this condition for days without experiencing genuine fatigue.

Pan Zheng appeared reassured, yet his gaze remained fixed on Kyrian, now imbued with escalating admiration. There was an enigmatic quality about this individual—his peculiar eyes, his preternatural composure, the manner in which he faced the infernal heat as if it were a gentle breeze—that captivated him profoundly.

The ensuing hours were characterized by consistent advancement and numerous encounters.

Within the Intermediate Area, the demonic beasts were considerably more abundant and formidable than those found in the outer regions. The intense heat and the concentrated density of fire Qi fostered an ideal habitat for creatures adapted to extreme environmental conditions.

A Blazing Obsidian Scorpion launched an assault upon the group's formation.

The creature was colossal, its body extending over four meters in length, and its obsidian carapace gleamed like polished glass. Its tail, poised in an offensive posture, expelled a venomous, fiery liquid that incinerated everything in its trajectory.

The elder was compelled to engage in a serious battle. His palm techniques, wreathed in flames, struck the scorpion’s hard shell. After numerous fierce clashes, he succeeded in cleaving the creature in twain. One half of the beast’s colossal form tumbled to the ground, while the other followed suit. Both sections still writhed for a few moments before finally becoming motionless.

Shortly thereafter, a pair of Winged Lava Eagles descended from the smoke-shrouded heavens.

These majestic, fearsome birds possessed not feathers, but rather blades of radiant volcanic rock. Their talons burned with a heat so intense it caused the very air around them to waver and distort.

They set their sights on the less experienced disciples, those enduring the intermediate stages of Qi Liberation.

Kyrian lifted his hand.

A barrier of ice materialized in the sky, a shimmering, translucent expanse that rapidly grew, enveloping the disciples beneath an unseen shield. The eagles slammed against the barrier, their fiery talons hissing ferociously upon contact with the ice, releasing explosive bursts of vapor in every direction.

One of the eagles recoiled, bewildered by the unexpected resistance. The other, however, pressed its attack.

Mid-flight, Kyrian encased its wings in ice. The frigid element spread through the bird’s stony plumage like a creeping silver blight, rendering its wings heavy and fragile. The eagle attempted to beat its wings, but they remained immobile. It plummeted like a stone, its demise punctuated by a sickening sound as it smashed against the rocky terrain below.

Witnessing the fate of its companion, the second eagle abruptly turned and vanished back into the obscuring smoke.

On a separate occasion, the group narrowly escaped a perilous natural hazard.

The earth suddenly collapsed beneath the feet of three disciples, revealing a chasm filled with bubbling magma whose heat was so potent that the air above it quivered. The disciples cried out, their limbs flailing uselessly in the open air, already feeling the searing magma’s heat breach their protective Qi barriers.

Kyrian’s reaction was instantaneous.

Tendrils of icy Qi, like luminous white threads, snaked forth from his hand. They swiftly coiled around the waists, arms, and legs of the three disciples, pulling them back to stable ground with a decisive, sharp tug.

The magma, sensing the intrusion of ice Qi, responded with fury. A violent eruption of superheated steam billowed from the pit, blanketing everything in a momentary shroud of white vapor that obscured all vision.

Once the vapor cleared, the three disciples were sprawled on the ground, gasping for breath but alive.

"Thank you…" one of them managed to whisper, still disoriented.

Kyrian offered no reply. He simply resumed his forward progress.