Mystic Eyes: My Eyes Steal the Laws of Cultivation Chapter 388 - 389

Silence hung in the air, as all present had arrived at the same understanding.

It was evident that Kyrian had secured the inheritance, likely possessing valuable treasures, which was sufficient cause for his condemnation.

A burning greed ignited in the eyes of the four onlookers.

Greed, a force more potent than any cultivation technique, deadlier than any weapon, and more blinding than pure hatred.

Then, an elder let out a sigh.

"You lot are truly impatient," he commented, his voice slicing through the charged atmosphere.

The remaining three turned their attention to him.

"Isn't this rather shameful?" he inquired calmly, his tone akin to a reprimand for wayward disciples.

"Four Spiritual Awakening cultivators against a single cultivator at the Core Formation stage?"

He slowly shook his head, a flicker of disdain crossing his features.

"Even by the lax standards of this desolate territory, this is quite pathetic."

His gaze swept over his three companions, scrutinizing their reactions.

"Maintain your positions," he commanded.

"I will handle him myself."

As he uttered these words, a long, black spear was retrieved from his spatial ring.

The weapon immediately exuded a sharp, menacing aura, its metallic surface appearing to absorb the ambient light, casting a faint shadow around its edge.

Silver runes snaked along the spear's shaft, emitting a soft, ethereal glow.

The other three leaders exchanged significant glances.

A silent consensus was reached.

After a brief pause...

They concurred.

Indeed, it would be considered overkill for all four of them to attack simultaneously. Such an act would reflect poorly on their reputations, though it was a minor concern.

Furthermore...

Each harbored their own hidden motives.

Should Kyrian prove to be exceptionally powerful, perhaps stronger than he seemed, he might deplete a portion of the elder's Qi, wearing him down and weakening him.

If he possessed concealed techniques, formidable traps, or protective artifacts, he might be compelled to reveal his trump cards during the ensuing confrontation.

If he was hoarding artifacts discovered within the inheritance, these might be exposed during the battle, allowing for their subsequent seizure.

Any of these potential outcomes would invariably benefit the others present.

And more importantly...

None of them were inclined to share the inheritance of Ming Hai.

The alliance forged between the four major powers of Red Smoke City had served its purpose solely until the discovery of the treasure.

Now?

Now, they stood as rivals.

This reality was understood by all.

Without a single word needing to be exchanged.

The three figures slowly retreated, expanding the perimeter of their formation.

Yet, they maintained a proximity sufficient to intervene should the situation necessitate it.

Effectively creating an inescapable encirclement.

The elder advanced alone.

He halted approximately twenty meters from Kyrian, a distance deemed appropriate for a duel between cultivators, striking a balance between proximity and separation.

The two figures stood poised, facing each other directly.

A gust of wind swirled between them, lifting loose ash from the desolate ground.

The elder's spiritual pressure permeated the mountain's expanse.

It was a heavy, oppressive force.

Vastly superior to the aura exerted by cultivators at the Core Formation stage.

Kyrian felt the immense pressure bearing down upon him, not as a physical impact, but as an invisible hand pressing him into the earth. This was the kind of formidable pressure that would typically cause ordinary cultivators to tremble, break out in a cold sweat, and feel an overwhelming urge to fall to their knees.

However, for Kyrian, this pressure was virtually inconsequential. His unique eyes rendered him immune to any form of external oppressive force.

Kyrian began a silent assessment.

'He's stronger than Feng Yuan,' the thought surfaced naturally.

The leader of the Verdant Sword Sect, Feng Yuan, resided in the Spiritual Awakening Realm. Kyrian had experienced his imposing spiritual pressure on multiple occasions previously.

This elder, however, felt different.

'Perhaps not significantly stronger,' Kyrian mused.

'But stronger nonetheless.'

'He is likely nearing the Second Stage of Spiritual Awakening.'

This individual presented a formidable adversary. Extremely so.

But...

Kyrian's striking orange eyes locked onto the elder's gaze.

Neither yielded, their stares unwavering.

The black spear rotated slowly within the elder's grasp, its sharpened edge cleaving the air with a low, resonant hum.

Releasing an aura tinged with cold, deadly intent.

"This is your final chance," the elder declared.

"Surrender all that you have acquired."

"Any techniques, any treasures, any spirit stones. Everything."

"Perhaps then, I might permit you to retain your life."

Kyrian's gaze shifted to the four men encircling him.

Their countenances were etched with unbridled ambition, their calculating eyes fixed intently upon him.

Their weapons were poised for action, some already radiating an intense glow from the circulating Qi.

Greed.

Power invariably attracted avarice. Treasures invariably invited bloodshed. This was an ancient, immutable law of the cultivation world, a tenet Kyrian understood intimately, yet one that never ceased to surprise him with its unwavering consistency.

'No matter the path one treads, there will inevitably be those who covet what you have earned.'

'This is precisely why only strength holds true significance in this world.'

He exhaled a prolonged sigh.

The exhalation was slow and measured.

Resembling an individual resigned to an unavoidable fate.

It appeared that dialogue would not facilitate his departure from this predicament.

Only a display of power would suffice.

Kyrian harbored absolutely no intention of relinquishing his spatial ring.

Within its confines resided the entirety of his hard-earned wealth.

The petrified remains of the Five-Horned Lava Lizard, complete with its coveted scales and potent draconic blood essence.

The countless medicinal pills he had painstakingly refined during his months spent within the confines of the Blood Court and the Verdant Sword Sect.

The intricate formation plates he had meticulously crafted, each one a testament to the spiritual arts, representing a small masterpiece in itself.

The accumulated spirit stones, both low-grade and mid-grade, that he had gathered since the start of his cultivation journey, were all present.

Everything was within reach.

Even if Kyrian were to offer some treasure as a lure, a pill here, a few stones there, the instant they realized the true scope of his wealth, he would undoubtedly be plundered entirely. There would be no middle ground, no room for negotiation. Kyrian, however, had absolutely no intention of being robbed.

He would fight if the situation demanded it. A crimson flame flickered within his pupils, distinctly different from the flickering glow of the Gray Flame Eyes. This was something more profound, the imprint of the Law of Fire now deeply ingrained within his very bones, his spine, and his blood.

A warmth spread through his spine, not an uncomfortable heat, but a potent one, as if some formidable power was stirring within him. Qi began to flow through his newly formed meridians. For the very first time since the implantation, Kyrian was preparing to rigorously test his new body, not merely his enhanced physical strength, his preposterous resilience, or his fortified bones.

He would test everything: the meridians, the Bone of Heaven, and importantly, his new eyes.

Kyrian had no concrete knowledge of their capabilities, nor had he yet gauged their combat potential. However, he could sense their difference, a palpable increase in power, a greater depth, and a more vibrant vitality than any of their preceding forms. And Kyrian felt no apprehension.

A subtle smile curved the corner of his lips, not one signaling provocation or challenge, but rather one of keen anticipation. For reasons unknown, Kyrian felt not the slightest trace of fear towards these leaders, four cultivators at the Spiritual Awakening stage, all possessing greater strength than him.

And yet… he felt no fear. His body thrummed with power. His eyes blazed with fire. His spine pulsed with might.

"Come," Kyrian uttered calmly. His words were simple, devoid of threats or provocations, merely an invitation. The old man narrowed his eyes, raising his black spear, and the battle commenced.