Mystic Eyes: My Eyes Steal the Laws of Cultivation Chapter 391 - 392

For several long seconds, the old man remained utterly still.

His breaths came hard and fast, not from any physical strain, but from the crushing weight of his humiliation. A portion of his sleeve was gone, reduced to fine ash that still swirled lazily in the sweltering air.

His arm throbbed with a searing pain, a superficial burn that pulsed with each beat of his heart.

Yet, the true torment wasn't on his skin.

It was his wounded pride.

He had undergone cultivation for decades. He had faced savage beasts, vanquished foes, amassed untold riches, and navigated a world where only the most powerful survived.

His name was spoken with dread throughout Red Smoke City. His reputation commanded widespread fear and a grudging respect.

And now...

A mere young man, still in the Core Formation Realm, was driving him back.

Not just a simple retreat.

His very confidence was being chipped away.

The old man's gaze sharpened as he fixated on Kyrian.

The youth stood entirely unscathed.

Not even his breathing had changed. His chest rose and fell with the same measured cadence as before. His tunic bore the marks of tearing in several places, the fabric unable to withstand the brutal impacts, yet the skin beneath remained untouched.

It was utterly preposterous.

‘That fire… it is certainly not ordinary,’ the old man mused, his mind racing with desperate analysis.

He knew it with chilling certainty: fire-based attacks were useless against Kyrian. Every single technique he deployed, every ember, every fiery blast, every stream of fire Qi that lunged forward, simply vanished into nothingness upon nearing the youth.

He was absolutely convinced of this now.

Perhaps this inexplicable fire wasn’t limitless. Maybe it possessed some constraints, some hidden weakness, some form of depletion that prevented Kyrian from wielding it indefinitely.

But until those potential limitations were uncovered...

To be struck directly by it meant certain death.

Even his protective Qi barrier, painstakingly refined over decades of rigorous cultivation, had begun to liquefy and flow like hot wax under a relentless flame.

It defied all reason.

Then, a new line of thought emerged.

‘If fire proves ineffective…’

‘Then my sole recourse is overwhelming physical force.’

His hand clenched tighter around the obsidian spear. The weapon’s shaft groaned audibly under the immense pressure of his grip.

A direct, unadorned thrust. A simple, clean strike. A single, perfectly aimed physical assault – nothing more than hardened steel and raw power.

That was all he required to end Kyrian's life.

This spear was a spiritual weapon of the highest caliber. Meticulously forged from rare and exotic metals. A direct thrust from it possessed the power to shatter the defenses of even a cultivator of equal standing.

Against Kyrian… it should be more than sufficient.

However, a significant obstacle remained.

The challenge of closing the distance.

That infernal flame could manifest seemingly anywhere. Worse still, it appeared to react directly to Kyrian’s gaze, as if his very sight wielded a potent weapon, as if fire itself spontaneously ignited wherever his eyes rested.

A throbbing headache began to bloom at the old man’s temples.

If he were to unleash his full might, pouring every ounce of his Qi into a single, decisive strike, he might succeed in obliterating the boy.

Perhaps.

But what then?

He would still be left to contend with the remaining three leaders vying for the same inheritance.

And not a single one of them could be trusted.

The slightest sign of vulnerability, a heavier exhalation, a faltering defensive barrier, or a more grievous wound, and the vultures would descend. They were not comrades; they were merely fleeting rivals, bound only by circumstance, not by any true loyalty.

His gaze flickered swiftly to the three individuals accompanying him.

Unbridled greed.

He perceived the identical hunger blazing in each of their eyes.

Every one of them coveted the inheritance.

Every one of them harbored plans to eliminate the others when the opportune moment presented itself.

A decision solidified within him.

His spiritual sense extended outwards, silently reaching towards the other three leaders.

A clandestine message was dispatched.

‘You have all perceived the truth of the situation.’

The three immediately intercepted the telepathic communication. No outward sign betrayed their awareness; their faces remained impassive masks, their gazes locked onto Kyrian.

‘This youth is far from ordinary.’

‘If we continue to act independently, it is unlikely any of us will secure the inheritance.’

A profound silence descended, broken only by the whisper of the wind weaving between them as ashes danced in the air.

Then, another message followed.

‘First, we eliminate him.’

‘Thereafter, we shall resolve our own disputes.’

The other three lingered in silence for several agonizing seconds, feigning contemplation, meticulously weighing the proposal.

But they were not simpletons.

Each had witnessed the unfolding events. Each had observed the old man's sleeve disintegrate into ash. Each had felt the oppressive heat of that flame – a heat that resonated with a power far deeper than mere temperature.

One versus one...

None among them felt utterly confident in their ability to emerge victorious.

The responses began to trickle in.

‘I concur.’

‘Kyrian first.’

‘Then, we shall determine who is worthy of the inheritance.’

The pact was sealed, a fragile alliance forged in mutual necessity. Temporary, yes, but sufficient for the moment.

In the very next instant…

The old man vanished from his position.

‘BOOM!’

A powerful movement technique detonated beneath his feet. It was a mastery of mobility arts he had perfected relentlessly over decades, releasing controlled bursts of fire Qi from his soles.

The very ground fractured and buckled under the explosive force where his feet landed.

Tendons and muscles in his legs bulged visibly beneath his robes, charged with concentrated Qi.

His already formidable speed nearly doubled instantaneously.

There were no more phantom fire serpents coiling through the air. No more grand, theatrical explosions. No more ostentatious techniques that advertised their intent before the strike landed.

Only pure, unadulterated speed. Only a lethal spear. Only the palpable aura of killing intent.

The ground behind him erupted in a violent display of concussive force.

Kyrian observed every single detail of the electrifying assault.

His fiery orange eyes meticulously tracked every nuance of the elder's lunge. The subtle tightening of the muscles in the old man's right leg pinpointed the exact source of his explosive momentum.

The spear's path was far from a straight line; it followed a delicate curve, adjusted in mere fractions of a second to counter any of Kyrian's potential evasive maneuvers.

He was already marshaling his fire to meet the incoming assault when an unexpected shift occurred.

His peripheral vision registered a fleeting movement.

A shadow. Darting in from the right. Moving with astonishing speed, far surpassing the elder's pace.

Another adversary. An ambush was unfolding.

Kyrian instantly grasped their coordinated strategy. They had forged a temporary alliance, at least for this moment.

The second assailant entered his line of sight, brandishing a massive, double-bladed axe. The weapon pulsed with a potent Qi, its sharp, cutting aura visibly distorting the air surrounding it.

The axe descended directly towards his neck.

The elder attacked from the front with his spear, while the axe wielder came from the flank.

Their timing was impeccable, perfectly synchronized.

Kyrian didn't pause to contemplate.

He simply reacted.

His eyes blazed, not with a slow burn, but an instantaneous ignition, as if a forge's fire had been struck within them. His orange irises glowed with the intensity of molten magma, radiating a brilliance that rivaled the sun itself.

Then...

A spectral, orange conflagration burst forth from his eyes, expanding outwards from his very being.

The Aura of Fire detonated.

’FOOOOOOM!’

This wasn't a directed blast; it was an unleashed energy wave, erupting outwards in all directions simultaneously.

The elder's eyes widened in disbelief.

So did the axe wielder's.

Their pupils dilated, mirroring Kyrian's explosive power.

Both instinctively activated protective treasures in a flash, a reaction born from pure reflex rather than calculated strategy. Their hands darted towards their necks and spatial rings.

Ethereal barriers materialized around their bodies. Translucent Qi shields shimmered into existence before them. Amulets around their necks flared with light, unleashing pre-prepared defenses.

Even with these measures...

They were violently thrown backward.

Like fragile leaves caught in a tempest's fury.

Both combatants were sent flying dozens of meters away, the elder covering ten meters and the axe wielder fifteen, their boots gouging deep furrows into the rugged volcanic terrain.

Their protective barriers buckled under the overwhelming force of the Aura. Faint luminous cracks snaked across the shields, spreading like a delicate, fractured web.