Mystic Eyes: My Eyes Steal the Laws of Cultivation Chapter 393 - 394

They persisted in pressuring him. Without a moment's pause. Without any respite.

The minutes crawled by. Kyrian kept a mental tally. Five minutes elapsed.

Dozens upon dozens of exchanges occurred.

The elder lunged forward, one thrust, then another, then a third, before retreating and immediately launching another assault.

The axe-wielder whirled his formidable blades in an entrancing dance, launching strikes from angles that defied logic.

Maintaining a cautious distance, the swordsman attacked with long, pinpoint thrusts, falling back before Kyrian could mount a counteroffensive.

The saber-wielder exhibited the most ferocity, relentlessly advancing, compelling Kyrian into a defensive posture of retreat and evasion, thus depleting his energy.

Ten minutes.

Hundreds of blows were exchanged.

Kyrian could feel his muscles radiating warmth, his meridians thrumming with vitality, and his Qi surging at an accelerated pace.

The other leaders also showed signs of fatigue.

Their breaths became noticeably heavier. Some bore burns upon their arms or legs; the elder's left sleeve remained unrepaired.

Yet, they persevered.

Because they understood.

Their cultivation realms were superior. Their Qi reserves were also considerably larger.

Despite Kyrian harboring two cores. Despite his monstrously efficient deployment of Qi...

Kyrian remained solely within the Core Formation Realm.

'The fourth stage of the Core Formation Realm. Confronting four cultivators at the Spiritual Awakening stage.'

'The disparity is indeed immense.'

The leaders were fully aware of this fact. Their objective was simple: wait. Wear him down. Then, terminate him.

A straightforward strategy, yet undeniably effective.

Another exchange commenced.

The elder charged, his spear thrusting in a manner Kyrian evaded with a nimble sidestep.

Immediately following, the axe-wielder attacked from behind, unleashing a double strike—horizontal and vertical—which Kyrian managed to block, causing fiery bursts to erupt before him.

Kyrian found it impossible to sustain a constant ring of fire around himself; it was an immense drain on his Qi, particularly now that his flames had attained such potency that they could affect cultivators far beyond his own realm.

This was the very reason the battle had escalated to such complexity. His Qi reserves simply were not adequate to contend with all four of them simultaneously.

The sword lunged from the right. Kyrian executed a spin, the blade narrowly missing his back, leaving only a graze.

The saber attacked from the left. He propelled himself forward, rolling across the scorched volcanic ground, the intense heat of the rock searing against his skin.

Another concussive blast. Another swift evasion.

Kyrian drew a deep, steadying breath.

Then, a realization dawned upon him.

If he continued in this manner, merely evading, merely defending, merely reacting, the engagement would inevitably stretch on for an excessive duration.

Far too long. And ultimately, he would be the one to face defeat.

His gaze darted, meticulously assessing the positions of the four adversaries.

The elder stood before him, spear held aloft.

The axe-wielder occupied his right flank, his blades spinning ominously.

The swordsman positioned himself to his left, his sword aimed directly at Kyrian's heart.

The saber-wielder was behind him, his advance impeded by the fiery ring.

Four distinct directions. Four formidable specialists. Four simultaneous attacks.

They advanced as one. Finally, together.

The elder initiated the assault, his dark spear slicing through the air like a venomous serpent, its target Kyrian's chest.

Kyrian deftly dodged, but the axe-wielder was already in position, his blades sweeping low, aiming for Kyrian's legs.

He leaped, but the swordsman had astutely anticipated his movement. His sword ascended in an upward thrust, directed at Kyrian's abdomen.

Kyrian contorted his body while airborne, but the saber-wielder, having navigated around the perimeter of the fiery ring through a narrow passage, materialized behind Kyrian's intended landing spot.

Spear. Axe. Sword. Saber.

Four converging assaults from four cardinal directions.

Escape was rendered impossible.

Kyrian's eyes widened considerably, radiating an intense brilliance. There was no fragment of time for contemplation; only immediate action was feasible.

The Aura of Fire erupted once more with devastating force.

'WHOOOOOOOOOM!'

A tempest of orange fury engulfed all surrounding elements.

The resultant shockwave propagated outwards in every direction, raw and untamed—pure, unadulterated power.

The four leaders cried out, not in pain, but in sheer astonishment.

They were violently propelled backward.

Their garments ignited, the vibrant orange flames clinging to the fabric as if imbued with malevolent life.

Their defensive measures activated instantaneously: ethereal barriers, streams of Qi, and hastily deployed talismans sprang into existence.

The elder invoked a bracelet radiating a crimson glow. The axe-wielder crushed a talisman between his fingers. The swordsman conjured a flowing cloak of energy that enveloped his entire being. The saber-wielder activated a golden, luminous pendant.

Nevertheless...

All of them were repelled. All of them were forced to retreat. All of them sustained injuries.

The elder collapsed onto his knees, his defensive barrier fractured, his arm severely burned.

The axe-wielder tumbled across the ground, frantically extinguishing the flames engulfing his sleeve.

The swordsman coughed, spitting a small amount of blood, indicative of the force of the impact he had endured.

The saber-wielder lost a portion of his eyebrow and suffered damage to his left eye due to the searing flames.

For the first time since the four initially launched their coordinated assault...

A profound silence descended upon the battlefield.

Kyrian exhaled. Once. Deeply.

Finally, a single second of much-needed peace.

He observed the four of them. Scorched. Wounded. Yet, undeniably alive.

His body shuddered, not from apprehension or the agony inflicted by his numerous accumulated injuries, but from profound exhaustion. The manifestation of the Aura of Fire demanded an immense expenditure of Qi and placed a significant burden upon his physical form.

Kyrian let out a slow sigh.

A feeling of genuine irritation washed over him.

"Enough."

"It is time to reveal the full might granted by the Bone of the Heavens!" he proclaimed, his voice resonating strongly enough for the four individuals to hear.

His gaze, tinged with orange, ascended towards the heavens.

Directly towards the colossal volcano looming behind him.

Towards the molten magma lying dormant within the mountain's core.

Towards the pervasive heat blanketing the entire area.

The Bone of the Heavens throbbed with power.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

Its rhythm mirroring a colossal heart beating deep within his spine.

The very world seemed to heed its call.

The ambient temperature escalated not incrementally, but instantaneously.

Stones scattered around him began to radiate intense heat, appearing as if ignited from within.

Minute fissures snaked across the ground, expanding outward from Kyrian's stance like delicate spiderwebs.

And a deep crimson luminescence started to seep from these cracks.

As though the mountain itself were stirring from a profound slumber.

The four leaders sensed the shift immediately. An undeniable change had occurred.

The fire Qi pervading the surroundings, a constant yet diffused natural presence, began to coalesce.

Gravitating towards Kyrian.

It wasn't a mere absorption; it was an apparent magnetism, as if the elemental fire itself yearned for his proximity, recognizing something profound within him.

The expressions of the leaders shifted drastically.

For the very first time...

A palpable sense of dread washed over their faces.

The precise reason eluded them, yet a deep, resonant rumble emanated from the volcano, a guttural sound that seemed to originate from the very depths of the earth.

Concurrently, Kyrian's own skin began to emit a radiant glow.

Shades of orange and red pulsed across his form.

Like living, fiery veins tracing pathways across his arms, his neck, and his face.

His spine blazed with such intensity that it pierced through the tattered remnants of his attire, already damaged from prior assaults.

Kyrian closed his eyes for a fleeting moment.

He focused, sensing.

The magma. The fiery essence. The searing heat. The very mountain.

All of it felt intrinsically linked to him.

As if extensions of his own being.

As if the entire volcanic entity drew breath in unison with the pulsing of his spine.

Then, his eyes snapped open once more.

The crimson flames within his irises blazed like miniature, untamed suns.

And, for the initial instance since this intense confrontation commenced...

Kyrian was no longer confined to wielding the fire generated solely from his own cultivation cores and personal understanding.

He was poised to command the volcano itself.