Mystic Eyes: My Eyes Steal the Laws of Cultivation Chapter 426: Alchemist’s Badge

Kyrian remained seated in the comfortable red velvet armchair.

The room was silent, broken only by the faint hum of the formations engraved into the walls. The light emanating from them was soft and diffuse, creating a calm and refined atmosphere worthy of an institution that had existed for thousands of years.

Outside the enormous crystal window, stretching from floor to ceiling and framed by carved dark wood, the city remained bustling.

Cultivators walked through the streets below, some hurried, others relaxed, all wrapped within their own bubbles of existence.

Merchants advertised their goods with shouts that Kyrian could not hear, but could see through their exaggerated gestures, open mouths, and waving hands.

Spirit carriages crossed the suspended avenues, pulled by beasts of different shapes and sizes, some covered in silk, others in gleaming metal.

Mount beasts advanced slowly through the crowd, winged horses, ice wolves, and domesticated birds of prey.

Everything continued as normal.

Kyrian observed the city without hurry. He had already completed the examination. He had already proven his capabilities.

Now all that remained was to officially receive his badge.

Time passed. Five minutes. Then seven.

Then, approximately ten minutes after Lio Han’s departure, something caught his attention.

A small crowd began forming in front of the main entrance of the Alchemists Association.

At first, it was only a few people, one or two passersby who stopped to look, curious.

Then dozens, a circle forming, people gathering along the edges, some stepping back.

Then even more people began to stop, drawn by the commotion, the movement, and the sense that something was wrong.

The crowd grew rapidly. Kyrian raised an eyebrow slightly.

His sharp, flawless vision swept across the plaza below.

At the center of the gathering was a man lying on the ground.

Even from that distance, even through the glass, even from such a height, it was possible to tell that something was wrong.

His body convulsed, violent, involuntary spasms causing his limbs to move as though they had a life of their own.

His arms moved uncontrollably, striking the ground, his own chest, his face.

The veins in his neck bulged outward, thick and dark, visibly pulsing beneath his skin.

His mouth remained constantly open, as though he were trying to scream but no sound could escape, or as though he were struggling to breathe.

The room possessed an extremely efficient sound-isolation formation.

No external sound could enter, not the merchants’ cries, not the noise of the carriages, not the murmur of the crowd.

But Kyrian did not need to hear to understand. The man was screaming. And screaming a lot.

His face was completely distorted by pain, a mask of agony, desperation, and something profoundly wrong.

People watched from a distance.

Some appeared concerned, hands covering their mouths, eyes wide, expressions full of horror.

Others were merely curious, observing as though watching a spectacle, emotionally detached.

Some kept a safe distance, as though fearing the problem might be contagious.

’Some kind of poison?’ Kyrian thought.

Or perhaps a meridian injury, a critical blockage, a rupture, a catastrophic failure.

Perhaps cultivation deviation, a flawed technique, improperly directed Qi flow, energy that could no longer be contained.

Or some spiritual disease, something rare, unusual, something few cultivators ever faced.

There was not enough information to reach a conclusion.

Even so, his curiosity had been piqued.

His eyes remained fixed on the scene for several seconds.

But before he could continue observing...

Knocks sounded at the door. Knock, knock, knock.

Kyrian shifted his gaze away from the window.

"Come in."

The door opened. Lio Han entered.

In his hands was a square plate made of white ceramic.

The material appeared simple at first glance, ordinary ceramic, without shine or decoration.

But small runes glowed discreetly along its edges, forming a pattern of protection and preservation.

At the center of the plate rested a metallic object. A badge.

Five stars were engraved upon its surface, arranged in a semicircle around the center.

The symbol of the Hall of a Thousand Herbs occupied the center, a golden cauldron surrounded by stylized flames.

The five golden stars formed a circle around the main insignia.

Lio Han calmly walked to the opposite sofa.

He sat down, the velvet creaking softly beneath his weight.

His gaze briefly passed over the crowd below, the gathering, the fallen man, and the commotion.

Naturally, he had noticed it as well.

But he only cast a brief glance before completely ignoring it. At that moment, there were more important matters.

Far more important matters.

His gaze returned to Kyrian. Then to the badge.

He carefully picked up the insignia, holding it by the edges with the caution of someone handling something valuable.

His face carried a respectful expression.

It was not mere politeness, nor the empty courtesy of someone following protocol. It was recognition.

After all...

He himself was only a Rank 6 Alchemist.

It had taken him decades to reach that level. Meanwhile, Kyrian had reached Rank 5 at an absurd age.

If he continued growing at this rate... Surpassing him would only be a matter of time.

’Perhaps a few years. Perhaps less.’

Lio Han stood up.

He extended the badge in a solemn gesture, almost ceremonial.

"Congratulations on becoming a Rank 5 Alchemist, Young Kyrian."

His voice carried sincerity, not the false cordiality of someone fulfilling a duty, but something genuine.

Kyrian accepted the badge.

The metal was cold to the touch, a dense metallic coldness.

Heavy. Well-crafted.

He observed it for several seconds.

The five golden stars reflected the room’s light, tiny bright points dancing as he moved the object.

The symbol of the Hall of a Thousand Herbs, the golden cauldron, the stylized flames, appeared elegant and imposing.

A small smile appeared on his face. Finally. His first official badge.

Without hesitation, he fastened it to the front of his violet robe.

The metal clicked softly against the fabric, secured by a magnetic mechanism, or perhaps a spiritual one.

The moment he did so, a strange feeling emerged. It was status.

From that moment onward, in any region of the continent, he would be officially recognized as a Rank 5 Alchemist.

And that carried weight. A great deal of weight.

Kyrian nodded, satisfied. Then he moved directly to the next matter.

With a wave of his hand, dozens of vials appeared on the table.