Mystic Eyes: My Eyes Steal the Laws of Cultivation Chapter 5: Fighting

By the time the second test kicked off, the sun hung high in the sky.

All the recruits stood outside the barracks once more, lined up in four neat rows.

"Listen up! You must run ten laps around the barracks, but don't imagine it'll be a simple jog..." Rurik declared, flashing a peculiar grin.

His words left several recruits anxious.

'What's he getting at? Has he checked how massive these barracks are? Ten laps? Barely any of us will survive that! And more tests after?'

Such doubts raced through the minds of many youths, but Kyrian pondered something else entirely...

His mind was blank. All he craved was to wrap it up and beg for food—his stomach growled fiercely, empty since yesterday's morning meal.

The ordeal commenced. Recruits dashed off, yet it proved far tougher than mere running. Soldiers popped up atop the barracks walls out of nowhere.

They hurled icy water from buckets, lobbed wooden logs, and hurled taunts—doing everything to disrupt the runners.

Rurik viewed this as an endurance trial, testing not just bodies but spirits too. They needed to rise after every trip and tumble.

Unlike his peers, Kyrian ran steadily. He'd already surged past everyone with ease.

His compact frame darted with uncanny accuracy, anticipating precisely when to swerve, halt, or accelerate.

And indeed he foresaw it all—spotting in advance the soldiers' throws aimed to block him, then slipping past effortlessly.

Thus, fatigue barely touched him; he held his initial rhythm, far from his top velocity, yet double the speed of the other lads.

Quickly finishing lap one, he rejoined the pack. Some recruits crumpled, heaving for air; others retched violently.

Yet Kyrian breezed by them all.

"He... wasn't he trailing us?!" one recruit gasped.

"Yeah, no doubt. He's done the first lap already!" another shot back.

"Damn it! No way I'll let a kid beat me! I'll push to the finish," bellowed a youth sprawled on the dirt, scrambling up to chase Kyrian.

Strangely, Kyrian's overtakes ignited resolve in several others, who trailed after him. They witnessed his deft evasions, marveling and attempting to copy.

Not one matched his flawless dodges—they couldn't detect the soldiers as swiftly as Kyrian—but it aided many in anticipating the disruptions.

The run grew less grueling for them; endurance alone would decide if they endured ten laps.

Eventually, Kyrian spotted Captain Rurik flanked by four soldiers at the gate. He'd glimpsed those four on the walls amid his circuits, meddling like the rest.

He arrived solo, breath merely quickened, nothing alarming—save for his protesting belly.

Rurik eyed Kyrian with a broader, pleased smirk. Reports from the four soldiers behind revealed the boy's feats and influence; he grasped Kyrian exceeded mere brawn.

One hour on, the timer expired—only five others joined Kyrian in finishing ten laps.

Just one among those five had cleared the strength trial too. The rest flunked strength but aced this.

Rurik granted two hours' respite, summoning lingering recruits indoors.

In the courtyard, all stood in formation. Kyrian, first row still, plopped down and shut his eyes once more.

The break flew by; faces brightened temporarily, doomed to sour anew.

"Final test now! Combat—you'll clash with one of my soldiers," Captain Rurik proclaimed, his grin tinged with malice.

"No need to triumph, merely endure one minute. Do so, and you're accepted."

Nerves gripped the youths, stirring unrest.

Kyrian remained indifferent, biding his time.

Then the captain fixed him with an odd smile.

"You, kid. You're facing me," Rurik commanded, jabbing his spear toward Kyrian.

Kyrian felt mild shock but no dread. Instead, a grin spread—he sensed the captain's high regard.

'I've never battled before, but surviving means dodging, yeah? Shouldn't be too tough,' Kyrian mused.

The announcement stunned the courtyard. Rurik, the city's famed mightiest warrior, battling a mere boy?

Rurik brushed aside the murmurs.

"Fine, begin," Rurik urged, striding to the courtyard's square patch, arena-like.

They positioned meters apart. The captain passed his spear to a soldier; another tossed wooden sticks to both Rurik and Kyrian.

Kyrian held quiet, eyes locked on Rurik. Unversed in combat or strikes, he awaited. Though appearing lax, his gaze tracked Rurik's every twitch. No motion evaded him.

The duel ignited—the captain struck first.

Instantly, the wooden stick closed in right before him.

'Quick!' Kyrian mused inwardly, evading it at the very last moment. Though his eyes tracked the strike perfectly, its speed far exceeded what he'd anticipated.

Yet the assault didn't end with that initial blow—Rurik unleashed a barrage of follow-up attacks.

These strikes came swift, savage, and precisely aimed to overpower Kyrian and render him unconscious, not lethal, yet he understood a solid hit could injure him badly with even a tiny error.

The captain accelerated further. Kyrian's gaze followed every motion, but his body lagged behind. Uncertainty gripped him on how to respond, and the moments were too fleeting for deep thought.

Suddenly, memories flooded back—of wielding a stick like the village hunter. Rather than evade, he swung his own wood fiercely this time, clashing directly against Rurik's.

A resounding clash boomed from the collision. Rurik held his ground steady, while Kyrian hurtled backward several meters, his slight frame soaring through the air.

Mid-flight, however, he twisted his body and touched down on his feet once more, heaving his first heavy breaths since his physique had toughened.

His shaking grip revealed Captain Rurik's superior power, and that he was restraining himself still.

The captain's grin stretched wide across his face, leaving the watching soldiers baffled—they could tell he was genuinely thrilled.

Next, he lunged once more, quicker than before. Kyrian gripped his stick ready, now predicting the exact target spot. But rather than block straight on, he deftly angled Rurik's weapon aside on pure instinct.

Rurik's stick veered off course, slamming into the dirt with a sharp snap and splintering apart.

Before joy could surge through him, though, a fist loomed mere inches from his gut. No time to dodge, so he clutched his abdomen with both tiny hands, shielding it barely in time.

The punch connected anyway. Agonizing fire exploded within, hurling him backward once again.

Gazing upon the utterly composed Captain Rurik, Kyrian drew ragged breaths, face twisted in agony.

'Did I get too cocky? I figured my new strength made me unbeatable, but what's this gap? He's way swifter, mightier, and his techniques feel so odd.' Kyrian reflected sadly, having assumed evasion and counters would come effortlessly.

Rurik, reveling in such delight after ages, prepared another charge when a soldier yelled that the minute was up.

Exhausted, Kyrian slumped to the ground, gulping air deeply.

"HAHA! Kid. No, Kyrian, well done. You've passed and earned the title of this year's top rookie soldier."

With a genuine smile, Rurik stepped forward, offering his hand to help Kyrian rise.

Mixed emotions churned inside him—defeat stung with sorrow, yet triumph glowed for securing his goal.

'Not bad at all. Captain Rurik must be the mightiest around. Learning from him, I'll overtake him soon. Right... to grow stronger, I'll beat him one day,' Kyrian vowed silently, eyes fixed on Rurik.

A faint chill ran through Rurik as he caught that intense stare, like the youth had just declared him a foe. Amused yet even fonder of the boy, he chuckled inwardly.

Abruptly, Kyrian's belly rumbled loudly.

Embarrassed, Kyrian met the captain's odd gaze.

"I'm starving. Now that I passed and I'm a soldier, I want some food," he declared to Rurik, the ache in his stomach already fading.

"Haha! Fine then. Soldier Xi, escort the boy to the mess hall for a meal ahead of the rest," Rurik ordered.

Moments later, Kyrian vanished from view, led away by the soldier.

Silence fell over the group, speechless. Once alone, Rurik eyed the spot where his stick had shattered on the earth.

Recalling the entire skirmish, he balled his fists tight.

'What a total freak this kid is. Strength, velocity, reflexes, responses, battle sense—everything outstrips a regular soldier. His sole flaws are that puny build and clumsy motions.'

'It figures for a total novice; he mirrored my every feint like he foresaw them, his frame instinctively twisting away. With better body control and pace, dodging would be child's play.'

Rurik let out a sigh.

'Those eyes, right? They darted back and forth during combat, capturing it all... He'll outpace me before two years pass. This outpost can't contain him.'

…

'I'll train him with all I've got and dispatch a report on his prowess. With luck, a true martial expert will come claim him in a few years. The kid possesses the gift I never grasped,' Rurik resolved, expression grave yet joyful, committed to forging Kyrian into an flawless warrior and imparting every secret he held.

The remaining youths in the yard gaped at the battle site between Kyrian and Rurik, frozen in fear. Certain strikes blurred too fast to follow.

It resembled a clash of beasts—one colossal, one diminutive.

"Enough of those stunned faces. Stop measuring up to that tiny freak; he's a once-in-a-lifetime prodigy. A talent that shatters everyone else's confidence.

Rurik's booming voice rang out, instantly yanking everyone's focus back into place. "If you compare yourselves to someone like that, you’ll only frustrate yourselves. Step forward—you will now battle the soldiers. Steel your minds and strive to endure," he declared.