Mystic Eyes: My Eyes Steal the Laws of Cultivation Chapter 512: Path of the Saber (3)

Kyrian had executed the movement as though he were holding a sword, seeking precision, seeking control, seeking efficiency. But the saber was different. It did not want to be controlled; it wanted to be guided.

He tried again.

This time, he allowed the weapon’s weight to carry part of the movement. Instead of forcing the blade to follow an exact trajectory, he guided it, giving it room to find its own path.

The result improved. The strike was smoother, more natural. But there was still hesitation. His body insisted on relying on the habits he had acquired during years of sword training. His muscle memory, so useful in many ways, had now become an obstacle.

He closed his eyes once more.

He recalled every line of the manual. The stance, the breathing, the transfer of force. The words seemed to dance through his mind, each contributing to a more complete picture.

He took a deep breath, allowing the air to fill his lungs and drive away the tension.

He subtly adjusted the position of his feet, moving them a few inches.

He relaxed his shoulders, letting gravity pull them downward.

He loosened some of the tension in his hands, allowing the hilt to settle naturally into his palms.

When he moved the saber again, he stopped trying to completely control the blade. Instead, he guided it. It was a subtle difference, but a fundamental one. Rather than imposing his will upon the weapon, he guided it, working with its nature instead of against it.

The weapon’s weight naturally completed the arc of the strike.

The air produced an entirely different sound. A deeper, heavier, more powerful sound.

A faint blade of Qi traveled several meters, invisible to the naked eye, before fading away. A small mark appeared across the stone floor where the energy had passed, a thin line, as though a razor had sliced through the surface.

Kyrian looked at the result, his violet eyes shining with satisfaction.

A faint smile appeared on his face.

"I understand..."

According to the manual, that only corresponded to the initial stage of understanding the saber. The first step, the first glimpse of what the weapon could become. It was still far from the true technique, the Mountain-Cleaving Slash.

Even so, it meant that he had found the correct path. His direction was right, even if the journey ahead was long.

Without wasting any time, Kyrian returned to the starting stance.

Another slash. Then another. And another.

The sun slowly disappeared behind the enormous walls of the wandering city, its colors shifting from gold to orange, then to red, before finally bidding farewell in an explosion of purple and blue.

The light within the courtyard gradually faded, the shadows stretching longer, but Kyrian paid it no mind. Darkness was no obstacle to his special eyes.

He continued training, repeating every movement described in the manual. The basic strikes, horizontal cuts, vertical cuts, diagonal cuts, and thrusts. Each one performed dozens, hundreds of times.

Every repetition eliminated a small mistake. Every movement brought him a little closer to the essence described in the manual.

Kyrian focused entirely on learning and refining every basic saber movement. There was no haste in his actions, no attempt to speed up the process. Mastery, he knew, came through careful repetition and constant correction.

He remained at it for nearly three full hours.

The sky was completely dark when Kyrian finally paused. The moon had already risen, its silver light bathing the courtyard. The tree with crimson leaves appeared almost black beneath the moonlight, its shadows swaying gently in the night breeze.

He was drenched in sweat. But his mind was clear, and his movements were now far more natural than they had been just a few hours earlier.

When he realized he was finally ready, Kyrian decided to test what he had learned. His breathing calmed, and his body relaxed. He positioned himself in the center of the courtyard, his feet firmly planted, the saber held with confidence.

He decided to use the manual’s only technique, the Mountain-Cleaving Slash.

Kyrian took a deep breath, feeling the cool night air fill his lungs. His fingers adjusted around the saber’s hilt, finding the perfect grip. His eyes closed for a brief moment, visualizing the movement.

When he opened them again, there was no hesitation in his gaze.

All the Qi within his body began to move.

All three dantians spun simultaneously, sending waves of energy through his meridians. His two ocular cores shone brilliantly, channeling the power of lightning.

Qi gathered within his arms, flowing through his shoulders, elbows, and wrists until it reached the saber.

The blade began to glow with an intense violet light, tiny bolts of lightning dancing across its surface. The energy accumulated, growing stronger and stronger.

Kyrian raised the saber above his head, the movement slow and controlled. The weight of the weapon, the accumulated energy, the tension in his muscles, everything prepared itself for the moment of impact.

Then, without any warning, he unleashed the strike.

The saber descended in a swift arc, slicing through the air with a sharp sound. The accumulated energy erupted in an explosion of violet light, creating a shockwave that swept across the courtyard.

The sound of the impact echoed against the walls, reverberating like distant thunder. A blade of Qi surged forward, carving a path through the air.

The crimson-leafed tree shook violently, its leaves falling in a shower of red and orange. The stone ground trembled beneath the impact, small cracks appearing where the shockwave had passed.

When the light finally faded, Kyrian remained motionless, the saber still extended.

He looked at the result.

A deep scar had been carved into the stone floor, stretching several meters before him.

The air still trembled with the lingering energy.

Kyrian breathed slowly, feeling the fatigue in his muscles. The strike had consumed a considerable amount of Qi from his third dantian, but the result was satisfying.

He had not yet fully mastered the technique. The movement was still too rough, and the release of energy was still uneven. But it was already a promising beginning.

A faint smile appeared on his lips. The training was bearing fruit.