Mystic Eyes: My Eyes Steal the Laws of Cultivation Chapter 533: Lightning Vs Metal (2)

Deliberately lowering his cultivation truly increased the pressure on his third core. It was exactly what he needed. By limiting his strength to the Qi Liberation Realm, he was forcing his new dantian to function under extreme conditions, accelerating its consolidation process.

Bao Ren continued attacking without pause.

His axe carved enormous arcs through the air, each strike fiercer than the last. Horizontal. Vertical. Diagonal. Spinning attacks that turned his weapon into a wheel of steel. Frontal charges carrying the full weight of his body. Sudden changes of direction designed to deceive Kyrian’s defense.

He was trying to completely shatter his opponent’s defense.

But...

He failed repeatedly.

Whenever he believed he had found an opening, whenever his axe seemed about to pierce through Kyrian’s guard...

The saber appeared. Every single time.

Many spectators were already completely captivated, their eyes fixed on the scene unfolding before them.

"How is he blocking everything?" a wide-eyed young man asked, his voice filled with both disbelief and admiration.

"It’s impossible!" his companion replied, slowly shaking his head.

"Bao Ren barely stops attacking! No defense from someone so many stages below should be able to hold out for this long!"

"His saber seems to predict the movements!" a young woman beside them added, her fingers gripping the edge of her seat.

"It’s as if he knows where every strike will land before it’s even launched!"

Even several elders present, observing the battle from elevated seats, showed interest in their experienced eyes.

"The boy possesses extraordinary eyes..." one of them murmured, an old man with snow-white hair and a long beard, his voice low but filled with recognition.

Another elder seated beside him merely nodded slowly, his eyes narrowed in evaluation.

"It’s not just his eyes. It’s his understanding. He comprehends the rhythm of combat in a way that very few cultivators at his level ever achieve."

Meanwhile...

Bao Ren was beginning to feel something he rarely experienced.

Frustration.

A bitter sensation settled in his chest, growing with every blocked strike. His breathing, once controlled, was beginning to grow heavier. Sweat ran down his forehead, streaming across his face and dripping onto the arena floor.

’Damn...’ He thought, gritting his teeth.

’Why can’t I hit him?’

He attacked again, a diagonal strike aimed at Kyrian’s right shoulder.

The axe passed within inches of the young man’s neck, so close that several spectators held their breath.

At that very instant...

The saber deflected its trajectory, meeting the blade with a precise click.

Another attack. Another block. Another. Another.

The minutes passed.

Five, six, seven, eight, nine, then ten minutes.

Sweat poured down Bao Ren’s face in streams, soaking his clothes and dripping onto the ground. His breathing had become heavy and labored, his lungs burning from the relentless effort. Even with his tremendous physical endurance, his sturdy constitution, and his superhuman strength...

Attacking continuously in that manner consumed an enormous amount of Qi.

His chest rose and fell rapidly, every breath an effort. The muscles in his arms, once taut and well-defined, now trembled slightly from the accumulated strain.

As for Kyrian...

His breathing remained far more controlled.

Every inhale was deep and measured, every exhale carried away the heat of exertion. Although his own Qi consumption was also considerable, he conserved energy by relying on minimal, precise movements.

Every defense used only the necessary amount of strength.

No more. No less.

His third core continued consolidating rapidly, the process accelerated by the constant pressure of combat. It was almost possible to feel the difference compared to the beginning of the battle, the new dantian now rotated with a stability it had previously lacked.

Bao Ren retreated several meters.

He rested the enormous axe against the ground, its blade embedding itself into the stone with a deep sound.

He breathed heavily, his shoulders rising and falling with every gasp.

"Damn..."

He muttered between breaths, his words broken by exhaustion.

"This kid barely attacks..."

His eyes remained fixed on Kyrian, studying him with renewed intensity.

"...but his defense is monstrous."

It was like fighting a fortress wall. No matter how many times he attacked, no matter how powerful his strikes were. He simply couldn’t break through. Every assault was met by that violet blade, every attempt to shatter his guard was thwarted.

The crowd noticed it as well.

"Kyrian is practically doing nothing but defending," observed a gray-bearded man, his eyes fixed on the arena.

"And yet Bao Ren can’t do anything," his companion added, shaking his head in admiration.

"It’s a perfect defense."

"This is unbelievable," murmured a dark-haired woman.

"A Qi Liberation Realm cultivator withstanding attacks from someone in the Core Formation Realm..."

"But Kyrian is in the Core Formation Realm too," a young man reminded her.

"He only lowered his cultivation temporarily."

"Even so!" she insisted.

"Lowering his cultivation should reduce his defensive capabilities!"

Bao Ren tightened his grip around the axe’s handle, his fingers turning white against the dark metal.

The veins in his arms bulged once again, throbbing with the energy gathering within him.

A dangerous gleam appeared in his eyes.

"It seems..."

His voice came out low, almost a whisper, yet filled with an intensity that made the surrounding air vibrate.

"...I’ll have to use that technique..."

The metallic Qi surrounding his body began to churn like waves upon a stormy sea. The golden energy became denser, brighter, and an oppressive pressure started spreading throughout the arena.

Kyrian sensed the change immediately.

His eyes narrowed. Something was about to happen.

The atmosphere in the arena shifted abruptly. The energy emanating from Bao Ren was no longer merely aggressive, it had become threatening, like the approach of a storm made of steel. The golden light surrounding his body pulsed at an accelerated rhythm, and the air felt heavier, as though gravity itself were increasing.

Kyrian adjusted his stance, planting his feet firmly on the cracked stone. His saber rose slightly, its blade pointed toward his opponent.

The spectators held their breath.

Everyone knew that something significant was about to happen.

Bao Ren slowly raised his axe, the double-edged blade shining with a light that seemed to consume the darkness itself. His breathing, once heavy, became controlled once more, but it was no longer the calm from before. It was the stillness that precedes an explosion.

"You wanted pressure..."

His words emerged like a muffled roar.

"Then I’ll give you pressure."

Metallic Qi converged toward the blade of his axe, concentrating into a single point that shone like a golden sun.

Kyrian watched, his eyes capturing every detail.