Mystic Eyes: My Eyes Steal the Laws of Cultivation Chapter 606: Back to the Goals (3)

The darkness. It was always the first thing, a constant in all his encounters with that domain.

An infinite void that stretched in every direction, without sky, without ground, without direction. A place that seemed to exist outside time and space, a pocket of reality where the laws of the world did not apply.

Kyrian opened his eyes, and before him was the gigantic golden eye. Azhura’k. The colossal iris occupied an absurd portion of the space, like a moon filling the entire horizon. Golden chains crossed its surface like rivers of fire, binding the beast in a place that seemed to exist outside reality, a prison that even time could not erode.

Kyrian remained motionless, observing the ancient creature. That night, however, something was different. Gao Ziyue was not there. He looked around, his eyes sweeping across the infinite darkness. Nothing. No sign of her, no familiar presence, and no echo of her energy.

Kyrian slowly approached the eye, his footsteps echoing through the void like the beats of a distant heart.

"Azhura’k."

His voice echoed through the darkness, carrying an intention he hoped the creature could understand.

No response. The silence was absolute, broken only by the echo of his own words.

He tried again, his voice firmer.

"Azhura’k."

Silence. The colossal pupil remained fixed on him, but there was no recognition, no communication, and no sign whatsoever that the beast could hear him or cared about him.

Kyrian slightly furrowed his brow, a crease of concentration appearing on his forehead. He knew that Gao Ziyue could communicate with the beast, that there was a connection between them that transcended the barriers of the physical world.

Perhaps it was the connection she had established, or perhaps Azhura’k simply trusted her in a way it trusted no one else. Kyrian didn’t know, but he decided to try anyway.

He focused his will and projected his intention toward the gigantic eye, sending not words, but feelings, the essence of his curiosity.

’I came to talk to you.’

Nothing. Azhura’k remained motionless, its colossal pupil fixed on Kyrian with an attention that was more vigilance than communication.

Kyrian felt no hostility in that gaze, there was no aggression nor contempt. But he also felt neither acceptance nor recognition.

It was as if he were standing before a creature that simply did not consider it necessary to respond, as if his presence were irrelevant to the imprisoned beast.

After some time, Kyrian gave up, his determination fading before the wall of silence.

"Perhaps you still don’t trust me."

He remained there for a few more minutes, observing the golden eye, studying the chains that bound it. Then his consciousness began to be pulled away, like a tide receding. The domain disappeared, dissolving into mist as he emerged back into the dream world.

...

Kyrian opened his eyes before the sun even rose, the darkness of the room still dense around him. There was no need for an alarm clock, his body was accustomed to waking early, a habit forged over years.

He got up and took a quick shower, the cold water washing away the last traces of sleep.

Then he chose a robe of deep violet, its color perfectly matching his eyes, a touch of care he rarely devoted to his appearance.

He tied his black hair simply, securing it in a low bun, and left the room.

The Caravan was still relatively quiet, the first rays of light barely beginning to color the artificial sky. Kyrian walked through the streets, the fresh and invigorating morning air filling his lungs.

Some shops were beginning to open, their owners raising metal shutters and activating spirit formations to attract customers. Disciples carried boxes and goods, preparing for another day of commerce. Festival staff walked through the streets, checking the preparations for the day’s competitions.

The Heavenly Descent Festival continued, and this was already the sixth day. Six days of competitions, challenges, and discoveries.

Kyrian headed first to the alchemy competition hall. That morning’s trial lasted about three hours, a test that required concentration and precision. For Kyrian, however, it seemed much shorter, time flew by as he focused on every stage of the refinement, every flame, every ingredient, every transformation.

He went through the stages with relative ease, his alchemy skills having improved significantly since he arrived at the Caravan. When he finally left the hall, he had already qualified for the next stage. The final would take place in two days, a final confrontation that would determine the winner of the entire competition.

Kyrian took a deep breath, feeling the satisfaction of completing another stage.

"Two more days."

Then he turned, his steps changing direction. His next destination was the arena.

...

The battle competition awaited him. Kyrian crossed the streets of the Sky Caravan without slowing his pace, his eyes fixed ahead. The movement had already increased considerably, the city awakening to another day of festivities.

The silence of dawn had disappeared, replaced by the constant noise of the Festival. Cultivators of different ages and origins filled the avenues, some carrying weapons, others talking excitedly about the competitions that would take place that day.

Spirit banners fluttered above the buildings, their vibrant colors contrasting with the blue sky. Signs indicated the paths to the different arenas, each leading to a different type of combat.

Vendors took advantage of the crowds to offer pills, talismans, weapons, spiritual food, and all kinds of merchandise, their voices rising in a cacophony of offers.

Kyrian, however, paid little attention. His mind was focused on the next fight, on the challenge awaiting him.

He arrived at the area designated for cultivators of the Core Formation Realm, the same place where he had fought in previous days. The entrance was much busier than before, a crowd gathered around the gates.

As soon as he passed through the gates, he immediately noticed the difference. There were more people in the stands, many more. The side corridors were filled with cultivators discussing the participants, analyzing their techniques, and assessing their chances.

Kyrian heard his own name several times, whispered among the spectators.