Mystic Eyes: My Eyes Steal the Laws of Cultivation Chapter 619: Forging the First Spirit Weapon (3)

"I did everything correctly."

Sun Luguo let out a laugh, the hoarse sound breaking the silence.

"No."

Kyrian looked at him, his expression a mixture of frustration and curiosity.

"Where did I go wrong?"

The old man approached the anvil and picked up one of the fragments with a pair of tongs, his experienced eyes examining the surface.

"You understood the technique." He turned the fragment over, pointing at small marks on the metal.

"Your Qi flow was correct, and the amount of energy you used wasn’t too far off either. You followed every step of the method with precision."

"Then why did it explode?"

"The rhythm."

The old man tapped the fragment with his finger, producing a metallic sound.

"You induced too much Qi at intervals that were too short. You didn’t give the metal enough time to breathe."

"But the method says to use the hammer as a channel."

"Yes. But the hammer isn’t a bomb." Sun Luguo smiled, a smile that was more instruction than amusement.

"You need to give the metal time to breathe, to reorganize itself, to find its balance between each induction."

Kyrian narrowed his eyes, the phrase immediately awakening his understanding.

"The structure needs to reorganize itself between each induction."

"Exactly." Sun Luguo pointed at the metal.

"This is Water-type metal. Its nature is fluid, adaptable. It accepts Qi easily, but it also redistributes energy quickly. If you keep filling the structure without allowing it to find balance, the energy begins to accumulate at points of tension."

"And then..."

"And then what you just saw happens."

Kyrian looked at the shallow crater left in the anvil, the metal still smoking.

"I understand."

Sun Luguo smiled, a smile carrying the satisfaction of a master watching his disciple progress.

"No. You understood. Now you need to learn how to do it."

He pointed at another bar.

"Try again."

Kyrian did not hesitate. He picked up the new bar, placed it in the furnace, and began the process again.

The second attempt was better, much better. He reduced the amount of Qi, controlling the interval between each induction. He paid attention not only to his own flow but also to the metal’s response, observing every nuance of its reaction.

’CLANG!’ Induction. Pause.

’CLANG!’ Induction. Pause.

’CLANG!’ This time, the structure held. Until the seventh hammer strike, everything seemed to be working.

Then a small crack appeared. Kyrian noticed it too late.

’Crack.’ The crack spread through the structure, the bar splitting into two pieces.

Sun Luguo did not criticize him.

"Better. It wasn’t perfect, but it was better."

The third attempt lasted even longer, the metal deforming beneath Kyrian’s strikes with a fluidity he had not achieved before. But during the quenching, the blade cracked internally, an invisible flaw that only revealed itself when the metal cooled.

The fourth also presented problems, an uneven distribution of Qi that weakened the structure.

However, on the fifth attempt, Kyrian finally began to feel something different. He stopped trying to control the metal, to impose his will upon it. He began to listen to it, not literally, but through the Qi, through the vibration that traveled through every hammer strike.

Each impact produced a different response, each vibration revealed the condition of the structure. Kyrian began naturally adjusting the intervals, faster when the metal accepted it and slower when it resisted.

The amount of Qi also changed, less, then a little more, then less again, in a flow that adapted to the needs of the moment.

The process ceased to be a fixed sequence and became a conversation, a dialogue between the blacksmith and the material.

’CLANG’! The metal responded.

’CLANG!’ Kyrian adjusted.

’CLANG!’ The energy spread.

’Zzzzt...’ Violet sparks traveled across the blade, electricity dancing like snakes of light across the shining surface.

The dagger finally acquired a stable form, its elegant silhouette emerging from the raw metal. Kyrian raised the hammer for the final strike, took a deep breath, and struck.

’CLANG!’ The sound echoed through the workshop, pure and clear.

No explosion. No cracks. The structure remained intact, the Lightning Qi and the aquatic nature of the metal coexisting in harmony.

Kyrian immediately plunged the blade into the quenching liquid, and an enormous cloud of blue steam rose, enveloping the anvil for a moment before dissipating.

’SHHHHHHH!’

Kyrian waited, his heart beating a little faster. When he pulled out the dagger, his eyes shone with a light he could not hide.

The blade was not perfect, its shape still bearing small imperfections, its Qi distribution still far from the level of the spiritual weapons Sun Luguo could create.

But there was something there, something that transcended mere technical skill. A true spiritual essence, a spark of life that coursed through the metal like blood through veins.

A thin stream of aquatic energy circulated through the metal, the nature of the material expressing itself freely. At the same time, threads of Lightning Qi remained fused into the structure, Kyrian’s mark imprinted upon the blade.

Two different natures, one belonging to the material, the other to the blacksmith, but neither had destroyed the other; they coexisted, each complementing the other.

Sun Luguo picked up the dagger, his experienced eyes examining every detail. His fingers traveled along the blade, feeling the texture, the distribution of energy, and the integrity of the structure.

He remained silent for several seconds, his evaluation prolonged. Then he nodded.

"A low-grade spiritual weapon."

Kyrian smiled, satisfaction filling his chest. It was the first spiritual weapon he had created, the first time his Qi and will had fused with a material to create something new.

Sun Luguo returned the dagger, his eyes meeting Kyrian’s.

"It’s not beautiful."

Kyrian looked at the blade, his eyes traveling over its small imperfections.

"I know."

"It’s not powerful."

"I know that too."

The old man smiled, a smile filled with pure wisdom.

"But it’s yours. That’s what matters. The rest will come with time and practice."

Kyrian remained silent, his fingers tightening around the dagger’s hilt. A strange sensation arose in his chest. It was not pride in the weapon’s quality, nor vanity over his achievement. It was something simpler, more fundamental. He had created it with his own hands, with his own energy, with his own understanding.

Sun Luguo turned around, his movements already carrying him toward his next task.

"Tomorrow we’ll make another one."

Kyrian stored the dagger in his spatial ring, the object disappearing in a flash of light.

"I’ll be here."

When he finally left the workshop, the sky of the Sky Caravan was already tinged with the last hues of dusk, the horizon painted in shades of orange and purple. Kyrian walked slowly through the streets, the evening breeze cooling his skin, still warmed by the furnace’s heat.

But his mind was no longer in the smithy. It was on his cultivation. On the third dantian, which had been completely consolidated through days of effort. On the solid foundation he had built with every battle, every training session, every moment of concentration.

On the pressure of the last few battles, on the sensation he had been feeling since the last fight, a restlessness that could only be resolved in one way.

He stopped before the courtyard gate, his eyes fixed on the dark wood. He looked at his own hand, the hand that had held the hammer, that had created the dagger. Then he closed his fingers, his decision made.

Today. Not tomorrow, not later. Today he would break through.

He entered the courtyard, closed the gate behind him with a click, and walked toward the tree in the center of the grounds. He sat down, his posture becoming upright, his eyes closing.

Inside his body, the three dantians began to pulse in unison, the first, the second, and the third. The Third Mirror Eye had reached its limit, its foundation perfectly consolidated. Now only one thing remained.

Break through.

Kyrian breathed slowly, Qi beginning to circulate through his meridians. Night fell over the Sky Caravan, spiritual lanterns lighting up one by one around the floating city.

And Kyrian’s breakthrough began.