Mystic Eyes: My Eyes Steal the Laws of Cultivation

Chapter 216: Cloud Empire (36)

The air in the training field seemed to contract for an instant.

Duke Rong briefly closed his eyes. A subtle wave of Qi receded from his body like a lowering tide.

The crushing pressure that made space bend diminished to a controlled level. In the middle of the Core Formation realm. Even so, it was still a cultivation far above what Kyrian possessed. The Duke opened his eyes and smiled faintly, satisfied with the adjustment.

With a thought, he drew a dagger from his spatial ring. The blade was thin silver, with discreet runes running along its edge. It was not an ostentatious weapon. It was practical, lethal, and made to kill with precision.

He spun the dagger once between his fingers and looked at Kyrian.

"Are you ready?"

Kyrian did not respond with words.

His crimson eyes suddenly shone, intensely deep. A cold and hungry intent arose in the air. Subtle, almost imperceptible to anyone who did not know what to look for.

The Duke felt it.

At the very instant the glow appeared, a sensation of pure danger ran down his spine. His body reacted by instinct. Qi reinforced every inch of skin, muscles, and veins. He controlled the blood flow with absolute precision, isolating it in protective layers.

Kyrian tried.

For a fraction of a second, the Duke’s blood trembled. A tiny vibration, almost invisible.

But the Duke’s control was ironclad. He gripped the flow tightly, preventing any external manipulation from reaching it.

The Duke looked at Kyrian, surprised and genuinely impressed. A wide smile appeared on his face.

"So you can control blood with just a look... If I hadn’t been focused, I would have been seriously injured. That is a truly frightening ability, boy."

Before Kyrian could respond, the Duke advanced.

There was no preparation. Just a blur.

The dagger cut through the air in a straight line, aiming at Kyrian’s left shoulder with a speed that made the sound arrive late.

Kyrian waited.

At the last instant, when the blade was centimeters from his skin, he raised his right arm.

Blood burst from the pores of his fingers like a black flower, fast, fluid, condensing into a perfect crimson dagger.

The two daggers collided.

A sharp metallic sound echoed across the field.

Kyrian was thrown backward as if struck by a battering ram. He slid several meters, feet scraping against the polished stone, before managing to steady himself. His right arm trembled slightly. Even reinforcing his entire body with blood Qi, the Duke’s pure physical strength was crushing. Far above what he could face head-on.

Kyrian realized it immediately.

’I can’t fight him in close combat. He’s too strong.’

The Duke gave him no time to recover. He advanced again, extremely fast, the dagger tracing a descending arc aimed at his neck.

Kyrian reacted.

His eyes shone brighter. Blood intent exploded.

From both his hands, dozens of fine blood needles formed. Sharp as microscopic spears, flying in a straight line toward twelve vital points of the Duke. Heart, liver, kidneys, throat, joints.

The Duke smiled.

The dagger spun in a blur. Each needle was intercepted and cut in the air. Fragments of blood fell like red rain. Staining the ground.

But some drops clung to the blade. Small dark stains that did not evaporate.

Kyrian took advantage.

With a thought, he controlled the blood stuck to the dagger. The stains writhed, stretched, and transformed into even finer needles, almost invisible, shooting directly toward the Duke’s face.

The attack was fast. Lethal.

But a barrier of Qi appeared at the last instant. A translucent layer, thin as paper, yet impenetrable. The needles struck it and dissolved into red mist.

The Duke chuckled softly.

"If that’s all you have, you won’t defeat many in the Coliseum."

He advanced once more.

Kyrian retreated, creating distance. Blood surged around him like a liquid curtain. Dozens of thin threads intertwined, forming a defensive net. The Duke cut the net with a horizontal strike, but Kyrian had already moved to the side, launching more needles from behind.

The Duke spun in the air, the dagger tracing a full circle. All the needles were destroyed.

Kyrian tried another approach. Blood burst from the stains on the ground in front of the Duke, forming sharp spikes that rose at unpredictable angles. The Duke stomped hard, and a wave of Qi crushed the spikes before they could touch him.

Kyrian took a deep breath.

It was time to change.

He brought both hands to his eyes, as if covering them. His fingers pressed against his eyelids for a fraction of a second.

Then, he pulled.

Not physically. It was an internal gesture, a complete release.

When his hands moved away, the crimson had completely disappeared.

In its place, bright green irises, with elongated pupils in the perfect shape of tiny swords. A cutting intent, sharp as a newly forged blade, exploded into the environment.

The air seemed to be sliced.

Two swords of pure sword intent energy materialized. Made of cutting energy and condensed sword intent, translucent, green, with edges that distorted the light around them as if space itself were being cut.

The two blades floated for an instant beside Kyrian’s head, spinning slowly, then shot forward.

They were not physical attacks. They were pure manifestations of sword intent. Capable of cutting Qi, flesh, anything that was not protected by absolute defense.

The Duke stopped mid-advance.

His eyes narrowed. The smile widened.

"So you have more than one type of intent besides blood and ice..."

The two flying swords attacked from afar.

One came in a straight line, aiming at his chest. The other traced a lateral arc, attempting to flank.

The Duke raised the dagger.

He did not retreat. He blocked the first sword with the blade, deflecting it to the side. The second came immediately after. He twisted his body, parrying with the hilt of the dagger. Sparks of Qi exploded at the impact.

The swords did not dissipate. They immediately returned to Kyrian’s side, floating like living sentinels, spinning in slow orbit around him.

Kyrian stepped forward.

The swords shot out again, this time in perfect synchronization. One attacking from above, the other from below. The Duke blocked one with the dagger and deflected the other with his Qi-reinforced forearm. But the pressure was constant. The blades always returned, tireless, forcing him to defend without pause.

For the first time, the Duke could not advance.

He was trapped in a defensive dance, dagger spinning in fast arcs to intercept the flying swords. Each block made the air vibrate. Each deflection created thin cuts in the stone floor.

Kyrian kept his distance, controlling the blades with absolute precision. They did not need to touch, it was enough to threaten to force the Duke to react.

The Duke laughed, a low, genuine laugh.

"Good... very good."