Mystic Eyes: My Eyes Steal the Laws of Cultivation

Chapter 282: Return to the Verdant Sword Sect

Kyrian continued his journey north without unnecessary haste, but also without long pauses.

Arcon flew with steady strength, black wings cutting through the air like blades. Each day, they covered impressive distances, leaving behind the arid plains and low hills of the Small Domains.

Every few days, they landed on isolated mountains or in quiet forests so that Arcon could rest, drink water, and feed. Kyrian used these moments to briefly meditate or review rank 4 pill formulas in his mind.

Fifteen days after leaving the Blood Court, the dark and heavy clouds that permanently covered the Court’s territory were finally left behind. The sky opened up, clear and blue, almost dazzling after so long under that heavy gloom. Kyrian rose above the white clouds, feeling the warm sun touch his skin for the first time in months. The air was lighter, purer. He closed his eyes for an instant, simply feeling the difference.

Another fifteen days passed.

And then, the Verdant Sword Domain appeared on the horizon.

When the last clouds dissipated completely, the landscape below Arcon changed dramatically. The dry plains gave way to deep valleys and dense forests that rose toward the sky like giant green waves.

Colossal trees sprouted from the earth, trunks as thick as towers, canopies so high they seemed to touch the clouds. Among the mountains covered by this immense vegetation, pavilions with curved green roofs appeared, connected by long suspended bridges of wood and rope and stairways that wound along the slopes like colossal serpents.

The view was magnificent, even though it was not the first time Kyrian had seen it. The place did not seem simply built, it seemed shaped. The constructions blended perfectly with nature, as if the mountains and the trees had been carefully carved to house each temple, each hall, and each training tower. It was a living world, breathing amid the lush vegetation.

Kyrian could not help but compare it to the fortress of the Blood Court.

The Court was imposing, yes, a black mass of stone with red veins like solidified blood, raised in the middle of endless plains and eternally dark clouds. Strong, intimidating, efficient. But cold and monotonous. Always dark, always surrounded by nothing but flat land and metallic wind.

Here, it was different. Green valleys, tall mountains, sharp pure air. Kyrian preferred this air, although he could not explain exactly why. Perhaps because it reminded him a little of the Mountains of the End, not in scale, but in feeling of nature.

As he approached the heart of the sect, the pressure in the air changed.

The wind that struck his face was no longer an ordinary wind. It was sharp, cutting, as if thousands of invisible blades floated suspended everywhere. Even with his cultivation now at the peak of Qi Liberation, Kyrian felt the pores of his skin contract instinctively. He took a deep breath, feeling the sword Qi present in every molecule of air. It was pure. Sharp. Alive.

In the Court, the air was dense, filled with heavy and oppressive blood energy. Here, it was clean, cutting, like a newly forged sword.

Kyrian liked this air more.

He changed clothes while still in the air. He stored the red robes of the Court and once again wore his old black robe of a direct disciple of the leader of the Verdant Sword Sect. The fabric was simple but carried the subtle emblem of the green-leaf sword on the chest. His eyes changed from gray to a deep green. The sword-shaped pupils rotated slowly, emanating a slight natural sword intent that blended perfectly with the sect’s environment.

Arcon began to lose altitude.

The descent was fast. The landscape approached. Kyrian could clearly see the disciples spread at the foot of the mountains, thousands of them. External and internal disciples, almost all young like him, carrying swords on their backs or at their waists. Some trained in open courtyards, others meditated under giant trees, and others climbed stairways carrying buckets of spiritual water.

Kyrian gave a small smile as he remembered the first day he had arrived there. At the time, he was just a boy from the Mountains of the End, without much knowledge about the world. Now... it was different.

He mentally compared the atmosphere of the sect with that of the Court. The Court accepted few disciples, a small, focused, silent elite. The Verdant Sword Sect was gigantic, with thousands of ambitious youths, the air always filled with the sounds of swords cutting through the wind and voices echoing among the mountains. He liked the simple and direct silence of the Court, but this vibrant and lively environment was not bad either.

Arcon landed in a large open courtyard in the outer area of the sect. He wanted to take it slow and explore the entire sect before meeting Feng Yuan and the others.

The powerful wings beat one last time, sweeping the green leaves that covered almost the entire ground. The strong wind made several nearby disciples turn abruptly.

The landing drew immediate attention.

Conversations stopped. Trainings were interrupted. Dozens of gazes turned toward the black-winged horse and the young man in a black robe who dismounted calmly.

"Is that... a flying horse?"

"Look at its size..."

"And who is that guy? And why is he dressed in direct disciple robes like Mo Tianhai?"

Kyrian ignored the murmurs. He stroked Arcon’s neck once.

"Rest here."

Arcon neighed softly and folded its wings, looking satisfied.

Kyrian began to walk across the courtyard. His steps were calm, but the slight sword intent that emanated from him made the air around him subtly vibrate. Some outer disciples instinctively stepped back upon feeling that pressure.

A group of nearby inner disciples approached, curious and cautious.

One of them, a young man of about eighteen years old with a long sword on his back, frowned as he looked at Kyrian’s eyes, as well as his clothes, and remembered something.

"You... aren’t you young master Kyrian? The one who disappeared almost a year ago?"

Another disciple widened his eyes.

"Kyrian? The personal disciple of leader Feng Yuan? The one who was taken away suddenly?"

Kyrian stopped and looked at them. His voice came out low, but clear.

"It’s me."

A greater murmur spread across the courtyard.

"He’s back..."

"Look at his eyes... they’re still the same..."

"And that energy... he’s much stronger now."

Kyrian did not stop to explain anything. He continued walking toward the main stairway that led to the inner areas of the sect. His objective was clear. To find Mu Yanyu and the little fox Luz, then to find Mei Ran, Mo Tianhai, and Feng Yuan.

As he climbed the wide stone steps, the cutting wind of the sect blew around him, making his black robe ripple. He felt gazes from all sides, surprise, curiosity, and respect.

But none of that mattered.

He had returned.

And he had matters to resolve.

Above him, the giant trees swayed gently, and the suspended bridges seemed to snake between the mountains like living veins of the sect.

Kyrian took a deep breath of that sharp air.

It was good to be back.