Mystic Eyes: My Eyes Steal the Laws of Cultivation

Chapter 461: Show of Force (2)

The pressure was so intense that it distorted the vision of most people. The air trembled as though under extreme heat, shapes became blurred, and colors blended together.

But Kyrian’s eyes… reacted. An invisible layer of energy formed around his pupils, shielding them from the pressure.

His eyes dispersed that pressure as they always did, nullifying its effect on his perception. Kyrian felt slightly better, and the image of the man atop the tower became crystal clear to him.

He appeared to be a middle-aged man, or perhaps much older, his outward appearance failing to reflect his true age.

Long black hair streaked with silver, as though time itself had painted strands of light into the darkness, as though each silver strand represented a century of life.

He wore immaculate white robes embroidered with cloud and dragon patterns, every detail a work of spiritual art, every thread woven with Qi.

His face was serene, yet his eyes contained the depth of ancient oceans, a presence that made the world seem small, that made every onlooker feel like an ant standing before a mountain.

Without haste, the elder raised his right hand. A simple spatial ring gleamed upon his finger, seemingly ordinary, yet Kyrian knew it contained a space greater than anything he had ever seen.

From it, he withdrew only a fan, an ordinary-looking fan crafted from jade and celestial silk.

But it was anything but ordinary. Kyrian could feel the power emanating from it, an energy so ancient and pure that it seemed to come from another world.

He slowly unfolded it.

Then he spoke. His voice was not loud, yet it echoed through every corner of the plaza, as clear as though he stood beside every single person, as though he were speaking directly into each of their ears.

“Winds of Heaven, obey.”

The world changed.

A tremendous gale erupted from the top of the tower. It was no ordinary gust, it was a technique that seemed to command the very laws of nature, as though the elder’s words were an order that even the universe itself could not refuse.

The howl of the wind was deafening for a brief instant, a sound that seemed to come from every direction at once, filling the air and vibrating through people’s bones.

The rain-laden black clouds were literally torn from the sky, swept away like dry leaves, ripped apart like paper, and dispersed like smoke. In less than five seconds, the storm had completely vanished.

The sun burst forth.

Golden rays bathed the entire Sky Caravan, causing the puddles on the ground to shine like mirrors, reflecting the light into millions of tiny points that danced across the surrounding buildings.

The wind settled into a gentle, fragrant breeze, as though the very air had been purified, as though the world itself had let out a sigh of relief. The sky was a deep, flawless blue, without a single cloud, as though the storm had never existed, as though it had been nothing more than an illusion.

A stunned silence engulfed the plaza for two full seconds. No one breathed. No one moved. Even the sounds of footsteps and conversations had ceased.

Then came the explosion.

“Wooooooow!”

“Elder! Elder!”

“That’s true power! He changed the weather across the entire region with a single wave!”

“As expected of the Sky Family! They’re invincible!”

Thunderous applause erupted everywhere. People jumped, shouted, and clapped so hard that their palms turned red. Young cultivators gazed on with eyes shining with admiration and ambition. Elders nodded slowly, their faces filled with profound respect, as though acknowledging a truth they had always known.

Kyrian remained standing amidst the crowd, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. His heart beat faster than usual, the accelerated rhythm echoing in his ears and throbbing at his temples. He let out a long, almost trembling sigh as he witnessed such a spectacle.

“What power…” he murmured to himself, his voice far too soft to be heard amid the uproar.

Changing the weather across an entire region with the simple motion of a fan. It was not merely brute strength. It was absolute mastery over the laws of the world, the ability to shape reality with a gesture, to command the elements as though they were extensions of one’s own body.

Kyrian could still feel the remnants of the technique lingering in the air. The elder’s Qi was like a boundless ocean compared to the tiny stream that was his own. A gap so immense that it seemed to separate two entirely different worlds, two completely different levels of existence.

‘When will I reach that level?’ he wondered, his violet eyes fixed upon the distant figure.

‘How long will it take?’

It was the greatest display of power he had ever witnessed. Greater than anything he had seen in the Blood Court, greater than Dong Zhen, greater than the Spirit of Fire, greater than any elder he had encountered thus far.

And the most astonishing part was that the man did not even seem to have exerted himself. Just a casual flick of his fan, as though swatting away a fly, as though adjusting a curtain.

Around him, the reactions continued, a cacophony of admiration and reverence filling the air.

“A perfect beginning for the Celestial Descent! The elder has blessed the festival!”

“With an ancestor like that, the Sky Family truly deserves to rule the Caravan!”

“I was born at the right time… to witness this with my own eyes!”

A young woman standing beside Kyrian had tears in her eyes from pure emotion, her face wet not only from the rain that had already passed.

A group of cultivators from the Core Formation Realm continuously shouted the Sky Family’s name, their voices vanishing into the sea of sound.

Even the guards, who were normally impassive and professional, wore expressions of pride, their chests swelling and their chins raised high.

The elder said nothing more.

He simply closed the fan, returned it to his spatial ring, and vanished from the top of the tower as silently as he had appeared, as though he had been a vision, an illusion, a waking dream.

Yet his presence remained etched into everyone’s minds, like a mark that could never be erased, like a flame that would continue burning.

Kyrian slowly unclenched his fists, his fingers relaxing. Rainwater still dripped from his robes, but he barely noticed.

His thoughts revolved around that scene, replaying it over and over in his mind like a scroll he needed to memorize, like a lesson he needed to learn.

‘This is the true pinnacle… the power capable of supporting a flying city and commanding a beast like Azhura’k.’

He looked once more toward the Sky Tower, now bathed in the golden light of the sun, its details revealed by the daylight, its runes glowing more faintly now that the storm had passed. A small, almost fierce smile appeared on his lips.

The Celestial Descent Festival had begun in magnificent fashion.

And for the first time in a very long while, Kyrian felt a clear flame of ambition burning within his chest.

He wanted, no, he needed, and one day he would reach that level.

No, he would surpass that level.