Mystic Eyes: My Eyes Steal the Laws of Cultivation

Chapter 574: Old Memories (3)

For the first time in a very long while, she felt that someone had truly understood what she had been trying to say. Without grand speeches, without pity, without excessive admiration, without trying to fix what was broken. Simply… understood.

Silence enveloped them once more, a cloak of tranquility that seemed to shield them from the outside world. This time, Gao Ziyue felt no need whatsoever to fill it with words. It was curious how, in just a few hours, talking with Kyrian had become something so natural.

There were no masks, no political games, and no excessive caution with every sentence. She simply… could be herself.

Down below, the auctioneer announced another spiritual treasure, an ancient cultivation technique preserved within a scroll of golden silk. The audience responded with exclamations of surprise, and the sound of bids echoed throughout the grand hall.

Neither of them, however, seemed genuinely interested in what was happening on the stage. The auction, for all its splendor, had become a distant backdrop to something more important.

Gao Ziyue set her wine glass down on the small jade table, the crystal touching the wood with a soft sound. Her eyes returned to Kyrian, and there was a new curiosity in them, a question she hesitated to ask.

“And you?”

He raised his gaze, meeting hers.

“Do you have a family?”

The question was asked gently, without any intention of invading his privacy. It was a simple, natural question, the kind anyone might ask during an ordinary conversation.

Even so, the moment the words left her lips, she noticed an almost imperceptible change in his expression.

It was something extremely subtle, so slight that anyone less observant would never have noticed. His violet eyes lost a portion of their previous calm radiance, as though a cloud had drifted across the sun.

The smile slowly faded, not abruptly, but like the tide quietly retreating. His posture remained exactly the same, yet there was a faint stiffness in his shoulders, a tension that had not been there before, as though a distant memory had awakened without warning.

Kyrian slowly raised the wine glass to his lips, the gesture giving him time to gather his thoughts. He took a small sip, barely noticing the wine’s smooth flavor. His mind was already somewhere else.

…

A small stone house. The scent of freshly baked bread by the fireplace, the warmth of the crackling flames that lit and heated the room on a cold snowy night.

A dark-haired woman, her eyes shining with love, smiled as she affectionately ruffled his hair with one hand. The warmth of an embrace, the gentle voice calling his name, the sound of laughter filling the entire house.

Then… another memory. The same woman, but much thinner, her face pale, her hands trembling. Even so, she smiled at him. A gentle smile, one that tried to reassure him, that tried to tell him everything would be all right.

Back then, he had believed her. Only many years later would he understand that the smile had hidden sorrow… and farewell.

The memory vanished as quickly as it had appeared, like a dream fading away upon waking.

Kyrian blinked slowly, returning to the present. As he came back to reality, he realized that Gao Ziyue was still waiting for his answer. She had not insisted, had not asked again, had not tried to fill the silence with hurried words. She simply waited patiently, giving him the space he needed.

That made him appreciate her company even more. She understood that some questions did not require immediate answers, that some memories needed time to be processed before they could be shared.

After a few seconds, he answered, his voice maintaining its usual calmness, though now carrying a gentler, more personal note.

“My family…” He paused briefly, as though choosing the right words.

“It was just my mother.”

His voice remained calm, but there was a quiet weight behind his words, a depth that revealed the magnitude of his loss.

“She passed away when I was still very young.”

Gao Ziyue lowered her head slightly, a gesture of silent respect. She did not say, “My condolences,” nor did she try to comfort him with rehearsed phrases or empty clichés.

She knew that some pain simply did not need commentary, that words were often insufficient in the face of certain losses. Respectful silence was far more sincere than any speech.

After a few moments, she asked gently, her voice as soft as a caress.

“And your father?”

Kyrian smiled faintly, a small, almost nostalgic smile, as though he were looking at an old photograph.

“I never knew my father. He died before I was born.” He paused, his eyes losing focus for a moment.

“My mother never spoke much about him. Just a few vague stories, a few details about how he was a miner and things like that.”

He looked down at the wine glass again, his fingers slowly turning the crystal.

“The closest thing I ever had to a father…” His expression finally softened, something resembling a genuine smile appearing on his lips.

“Was my first master.”

Curiosity immediately appeared in Gao Ziyue’s eyes, a spark of genuine interest.

“Your master?” The question was almost a whisper.

He nodded, his eyes shining with the memory.

“Yes.”

“What is his name?”

For the first time since the conversation had taken that more personal turn, a genuine smile appeared on his face, one that brightened his features, revealing a youthful side of him that he rarely allowed to show. Small, yet filled with affection.

Kyrian had not realized it, but because of the wine, his emotions were gradually becoming freer than they normally were.

“Rurik.”

Simply speaking, that name awakened countless memories, like an album of recollections opening within his mind.

Endless training beneath the scorching sun, the scoldings whenever he made mistakes, the whispered advice when he was about to strike.

The simple meals they shared at night, the walks through the barracks, the conversations beneath the stars.

The first lessons with the spear, the basic movements he repeated thousands of times.

The first defeats of his life, the first victories, the first times he tasted the feeling of progress.

Everything seemed so distant… and yet so vivid, as though it had happened only yesterday.

“He is a great warrior.” He said sincerely, his voice filled with respect.

“He was the one who taught me almost everything I know about combat. Not just techniques, but discipline and perseverance.”

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