Mystic Eyes: My Eyes Steal the Laws of Cultivation - Chapter 176

Chapter 176: The Hungry Tree (3)
This time, the destruction was slow. The amount of hostility, of black essence, was monstrously greater.

The book took a full three minutes to consume everything. Three minutes during which the tree continued its destructive frenzy, but with increasingly less vigor, like a body having its nerves cut one by one.

The mental screams diminished from a roar to a whimper, then to an empty spiritual silence.

Finally, the last black particle was absorbed. The book closed with a single sonorous sound that echoed in the sudden quiet.

Then, like a paper bird returning to its nest, the book shot back at a speed that defied Kyrian’s eyes and merged with his forehead and then disappeared into his mind.

The silence that followed was absolute. The black mist had dissipated. The air seemed heavy with the smell of death and raised dust, but it no longer carried that oppressive static of hatred.

All that remained was a gigantic tree.

It was motionless. The branches hung inert. The roots lay on the ground like dead serpents. No pulse of black energy emanated from the trunk anymore.

But Kyrian could see with his eyes. The tree was still alive.

Its vital energy, now free from corruption, was a strange thing, vegetal and ancient, but strangely peaceful.

It was… asleep, exhausted. Like a beast that had spent years under a curse and was finally released, falling into a deep and restorative sleep.

Kyrian did not wait to see the tree awaken, he turned and ran, distancing himself from the place as fast as he could.

A monster tree at the peak of the Core Formation realm, now with its own mind returned, perhaps even more primitive, was not something he could face. Not with his current strength.

As he ran, his plan was already formed. He would return to the Screaming Cliffs sect. The wave of beasts, without the coordinating will of the Black Mass, would soon fall apart. The beasts would return to being beasts, frightened and wounded, and soon the wave would dissolve. The sect would survive.

And then, he would use his authority as a disciple of the main branch. He would order the warriors of the Blood Court to return with him. Not to save anyone, but to hunt.

For there was a reward here. Something he had seen with his eyes when the book extracted the darkness.

At the center of the trunk, where the Black Mass resided, there was a point of densely compacted natural energy, pure and powerful.

That was the core of the Monster-Tree.

Like any powerful beast of the Core Formation realm, it must have condensed its essence into a core. A vegetal core of a rare and ancient entity would be an invaluable treasure for alchemists and forgers.

Or else, for someone who could devour any type of energy and purify it, that would be a monumental resource.

Kyrian did not smile, but a deep satisfaction warmed his being. The hunt for the Black Mass had borne its direct fruit for the book. And now it would yield a tangible and powerful prize. Today was definitely a good day.

He found the horse where he had left it, rested and alert. He mounted and, with one last look at the sleeping silhouette of the giant tree on the horizon, departed toward the Screaming Cliffs.

The return was much faster. Without the desperate urgency, Kyrian allowed the black horse to maintain an average speed, a sustainable rhythm that preserved its strength. They followed the path of destruction of the wave, but the landscape of death now had a new layer of horror.

Kyrian looked at the ground, his carmine eyes analyzing. What had once been a river of living and furious beasts now resembled more a post-apocalyptic battlefield.

Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of smaller beasts, those of the Accumulation Realm and the early stages of Qi Liberation, lay dead, their bodies scattered grotesquely. Dark, coagulated blood poured from eyes, ears, nostrils, and mouths.

It was a grim demonstration of the power of the entity he had faced and of the book’s lethal effectiveness against it.

As he advanced and the distance from the epicenter increased, the corpses became more sparse. Instead, he began to see living beasts. Some staggered, disoriented, stumbling in circles before finally fleeing to nearby forests or hills.

The blind fury was replaced by confusion and animal fear. Others fought among themselves, the strange alliance forced by hostility now broken, returning to their natural instincts of predator and prey.

The monolithic wave was disintegrating, splitting into small wandering groups and solitary fleeing beasts.

It did not take long for the Screaming Cliffs sect to appear on the horizon. From afar, Kyrian could see that the battle was still occurring, but on a drastically reduced scale. The incessant tide had become a turbulent stream.

The strongest beasts, those in the Core Formation Realm that probably had a bit more mental resilience or were less bound, seemed to have regained their sense of self-preservation.

He saw a large horned feline beast disappear in a cloud of dust, fleeing into the mountains, and a stone bear simply turn and begin to burrow away from the cliff.

What remained were the weaker beasts, still driven by a remnant of fury or simply too stupid to stop. They hurled themselves against the defenses, but without coordination or overwhelming numbers, they were cut down with relative ease by the tired but experienced cultivators of the Blood Court.

Kyrian landed in the inner courtyard, the horse snorting softly. He crossed the energy barrier without hesitation, the mark on his hand and his knowledge of formations guaranteeing free passage.

Almost immediately, Elder Bo approached, his face marked by fatigue and battle grime, but his hawk-like eyes fixed on Kyrian with intensity.

“Young Master! Where have you been?” The question was direct, his voice laden with suspicion and a hint of genuine concern.

Kyrian turned to face him, his expression as impassive as ever.

“As I said, I went to find the source of the beast wave. I already found it, and the problem was resolved. The wave has begun to disperse. I believe you have already noticed.”

Bo looked beyond the barrier to the battlefield where the remaining beasts were being harvested with renewed efficiency. It was true. The insane pressure had diminished. The constant roar was now intermittent. But the idea that this boy alone had done something to cause that was…

“You… alone?” The doubt was palpable.

Kyrian gave no room for questions.

“Yes. Only these weak beasts remain. It will take a few more hours to kill them or for them to disperse completely.” His voice left no room for discussion. He then continued, his tone becoming authoritative, carrying the weight of his status.

“The source was a Monster-Tree, corrupted by an unknown malevolent energy. A rare and dangerous entity.”

He paused, ensuring Bo was listening.

“Now that the wave is dispersing, your priority changes. Gather all members of the Blood Court present here who are in the Core Formation Realm. Immediately after the end of the battles.”

Elder Bo opened his mouth to protest, to demand more explanations, and to question the order of a teenager.

But something in Kyrian’s gaze, that cold and absolute carmine, the unshakable confidence emanating from him, cut his words off before they could leave. This was not a common disciple asking a favor. This was a direct representation of Dong Zhen’s power, giving an order.

With a restrained grunt, Bo nodded, a sharp movement.

“It will be done, Young Master.” He turned and departed, his rigid figure blending once more into the controlled chaos beyond the barrier.

Kyrian watched him go. The reluctant obedience was expected. As long as the orders were carried out.

The following hours were of methodical cleanup. The blind fury of the remaining beasts was no match for the restored efficiency of the Court’s warriors. One by one, they fell. Some simply stopped fighting and fled and were left behind. Killing them all was an unnecessary effort.

Finally, the sound of battle ceased. A heavy silence, broken only by the moan of the wind and sighs of exhaustion, took over the cliff. Fatigue was stamped on every face, but also a deep and confused relief. The inexplicable calamity had simply… ended.

It was then that Elder Bo fulfilled his order. He gathered eight cultivators, all wearing the red of the Court, their auras ranging from the early to the late stages of the Core Formation Realm.

They were veterans, their faces marked by scars and years of service. Along with Bo, who was at the late stage of the same realm, they formed a group of nine powerful cultivators.

Bo led them to the courtyard where Kyrian awaited, seated on a stone, observing the horizon. The presence of the eight, even exhausted, was formidable. Curious, distrustful, and some frankly disdainful looks fell upon Kyrian.

Upon seeing his Main Branch robes, however, a subtle change occurred. The distrust did not disappear, but it was suppressed by a prior respect.

All of them bowed slightly, a collective murmur echoing.

“Young Master!”