Mystic Eyes: My Eyes Steal the Laws of Cultivation - Chapter 178

Chapter 178: The Hungry Tree (5)
The black bark shattered and fell, disintegrating into black dust the moment it touched the ground.

And from within, rising through the debris of her former prison, a figure emerged.

It was a humanoid form. Female. Of a beauty that was not earthly but celestial and cold.

Her skin bore the pallor of moonlight reflected on porcelain, crossed by delicate light-green patterns that resembled veins of leaves or roots beneath the skin.

Her hair was a cascade of living foliage, a vibrant green that moved gently without any wind.

At the center of her chest, between perfect and pale breasts, the green core was embedded. It pulsed softly, causing the roots beneath the skin to shift. It was the source of that overwhelming pressure everyone felt.

Kyrian and the nine cultivators of the Court held their breath for a moment. It was undeniably a breathtaking and courage-stealing sight. A queen emerging from the root, a spirit of the forest, who had become humanoid upon ascending to a new realm of power.

Her eyes opened. They were the color of polished emerald, without pupils, only a deep, intelligent green glow.

They immediately fixed upon the nine cultivators who were still desperately trying to pierce her shield. An expression of absolute disdain and coldness appeared on her perfect features.

Kyrian saw her lips move, forming words in an unknown language that sounded like the whisper of leaves and the creaking of roots.

He did not understand them, but from the expression on her face, the meaning was clear.

‘Insects!’

She raised one hand, a casual gesture, as if swatting away a fly.

Kyrian acted purely on instinct.

“RUN!” His shout echoed, filled with an urgent, ominous premonition.

But for the nine, already paralyzed by the energy and terrifying beauty, it was too late.

From the ground beneath them, which looked like ordinary earth, roots as thick as logs burst forth. They simply grew, having apparently been invisible before, lying in wait.

Moving with a speed that belied their colossal size, they coiled around the flying beasts and those mounted upon them in a deadly embrace.

The screams were short. There was no struggle. There was no technique that could resist. The power was of a completely different order of magnitude. The roots simply tightened.

The sound was horrific. The crack of bones, the crushing of armor, the muffled thud of bodies being reduced to pulp.

In moments, the nine beasts and their nine riders, veterans of the Core Formation realm, the backbone of this division of the Court, were compressed until nothing remained but nine small sacks of blood-soaked organic remains.

Then, as if they were straws, the roots sucked. Blood and residual vital energy were drained in seconds, leaving behind only damp stains and a few shards of bone and metal that fell to the ground.

The root queen did not even look at the process. Her emerald eyes had turned toward the only figure left in the skies. Kyrian.

‘This is the difference between a being of the Spiritual Awakening realm and one of Core Formation?’ The thought arose in Kyrian’s mind, cold and clear.

‘It’s like they’re ants…’

He kept his horse motionless, forcing himself not to move, not to show any sign of fear.

His crimson eyes met hers. The pressure was physical, trying to crush him even in the sky and from a great distance.

He resisted the pressure, his eyes burning with an inner glow that allowed him to remain standing even in the face of this situation.

He waited for the attack. A root rising to pierce his chest, a branch crushing his horse, or even a mental command that would make him collapse.

But the attack never came.

The root woman observed him for a long moment. Her emerald eyes seemed to analyze him, to roam over his body. At the same time, Kyrian felt her spiritual sense sweep over him completely.

Lingering a little longer on his eyes. Then, a spark of… recognition? Curiosity? Passed across her impassive face.

Then, without a word, without a gesture, she turned around. Her bare and pale back, marked with the same root patterns, was presented to him.

Kyrian had to admit it. This was the most beautiful being he had ever seen.

She began to walk, her bare feet not touching the ground, but instead small platforms of grass and flowers sprouting instantly with each step.

She moved away, in the opposite direction from Kyrian, toward the heart of the devastated lowlands.

She had spared him. For a reason he still could not understand.

Relief flooded Kyrian, transforming his cold expression. He let out a long breath, a sound that trembled slightly in the silent air.

His gaze dropped to the nine dark stains on the ground below, the only monuments to the nine who had died there today. Nine instant deaths.

“If she really wanted to kill me… I truly wouldn’t have been able to stop it…”

“Was I too confident?” Kyrian began to murmur.

A spark of fear unexpectedly arose in his heart. And consequently, his desire to become stronger increased even more.

The only thing he could do was become stronger in this world where there existed thousands of beings as strong as, and far stronger than, the woman who had just departed.

He looked at his hands and clenched them tightly.

He released one last resolute breath.

He would return without the core he had desired. Also without the men he had brought. All of them had died because of his orders.

He would return to the external missions branch with the news that not only had the threat not been eliminated, but it had ascended, becoming an entity in the Spiritual Awakening realm.

Kyrian was not satisfied with the result. He felt as if he had failed in some way.

Kyrian pulled the reins of the horse, which was trembling with fear.

“Let’s go,” he murmured in a hoarse voice.

“We have a report to make…”

The flight back was a silent journey through a desolate cemetery where the beast wave had passed.

The wind now whispered accusations. The root woman, whom Kyrian believed had transformed into a forest spirit, was burned into his mind.

Every detail. The unnatural pallor, the pulsating green patterns beneath the skin, the emerald eyes that had dissected him effortlessly. She floated in his thoughts, a colossal and unattainable reminder of how insignificant he still was.

And why he should not become so arrogant.

She was completely beyond his reach. It was not a matter of cunning, tactics, or his talent. It was pure, brutal difference in power. An abyss between realms that turned cultivators he still could not defeat into bloody paste with a casual gesture.

And then, the nine. Faces hardened by battle, the reluctant obedience, the final moments of pure frozen terror before being crushed.

Nine lives, nine potentials, nine cultivators, extinguished because he, Kyrian, had led them there. Because he desired the core. Because he had underestimated the speed of the tree’s ascension. They died by his order, by his poorly calculated ambition.

That was something Kyrian did not like at all.

In the end, a spark of something that could be remorse appeared. But it quickly transformed into a lesson learned, burning itself into his mind.

In the end, his superior status was nothing, the only strength that truly mattered was one’s own strength.

Confidence was an illusion until you could support it with absolute power. If he were strong enough, truly strong, at the Spiritual Awakening realm or beyond, he would not need anyone to obtain what he wanted.

None of the nine would have died. He would have hunted the giant monster tree before it had even ascended into another being.

“Too confident,” he whispered to the wind, his words carried away.

The small spark of fear he felt face-to-face with that woman was not cowardice. It was a brutal clarity of reality knocking at his door.

And with it came a will of iron, sharper and more determined than ever.

He needed to become stronger. Not incrementally, but monstrously. The world was full of beings like her and others even more terrifying. To survive, to reach the central region, and to unravel the secrets of his mark, the book, and his eyes, he needed to rise.

He needed absolute strength.

Suddenly, a thought arose in his mind.

‘Just how powerful would Dong Zhen be, then…?’ The supreme leader of the Blood Court, who commanded respect and fear and who possessed cultivation above the Spiritual Awakening realm.

What would it be like if he faced that woman?

He clenched his fists until his nails lightly bit into his palms, then released them, the decision made.

…

The Screaming Cliffs Sect looked like a recovering anthill when Kyrian landed. The barrier was still standing, but the energy of battle had dissipated, replaced by heavy exhaustion and cautious relief.

The surviving members of the Court, those of the Qi Release realm who had stayed behind, were gathered together, counting their wounded and trying to understand the sudden end of the wave.

When the lone figure on his black horse descended from the sky, all eyes turned toward him. The absence of the others was a glaring presence.