Mystic Eyes: My Eyes Steal the Laws of Cultivation

The sound of the door closing echoed softly through the room, a low click that quickly faded into the silent air. The wood and metal mechanism fit together perfectly, isolating the room from the corridor outside.

Kyrian raised his eyes.

The man who had just entered appeared to be a little over thirty years old. He had black hair tied behind his head with a simple golden ribbon, a few loose strands falling over his face in a deliberate manner, framing his features.

Well-defined features, a strong jaw, high cheekbones, a straight nose, and a jawline that conveyed determination. A calm expression that radiated quiet confidence.

His face was not particularly handsome, not in the way Kyrian was accustomed to hearing about himself, but it carried a maturity that inspired respect. There were fine lines around his eyes, not from old age, but from someone who smiled often or observed the world attentively.

He wore a dark green robe of exceptional quality. The fabric was pure silk of the highest grade, soft to the touch, faintly gleaming beneath the light of the formations on the ceiling. Embroidered with golden threads along the sleeves and collar, patterns of intertwined leaves and flowers, delicate and elegant, seemed to dance as the light shifted.

It was not extravagant. There were no jewels, no precious stones embedded into it, no exaggerated proportions or colors.

But it made it clear that its owner held a high position. It spoke of someone accustomed to being treated with deference.

What drew the most attention, however, was the symbol embroidered over the left side of his chest.

A golden cauldron.

Beneath it were five stars, arranged in a semicircle around the base of the cauldron, each one faintly glowing with its own light, as if the symbol itself were infused with Qi.

Kyrian recognized the emblem.

During his walk to the association, while observing the streets, the people, the buildings, the signs, and the storefronts, he had seen several alchemists wearing similar symbols, embroidered on their robes or hanging as pendants around their necks.

Some possessed only one star. Others two. Some three. One or two had four.

But this was the first one with five.

"It must represent the alchemist’s level," Kyrian thought, his violet eyes registering every detail of the symbol.

Perhaps one star for each rank.

The man walked toward the table without haste.

His footsteps were soft, nearly silent, yet his presence filled the room in a way that Kyrian could not ignore. His cultivation was completely concealed.

Kyrian could not sense absolutely anything from him, no spiritual pressure, no flow of Qi, no detectable energy.

Even so, he was certain of one thing. This man was far stronger than the old man on the second floor.

Far stronger.

"I apologize for the wait."

His voice was pleasant, neither too deep nor too high. It carried neither arrogance nor false modesty. Calm.

"My name is Lio Han."

He sat down in the armchair across from Kyrian, a fluid and natural movement, as though he were in his own home. He adjusted the folds of his robe with a casual gesture, crossed one leg over the other, and leaned slightly forward.

"I heard that you brought a batch of pills whose quality rarely appears in the Sky Caravan."

Kyrian simply nodded, a brief movement, without unnecessary words.

"I would like to see them personally."

Without saying much, Kyrian took out the three bottles, the same ones he had already shown on the second floor, and placed them on the table.

Green jade, the first one, its white veins running across the surface like rivers on a map.

Lio Han immediately opened the first one.

As soon as the lid was removed, the medicinal aroma spread throughout the room.

Not like a sudden explosion, but like a gentle wave, filling every corner, every crack, every pore of the air. The scent was complex, composed of layered notes. Earthy notes of ginseng, spicy notes of cinnamon, and sweet notes of wild honey, all harmonized in perfect balance.

The man’s eyes lit up.

He did not even need to remove a pill to make an initial assessment.

Just by smelling it.

"Perfect pills," he murmured, more to himself than to Kyrian.

His expression remained calm, a professional evaluating high-quality merchandise, nothing more.

But he was clearly impressed. The slight tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers moved more carefully as he picked up a jade tweezer...

He removed one of the pills with meticulous care, using a delicate jade tweezer, and examined its surface beneath the light.

Perfect. Not the slightest impurity, no dark spots, no discoloration, no irregularities in texture.

Without the slightest flaw, its shape was perfectly spherical, its edges smooth and uniform, and its luster consistent across the entire surface.

"How many of these do you have?" he asked, his eyes still fixed on the pill.

Kyrian answered in the simplest way possible.

He removed fourteen more identical bottles from his spatial ring, one after another, arranging them in rows across the jade table.

And placed them on the table.

For the first time since entering the room...

Lio Han showed visible surprise.

His eyebrows rose slightly, a subtle movement, almost imperceptible to anyone who was not paying attention.

But Kyrian was.

"Fifteen?"

His voice remained calm, but there was a trace of disbelief in it. He opened them one by one. Checked them all.

Then he checked them again, as if he could not believe what his eyes were seeing.

And sighed, a long, slow sigh that seemed to carry the weight of years of experience.

"All perfect."

"One hundred and fifty perfect Rank 3 pills."

"One hundred and fifty."

Not even he saw something like this often. In fact, he could not remember the last time anything similar had happened.

Normally, when an excellent alchemist refined a batch of pills, perhaps one or two pills would reach perfection in a batch if he had a particularly good day.

The rest would have lower purities. Ninety-eight percent. Ninety-six. Ninety-four.

But here... Every single one was perfect. Without exception.

Lio Han closed the bottles one by one, with a level of care that bordered on reverence.

Then he opened the second batch.

The aroma became even more intense, denser, and more complex.

"Qi Gathering Pills."

He removed one.

Observed it.

Turned it between his fingers, evaluating the luster, the texture, the way the light reflected off its surface.

And fell silent.

"Perfect again."