Mystic Eyes: My Eyes Steal the Laws of Cultivation

Lio Han observed Kyrian.

Elder Sun crossed his arms, his fingers drumming against his forearm, a nervous habit.

The question had no recorded answer. In fact... no one knew. Not even Elder Wei himself. It was a hypothesis. A possibility.

A question created to evaluate reasoning. Not knowledge.

Kyrian remained thoughtful for a few seconds.

’Three materials. All related to the soul. But in different ways.’

’Stabilization. Strengthening. Nourishment. They are not contradictory. They are complementary.’

’But...’

A few seconds. Only a few seconds. Then, he answered.

"Yes."

The three elders froze.

"Yes?" Elder Wei asked, his voice coming out louder than intended, carrying a tone of disbelief.

Kyrian nodded, a calm, confident motion.

"But not directly."

Now the entire room’s attention was focused on him. Three pairs of eyes. All waiting.

"The problem lies with the Dream Mist Root."

"It possesses excessively gentle properties, unlike the Flower and the Powder, which are more aggressive."

"Normal refinement, at high temperatures and for extended periods, would destroy part of the root’s essence."

"It would break down before fulfilling its purpose."

Elder Wei’s eyes began to shine.

"Yes... yes..." he murmured, almost to himself.

Kyrian continued.

"First, I would refine the Lunar Phantom Flower alone, at a medium temperature, for about two hours."

"The flower is the most stable material of the three. It can withstand heat without losing its properties."

"Then, once the flower had already fused into the base, I would incorporate the Midnight Pearl Powder."

"The powder is reactive. It needs to be added at a specific moment, when the temperature is high enough to activate it, but not so high that it destroys it."

"Only when the pill was nearly formed, when the Qi had already begun to condense, would I add the Dream Mist Root."

"At a reduced temperature, forty percent below the norm for Rank 4 pills."

"Using a separate final stage, not mixing everything at once, but treating the root as a supplementary ingredient."

"It would be enveloped by the already formed pill, like an outer shell, rather than being mixed into the core."

Elder Sun frowned.

His forehead wrinkled, forming deep lines.

"I’ve never heard of such a method."

"Because it’s normally unnecessary," Kyrian replied.

"Most alchemists try to refine everything at the same time."

"They place all the ingredients into the cauldron without order, without priority, without understanding, and hope that the result will be good."

"It’s faster, less work, and requires less attention."

"But in this case, with such specific materials, the root is the most delicate component."

"It should be treated as a supplementary essence."

"Added last. At a low temperature."

"So that its gentle energy could envelop the pill without destroying it."

Silence. Absolute silence. The three men stared at him. No one spoke. No one moved.

The formations on the ceiling continued glowing softly. The bronze cauldron continued pulsing faintly.

Even Kyrian began to find it strange.

"Is there a problem?" he asked, his voice calm.

Elder Wei slowly stood up.

His hands, which had been resting on the table, were now trembling slightly. His face was completely different. It was no longer the calm expression of an evaluator.

Nor the serious expression of a specialist. He looked like someone who had just heard something revolutionary.

"I..."

He opened his mouth. Then closed it. Then opened it again.

"I’ve never tried that." Lio Han blinked.

Elder Sun also seemed thoughtful. Because now that they had heard the explanation...

It made sense. A great deal of sense.

The Dream Mist Root truly was sensitive to heat. Everyone knew that. It was written in the compendium. It was in the notes of the ancients. It was part of the common knowledge of alchemy.

But they had never considered adding it during the final stage. The standard method had always been to mix everything at once.

’Because it had always been done that way.’

’Because the ancients did it that way.’

’Because the compendium taught it that way.’

’Why...’

’Because no one had questioned it.’

Elder Wei remained silent for a few seconds. His breathing was faster. His eyes were shining. Then, he slammed his hands onto the table.

"Excellent!"

His voice echoed through the room, loud, vibrant, enthusiastic.

"The first test is concluded."

He pointed at Kyrian, a direct, decisive gesture.

"You passed."

Without any hesitation. Without discussion. Without any need to consult the others. Passed. With distinction.

Then something even more unexpected happened. The old man closed the book.

He stood up so quickly that he nearly knocked over the chair, the wooden seat striking the table with a sharp sound.

He turned around. And started walking toward the door. No. Not walking. Practically running.

Lio Han blinked, his eyes widening.

"Elder Wei?"

The old man was already opening the door, his trembling hands turning the handle.

"I’m going to test it. Right now. Immediately."

Elder Sun was speechless, his mouth opening, but no sound coming out.

Lio Han massaged his forehead, his fingers pressing against his temples.

That was typical. Whenever a new alchemical idea appeared, a different concept, an unexplored possibility, the old man disappeared.

The door slammed shut.

And Elder Wei simply vanished down the corridor. Running toward one of the association’s laboratories. Trying to refine the formula proposed by Kyrian.

Silence filled the room once again.

Not the tense silence from before. But an awkward silence.

A silence of, "Did that really just happen?"

Lio Han sighed.

"His enthusiasm is still the same."

Elder Sun shook his head, a slow, resigned motion.

"After a hundred years... he’s still the same."

Kyrian merely watched. Without fully understanding the reason behind the reaction.

To him, according to his logic, that conclusion seemed rather obvious.

The materials have different properties. Therefore, they should be treated differently.

’It’s not complicated.’

Lio Han let out a small laugh. Not a mocking laugh. But a laugh of genuine amusement.

"Looks like it’s your turn now." He looked at the man beside him.

Elder Sun nodded.

His face, previously surprised, had now composed itself.

The seriousness returned. He slowly stood up.

His sturdy body, broad shoulders, thick arms, rose from the chair in a controlled motion.

"My turn."

He walked to the center of the room. Stopping beside the enormous bronze cauldron.

The metal gleamed faintly beneath the light, the ancient runes on its surface pulsing in a slow rhythm, as though the cauldron itself were alive.

Then, he looked at Kyrian.

His eyes, once distant, were now fixed on him.

"The second test."

His voice echoed calmly.

"Flame control."