Kyrian returned to the stone where he had been resting earlier and sat down once more.
The rock was still warm, but not uncomfortable.
Then he closed his eyes.
His consciousness sank into the newly acquired spatial ring.
And imdiately, he realized it. It was enormous.
The internal space of the old man’s ring was far larger than Kyrian’s own spatial ring, perhaps twice as large, perhaps three tis.
Mountains of spiritual stones filled part of the inner space.
They were mid-grade spiritual stones, glowing with a more intense light.
Thousands of them. Tens of thousands.
Kyrian was genuinely surprised.
It was more than he had accumulated throughout his entire journey so far.
Besides the spiritual stones, there were weapons.
Many weapons.
Long swords, short swords, straight blades, curved blades.
Axes, single-bladed, double-bladed, enormous, and small.
Sabers, so with blades that still glead even inside the ring, others more subdued.
Spears, including the very black spear used by the old man during the battle.
Daggers. Bows. Knives. Dozens of them.
So appeared to be ordinary, well-crafted weapons without special properties.
Others were clearly spiritual, glowing with their own Qi, pulsing with stored energy.
Including the very black spear wielded by the old man during the battle.
Kyrian recognized the weapon imdiately.
Even now, stored inside the ring, it emitted an oppressive presence, a sensation of restrained power, of fire waiting to be unleashed.
There were also dozens of strange treasures.
Bracelets, so made of tal, others of materials Kyrian did not recognize.
Pendants hanging from thin chains, each bearing a different gem.
Talismans, small strips of paper or leather covered in symbols, so burned along the edges as if they had already been used.
tal shields, so the size of a forearm, others large enough to cover an entire torso.
Formation plates, discs of jade or tal engraved with runes.
An enormous quantity of pills.
Hundreds of rank three pills for Qi recovery, wound healing, and ridian purification.
Dozens of rank four pills, more powerful and rarer.
Even a few rank five pills, only a handful, but each one worth a small fortune by itself.
Of course, for Kyrian, they were not particularly special, since he himself could refine such pills.
But curiously...
None of that was what attracted his attention the most.
There was sothing far more important now.
Much more important.
"Techniques..."
he murmured softly.
His eyes shone, not with greed, but with interest.
Kyrian began removing books and jade plates from the old man’s spatial ring, placing them carefully across the black stone surrounding him.
One. Two. Five. Ten. Dozens.
The books varied in size, so thin with fewer than fifty pages, others thick with hundreds. Their covers were made of leather, wood, tal, and materials Kyrian had never seen before.
The jade plates, used to store enormous amounts of information in compact form, glowed faintly, their surfaces covered in tiny runes.
He carefully spread them across the stone, using his control over fire to prevent the books from burning.
Then he began examining them.
After several minutes of silence, with only the sound of the volcano in the background, he reached a conclusion.
"Three complete cultivation techniques..."
"And twelve battle techniques."
His eyes slowly passed over the books, registering their nas, covers, and materials.
The battle techniques were tempting.
Very tempting.
So appeared extrely powerful, with fire techniques capable of amplifying his attacks, movent techniques that could increase his speed, and defensive techniques that could protect his body.
But they were not the priority now.
The most important thing at this mont was sothing else.
His third core.
Kyrian picked up the first book.
The cover was dark red, nearly black, made from the hide of so unknown beast. The texture was rough but flexible, as though the book had been treated with sothing to preserve it.
Golden runes were engraved across the surface, glowing faintly whenever the ash-filtered light touched them.
He slowly read the na.
"Solar Art of the Crimson Fla."
Kyrian opened the book.
The pages were thin, almost transparent, covered in precise and elegant calligraphy. Every character had been carefully written, every Qi flow diagram drawn with ticulous accuracy.
It was a cultivation technique of the Path of Fire.
Profound. Complex.
Far superior to the common techniques Kyrian had seen before, far more detailed, far more complete.
The technique allowed cultivation all the way to the peak of the Spiritual Awakening Realm.
’This was probably the old man’s technique,’ Kyrian thought.
It made sense.
That man’s fiery Qi had been extrely refined, not the wild and uncontrolled fire of a beginner, but a disciplined fla shaped by decades of cultivation.
Kyrian continued flipping through the book in silence, his eyes scanning each page attentively.
The technique seed powerful.
Very powerful.
And beyond that...
Compatible with him.
His body now possessed an absurd affinity with fire after the implantation of the Bone of the Heavens. Heat no longer affected him. Flas recognized him. Fire Qi itself seed drawn toward him.
If he cultivated using a technique of the Path of Fire...
His progress would likely beco extrely fast.
His third core could beco absurdly powerful.
Kyrian slowly closed the book.
"But..." he murmured.
Sothing felt wrong.
Very wrong.
He looked at his own eyes reflected in a tallic blade lying among the scattered treasures.
Orange eyes. Red flas dancing within the pupils.
Fire.
That is what they are now.
Fire.
But he knew.
That was not all.
His eyes did not belong solely to fire.
They changed.
They transford.
When he activated ice, his eyes beca blue, with snowflake-shaped pupils.
When he activated the sword, his eyes beca green, with blade-shaped pupils.
When he activated blood, his eyes beca crimson red.
Multiple paths.
His Qi changed together with his eyes.
The path changed as well.
Fire. Ice. Blood. Sword. Lightning.
Perhaps others in the future.
New paths he had not yet discovered.
New colors that had not yet appeared within his eyes.
Kyrian could feel it clearly.
If he created a core based purely on fire, following the old man’s technique, absorbing only fire Qi, channeling only fiery energy...
That core would beco trapped.
Limited.
Incapable of keeping up with the mutable nature of his eyes.
And that was not what he wanted.
Not at all.
’I need sothing different,’ Kyrian thought.
’Sothing that matches my eyes.’
’Sothing capable of changing together with them.’
’Sothing that doesn’t force to choose a single path.’
But then another question arose.
Did sothing like that even exist?
Kyrian had never heard of anything similar.
Cultivators chose a path, fire, ice, wind, earth, wood, blood, sword, or whatever it might be, and followed that path until the end.
For decades.
For centuries.
Until death or transcendence.
No one simply changed the nature of their own Qi.
That should have been impossible.
Kyrian could only do it because his eyes were absurdly abnormal, an anomaly within another anomaly, an exception that broke the rules.
He remained silent.
Thinking.
Frowning.
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