Art of Creation [Eco-Cultivation Prototype]

"Venom Domain... what exactly is it?" Xiuji asked, the curiosity in his voice genuine.

Devor nodded slightly, his gaze calm and humble.

"It's simply a name I gave to the Harmony that naturally formed within my garden, Senior." Devor said with a calm smile, "At its core, it's designed to optimize the growth of Spiritual Plants—enhancing both their development and the potency of their medicinal essence."

Xiuji raised a brow, intrigued. "That's... actually fascinating."

Though the domain lacked overt combat utility, its potential value in cultivation was undeniable.

Any resource that could amplify spiritual flora—even unpredictably—was worth its weight in jade essence.

"The Domain boosts the base quality of everything grown within it," Devor explained, voice even. "But its true strength is in poisonous spiritual plants. Their attributes intensify exponentially under the Domain's influence, sometimes evolving in ways I never intended."

He paused, then added, "That's also the downside. The Domain doesn't just amplify—it forces transformation. And the direction of those changes is completely random. Two identical plants may evolve along entirely different elemental paths."

"So in effect," Master Nie interjected thoughtfully, "you've created a Domain that nurtures growth but introduces chaotic evolution. Meaning the end results may not always be... usable?"

"Exactly, Master. The Venom Domain lacks consistency because the underlying laws are still incomplete." Devor nodded. "I can sense scattered principles forming within it, but it's missing foundational structure. That's what makes the transformations unpredictable."

Xiuji folded his arms, deep in thought. "The Venom Domain... it's essentially the embryonic form of your Dao, right? And you're trying to comprehend Void Realm laws to stabilize it?"

Master Nie's gaze shifted slightly as Devor gave a small nod.

"That's a complex topic," Master Nie said at last. "Old cultivators used to argue about that very thing. They believed that the Void Realm marks the beginning—not the completion—of one's Dao."

Xiuji frowned. "If that's true... then how do any of us possess Dao Embryos before reaching the Void Realm?"

It was a good question. Dao was supposed to be the cultivator's ultimate truth—the path forged by their will.

If Void Realm was only the start of that journey, then what exactly were the embryos they cultivated now?

Master Nie's voice was quiet, but carried weight. "A Dao is more than just power. It's a reflection of purpose, refined will. Billions of threads of intent woven together until they coalesce into a single, unshakable truth."

Devor's breath slowed. Something in those words resonated.

"Dao Embryos are often fragments," Master Nie continued. "Partial truths, shaped by your will—but not fully understood by the one who creates them. And if you don't understand what you're building... how can you hope to complete it?"

The silence that followed was thick. Even Xiuji looked stunned.

It was a simple truth—but like all profound revelations, it struck like thunder.

Devor lowered his eyes in contemplation, but then raised his voice. "Then... could it be that the main Dao already exists?"

Master Nie's brows rose.

"What if... our Dao Embryos aren't completely our own?" Devor pressed on. "What if they're echoes of a larger will, and all we do is contribute a fragment of our understanding to that greater whole?"

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Master Nie was silent for a long moment. Then, very slowly, he nodded.

"You've thought far ahead," he said. "Most cultivators don't consider that question until long after forming a Golden Core. Even then, few reach a conclusion."

Devor rubbed the back of his neck, coughing lightly. "To be fair, I had a little help. Sister Yulin and I talked about this a month ago."

"Yulin?" Xiuji echoed.

Devor nodded. "She's strange sometimes... but sharp. He said something about our Daos being more like reflections in a pond. The image feels like ours—but it comes from a deeper source."

Xiuji blinked, then slowly exhaled. "I'd never thought of it that way."

Master Nie turned toward the distant mountains, eyes narrowed in thought.

"So ideally, a cultivator should only begin weaving their Dao once they reach the Void Realm," Master Nie said slowly, fingers laced behind his back as he stared into the sky beyond the open hall. "And perhaps… due to the influence of that greater Dao, the time and effort needed to form a Dao Embryo has been drastically reduced. So much so that even early-stage cultivators now possess one."

His voice was thoughtful—measured—but Devor sensed the undercurrent of unease beneath his tone.

Xiuji let out a long breath, the corners of his mouth tightening. "So in the end... maybe we're not that remarkable after all."

He looked down at his own hands. They trembled faintly—not from weakness, but from a fracture in confidence.

He had always believed his Dao Embryo marked him as exceptional—a blazing comet destined to rise above others.

But if Dao Embryos had become common… what did that say about his worth?

Across from him, Devor's brow furrowed, his gaze darkening with thought.

"Are they… afraid?" he murmured.

Master Nie and Xiuji both turned to look at him.

"Afraid of what?" Xiuji asked. His voice was curious, but his eyes betrayed something else—respect. Without realizing it, he had begun to treat Devor as an equal.

"Afraid the new generation might take their place," Devor answered, his tone calm but laden with meaning.

He straightened slightly. "Because forming a Dao Embryo has become too easy. And when something comes too easily, it creates comfort—but also complacency. That comfort dulls the senses, stifles perception. Eventually, even potential starts to atrophy."

Master Nie raised an eyebrow.

"Go on," he said, a flicker of amusement lighting his expression. "I want to hear more."

Devor smiled. "Let me give an example—from my gardening."

Xiuji blinked, not expecting the topic shift, but he remained quiet.

"I once tried to grow two Spiritual Plants with opposing attributes—Yin-rooted Orchid and Sun-Tongue Vine—in the same bed," Devor explained. "They're fundamentally incompatible. One draws heat, the other thrives in cold qi. Any cultivator would say it's impossible to grow them side by side."

He paused, thoughtful. "And they'd be right. I failed. Not once. Not ten times. I failed hundreds of times. But with each failure, I learned. I understood more about their nature. And eventually, I realized—if I added more plants, not fewer, the negative interactions could be dispersed."

"More?" Xiuji asked, confused.

"Exactly. By introducing complexity, not simplicity, I created an ecosystem. A dynamic balance of energies, where even opposites could coexist."

Master Nie stroked his chin, intrigued.

"But imagine," Devor continued, his tone sharpening, "if I had succeeded on the first try. What would I have learned? Nothing. I would have accepted the result without understanding it. And worse—I would've repeated the method blindly, thinking it worked, without ever grasping why it did."

"That... makes sense," Xiuji admitted.

"Convenience breeds ignorance," Devor said firmly. "Ease breeds weakness. True growth happens in discomfort, through intentional struggle."

Then he paused, looking between the two men, and added with a strange expression, "Imagine a world where people can sit in one place and watch the lives of others unfold through light and sound—without ever living for themselves."

Xiuji blinked. Master Nie frowned slightly.

Devor scratched his head and gave an awkward cough. "Uh… just a metaphor. Think of it this way: imagine a pill furnace that automatically produces perfect pills, just by placing the ingredients inside. The alchemist does nothing—just watches."

"Sounds convenient," Xiuji said.

"Exactly," Devor said. "But that's the problem. The next generation would rely on theory. They'd never feel the flames. Never learn to balance opposing herbs, sense qi resonance, or adjust purity on instinct. They'd know nothing."

He took a breath. "When people grow used to ease, they stop evolving. And when an entire civilization does it... stagnation creeps in like rot."

Master Nie's expression turned solemn.

"The greater Dao that now touches this generation," Devor said, voice soft but piercing, "may not be a gift. It might be a trap. A method by which the old world limits the new—feeding us crumbs of enlightenment to keep us quiet, while keeping the true path hidden."

Silence settled like a heavy fog.

Xiuji looked shaken. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, slowly, he nodded.

"I used to think I was better than the others. Because I had a Dao Embryo. Because I reached Foundation Building before I turned fifteen. But now... I wonder if I'm just walking a path that someone else laid out for me."

Master Nie didn't speak, but his eyes met Devor's.

Something unspoken passed between them.

This boy… isn't just another prodigy. He's beginning to question the very framework of cultivation itself.