Art of Creation [Eco-Cultivation Prototype]

Under the right conditions, a Spiritual Tree could naturally begin cultivating on its own—its instinctual drive to grow acting in place of human will.

But Devor had never been one to simply rely on nature's course.

Instead, he encouraged Venom to explore his own evolution. To feel it. To shape it.

"You don't need to wait for me," he'd told him. "This is your body, your path. Walk it freely."

And from that moment on, Devor allowed him space—to learn independently and make mistakes.

Time passed quickly.

A month vanished like dew under the morning sun.

Though his appearance changed little, Devor's presence had deepened.

His long hair had grown unruly, so he trimmed it just above his shoulders, tying it neatly behind his head once more.

But it wasn't the hairstyle that drew attention—it was the aura around him.

Each step he took seemed to stir the wind.

His breath synchronized with the ambient Qi.

To the untrained eye, it might look like nothing.

But to fellow cultivators, Devor had become harder to read—like a still lake that concealed hidden depth.

That same month, he finally crossed into Stage-3 Foundation Building—a milestone that, for others, might come with elation or pride.

For Devor, it came with quiet satisfaction… and a renewed sense of urgency.

Within his soul core, the internal mountain he visualized as the center of his cultivation had grown taller.

No longer just a symbolic fixture, it now stood over 300 meters high—a towering formation carved by will and persistence.

His cultivation technique, though progressing slowly, moved with consistency and control. There were no shortcuts. No moments of reckless acceleration.

And perhaps, thought Master Nie, that was what made Devor so remarkable.

He doesn't chase breakthroughs. He cultivates them.

Master Nie had long suspected there was something unusual about Devor's body—a subtle resilience that defied logic.

A constitution that absorbed energy without backlash, adapted faster than expected, and endured techniques far beyond what most Foundation cultivators could survive.

There were rumors in the wider cultivation world about rare bodies—Hidden Constitutions—each with latent abilities and untapped affinities.

Master Nie couldn't be sure, but if Devor possessed one, it was a subtle kind—one that revealed itself only through long-term observation, not flashy miracles.

Meanwhile, Nyuru had made remarkable progress.

Her studies of the Venom Domain harvests had yielded a stack of alchemical reports and biological charts that now occupied most of Devor's workspace.

Each report documented the effects, mutations, and chemical signatures of dozens of Spiritual Plant strains—meticulously recorded, carefully refined.

She had discovered something vital: the mutated plants thrived under intensity. When both dosage and concentration were pushed to the limits, rather than withering, they adapted. Evolved.

In particular, her notes on the Duskmire Willow caught Devor's eye.

"Mutated strain shows a 70% increase in anti-toxin efficacy compared to base plant. Previously, potency was localized in stem and leaves. In new specimen, medicinal value concentrated in the roots."

Devor's fingers traced the report thoughtfully.

"So the entire essence of the plant migrated downward…" he murmured, pulling a blank page toward him. He jotted quickly:

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Duskmire Willow — Evolution Path Variant #2: 'Root Consolidation Method'. Stem-leaf potency absorbed. Root core formation hypothesized.

He paused, tapping his brush to the rim of the inkstone.

A stray thought emerged. A dangerous one.

If a plant can centralize its essence… could it also condense it?

He thought back to his recent conversations with Master Nie—about the path to Golden Core. About the solidification of the soul core into a singular nucleus of spiritual energy.

If a human cultivator can form a core… can a plant do the same?

What if, by guiding a Spiritual Plant through the right evolutionary path, he could force it to form a pseudo-core—a heart of condensed medicinal energy? The possibilities were staggering.

Not just for cultivation. For healing. For poisoning. For life-extension. Perhaps even for refining living treasures—a path once thought extinct.

His eyes flickered with excitement.

Then caution returned, as swiftly as it had left.

"No," he said aloud. "Not yet. I already have too much on my plate. Another project now, and I'll lose sight of what matters most."

He set the paper aside and returned to Nyuru's data, reviewing it with renewed focus.

Each mutation would need to be cross-referenced against known alchemical reactions and cultivation effects.

Only then could he determine which strains were stable, which were dangerous, and—most importantly—which could be encoded into the Venom Domain itself.

His goal wasn't to leave evolution to chance anymore.

He would teach the Domain, give it curated pathways—just as a master might train a student or a sculptor might guide a chisel.

This was no longer about gardening.

It was about bio-spiritual engineering.

❄️❄️❄️

Time passed like wind slipping through forest leaves—three months vanished in a breath.

And in that fleeting passage of time, Devor grew.

Not only in cultivation but in connection—to his Domain, his allies, and the ever-expanding dream he was building in the heart of the Sect.

The Venom Spiritual Tree, once dependent on Devor for guidance, had begun cultivating on its own.

No longer did it simply absorb energy—it refined it, filtered it, then drew it in with intelligent restraint.

Even more impressive, Venom had begun incorporating foreign dark energies from Dark Gardens, processing them with surprising compatibility.

Like a young cultivator adapting to foreign martial techniques, the tree was learning to digest chaos.

Devor watched the progress from afar, never interfering.

"A tree that chooses its path is no longer just a tool," he'd told himself. "It's a cultivator."

Yulin, however, had grown distant.

Devor saw her only once every couple of weeks. She never explained where she'd been or what occupied her time, and though she smiled like nothing had changed, Devor sensed a growing weight behind her eyes.

He didn't press.

Whatever she was handling—it was bigger than him. He could feel it.

Meanwhile, Nyuru had become the quiet engine driving his progress forward.

The alchemist was coordinating efforts with cultivators across the Sect—poison masters, physicians, and even blacksmiths.

The cross-discipline collaboration surprised Devor at first.

"Blacksmiths?" he had asked, puzzled.

"They process more than just metal," Nyuru had replied, brushing soot from a chart. "Some high-tier alloys require processed plant essence to temper properly under spiritual flame."

Apparently, poison-type plants, when stabilized, could be fused with enchanted ore under extreme heat, resulting in weapons that carried venomous properties tied directly to the wielder's Qi.

Though he didn't have time to explore it in depth now, Devor made a mental note.

A cultivator's sword, fed by a garden's venom. There's power in that idea.

But for now, his focus remained firmly rooted in alchemy and plant mutation.

Every day, after selecting a targeted evolution path, Devor entered deep meditation within the Venom Garden.

There, he embedded his insights directly into the Domain—not by force, but through willful imprinting.

He wasn't altering its core laws. Instead, he was building a living library—a codex of evolution, constructed one strain at a time.

The Domain absorbed his teachings like roots drinking rainfall.

At the start of the fourth month, Devor climbed the Cultivation Hall Tower and seated himself atop its highest floor.

Master Nie stood nearby, arms folded, watching with tense concentration.

Devor was in full meditation, his body aglow with internal energy.

But to an outsider, the flow of Qi through his meridians would look chaotic—erratic swirls, surges that collided, turned back, and wove themselves into strange new patterns.

No symmetry. No elegance. But undeniable structure.

Master Nie had seen many things in his long life, but few dared do what Devor was attempting now:

Integrating multiple personalized elements into a core cultivation technique.

A change of this magnitude risked everything. A cultivator's foundation wasn't just spiritual—it was identity. Rewriting that could mean strength… or self-destruction.

One hour passed.

Stillness.

Then, without warning—Devor's eyes snapped open. His body lurched forward as he coughed a gout of blood, painting the wooden floor in crimson streaks.

"Stop!" Master Nie's voice cut like a blade.

He reached Devor in an instant, hands pressed against the younger man's back, channeling stabilizing Qi into him.

The color began returning to Devor's face, but his breath was ragged.

"You pushed too far," Master Nie said sharply. "That's not a breakthrough. That's damage."

But Devor only smiled.

There was blood in his teeth—and fire in his eyes.

"No, Master," he said hoarsely. "That… was exactly what I needed to do."

Master Nie froze. "You're delirious. Your internal organs—"

"It wasn't a failure. It was the price."

He sat up slowly, pressing a hand to his abdomen, still bleeding within—but steady.

Inside his soul core, something had changed.

At the peak of his internal mountain—now towering well over 300 meters—stood a tree.

Not just a metaphor. Not a vision. But a true spiritual imprint—the image of the Venom Spiritual Tree, etched into the very summit of his inner world.

The Bond Seal, once external, had been drawn inward.

Not forcibly implanted.

Not borrowed from someone else.

But earned. Assimilated. Made his own.

Devor hadn't just bonded with a Spiritual Tree.

He had planted one in the soil of his soul.