Art of Creation [Eco-Cultivation Prototype]

Three days after her arrival, Yulin departed once more, her figure vanishing into the protective mists surrounding Devor's hilltop sanctuary.

The air was quieter in her absence, the lingering scent of her spirit essence faintly caught in the breeze.

By then, nearly every plant in the Venom Garden had been harvested, leaving only the formation plants behind—those rare cultivars responsible for regulating the energy balance and maintaining the Venom Domain's internal structure.

Devor knew the truth: once the Domain had matured, the presence of these formation plants was no longer essential.

The harmony they cultivated had already been woven into the fabric of the Domain itself.

As long as poisonous plants thrived within the garden, the Domain would continue to sustain itself.

But Devor wasn't the kind to gamble on theory alone.

"There's no need to fix what isn't broken," he murmured one evening, brushing dirt from his palms.

The formation plants weren't disruptive, and they barely took up space. Until he had undeniable proof, he wouldn't dare remove them.

New seeds had already begun to sprout in the freshly tilled soil, their roots probing the ground like fingers searching for purpose.

One by one, Devor infused each seed with his will, drawing on the Venom Domain's essence to guide their mutations and establish future evolutionary paths.

It was slow, demanding work—on a good day, he could shape maybe thirty or forty seeds before his mind was wrung dry like an overused talisman.

And even then, it took over a week to imprint even the most basic foundational paths into the seedlings.

So when the garden was finally set in motion, Devor took a rare moment to rest.

That morning, with the mist still clinging to the hills, he strolled toward the open clearing beside his home.

The Venom Bird, perched comfortably on his shoulder, fluffed its soft purple feathers and chirped softly as Devor walked.

"Do Spiritual Trees have a way of talking to each other?" Devor asked without looking.

Venom tilted his head. "Hmm… I used to talk with other old trees back in the valley. But those were all awakened ones. If a tree hasn't developed a mind yet, then... not really. It's like trying to talk to a rock."

"That's fine." Devor smiled faintly. "You're the Big Brother here now. You'll be the one to guide the next generation."

The bird blinked. "Next... generation?"

Devor's steps slowed as they reached the center of the clearing.

His eyes swept across the garden, then landed on a soft patch of soil bathed in golden morning light. "I've waited long enough. It's time to plant the World Tree."

Unlike the Venom Spiritual Tree—whose essence was steeped in toxic power—the World Tree was a convergence point.

A rare spiritual entity capable of absorbing and harmonizing all energies, purifying them into a form of pure vitality.

In essence, it was life made manifest.

Devor still had another treasure tucked away: the dormant Void Tree, imbued with spatial affinity.

But cultivating it would require immense experience—and specialized methods he hadn't mastered yet.

For now, it remained sealed within a jade box, sleeping until he was ready.

The World Tree, however, could be nourished with the elemental principles he understood intimately.

Earth, Fire, Metal, Water, and Lightning. When it came to the Five Elements, no one in the sect could match Devor's foundational understanding.

Just as he reached into his spatial ring, pulling forth a sphere of golden light, a small sound of protest chirped from his shoulder.

"Wait… you're planting that here? Right in the middle of everything?" Venom asked, his voice tight with confusion—and no small hint of jealousy. "That's the heart of the garden! Why not plant it on the side, like me?"

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Devor paused.

He turned to the tiny bird, noticing how its feathers bristled.

A warm chuckle escaped him.

"It's not because the World Tree is stronger than you." His voice was calm, but firm. "It's because it needs to be there. That's the best position for harmony. This tree will eventually become the core of balance and vitality. Your position doesn't reflect your strength, Venom—it reflects your domain."

Venom pouted, looking away.

"Look at me," Devor said, folding his arms. "I'm a Divine Disciple, but do you think I could beat every Core or Inner Disciple in a fight?"

Venom blinked. "Well… no."

"Exactly. But if the sect held a Spiritual Plant competition? I'd crush them. No hesitation. That's the difference." He knelt beside the soil, loosening it with a flick of his fingers.

"Don't compare yourself to others in their domain," Devor added, lowering the glowing orb toward the earth. "You've already mastered poison. There's no tree in the world that could match you in that field."

Venom looked down, visibly appeased. But he still gave the World Tree orb a sidelong glare. "Fine. But if this sapling gets arrogant, I'll drop poison berries on its roots while it sleeps."

Devor grinned. "Try it and I'll seal your wings for a month."

Devor had long anticipated that tensions would eventually arise among the Spiritual Trees—especially the awakened ones.

It wasn't unlike raising a house full of gifted children. Each had their own strengths, insecurities, and pride.

And in such close proximity, comparisons were inevitable.

Venom was no exception.

He may have masked it behind his usual childlike energy, but Devor could sense the growing edge in his tone and the shift in his behavior ever since the World Tree arrived.

"You'll be the big brother soon," Devor said gently, his hand resting on Venom's small, feathery form. "I've nurtured each of you with care, but none of you are meant to be copies of the other. My dream is to create something greater from your differences, not from your similarities."

He didn't expect Venom to suddenly accept that. Emotions, especially pride, weren't easily reasoned with.

They had to be lived through—wrestled with—and eventually outgrown.

When Devor finally planted the World Tree, he chose the precise center of his domain—a space he'd deliberately kept open all this time, awaiting a tree worthy of becoming the garden's core.

Currently, it stood no taller than a finger-length, but the moment Devor lifted the spiritual seal around it, the entire garden seemed to respond.

A swirl of invisible force spread outward.

The air grew thicker with vitality as elemental energy rushed in from every direction, pulled into the World Tree's small frame like starlight into a black hole.

Venom hopped from Devor's shoulder and landed beside the sapling. It was only slightly taller than him… yet the energy it radiated was immense.

He frowned. He could sense the World Tree's ability to process and harmonize nearly all elemental forces—but when he tried to send his own venomous energy back, the sapling repelled it softly, as if telling him, "I don't need that right now."

Venom's pride bristled. He wasn't used to being second. Not here.

"You're the big brother now," Devor said, watching him. "You'll be its guide until it awakens. When the others arrive… it'll be you and the World Tree together—looking after the next generation."

Something stirred in Venom then. Not resistance. Not rivalry. But an instinct he hadn't expected: the urge to prove himself worthy of that role.

Devor, unaware of the epiphany quietly blooming in Venom's heart, returned to his daily rhythm.

But he couldn't help noticing that from that day on, Venom never strayed far from the World Tree's side.

Each day, he would hover nearby, occasionally forming tiny, glowing spheres of refined venom energy—and placing them near the sapling's base.

"To help it grow faster," Venom muttered one night, when Devor caught him in the act.

Devor only smiled. He didn't need to say anything.

Days passed in quiet intensity. Devor, now recovered and sharpened by his recent breakthroughs, pushed deeper into his experiments.

His earlier method—manually guiding the evolution of each poisonous plant—had felt like the right move.

But now? Now it felt… inefficient.

"If I have to design each evolution path one by one…" he muttered, arms crossed as he stared at a cluster of sprouting Nightroot stalks, "...then the Venom Domain will become too rigid. I'll have created a perfect system—locked inside an inflexible shell."

The deeper he thought, the more flawed the current system appeared.

He wasn't just breeding rare plants. He was trying to build an ecosystem of progression—one that could evolve with its environment, and its cultivator.

Leaning against the Venom Spiritual Tree, Devor closed his eyes. The world faded into stillness.

"Poison isn't just about death," he murmured to himself. "It's about disruption. Transformation."

His mind drifted to Juyin—how that mad cultivator had once rendered an entire sect helpless with a slow, invisible poison.

No pain, no warning. Just a gradual unweaving of power, strand by strand, until the whole foundation crumbled.

Poison didn't need to kill to win.

It just needed to change something faster than its victim could adapt.

That realization cracked something open in Devor's mind.

"Each poisonous plant has distinct toxin traits," he whispered, his eyes suddenly wide. "Paralytic. Hallucinogenic. Corrosive. Invasive. Dormant. Viral. Reactive. Reversive…"

His thoughts spun faster and faster. Most poison plants had at least three dominant toxin traits. Some had five or more.

"Instead of defining evolution by species… I can define them by trait."

If he classified and cataloged the core toxin attributes of each plant, he could restructure the mutation algorithm in the Venom Domain.

That would allow modular evolution paths, based on toxic behavior and reaction types—not just botanical identity.

If a plant shared two or more core traits with an existing entry, the Venom Domain could auto-match a suitable mutation framework.

In other words… he could build the world's first Poison Codex—a universal language of toxins, readable by his Domain, adaptable to any poisonous plant, and—eventually—sharable with others.

"I don't need to control everything," he said aloud, smiling. "I just need to give the system the tools to adapt on its own."

His new plan was clear.

He would classify each plant's toxic traits, isolate the most critical mutation triggers, and embed that logic into the Domain's core rule matrix.

That way, even if he wasn't around, even if a new poisonous plant was introduced decades later—his Domain would still be able to adapt, guide, and perfect its growth.

It wouldn't just be a domain anymore.

It would be a living cultivation system.