Art of Creation [Eco-Cultivation Prototype]

The class had entered its fourth day.

By now, every student's garden had taken shape. The seeds had sprouted, their roots burrowing deep into spiritual soil.

The once bare earth now shimmered with life—an intricate web of colors, essences, and faint pulses of energy dancing between budding leaves.

Each garden plot reflected its caretaker's intent, style, and progress. To the untrained eye, it was beautiful. But to Devor, it was merely the foundation.

"This is where it begins," he thought, arms folded as he looked across the field. "Now they'll start to face real cultivation principles—harmony, imbalance, decay… and choice."

Among the students was a peculiar figure, almost comical at first glance—a small, violet-feathered bird waddling carefully through one of the garden patches.

Venom.

Devor had given him a place in the class, not as a mascot or assistant, but as a student in his own right.

And unlike the others, Venom had received a strict restriction: no poisonous plants allowed.

It was a limitation that forced the little tree-spirit to face his greatest weakness.

Without poison to rely on, Venom had to handle delicate species—mild-natured, highly reactive Spiritual Plants whose tolerance for aggressive energy was razor-thin.

It was like asking a dragon to dance on porcelain.

Currently, Venom knelt near one such plant, watching it wobble slightly as its internal flow destabilized.

"Not again…" he thought grimly.

He extended his wing and carefully tapped the stalk to stabilize it—but the motion was slightly off.

Too much energy.

A surge of his innate essence flowed through the contact point, and the plant spasmed. Its bright green color darkened to a sickly gray.

The resonance between plants snapped like a string under tension.

Venom watched in horror as the wilting spread like rot, its vitality draining in seconds.

"That's the sixth one…" he muttered, backing away. "Why does this keep happening?"

He clenched his tiny wings into fists.

"My power is toxic. It's meant to tear down, not build up. I wanted to learn gardening from Brother Devor so badly, but…" He stared at the withered plant. "What was the point?"

Footsteps approached. Devor crouched beside the garden silently.

"Another failure?" he asked with a small smile—neither mocking nor disappointed.

Venom didn't look up. "I can't even touch them without killing them. How am I supposed to grow anything like this?"

Devor tilted his head. "You're not failing because of what you are. You're failing because you haven't mastered it."

Venom let out a bitter sigh. "And what if I never can? I was born of poison. I get stronger through decay. Maybe this isn't my path…"

Devor didn't respond right away. He studied Venom for a long moment.

The spirit before him wasn't just a sentient tree anymore. He had grown thoughts, regrets, dreams—and doubts.

He's not just evolving physically. He's awakening as a person.

Devor slowly raised his hand and summoned a wisp of deep violet energy—an exact mirror of Venom's essence, refined and purified.

It coalesced into a bird—Venom's likeness, shaped through Devor's precise control.

Calmly, Devor guided it downward toward the damaged plant. It hovered. It waited.

Then gently, it brushed a spectral wing over the crumpled leaves.

The contact was soft—subtle, as if asking for permission rather than forcing restoration. Energy flowed not as a wave, but a thread.

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The plant shivered, then slowly perked up, color bleeding back into its petals.

After reviving the damaged plant, Devor slowly withdrew his hand. The echo of Venom's own essence dissipated in the air, like smoke rising from the soil.

He glanced down at Venom—not with judgment, but with calm intensity.

"If you're struggling," Devor said evenly, "don't blame your form, or your power. Blame yourself—for not mastering them yet."

Venom's feathers seemed to lose some of their sheen as his head drooped, shame curling in his chest like a fog.

"I know everyone walks a different path," Devor continued, his tone cool and unwavering. "You don't have to follow mine. I won't force you to be a gardener."

He turned slightly, his back to the small bird-shaped spirit.

"But if you quit now… don't say it's because you weren't meant to do it. Say it's because you weren't strong enough to become the kind of person who could."

Then, without another word, Devor walked away—leaving Venom alone, surrounded by the quiet hum of growing plants and the weight of his own thoughts.

It had always been Venom's choice to learn this path.

Devor had guided him patiently, given him opportunities, even crafted him a body.

But he refused to handhold someone who would abandon their dream just because it wasn't easy.

Yulin, who had been watching quietly from a distance, approached as Devor exhaled.

"Weren't you a little too harsh?" she asked softly.

Devor's jaw tightened. "Maybe. I wasn't planning to be. But seeing him so ready to give up just because it's hard…"

He shook his head. "Forly has literal death etched into his spirit. And he still asked me if it was possible for him to grow something—anything. He still wants to be a Spiritual Farmer."

The memory gnawed at Devor. He never stopped thinking about Forly—never stopped trying to lift the curse that had taken hold of him, using the power of the Venom Domain.

The curse Devor once carried himself, devoured by Venom through the Boundless Seal rooted deep in his soul, was only bearable because of their bond.

Without that seal, Venom would never have been able to absorb such corruption—let alone help Forly carry his.

"I'll talk to him," Yulin offered, a kind glint in her eyes.

Devor didn't argue. He just nodded, watching as she crossed the garden and knelt beside the tiny violet bird, whose wings were tucked close in defeat.

She didn't scold him.

Instead, she spoke gently.

"You know," she said, "Devor has no patience for people who surrender to fate. Not because he's heartless—but because he refuses to let people abandon themselves."

Venom blinked, not meeting her gaze.

"He didn't start with any divine bloodline or high-tier Spiritual Root," Yulin continued. "He was just a farmer's apprentice with more dirt under his nails than most cultivators have in their entire lives."

She smiled faintly, brushing her fingers against a budding vine nearby. "But he clawed his way up. He made every step count. Even when others mocked him. Even when he didn't believe in himself."

Venom's throat tightened. "Was I wrong… to try this? Am I just… not made for it?"

"No," Yulin said, her tone firm but kind. "You weren't wrong. But if you really believe you're not strong enough—then why do you think Devor made you a body? Why do you think he brought you into this world?"

Venom glanced up, eyes shining with unfallen tears.

"Not to make you comfortable," she said gently. "To give you a path to walk. One that you could choose. Even if it hurts."

A breeze rolled across the field, rustling leaves and bending stalks, carrying the scent of soil and something unspoken.

Venom looked down at his tiny wings. He had been created from poison, born from a corrupted tree—but that didn't mean he was limited to destruction.

Maybe… he just needed to evolve beyond it.

Yulin's gentle but piercing words settled into his heart, something new stirred within Venom—not blind hope, not childish mimicry, but something steadier.

A fire.

But this time, it wasn't about becoming a Spiritual Farmer because Devor was one. It wasn't about admiration or wanting to follow in someone else's footsteps.

It was about proving—to himself—that he could create value, despite what he was born from.

That was the spark.

He didn't know much of the world yet. His life experience was still shallow, and the road ahead remained narrow and unclear. But one truth had become clear to him now:

When Devor used Venom's own power to revive the dying plant, it hadn't just been a display of mastery.

It had been a silent lesson.

A lesson about control—about turning something deadly into something that could heal and sustain.

"Maybe I was born carrying poison," Venom thought, his gaze intense as he looked at his trembling wings, "but what I do with it—that part's mine to choose."

He puffed out his tiny chest and marched back toward his garden patch like a miniature war general returning to the battlefield.

Confident. Committed.

Devor, still watching from a distance, blinked in surprise. "What in the world just happened?"

He turned toward Yulin, who was casually strolling back with her hands behind her back and an easy grin on her face.

"What… what did you say to him?" Devor asked, clearly baffled. "He was ready to give up five minutes ago. Now he's walking like he's cultivating for vengeance."

Yulin shrugged innocently. "Nothing much. Just gave him a wider lens to see himself through. Sometimes, clarity comes when you stop looking in the mirror and start looking at the mountain ahead."

Devor studied her with an almost suspicious expression. "Honestly… I'm starting to think the Boundless Seal would resonate better with your soul than mine."

Yulin raised a brow and tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Huh. That's actually not a bad idea. Tell you what—if you ever come across a Spiritual Tree with a steady grain and dense corewood, let me know. I'd like to see if I can form a bond."

Devor blinked. "Wait… corewood? You're not looking for spiritual affinity? Or resilience? Or at least medicinal value?"

She gave him a look like he was missing something obvious.

"Flying swords don't need to be forged from mythic alloys," Yulin said with a grin. "If a Spiritual Tree can provide high-quality, regenerating wood, I could forge disposable flying swords—light, fast, and replaceable mid-battle."

"Wait—disposable… flying swords?" Devor echoed slowly, his expression flattening as the full idea hit him.

Yulin nodded seriously. "You've seen sword cultivators summon five or ten blades at once. Imagine summoning a hundred. And then replacing all of them within minutes."

Devor just stared. "…That's insane."

"That's war," Yulin said with a wink.