Art of Creation [Eco-Cultivation Prototype]

Devor had no idea what kind of phenomenon he was stirring as he locked horns with Leifu in a fierce Dao Debate. He only knew that every word, every rebuttal, struck directly at the flaws in his own philosophy—exposing weaknesses he hadn't even known existed.

His mind worked at breakneck speed. With each exchange, his thoughts were torn down and rebuilt, answers reshaped, convictions refined. His soul was under siege, but instead of retreating, he pushed forward, his understanding crystallizing in real time.

He knew now that a being's nature couldn't be rewritten—not completely. You couldn't simply command a plant to evolve past what it was born to be. Instincts rooted in its very essence couldn't just be trimmed away like excess leaves.

But Devor came from Earth—a world of systems, structure, and soft domination.

"On Mortals area," he said, eyes narrowed in thought, "we had something called the education system. It didn't change your nature. But it sculpted behavior. It dulled certain instincts. Sharpened others."

Even as he spoke, his subconscious churned. Insights welled up and layered themselves upon the Poison Codex—pages of theory and practice taking root in his mind without conscious effort. This wasn't trial-and-error experimentation. This was breakthrough-level evolution—birthed not in silence, but in conflict.

"Put a violent soul in a peaceful world," he continued. "The aggression doesn't vanish—but it sinks, like sediment in a still pond. And in its place? Something else rises."

Leifu's gaze deepened, contemplative and quietly amused. He said nothing, allowing Devor's thoughts to stretch.

Across the deck, silent watchers held their breath. The shimmering Dao phenomenon had stabilized into a vast domain: golden and violet lotus flowers floating amid swirling light, the silhouette of a great tree at its center—now crowned by a black phoenix, its wings unfurled across the sky like a constellation.

A living vision of Devor's philosophy.

The stronger the chaos, the more valuable the balance that emerged from it.

"You shape nature," Leifu said finally, voice cool as drifting fog. "But is that harmony… or tyranny? You suppress what you find ugly, elevate what you find useful—and call that cultivation."

Devor's pen never stopped moving. He jotted Leifu's question down without hesitation, writing his counterargument beside it.

"It's both," he answered softly. "I won't deny it. I am a tyrant in my garden. But tyrants don't just destroy. They also build. My plants—my creations—are stronger than they would have ever been if left to grow wild. Because they're shaped with purpose."

For a moment, Leifu simply watched him.

His expression was unreadable, but inwardly he was stunned. This wasn't the same boy who once fumbled through plant beds, searching for harmony in silence. This was someone who had stepped into his own Dao—a cultivator shaping his world by will.

"Life, death, and chaos…" Devor murmured, fingers curling slightly. "They're all part of nature's evolution. Nature itself wasn't born in peace. It was forged in fire and failure—millions of collapses, rebirths, and adaptations."

"If I impose control over it now, then I'm simply walking the same path it once walked on its own."

Silence stretched.

Then—Leifu smiled.

"You've made yourself a tyrant over nature. But until you can be accepted by it—until nature submits willingly—you haven't become one with it. You've only bent it."

Devor stayed silent, offering no rebuttal. But his silence wasn't defeat—it was understanding.

Leifu didn't push the matter. His final words weren't a condemnation, but a tempered acknowledgment. A reminder that conviction meant little without proof, and truth—real, enduring truth—only bloomed through success, not theory.

The sharp edge of their Dao Debate began to dull. The heat that had once burned in every syllable slowly faded as the tide of their discourse shifted from profound insight back toward grounded contemplation.

And as if following their cue, the dazzling vision suspended above the Immortal Boat began to fade. The luminous lotus petals, the radiant tree illusions, the shimmering aura that had surrounded Devor and Leifu—it all began to dissipate like morning mist under the sun.

Until—

Whooom!

In one final surge, Devor's phenomenon erupted again—brighter, deeper, more resplendent than before.

Gasps rippled across the deck.

Three distinct layers unfolded in the air above him, as if the heavens themselves had opened to glimpse his Dao.

First Layer: The Harmonized Garden

A sprawling, radiant garden emerged. Multicolored light flowed between the plants in synchronized pulses—each rhythm perfectly complementing the others. The garden was alive not only with spirit energy but with intention. It wasn't natural harmony—it was forged harmony, born from conflict and tamed by force. A living testament to balance carved from chaos.

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Second Layer: The Spiritual Tree Conclave

A circle of towering trees bloomed into existence, arranged in sacred symmetry. At the center stood a luminous Golden Spiritual Tree, its trunk wrapped in ethereal patterns of time and life.

Around it, eleven other trees formed a ring—each emitting its own subtle aura. One among them was unmistakable: the Venom Spiritual Tree, shrouded in purple-black mist, its leaves gleaming like polished obsidian. The remaining trees shimmered without full form—vague outlines, awaiting identity.

Above this conclave, a Black-and-Gold Lotus bloomed in stillness. Coiled atop it, wings spread wide, was a manifestation of venomous divinity—a Black Phoenix, pulsing with predatory grace.

Third Layer: The Awaiting Will

High above all, an orb of soft, untainted white light floated alone. Its shape incomplete, its core unreadable—yet vast in potential. It radiated calm… and uncertainty. The future of the garden. The soul of the tyrant. A figure yet to choose what it will become.

And then—silence.

The entire phenomenon collapsed in on itself like a receding tide, vanishing without a trace.

But its presence lingered in the minds of everyone who had witnessed it.

Disciples across the deck were still seated in meditation, many with glazed eyes and furrowed brows—each having gained something. A sliver of inspiration. A sudden clarity. An unspoken truth.

That was the power of Dao resonance.

Even if the path one walked was filled with thorns, its truth could still illuminate others.

Dao was not confined by discipline or title. It was the undercurrent of all cultivation. A swordmaster might grasp pacifism. An alchemist might unlock the meaning of death. A spiritual farmer might glimpse divinity in poison.

And here, Devor—half-wielder, half-heretic—had left dozens inspired in his wake.

As Devor emerged from the haze of focus and insight, he blinked in surprise. The sky was deep with stars. The air crisp with night.

He turned—and paused.

A crowd had gathered around the debate circle. Even Longjin, the terrifying Core Disciple whose spiritual presence had nearly crushed him earlier, stood there—his crimson eyes alight with curiosity.

Nearby, Master Nie continued sipping tea as if nothing had happened. Calm, unreadable.

And above?

Devor's heart dropped.

Venom, in his small bird form, was floating proudly in the air—releasing spiritual energy to project the Black Phoenix again, a second time.

Complete with glittering feather trails.

"What are you doing?!" Devor snapped through their mental link.

"I'm showing off our power!" Venom chirped, radiant with pride.

"You're a tree! Not a bird! You don't even have feathers!"

"Correction: I'm a Phoenix-Grade Venom Spiritual Tree in the form of a bird! Get it right, Brother Devor!"

"…Since when can you turn into a Phoenix?!"

"Ever since I decided it would look cool!"

Devor's face stiffened.

"You're evolving backward."

"I'm evolving upward. You just can't handle my style!"

Devor honestly felt like Venom was beyond saving.

If the sentient tree ever gained a real humanoid body in the future, there was a very real chance it would look like a smug, smugly feathered Phoenix.

Sure, Devor could forcibly revert Venom's appearance back to something more fitting, but that would only validate Venom's behavior—and he wasn't about to reward insanity.

So he just let him stay in that ridiculous flaming bird form… for now.

As the final shimmer of the vision faded, the pressure lifted. The vibrant lotus, the radiant tree conclave, the blazing Phoenix—all disappeared like a dream at dawn.

Around them, disciples slowly approached in respectful silence. One by one, they bowed—not just to Hall Master Leifu, but to Devor.

Each bowed deeply.

Not because of status.

Not because of fear.

But because they had witnessed a true cultivator's Dao unfold before their eyes—and it had changed them.

Natural phenomena like the one born of Devor and Leifu's Dao debate weren't common occurrences. They were legendary, the kind of events spoken of in scrolls and memorial tablets.

To the disciples gathered here, this wasn't just inspiration—it was an opportunity worth a lifetime of closed-door cultivation.

And as they left, many did so with trembling hands, eager to meditate on what they had just seen… and on what they had felt.

Devor, still rooted to the spot, could barely process it.

Then—Yulin's voice entered his mind like a calming breeze.

"You've helped them advance."

"Their Cultivation foundations… their insights… even the bottlenecks some of them faced—your vision cracked those barriers."

She explained gently that this wasn't just a spectacle—it was a gift.

Devor's Dao had resonated so deeply, it had carved pathways into the hearts of those around him. And while the effect would vary for each person, the ripples it had created were real—and lasting.

She also reminded him that this kind of phenomenon was rare. Unrepeatable, even. Even if he debated Leifu again, there was no guarantee something like this would happen a second time.

"So don't waste it. Every cultivator gets only a handful of moments like this in their entire path."

Understanding the gravity of what had just occurred, Devor finally straightened. He bowed in return, hands clasped respectfully to the crowd that had lingered.

"Thank you for witnessing my Path. I hope it brought you something valuable."

As he raised his head, a new wave of energy surged inside him—

And then, his vision shimmered.

[Ultimate Comprehension has risen to Level 5]

[Host's comprehension ability has reached a critical threshold.]

[Enlightenment Realm functions have evolved.]

Devor's body stiffened.

[You may now access the Enlightenment Realm for custom time intervals. Spending 100 Enlightenment Points grants 30 minutes within.]

[While inside the Enlightenment Realm, all knowledge may be refined—not just the System's database.]

[Warning: This resource will grow more difficult to access.]

[After 1,000 total points have been used, cost per session will double exponentially.]

A cold sweat ran down his back.

"The Enlightenment Realm… has evolved?"

Until now, that pocket world had only ever supported his comprehension of system-derived manuals or fragments pulled from books. A helpful tool, yes—but it had boundaries. Filters.

Now?

He could refine any insight.

Test any theory.

Simulate any technique.

And accelerate his mastery far beyond what mere time could offer.

This wasn't just a tool anymore.

This was a sacred ground.

A crucible for forging not just his future techniques—but his Dao itself.

And more than that, the system's warning about exponential cost carried a subtle message:

This realm is a gift—and a trap.

Used unwisely, he could become addicted to its power. He could stagnate, losing his edge in real-world understanding and experience.

But used well?

He could surpass everyone.

The thought gripped him—intoxicating and terrifying.

This wasn't some minor update. This was a true breakthrough.

He closed the system window slowly, taking a deep breath to clear his mind.

Behind him, Leifu and Master Nie had begun to chat again, casually dissecting the debate they'd just shared. But even Master Nie, with all his composed elegance, threw an occasional glance toward Devor—one laced with admiration.

And in the sky above, Venom was still flapping around like he'd won a war.

"I'm putting in for the sect's title of Divine Phoenix Tree!" Venom chirped proudly.

Devor's eye twitched.

"I'm disowning you as my partner if you keep this up."

"You say that, but you'd miss me if I died."

"You're a tree. You can't even die normally."

"Which makes me even more divine."

Devor groaned inwardly.

But even so, a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

He was one step closer to mastering not just the Poison Codex, or even the Venom Domain—but the truth of who he was becoming.