Art of Creation [Eco-Cultivation Prototype]

After several minutes of smooth travel across a wind-carved corridor in the clouds, the Azure Sky Sect's fleet finally approached the massive platform that supported Heavenly Cloud City.

The floating city hung in the air like a celestial fortress, anchored by arrays that shimmered faintly with the power of the sky itself. Spiraling towers rose from its center like mountain peaks, each one wrapped in clouds and glowing veins of spiritual light.

As the wyvern descended, Devor squinted into the shifting wind. For a moment, he almost mistook the city for a mirage—so perfect was its symmetry and balance.

When they finally landed, the wyvern's talons clicked against the marble-like landing platform, releasing a deep rumble through its throat before settling down.

Immediately, Sect Master Zinqi, Hall Master Leifu, and Master Nie dismounted and made their way toward the Sky Meeting Hall—where the leaders of all sects were already convened in discussion.

With practiced efficiency, Korin, the wyvern rider and Core Disciple of the host sect, stepped forward and addressed the rest of the Azure Sky Sect.

"This way, disciples. Your accommodations have been prepared. Senior members will be escorted separately by Heavenly Cloud Sect elders."

The group split accordingly, each sect member falling into formation with quiet reverence.

Devor walked alongside Yulin, Qiun, and Ronin, his gaze constantly shifting as he took in the grandeur of the city. But it was the banners flapping in the wind that drew his full attention—nine different insignias, each with its own weight and legacy.

From the Central Continent, three legendary sects led the assembly:

Heavenly Cloud Sect, the hosts and experts in aerial and beast-based cultivation.

Ninefold Lotus Sect, famed for their transcendental dual cultivation methods and near-perfect harmony-based techniques.

Sixfold Dao Sect, cultivators of paradox and layered enlightenment, said to house philosophers capable of bending Dao logic to their will.

From the peripheral territories, including distant oceans, wild mountain ranges, and secluded valleys, came the outer-region sects:

Azure Sky Sect, Devor's home.

Radiant Sanctum Sect, light-aspect cultivators and Divine Rune specialists.

Crimson Bloom Sect, a shadowy group focused on bloodline awakening and charm-based techniques.

Solar Vein Sect, known for cultivating under high-heat and volcanic conditions, producing raw power and body cultivators of unmatched fortitude.

And then, there were the guests—the ones who didn't belong to the human sects at all:

The Elf Race, bearers of ancient plant and life magic, hailing from the Eternal Canopy Forest.

The Dragon Race, the last remaining echoes of a once-mythical lineage.

Devor's gaze lingered at the mention of the Dragon Race.

They were an enigma—neither fully beast nor fully human. Humanoid in shape, but bearing physical traits like wings, horns, and scale-lined skin, their appearance exuded latent majesty and raw pressure.

But unlike the stories of golden-scaled titans soaring across the heavens, this Dragon Race was something else entirely: abandoned descendants of the True Dragons, who had long withdrawn from the world.

What was left behind was a powerful yet dwindling bloodline—unable to propagate without partners of near-equal genetic might. The tragedy of their race lay not in their power—but in their loneliness. Few cultivators could match them, and even fewer dared to try.

"How does a race like that survive?" Devor thought, unable to stop the curiosity from creeping in. "Do they seek Dao companions just to continue their lineage? Or... have they already given up on growing their numbers altogether?"

As Korin guided them through the main avenue leading toward their temporary residence, he suddenly turned and made an announcement.

"In two weeks, the Inter-Sect Grand Duel will begin. Those interested may register at the Central Pavilion. A representative from our sect will assist you. The earlier you sign up, the better the match assignments."

His voice carried clearly, but without any urgency. Still, several disciples perked up. Even Ronin nudged Devor with an elbow. "Think you'll sign up?"

Devor gave a small shake of his head. "Not really interested."

Yet even as he said it, his gaze shifted involuntarily toward Longjin, who walked several paces ahead, aloof and unbothered. His steps were quiet, composed. Too composed.

"He's not planning to compete?" Devor wondered, surprised. "With his power, he could probably crush the entire tournament without breaking a sweat."

A quiet pressure lingered around Longjin's form. Not heavy enough to suffocate—but potent enough to remind every nearby cultivator to keep their distance.

It wasn't just strength. It was presence. One cultivated from battle, life-threatening trials, and a focus sharp enough to cleave the heavens.

"Of course, the competition comes with generous rewards," Korin continued, his tone crisp with authority. "But let me be clear—during these duels, the referee won't step in unless someone actively surrenders. Even the slightest delay can cost you. Any consequences that follow? You'll bear them."

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His sharp gaze swept across the Azure Sky Sect disciples like a blade, warning each of them not to treat this like one of their cozy, protected sparring sessions back at home.

This wasn't training. It was battle—with prestige, power, and pride on the line.

Devor's expression stiffened, his decision solidifying. He had already been unsure about signing up, but now he was absolutely certain—this wasn't for him. Not yet.

This wasn't some friendly match under the shade of a Spirit Tree. This was the kind of fight that left bones shattered and futures altered.

"The duel is not the centerpiece of this gathering," Korin added, letting the weight of his warning settle before changing tone. "Its real purpose is to broaden your understanding of cultivation and exchange insight with disciples from other sects. The Disciples Exchange Hall is open to all. You'll find it in the eastern quadrant, just outside the residential compound."

Devor had already spotted the towering white building on their approach. Graceful, dome-roofed, and wrapped in silver runes, it resembled a temple of knowledge more than a meeting hall.

After confirming everyone had heard him, Korin gave a polite farewell and departed, his posture sharp and composed as ever.

Devor stood in place, still holding the bronze key to his temporary quarters, when he felt a gentle tap on his shoulder.

He turned.

Yulin stood there, one hand resting on her hip, her expression a mix of amusement and something softer—concern, maybe?

"I've got something I need to take care of," she said with a subtle smile. "Why don't you explore a little? You've got free time, don't you?"

Devor raised a brow. "I'm not a child, Sister Yulin."

Her grin widened. "No? Because every time we leave the sect, you follow me around like a baby duckling. I'm just making sure you don't get lost."

"I—" Devor opened his mouth to argue… then closed it again.

Because she wasn't wrong. Looking back, he had followed her like a shadow since the moment they left the Azure Sky Sect.

"You need to grow up, Brother Devor!" Venom chirped proudly from his shoulder, flapping his tiny wings like a schoolteacher delivering a lecture. "Blazing your own trail is what makes a cultivator shine!"

Devor shot the bird a tired look.

"This coming from a tree who still clings to my shoulder like a pet parrot..." Devor thought.

"I'll be fine," he muttered. "Go take care of whatever it is you need to do."

Yulin gave a small, satisfied nod and turned to go. Her figure quickly disappeared among the walkways that branched like veins across the city.

But Devor noticed something strange. Longjin had also vanished—slipping away without a word just minutes earlier.

"Probably a coincidence," Devor murmured aloud.

But the unease in his chest lingered.

"Come on, Brother Devor! Time to stand on your own two talons and embrace the wilderness of civilization!" Venom declared, puffing out his bird chest like a miniature emperor.

Devor sighed. "Talons? You don't even have claws right now. You've got twigs."

Venom huffed indignantly, clearly ignoring the insult.

Still, as Devor stood at the threshold of the residential wing, gazing out toward the vibrant city that shimmered beyond its arches, a weight settled on his shoulders.

The kind of weight that had nothing to do with physical burden—but with identity.

"Forty years… and I still feel like I'm trying to figure out who I am."

Even after dying once and being reborn into a world of magic and spirit roots, Devor still found himself haunted by awkward hesitations, mild anxieties, and the occasional misplaced fear of failure.

Maybe it was because cultivators didn't age in the same way. Their bodies matured slowly, their minds even more so. Strength could outpace experience—and that imbalance showed in moments like this.

Or maybe maturity wasn't tied to age at all.

Maybe it came from enduring limitations, facing truths, and bearing the scars of failure with your eyes open.

And if that was the case...

He still had a long way to go.

After unpacking and checking out his temporary quarters, Devor found himself pleasantly surprised. The space was modest but serene, its walls adorned with delicate scrollwork and hanging charms that pulsed faintly with spiritual energy. A row of potted spiritual plants lined the far window, their quiet aura exuding peace. Their presence wasn't just decorative—they resonated with harmony, naturally cleansing and balancing the qi in the room.

It was the kind of room that made him forget he was a thousand meters in the air.

If he didn't know better, he might've thought someone had prepared it just for him.

Venom flitted from shoulder to shelf, curiously sniffing at the foliage before settling back onto Devor's shoulder with a pleased chirp.

"This city knows how to treat its guests," Devor murmured, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

With his belongings stored and his mind cleared, he decided to take a walk.

Heavenly Cloud City wasn't merely a floating fortress—it was a marvel of cultivation engineering.

Tall structures, built from a brilliant pale stone that shimmered faintly in the light, rose around him like elegant towers reaching into the heavens. Bridges of light qi connected different layers of the city, flowing like gentle rivers between peaks.

Despite its scale, there was no noise, no chaos—only a tranquil energy that seemed to imbue the air itself.

Even the wind felt lighter here.

He wandered past various shops and merchant stalls that had been set up for the summit. Although the city was normally restricted to Heavenly Cloud Sect disciples, the summit had relaxed many rules. Elite vendors had been invited to offer their wares, creating a marketplace that rivaled any secular festival in vibrancy.

There were golden-sugar lotus fruits from the Southern Glade Pavilion, flame-seared mantis skewers roasted in spiritual fire, and even enchanted talismans that flickered with living runes.

Heavenly Cloud City had become a festival of flavor, curiosity, and craft.

Despite the elegance of their surroundings, cultivators were still human. They loved good food, fine clothing, and rare trinkets just like anyone else—especially those on the brink of a breakthrough who needed moments of indulgence to clear their hearts.

Devor paused in front of a stall, the scent of something savory drawing him in.

The vendor handed him a bamboo skewer with four roasted balls—each sizzling gently in an invisible layer of spiritual heat.

The outer layer was slightly crisped, with a thin glaze of fermented honey and red flame powder. He took one bite—

—and the flavor bloomed like a Qi Burst Pill in his mouth.

The meat was tender, spiced perfectly, with just enough heat to make his chest warm. He blinked. "Wow."

Venom leaned forward eagerly. "That smells divine. Gimme!"

Devor handed over the second skewer, watching as the tiny bird practically inhaled it.

"Not seeds," Venom chirped, chewing with glee. "But this stuff could actually compete with the grains Sister Yulin gives me!"

Devor raised an eyebrow. "Now that's high praise. I've offered you stuff like this before, but you always turned me down."

"That's because your cooking can't compare to Sister Yulin's seeds," Venom replied smugly, licking his beak.

"How would you even know? You've never tried my cooking!"

"Oh, I did," Venom said proudly. "I snuck a bite when you weren't looking. Once was enough."

Devor's eye twitched. He couldn't even be mad. It was true—his cooking had always been… practical at best.

Still, one thought refused to leave his mind.

Why seeds?

Venom was, at his core, a Spiritual Tree, not a bird. The bird form was temporary, a spiritual avatar. He didn't need seeds—or at least, not exclusively.

Devor's gaze grew contemplative. "Could Sister Yulin be reinforcing your identity as a bird?"

Venom blinked. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," Devor muttered.

Was it just playful mischief on Yulin's part? Or was she deliberately nudging Venom's consciousness toward something new?

With a sigh, Devor gave his forehead a soft smack.

Knowing Yulin, it could be either. Or both.

She had once forged a spiritual flying sword that spun mid-air and made passengers sick just to prank him—then insisted it was a "flight-training tool."