Art of Creation [Eco-Cultivation Prototype]

At first, Zinqi had expected a strong reaction from Devor—perhaps anger, doubt, or even a demand for more answers.

But after the initial shock, Devor remained remarkably calm.

There was no outburst, no sign of rebellion.

Zinqi studied him carefully.

Most people, upon learning they were pawns in a greater game, would feel resentment or defiance. But Devor?

He merely accepted it.

This wasn't ignorance or naivety—it was understanding.

Devor had long since grasped the reality of the world. Fairness, warmth, and happiness existed—but they were not the natural state of existence.

What defined life was struggle.

And whether he was being used or not didn't matter—so long as he knew how to turn the situation to his advantage.

"For our conversation here," Zinqi said, his tone even, "you'll need to keep it to yourself in the future. If this information gets out, it could cause public unrest."

Something in that phrasing struck Devor as odd.

Zinqi wasn't concerned about powerful factions learning their plans.

He was worried about the public reaction.

Which meant…

The major forces of the cultivation world already knew.

Devor's gaze sharpened slightly.

"So," he asked, "the actions of the Ten Sect Alliance—they're already known to the other major powers, aren't they?"

Zinqi glanced at him, a flicker of approval in his eyes.

Devor had figured it out on his own.

"They're not fools," Zinqi admitted. "Forming an alliance between ten of the most powerful sects—that's not something done without reason. Every major force operates in the same way—we just have different methods."

Devor frowned, deep in thought. "If that's the case, wouldn't the people from the Immortal World catch on sooner or later?"

If the Immortal Sects understood that the mortal world was plotting against them, wouldn't that render all of this meaningless?

Zinqi chuckled softly, his expression unreadable.

"Of course," he replied. "But think of it as a chess game—none of us can simply walk away. Each side has something they want."

"Alright," Juyin interrupted, his gaze shifting to Devor. "We're straying from the main topic."

He folded his arms and regarded Devor carefully.

"So, what do you think? Are you interested in making a deal with me? And, of course, you can make any request in return—I'll help however I can."

Devor met Juyin's gaze and finally grasped the true weight of what was being offered.

This wasn't just about taking ownership of the Venom Spiritual Tree.

It was a long-term investment—one that could tie him directly into the power struggles of the cultivation world.

But for Devor, this was exactly what he needed.

He smiled. "Of course, Senior. I'll accept."

A flicker of interest passed through Juyin's expression.

Devor's response was swift, confident—no hesitation, no doubt.

Just like a cultivator who had already seen the bigger picture.

After a brief pause, Devor leaned forward slightly.

"Senior," he said, "have you seen the garden next to the Venom Spiritual Tree?"

Juyin arched an eyebrow. "The one with the energy veil above it?"

Devor nodded. "What do you think of it?"

Juyin sighed inwardly.

He already knew what Devor was trying to accomplish.

After all, he had watched the recordings of Devor's garden during the competition.

What Devor was attempting was nothing short of manifesting the power of his Dao Embryo into the physical world.

But without direct access to that power, he had to rely on the energy within the garden itself—using it to form a protective layer.

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And against all odds…

He had succeeded.

Juyin took a moment before responding.

"Your garden is unique," he admitted. "That energy layer has turned it into a paradise for Spiritual Plants, allowing them to reach a more advanced state than before."

Devor's eyes gleamed.

Juyin continued, his tone thoughtful.

"Your garden doesn't just accelerate growth—it evolves the properties of Spiritual Plants, enhancing the potency of their natural effects." He paused before adding, "Particularly for poison-based plants."

Devor's expression brightened.

"Then, Senior," he said, voice filled with enthusiasm, "would you be willing to sponsor me in introducing this garden to the cultivation world when the time comes?"

Juyin blinked. "…Sponsor you?"

Zinqi, however, wasn't surprised at all.

He had already anticipated this move.

Devor wasn't just thinking about his own cultivation—he was thinking strategically, planning to introduce a new concept into the cultivation world itself.

Devor nodded firmly.

"Yes, to market this product," he clarified. "I can use Floating Islands to create portable gardens. So far, I've only successfully developed one type—for Poison-element plants. I call it the Venom Garden."

Juyin's interest was piqued.

"Since Senior is a Poison Master," Devor continued, "you could be the first to test the portable garden. Try growing different plants, experiment with its functions—see what works and what doesn't."

His tone became more serious. "That way, my product gains credibility in the eyes of the public."

Zinqi's gaze sharpened.

A bold move.

By tying his invention to Juyin's reputation, Devor was ensuring that it would spread quickly—but more importantly, it would cement his connection to Juyin in the eyes of the cultivation world.

Juyin chuckled. "You're a cunning one, aren't you?"

Devor, however, remained serious.

"I want you to be honest in your review of the portable garden," he said. "If there are flaws, I want to know. I'll improve it until it's perfect."

Juyin studied him for a moment, then let out a small laugh. "You're not just looking to profit, are you?"

Devor smiled. "No."

His goal wasn't just money—

It was credibility. Trust. Influence.

And in the early stages of reshaping the cultivation world, reputation was everything.

This was the foundation of his legacy.

And he had no intention of failing.

❄️❄️❄️

In the farthest reaches of the Azure Sky Sect's territory, nestled between secluded courtyards and empty alleys, stood a quiet weapon shop.

Inside, a woman stood alone.

Yulin.

Her long, obsidian hair cascaded down her back, framing a face of striking beauty. But it wasn't just her appearance that commanded attention—it was her presence.

A quiet, refined pressure radiated from her, drawing the unconscious stares of every man who crossed her path.

Over the past year, something about her had changed. Her aura had grown sharper, colder, making even those who didn't know her instinctively wary.

The shop was eerily silent.

The only people present were Yulin and the shopkeeper, who stood stiffly behind the counter, looking deeply uncomfortable.

From the back room, a middle-aged man stepped out.

Yulin met his gaze, expression unreadable. "Everything is still in place, isn't it?"

Her voice was calm.

Too calm.

The man took a few hesitant steps forward before bowing deeply. His posture dripped with reverence and unease.

"…My apologies, My Lady." He hesitated. "The next generation of the Fu family has discovered some of your hidden treasure stashes and taken them for themselves."

Yulin's gaze sharpened. "How much was lost?"

The man swallowed. "At least… seventy percent of your assets are gone."

A quiet crack echoed through the shop.

The counter had splintered under Yulin's tightening grip.

"Seventy percent?" A chill crept into the air, seeping into the shopkeeper's bones.

"I— I beg for your forgiveness, My Lady!" The middle-aged man dropped to his knees, his forehead nearly touching the ground.

Yulin clenched her teeth, suppressing the storm in her chest.

How in the world did seventy percent of her hidden assets just vanish?

She took a slow breath, fingers pressing lightly against her temple.

Her subordinates were proving to be more incompetent than she had hoped.

"…Did you bring the items I requested?"

"Yes, My Lady!"

The man scrambled to his feet and, with trembling hands, offered her a spatial ring.

Yulin took it, inspecting the contents.

Stacks of ancient books, rare seeds, and alchemy ingredients filled its storage space.

Finally, her lips curled slightly. "Good."

The middle-aged man exhaled in relief.

But then—

"Go back." Yulin's voice turned cold. "Recover what's mine."

The man stiffened. He opened his mouth as if to protest but, seeing the look in Yulin's eyes, quickly swallowed his words. "…Understood."

But before he could turn away, he hesitated.

Carefully, he retrieved something from his own spatial ring.

A flying sword.

Crimson-gold in color, its blade hummed faintly with sealed power.

"We… only managed to recover three of your nine flying swords, My Lady." The man held it out with both hands, voice laced with guilt. "Given your current level, you should at least be able to handle one of them."

Yulin's gaze flickered. "…Only three?"

"The remaining six were distributed among six heirs of the Fu family," the man explained. "They are… competing for them."

Yulin's expression darkened. "Competing?"

"The young heirs are using them to prove who is the strongest and has the greatest potential to obtain the flying sword." He hesitated before adding, "The one who proves themselves worthy will claim the remaining five weapons."

Yulin let out a slow exhale, rubbing the bridge of her nose.

Typical.

The Fu family had always been like this.

This was exactly why she wanted to leave this world behind.

A moment passed before she reached for the sword—

But then, she stopped.

Her fingers hovered just above the blade.

Something unreadable flickered through her eyes.

Then—

She retracted her hand. "Take it back."

The man stiffened. "But My Lady, your safety—"

"You underestimate me?" Yulin pulled three small orbs from her robes.

In an instant, they expanded, shifting into three floating swords—each one brimming with sharp, refined killing intent.

The middle-aged man swallowed hard.

"I can already control three at once," Yulin remarked. "Why would I limit myself to using just one?"

Her voice carried an undeniable finality.

The man bowed deeply. "…Understood, My Lady."

Yulin turned toward the door, but before stepping outside, she spoke again—

"Oh, and one more thing."

The middle-aged man froze.

"Keep an eye on a girl named Yiru Fu."

His brow furrowed. "Yiru Fu…?"

His instincts immediately sharpened.

The Fu family had many internal rivalries, but Yiru Fu's name wasn't one he had expected to hear.

"Do you have a conflict with her, My Lady?"

"No." Yulin's voice was eerily light. "But she hurt my little brother." Her tone dropped, carrying an edge of frost. "…And left him hurt."

A silence settled in the shop.

The middle-aged man could practically feel the temperature drop.

Yulin's back was turned to him, but even from behind, her presence was stifling.

Then—

She stepped out of the shop and disappeared into the streets.

The middle-aged man remained frozen, his face a mixture of shock and understanding.

He had seen many terrible things in his life.

But one thing he had never seen—

Was someone who angered Yulin and lived to tell the tale.

If Yiru Fu had truly made an enemy of her…

Her life was about to become very, very difficult.