Art of Creation [Eco-Cultivation Prototype]

Yulin's gaze lingered on Devor, watching as he drifted into his thoughts.

He was staring at the garden before him, but his mind was elsewhere.

She could sense it—the weight pressing down on him.

For all his intelligence, for all his ambition, Devor still hesitated when faced with the true rules of the Cultivation World.

And if he wanted to climb higher… he couldn't afford to.

No matter how much he might wish otherwise.

After a long pause, Devor finally spoke. "What about Senior Wulin and… Senior Liara?"

Yulin's expression didn't change.

"They know what happened," she replied calmly. "But they didn't say anything. They didn't take any action."

She studied Devor's face before asking, "Do you think they're cruel?"

Devor's brows furrowed slightly. "…Cruel?"

He wasn't sure how to answer that.

Senior Wulin had paid for an entire year's worth of orders—without hesitation, without negotiation.

On the surface, it had seemed like a show of trust.

But in reality?

He had done it deliberately—to push Devor further down.

Devor let out a slow breath.

"I thought he trusted me." The words felt heavy, like iron settling in his chest. "But he was just... Piling on more weight, adding to the burden that was already threatening to bring everything crashing down."

The realization was bitter.

Wulin's actions weren't ruthless—at least, not by the standards of the Cultivation World.

He had merely done what benefitted him most.

And in the end, that was all that mattered.

Even on Earth, wasn't it the same?

Devor exhaled. "And as for Senior Liara…"

The words caught in his throat.

Liara had been the first to guide him when he entered the Azure Sky Sect—before he had ever met Yulin.

In a way, she and Yulin were the two people he had been closest to.

And yet—

Liara had been the one who orchestrated the destruction of his garden in the past.

Not directly.

She had never dirtied her hands herself.

But one of her subordinates had worked under him, and she had been the one to guide that subordinate—step by step—on how to place the insects within the Spiritual Plants.

Devor's eyes darkened slightly.

"I knew Wulin's actions were for his own benefit," he admitted. "I could understand them."

But Liara?

He still didn't understand why she had gone so far.

He had never wronged her, nor had Yulin.

And yet—she had instinctively distanced herself from them.

Just like the others.

The same people who had worked against him…

Were now the same people trying to rebuild their relationship with him.

"Liara and Wulin only suffered minor losses," Yulin said, snapping him from his thoughts.

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She picked up a strawberry, rolling it between her fingers before taking a small bite. Then, after a moment, she added, "Like I explained in the letter I sent, their Cultivation Pills, raw resources, and other assets were poisoned and damaged—just enough to weaken them for a few months."

A warning.

One that had been loud and clear.

Devor nodded slightly.

It had been a reminder to them.

Yulin smirked. "Next time, you should do it yourself."

Devor looked up, meeting her gaze.

She leaned forward slightly, resting her chin on one hand, eyes gleaming with amusement.

"Ignoring the sect's rules and playing dirty right under their noses… it feels amazing." Her voice was light. Casual. Almost playful.

But Devor knew better.

Yulin had been the one to carry out the entire plan.

She was far more experienced—far more willing to cross the lines that Devor still hesitated to approach.

In truth, the sect hadn't cared what he did.

If he had chosen to eliminate everyone involved, they would have helped him do it quietly.

This was the importance of status and backing.

Not just in the Cultivation World.

Even on Earth, wasn't it the same?

Justice?

Nothing more than a performance—a carefully maintained illusion for the masses.

Beneath the surface, justice was meaningless.

What mattered was self-interest.

Whether for power, wealth, or ego, every action was dictated by what one stood to gain.

And he had played by those rules his entire life without realizing it.

Devor looked down at his own hand.

For some reason, his fingers felt colder than before.

He slowly curled them into a fist.

If Liara and Wulin had pushed things further—

If they had refused to accept the warning—

Would he have been able to do something truly ruthless?

He wasn't sure.

And that uncertainty unsettled him more than anything.

But deep down, he already knew the answer.

Because if he wanted to climb higher, if he wanted to control his own fate in this world—

Hesitation wasn't an option.

Devor sighed, rubbing his temples. "Sorry, Sister Yulin. Because of me, your relationship with Senior Liara has become strained."

Once, Yulin and Liara had been as close as sisters. But now, everything had changed.

And Yulin had chosen his side.

But instead of resentment, Yulin simply smiled—light, careless, completely unbothered.

"No need to pity me." Her voice was steady, unaffected. "I get along with a lot of people. I can socialize easily, blend into any crowd. But that doesn't mean I can't let them go when the time comes."

She said it so casually, as if relationships were no different than old robes—discarded the moment they became inconvenient.

Devor studied her, something like curiosity flickering in his gaze.

How did Yulin become this way?

How did she carry such certainty?

As if nothing—not even bonds forged over years—could shake her.

Yulin met his gaze head-on.

"In the Cultivation World, being good or evil doesn't matter." She reached for a grape, rolling it between her fingers before popping it into her mouth.

"To survive the cruelty of human nature, you have to be adaptable. One day, you might even have to draw your sword against your own friends and family." Her words were spoken so plainly, yet Devor felt the weight of them.

Draw his sword against… friends?

He forced a small smile. "Then… does Sister Yulin trust me?"

Yulin smirked, her gaze flickering with amusement.

"You already gave me three Orb Flying Swords."Her voice carried a teasing lilt. "Of course, I trust you. If you give me six more, I might even follow you around like your little shadow."

Devor stroked his chin, pretending to consider the offer seriously. "Tempting."

Yulin laughed, the sound carrying an effortless charm—a warmth that softened the underlying edge of her words.

But when she stopped, her gaze turned thoughtful.

"Honestly," she mused, "out of everyone I've ever met, you're the strangest."

Devor blinked.

"Me?" He pointed at himself, frowning slightly.

Yulin nodded.

"Most mortals who enter the cultivation world crave power. The moment they step into a sect, they fight for resources, seek teachers, push themselves to advance as quickly as possible." She tilted her head. "But you…?"

Her voice slowed, her gaze narrowing slightly. "You arrived at the sect, became a Cultivator… and focused on gardening."

Her words weren't mocking.

Just genuinely perplexed.

"It was like the outside world didn't matter to you—like it was all an illusion."

Devor shifted slightly, feeling a strange discomfort settle in his chest. "What's so strange about that? Plenty of Senior Spiritual Farmers do the same."

Yulin's smirk deepened.

"No. It is strange." Her voice carried a quiet conviction. "Even Senior Spiritual Farmers—those who dedicate their lives to tending fields—fought for power first. Because in the early stages of cultivation, you need strength to survive."

Her eyes sharpened, watching his reaction. "But you? From the very beginning, you acted like some old gardener, completely detached from everything else."

Devor couldn't argue.

Because… she wasn't wrong.

Yulin leaned back, arms crossed.

"It's not just that." Her voice turned more curious, more calculating. "You seem like someone who grew up in a sheltered greenhouse—someone who's never truly experienced hardship."

She paused before adding,

"If you had come from a powerful family, raised behind golden gates with servants at your call, that would make sense. But you're from a small village." Her eyes gleamed. "A village that struggled just to afford simple luxuries."

She tilted her head slightly. "Tell me, Devor… how does someone from such a place carry himself like a scholar? How does a village boy approach life with such calm detachment—like he's already lived through everything before?"

Devor's pulse quickened.

For the first time, he felt genuinely unnerved.

Because she was right.

She had been watching him closely—far more closely than he had ever realized.

And now, piece by piece, she was putting the puzzle together.

"You're like a child who lived peacefully, somehow ended up in this sect, and still managed to keep a pure and naïve heart." Her smirk deepened. "It's as if you're disconnected from this world—like your personality doesn't match the life experiences you should have had."

Devor's fingers tensed slightly against the wooden table.

"It's almost as if… you've always been this way." Her voice lowered slightly. "Never changing at all."

Never changing.

Because he wasn't born in this world to begin with.

Devor felt a chill creep down his spine.

If she kept going, would she uncover the truth?

Would she realize that the Devor she knew—

Was never supposed to exist in this world at all?