Devor sat cross-legged beneath a towering, otherworldly tree. Its leaves shimmered with a deep purple hue, rippling like liquid amethyst under the faint evening light. The trunk, a curious blend of brown and violet, pulsed with an almost imperceptible energy—one that called to him, luring him into its depths.

  With slow, controlled breaths, Devor quieted his thoughts and reached out, attempting to forge a connection with the ancient tree’s essence. He could feel it—a vast, potent force, dark and venomous, coiling beneath the bark like a slumbering beast.

  Then, without warning—

  A surge of energy lashed out, slamming straight into the dark glow forming between his brows.

  A violent force ripped through his meridians, sending him hurtling backward. His body crashed against the base of the tree, and a sickening shock coursed through his limbs. A sharp, metallic taste filled his mouth as he coughed violently, expelling a mouthful of blackened liquid onto the ground.

  The dark glow between his brows flickered—then vanished without a trace.

  A soft sigh reached his ears.

  "You’re too impatient."

  The voice was calm, devoid of sympathy.

  Devor looked up to see a tall, imposing man clad in immaculate white Taoist robes. His hands were clasped behind his back, his expression unreadable.

  "Senior Juyin," Devor greeted hoarsely.

  Juyin didn’t respond immediately. His piercing gaze swept over Devor’s state before he spoke again.

  "I told you to connect with its power, not to let it consume you."

  Devor gritted his teeth, steadying himself as he forced his body upright.

  "I followed your instructions exactly," he said evenly. "But every time that energy enters my body, it doesn’t give me a choice. I either accept it, or it corrupts me."

  Juyin studied him in silence, his gaze unreadable. Once, this rogue cultivator had been a legend—renowned for his mastery of deadly poisons. Though he belonged to no sect, his name commanded both respect and fear among high-level cultivators across the world.

  And now, for reasons of his own, the Sect Master had placed him under Juyin’s tutelage. But this was no simple act of generosity.

  As a Spiritual Farmer, Devor cultivated the very essence of plants, soil, and nature itself. His attunement to the spiritual properties of herbs made him uniquely suited to learn from Juyin.

  The Sect Master had seen the rare synergy between them—Juyin’s unparalleled expertise and Devor’s deep connection to the land were two halves of the same whole.

  If Devor could grasp Juyin’s methods, he would gain an unprecedented mastery over spiritual plants, elevating both his cultivation and his power.

  Yet after weeks of training, he had made no progress.

  "That’s an answer you’ll have to find on your own," Juyin said finally. "Rest. Try again in three days."

  With that, he turned and walked away, leaving Devor alone with his frustration.

  Devor exhaled slowly, flexing his fingers to assess his condition. Surprisingly, he wasn’t injured—if anything, the energy had purged lingering impurities from his body.

  Even failure has its benefits, it seems.

  Still, it wasn’t enough.

  He needed control.

  With measured steps, he made his way back to his dwelling—a humble hut with a meticulously cultivated 300-square-meter garden stretching out before it. This was his personal domain, his foundation.

  Right now, that foundation was being tested.

  Juyin’s technique—the method of borrowing power from a Spiritual Tree—was unlike anything Devor had ever encountered.

  The Sect Master had once told him that Juyin’s true strength didn’t lie in martial prowess or sheer cultivation level. It lay in his understanding of poisons.

  Most cultivators sought to refine toxins within their own bodies, using specialized techniques to generate lethal venoms. But Juyin had pursued a different path.

  Instead of trying to force poison to manifest within himself, he had chosen to cultivate it externally.

  He found a Spiritual Tree—one with natural toxic properties—and spent years nurturing it, refining its poison to grow stronger. Then, through relentless experimentation, he developed a method to channel its venomous energy as his own.

  Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

  A simple concept. A terrifying execution.

  Against all odds, he had succeeded.

  Now, Devor was attempting to replicate that success. But something wasn’t working.

  "I’ve copied his method," Devor muttered. "I’ve followed the same energy flow. Even mimicked how he stores the Spiritual Tree’s power within his body."

  His brows furrowed.

  "Could it be that Senior Juyin hasn’t told me everything? Is there something he’s keeping from me?"

  The thought nagged at him, but he shoved it aside.

  He needed answers. But first—he needed to check his progress.

  Devor took a deep breath.

  "Open Profile."

  A translucent screen materialized in his mind.

  [Name: Devor Li]

  [Gender: Male]

  [Age: 20/234]

  [Cultivation: Stage-2 Foundation Building Realm]

  [Spiritual Energy: 7546/7546]

  [Spiritual Root: Five-Color Root]

  [Knowledge: 187 Books]

  [Enlightenment Realm Points: 46/100 (to access)]

  [Abilities: Ultimate Synthesis, Spiritual Analyzer, Ultimate Comprehension (Lv3)]

  46 points.

  Nearly halfway there.

  A full year had passed since he first began collecting Enlightenment Realm Points, and in that time, he had gained just over twenty.

  Sharing knowledge with others accelerated the process.

  It was why he had asked to teach at the sect. Every time he passed down knowledge—whether through training disciples or exchanging insights with senior cultivators—his points increased.

  Yet, even with that knowledge, progress was slow.

  "I need to master Senior Juyin’s technique before stepping into the Enlightenment Realm," Devor thought.

  The Enlightenment Realm was unlike other breakthroughs. It wasn’t a simple increase in strength or energy—it was an evolution of understanding.

  The Enlightenment Realm—even its name alone was enough to stir the dreams of cultivators. It was a place of boundless revelation, where a single moment of insight could completely transform one’s path.

  The stronger the foundation, the greater the transformation.

  That was why Devor wasn’t in a rush. The more knowledge and experience he accumulated before stepping into that threshold, the greater the benefits he would reap.

  But first—he had to solve the riddle of the Spiritual Tree’s power.

  As he looked toward the violet-hued tree in the distance, a thought crept into his mind.

  What if he wasn’t failing because of Juyin’s method?

  What if he was failing because… his body was different?

  The Five-Color Root. His Spiritual Root was unlike others. Could it be affecting how he absorbed the tree’s energy?

  The possibility sent a ripple of unease through him.

  If that was true… then no matter how hard he trained, Juyin’s method alone would never be enough.

  And if that was the case—he needed to find his own path.

  The wind rustled through the garden, carrying the faint scent of spirit herbs. Devor exhaled.

  His journey was far from over.

  It was only just beginning.

  Devor stood at the edge of his meticulously cultivated garden, surveying the plants thriving within. A faint shimmer flickered along the outer boundary—the activation of the same formation he had used during the competition.

  This formation had originally belonged to Torni, a skilled array master. Devor had made a fair trade for the complete guide, despite Torni’s lack of objections to giving it away freely.

  Favors were debts. Debts were burdens.

  Devor preferred clear transactions, ensuring he owed no one anything that could later be used against him.

  As he walked through the rows of spirit herbs, he activated Spiritual Analyzer in his mind.

  [Plant Name: Lightning Grass]

  [Quality: Earth Grade-B]

  [Status: Very Good]

  [Essence: 87/100]

  Devor’s gaze sharpened.

  "Its Essence actually increased from 85 to 87 in just a week," he murmured, exhaling in relief.

  The numbers didn’t lie.

  The Spiritual Analyzer was an invaluable tool, allowing him to gauge plants with absolute precision. It gave him a shortcut—one that most alchemists and herbalists could only dream of.

  But knowledge alone wasn’t enough.

  Synthesis was where the real challenge began.

  Synthesis required extracting a plant’s Essence and fusing it with another—but the total had to equal exactly 100/100. Too much or too little, and the process would fail. Even when successful, the results could vary wildly. Some hybrids were potent and revolutionary; others were utterly useless.

  It was a process of trial, refinement, and endless patience.

  He had been working with Nyuru to develop elixirs that could artificially weaken a plant, forcing it to adapt and evolve. The theory was simple: introduce an opposing element—like feeding a fire-element plant a diluted water-element elixir—and push the plant to strengthen itself through adversity.

  In practice, however, the results were unpredictable.

  "The elixirs work, but they’re too general," Devor muttered. "Each plant reacts differently. We need to fine-tune the dosage—make each elixir tailored to a specific plant type."

  Taking out a small notebook, he flipped through his detailed cultivation logs. His notes on previous experiments filled entire pages, marking down changes in Essence, color variations, root structure development—every minute detail mattered.

  "If I can push every plant to Grade-A… will the golden energy veil appear again?"

  His fingers tightened slightly around the notebook.

  The golden energy veil. The phenomenon he had witnessed during the competition. At first, he had assumed it was simply a manifestation of his Dao Embryo’s power.

  But now… doubts lingered.

  The competition’s plants had all reached Grade-A. His current garden—despite being far more harmonized—lacked that golden radiance.

  Was it really just his Dao Embryo’s influence?

  Or was there another factor at play?

  "If I can recreate it… I could sell portable gardens like this to other cultivators." His mind buzzed with possibilities.

  If successful, this could revolutionize spirit herb cultivation across the sect—possibly beyond it.

  But first, he had a long way to go.

  He scribbled a quick note in his journal: Update Nyuru on elixir potency and refinement process. Prioritize elemental resistance studies.

  With a sigh, he closed the book.

  Then his eyes landed on the next task in his schedule.

  Body Refining: 1 hour

  Sword Technique Practice: 1 hour

  "Body training, then sword practice," Devor muttered, wrinkling his nose. "Tsk, so annoying—this isn’t nearly as fun as gardening."

  He grumbled out of habit, but he never skipped his training. He had been following this regimen for over a year now, and though he still complained, he had grown used to it.

  More than that—he had grown stronger.

  A year ago, he would have struggled against Outer Disciples. Now? He was confident he could defeat ten of his past selves—easily, and without relying on any tricks.

  He had never realized just how weak he had been until now.

  No wonder Yulin had always looked so frustrated whenever she scolded him.

  Your question—“Why doesn’t Devor read more books?”—is such a thoughtful one, and I’d love to explain it gently. Let’s explore this together, shall we?

  If you study math from one textbook, then switch to a second or third, you’ll notice they all teach the same core principles—just with different examples or layouts. After ten books, you’re not really learning new math; you’re just seeing the same truths rephrased.