A week passed.

  Devor wasn’t just failing anymore—he was learning from his failures.

  Each attempt to bond with the Venom Spiritual Tree brought new insights. He had begun to analyze his mistakes, observe the smallest details, and rethink his entire approach.

  And after a full week of focused observation, he finally noticed something strange.

  It wasn’t that the bond wasn’t forming—it was that the tree itself was actively rejecting him.

  Every time he attempted to sync his energy with the tree’s, a subtle resistance pushed back against him. The result was the same each time: the tree's venomous aura poisoned him, forcing him to stop.

  Seated cross-legged near the Venom Spiritual Tree, Devor gazed at its dark purple leaves, tracing the intricate, deep-purple streaks running along its trunk.

  Juyin had told him that this was the weakest of all the poisonous Spiritual Trees in his domain—strong enough to train with, but not enough to truly endanger him.

  Then why couldn’t he form a stable bond with it?

  "I’ve followed everything Senior Juyin told me to do," Devor muttered, frustration creeping into his voice. "By now, I should have at least formed some kind of connection."

  Slowly, he stood and stepped closer to the tree’s trunk.

  Spiritual Trees were unlike normal plants.

  They weren’t just alive—they were aware. They possessed a passive sentience, capable of recognizing allies, defending themselves, and—most importantly—choosing who could wield their power.

  When Devor first approached this tree months ago, it had resisted him immediately, releasing a barrier of poisonous mist to ward him off.

  But now, he could walk right up to it.

  He could even touch the bark.

  That alone meant he had made progress. He was no longer a stranger in the tree’s eyes.

  Lifting his hand, Devor pressed his palm against the rough bark and sent out a controlled pulse of energy.

  A moment later, the tree responded.

  A faint ripple of venomous Qi flowed into his hand, a delicate, almost hesitant exchange.

  This was the basic greeting technique Juyin had taught him.

  And yet, it felt… incomplete.

  The energy exchange worked, meaning his connection wasn’t entirely severed. But for some reason, he still couldn’t fully merge his energy with the tree’s.

  “This doesn’t make sense... Is my body just incompatible with this tree?”

  It was possible.

  But if that were true, Juyin would have stopped him by now.

  Devor exhaled slowly. There was something he was missing.

  Without another word, he turned and walked back to his small wooden cabin.

  From a distance, Juyin watched silently.

  He let out a quiet sigh but chose not to interfere.

  This was how Devor had always grown—trial and error.

  Letting him struggle and take a few wrong turns wouldn’t hurt him. In fact, it would only make him stronger.

  ??????

  In the following days, Devor threw himself into research.

  Using his Ultimate Synthesis ability, he scoured through every book, every scrap of information he had gathered about Spiritual Trees.

  But there was a problem.

  He couldn’t simulate the Venom Spiritual Tree inside his sea of consciousness.

  If he could, it would save him weeks—maybe even months—of time.

  Instead, he had to piece together knowledge manually.

  After extensive searching, he stumbled upon an ancient alchemy book that contained information about Venom Spiritual Trees.

  He began experimenting, applying Spiritual Plant cultivation techniques to nurture the tree, hoping it would naturally deepen their bond.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Yet, even after several days of effort, nothing changed.

  Opening his eyes, he exhaled sharply, feeling the creeping weight of frustration settle over him.

  "If only I could use my own methods in Ultimate Synthesis…"

  The thought came and went in an instant—

  And then, he froze.

  Wait.

  Why couldn’t he?

  More importantly—why hadn’t he ever tried?

  He had encountered this problem before. His Five-Dragon Cultivation Technique never appeared in his system’s knowledge database.

  Why?

  Devor’s brows furrowed deeply. "Is it because the things I create aren’t structured enough for the system to recognize them?"

  He had never considered this before.

  Slowly, he pulled up his system profile.

  A long list of categorized books stretched before him, each neatly stored based on content, origin, and discipline.

  Then it hit him.

  "Books… that’s it!"

  Every piece of knowledge he had gained came from books.

  Even if different texts contained slightly altered versions of the same techniques, the system categorized them based on structured, written knowledge.

  That was the common link.

  If something wasn’t recorded in a structured format… the system wouldn’t recognize it.

  Which meant—

  "I need to write my knowledge down in a book before Ultimate Synthesis will accept it."

  The realization sent a shock through his mind.

  This changes everything.

  If this worked, he wouldn’t have to search for books anymore.

  He could create his own.

  He could pour all of his knowledge into a structured format, shaping it into something uniquely his—something he could fully comprehend and control.

  And if Ultimate Synthesis recognized it…

  Then he could take his research to an entirely new level.

  For the first time in days, a slow, determined grin spread across Devor’s face.

  "Looks like I have some writing to do."

  With his new idea burning in his mind, Devor quickly penned a letter to Yulin, requesting blank paper and ink so he could begin writing his book.

  Rather than using a Communication Token, he opted for a more traditional method. Tokens were limited, each containing only enough spiritual energy for a few minutes of voice transmission. Unless it was an emergency, cultivators rarely wasted them.

  Instead, Devor pulled out a small silver whistle and blew a soft note.

  A moment later, a messenger bird landed near him, its sharp eyes gleaming with intelligence. Fast and agile, these birds were trained to deliver messages at remarkable speeds, unaffected by harsh terrain or long distances.

  Carefully tying the letter to its leg, Devor whispered, "Take this to Yulin at Azure Sky Sect."

  With a flick of its wings, the bird soared into the sky, vanishing into the horizon.

  Now, all that was left to do was wait.

  ??????

  On the third day, the messenger bird returned.

  It landed gracefully beside him, carrying a small pouch tied securely around its leg. Devor untied it and found a Spatial Ring inside—along with a letter from Yulin.

  Activating the ring, he scanned its contents.

  Inside, stacks of high-quality paper and several bottles of ink were neatly arranged. Alongside them were a few unexpected items—refined Elixirs and Cultivation Pills, carefully selected to match his body’s needs.

  Yulin, as always, had gone above and beyond his request.

  Smiling slightly, he unfolded her letter and skimmed its contents.

  [You never ask for things like this. Are you planning to become an author now? Let me know if you need anything else. Take care.]

  He chuckled. "An author, huh?"

  Tucking the letter away, Devor turned back toward his cabin, ready to begin.

  Inside his modest wooden cabin, Devor placed the materials on his desk. He dipped a feather quill into the ink, staring at the blank sheet of paper before him.

  He had never written a book before—not in this life, nor in his previous one.

  But by following the structure of existing texts, he believed he could manage.

  And so, he began.

  At first, the words came slowly, his hand unsteady. But as the hours passed, his thoughts became sharper, his ideas clearer.

  The more he wrote, the more his understanding deepened.

  It was an unexpected realization—one he hadn’t considered before.

  Writing wasn’t just recording knowledge. It was refining it.

  Through writing, he forced himself to explain concepts concisely, to question his own methods, to see flaws in his reasoning.

  And in doing so, his comprehension of cultivation evolved.

  From a distance, Juyin watched in silence.

  Writing for a day or two was normal. But by the fourth day, Devor was still at it, and the pile of written pages kept growing.

  More importantly, he had noticeably cut back on his usual training.

  He still maintained the core practices essential to his cultivation, but his focus had shifted.

  This wasn’t just some passing distraction.

  This was something deeper.

  Juyin’s sharp eyes narrowed slightly.

  "What exactly is he trying to accomplish?"

  Still, he chose not to interfere.

  By the time Devor finally set down his quill, the sun was setting, casting a golden glow over his garden.

  He exhaled slowly, leaning back in his chair.

  Before him, an entire book lay completed.

  It was far from perfect, but it contained everything he had learned—everything that had shaped his cultivation up to this point.

  He stared at the coverless manuscript for a long moment before murmuring, "A book needs a title, doesn’t it?"

  His fingers tapped against the wooden desk in thought.

  "This book holds all my insights—all the knowledge I’ve gained so far. I can’t just give it some random name."

  Normally, he didn’t care much about naming things.

  But this book… This was different.

  This wasn’t just a technique.

  This wasn’t just a collection of methods.

  It was a foundation—one that defined his entire approach to cultivation.

  A philosophy.

  His mind drifted back to his work in the garden—his experiments, his pursuit of harmony among Spiritual Plants.

  "The chances of different Spiritual Plants forming a natural harmony are incredibly small," he murmured.

  His eyes glinted with realization.

  "This… this is an art. A form of cultivation I’ve created with my own hands."

  He wasn’t just following pre-existing methods.

  He was bringing something new into the world.

  A small smile played at his lips as he whispered:

  "I’ll call it… The Art of Creation."

  At that exact moment—

  High above in the sky, a faint golden light shimmered.

  It was subtle. Too subtle for the naked eye to detect.

  And yet—it happened.

  An almost imperceptible ripple spread outward, disappearing before anyone could sense it.

  Not even Devor noticed.

  But if anyone with a high enough cultivation realm had been watching, they would have seen something shocking—

  A fragment of Heavenly Dao briefly acknowledging his work.

  With steady hands, Devor dipped his quill one last time and wrote the title on the first page.

  —The Art of Creation—

  The moment he finished, he sat back, a strange sense of completion settling over him.

  He had no way of knowing it yet—

  But this was the first step toward a cultivation path that had never existed before.