After finishing his book, Devor eagerly opened his system menu. Searching for: The Art of Creation…

  Nothing.

  The title wasn’t there.

  His brows furrowed. "Why isn’t it showing up?"

  His system had always categorized books automatically after he read them. But for some reason, The Art of Creation wasn’t being registered.

  Was it because he wrote it himself?

  A thought struck him. "Maybe I need to read it again for the system to process it."

  He already knew the book’s contents, but perhaps the system had a different method for archiving knowledge.

  There was only one way to find out.

  Taking a deep breath, he sat down and began reading his manuscript from the beginning.

  Unlike the excitement of writing, reading his own words felt strangely dull.

  Each line was familiar. He had written these very thoughts, structured every argument, and laid out every method with his own hands.

  Yet, as he progressed through the pages, he noticed something… odd.

  Some sections felt weaker than he remembered. Certain explanations seemed too vague, while others were overly detailed.

  More than once, he caught flaws in his logic—areas where his reasoning, while sound, lacked the refinement he usually demanded.

  By the time he reached the final page, night had already fallen.

  Devor closed the manuscript, exhaled slowly, and checked his system again.

  Nothing.

  The Art of Creation still wasn’t there.

  His fingers tightened around the loose pages in his hands.

  "Is the system rejecting knowledge I’ve written myself?"

  The thought was troubling.

  His Ultimate Synthesis Ability relied on recorded knowledge. If the system refused to acknowledge self-created content, then anything he personally developed would remain unusable within the system.

  He could still rely on his own understanding, but the lack of system integration meant he wouldn’t be able to synthesize improvements or combine it with other techniques.

  "Did I do something wrong with this book?"

  At first glance, there was no difference between his manuscript and the books he had read before.

  Except…

  It wasn’t bound.

  His gaze flickered toward the stack of loose pages.

  Every book he had studied through the system had been a complete volume—structured, compiled, and published.

  "Could it be that the system only recognizes official, published works?"

  That… made sense.

  But there was something else.

  Every book he had read before had already been read by others.

  He frowned. Does the system require public acknowledgment for a book to exist within it?

  The idea sounded absurd at first, but the more he thought about it, the more logical it seemed.

  Knowledge, in cultivation, wasn’t just about understanding—it was about recognition, legacy, and transmission.

  For something to be considered true knowledge, it had to be accepted, read, and acknowledged by others.

  Which meant—

  "I need someone else to read this book before the system will register it?"

  Devor leaned back, staring at the unfinished manuscript in his hands.

  He had already poured weeks of effort into writing it.

  "Keeping it to myself won’t do any good."

  Besides, his insights into Spiritual Plant harmony and cultivation could be valuable to the entire sect.

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  And if his theory was right, then publishing the book might not only allow the system to register it—it could also elevate his status within Azure Sky Sect.

  His mind made up, he reached for his Sect Master’s Communication Token.

  Channeling his Qi into it, he recorded a message:

  "Sect Master, I have completed a manuscript compiling my research and cultivation insights. I would like to submit it to the sect for formal review and potential publication."

  Five minutes later, a response arrived.

  The Sect Master’s voice, deep and composed, echoed from the token:

  "Send it to me. We will evaluate its contents. If the knowledge is valuable, it cannot be freely distributed. It will be classified based on its importance and shared accordingly."

  Devor exhaled. As expected.

  The sect didn’t allow unrestricted circulation of high-value cultivation knowledge. If his book was deemed too advanced, it would likely be restricted to inner disciples—or even kept as a Core Sect secret.

  That meant he wouldn’t be able to control who learned from it.

  But…

  "If this knowledge is truly valuable, then it deserves to be preserved properly."

  With that thought, he retrieved his silver whistle and summoned a messenger bird.

  Carefully, he tied the manuscript and a letter explaining his work to the bird’s leg.

  "Take this to the Sect Master," he instructed.

  With a soft cry, the bird flapped its wings and soared into the night sky, disappearing into the distance.

  It was done.

  ??????

  A week later, Devor’s Sect Master’s Communication Token vibrated.

  He activated it, and the familiar voice of the Sect Master of Azure Sky came through:

  "Your book has been evaluated. Its contents are valuable enough to be split into three separate volumes."

  Devor blinked. Three volumes?

  "The original version can still exist as a complete book," the Sect Master continued, "but we will also divide it into sections to make the knowledge more accessible. Each volume will be available to sect disciples for a price—using Contribution Points to borrow and read."

  The Sect Master paused, then added, "You will receive a share of the earnings."

  Devor’s eyes flickered with understanding. A passive income source.

  The sect was a vast institution, and its disciples constantly sought ways to improve their cultivation. If his book proved useful, then it would continue earning him a steady stream of resources for years to come.

  This wasn’t just an achievement—it was leverage.

  Without hesitation, he agreed, leaving the rest in the sect’s hands.

  After ending his conversation with the Sect Master, Devor turned his attention back to his garden experiment.

  He was currently carving a formation into the soil, marking precise rune sequences around a small section of land.

  "I never expected writing to spark so many new ideas," he murmured.

  Ultimate Synthesis had proven incredibly flexible.

  It allowed him to merge Cultivation Techniques with Spiritual Plant Knowledge, or even create entirely new hybrids.

  For the past week, he had been testing this theory, refining his approach. Ultimate Synthesis played a crucial role, but success still depended on his personal insight and execution.

  "Knowledge alone isn’t enough. I need real-world application."

  He straightened, staring at the intricate array forming beneath his feet.

  This time, his focus wasn’t on cultivation techniques.

  Right now, he wasn’t interested in creating a new method for himself.

  Instead, his goal was to develop a Formation Array that could maximize the potential of each Spiritual Plant.

  "If I push this far enough," Devor muttered, "I could even create a cultivation technique tailored to specific Spiritual Plants."

  The implications were staggering.

  A cultivation method that allowed someone to directly harmonize with plants, enhancing their growth, guiding their elemental development…

  Or even controlling them at will.

  He tapped his finger against his chin, deep in thought.

  This concept had never been explored in traditional cultivation.

  Most Spiritual Farmers viewed their plants as resources—valuable, but ultimately passive.

  But if plants could be integrated into cultivation techniques…

  If he could create a method where cultivators grew stronger alongside their plants…

  That would change everything.

  But there was a problem.

  Focusing on a single plant type was too limiting.

  A true Spiritual Farmer needed to cultivate hundreds, if not thousands, of plant species with equal skill.

  Mastering just one type would be considered a failure.

  Devor sighed. "I need a broader solution."

  He crouched and placed a Fire-Element Spiritual Plant in the center of his formation.

  As soon as it settled into the soil, the array activated.

  A pulse of energy rippled outward, drawing in surrounding spiritual energy and refining it into pure fire-element essence.

  The plant’s leaves quivered with life, absorbing the enhanced fire Qi at an accelerated pace.

  For the first few minutes, it flourished.

  Its color deepened, its energy surged—it was working.

  Then, suddenly—

  Flames erupted from the plant.

  In an instant, it ignited, consuming itself in its own excess energy.

  Within seconds, it was reduced to ash.

  Devor exhaled slowly, unshaken by the failure. "Too much energy is just as bad as not enough."

  He crouched beside the charred remains, running his fingers through the scorched soil.

  "The formation enhances elemental absorption, but it lacks regulation."

  The plant had burned itself out because it couldn’t control its own intake.

  He frowned. "Maybe I need to introduce other plants to help stabilize the absorption process..."

  This time, he brought in two more fire-element plants.

  The moment the formation activated, all two plants absorbed fire energy simultaneously.

  For the first minute, everything seemed stable.

  Then—

  One plant began to dominate.

  It greedily absorbed energy, siphoning more and more—until the weakest plant collapsed, drained completely.

  Another failure.

  Devor’s expression remained calm.

  He had anticipated this.

  This was why cultivators rarely mixed different plant species together.

  Even among the same element, there were hierarchies—some plants naturally consumed more than others.

  The formation, in its current state, wasn’t regulating balance.

  "It’s not just about boosting elemental intake," he noted in his journal. "I need to ensure energy stability within the array."

  He tucked his notebook into his collar, exhaling slowly.

  "Alchemy, Array Formations, Poisons…"

  His voice was quiet, but his thoughts burned with excitement.

  "How many other disciplines could I integrate into the path of a Spiritual Farmer?"

  The realization sent a thrill through him.

  This was why traditional cultivation methods felt limiting.

  They treated farming, alchemy, formations, and poison as separate arts—as if they couldn’t coexist.

  But what if they weren’t separate at all?

  What if true mastery lay in combining them all?

  What if a Spiritual Farmer could be more than just a cultivator who grew plants?

  What if they could shape them? Control them? Engineer them?

  What if a Spiritual Farmer could surpass even an Alchemist, blending poisons, concoctions, and growth acceleration in ways that no one had ever imagined?

  Devor’s fingers clenched into fists.

  "If I harness the strengths of multiple disciplines… just how far can I push this path?"

  A new goal began forming in his mind.

  This wasn’t just farming.

  This was cultivation itself.