The following week, Devor was completely absorbed in his new schedule.

  Each morning, he met with Juyin, immersing himself in the art of poison and deepening his understanding of his Spiritual Tree’s nature.

  By midday, he returned to his residence, where he devoted himself to formation experimentation, seeking new ways to enhance the quality of his plants.

  His days were structured, intense, and relentless—exactly the way he wanted them.

  However, one problem remained unresolved.

  Despite his rapid progress, the materials he had requested had yet to arrive.

  The Sect Master had informed him that gathering everything would take at least a month.

  Every plant seed Devor requested was rare—some were so uncommon that even the Azure Sky Sect’s vast resources struggled to procure them in large quantities.

  Furthermore, Devor had asked for a substantial supply, anticipating that many would be sacrificed in his experiments.

  And while the sect provided resources, there were limits.

  A fixed allocation was distributed each month and year.

  The quantity fluctuated depending on the sect’s financial and political situation.

  Because of this, Devor never relied solely on sect resources.

  He supplemented his needs with his own wealth, ensuring that he was never entirely dependent on external funding.

  His training under Juyin progressed quickly—unsurprising, considering he was learning directly from a master in the field.

  But what intrigued Devor the most was the overlap between poison mastery and medical arts.

  Both disciplines revolved around understanding the body’s vital points—small, precise areas that could disrupt the body’s balance if manipulated correctly.

  The difference?

  Medical Masters healed these points, enhancing recovery and vitality.

  Poison Masters targeted them to weaken or kill an opponent as swiftly as possible.

  The realization made Devor uneasy.

  "A Poison Master and a Medical Master… aren’t they essentially the same? The only difference is how they apply their knowledge."

  It reminded him of the relationship between Spiritual Farming and Alchemy.

  Two disciplines that seemed entirely separate but, at their core, followed the same fundamental principles—only in opposite directions.

  Still, despite learning poison arts, Devor had no intention of creating poisons just yet.

  He lacked the necessary foundation to craft them properly, and the last thing he wanted was to accidentally poison himself in the process.

  For now, he stored this knowledge away, knowing that one day, it would be invaluable.

  By the second week, Devor stood in the middle of his garden, gazing at the energy formation encircling a small patch of plants.

  He crouched down, activating his Spiritual Analyzer to inspect the plants at the core of the formation.

  A glowing interface appeared before his eyes.

  [ Plant Name: Ignis Blossom ]

  [ Quality: Earth Grade-A ]

  [ Status: Excellent ]

  [ Essence: 98/100 ]

  Devor’s breath hitched.

  His fire-element plant had reached Earth Grade-A in less than a month!

  But what truly stunned him was the status rating.

  "Excellent."

  Until now, he had believed that "Very Good" was the highest quality ranking a plant could achieve.

  "Could there be even higher ranks beyond Excellent?" His heart pounded as he realized the implications.

  Had he stumbled upon a hidden tier of quality?

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  Was it possible that plants could surpass even Earth Grade-A—reaching an entirely new level that cultivators had never considered?

  A grin spread across Devor’s face.

  "I did it!" He clenched his fists, excitement radiating through him. "One fire-element plant down. Now I need to improve the others before I can start experimenting with high-level garden harmony!"

  For thirty full seconds, he allowed himself to bask in the satisfaction of his success.

  Then, as quickly as the emotion came, his mind was already racing ahead—planning for the next phase.

  "Once I’ve cultivated more Earth Grade-A plants, I’ll need to reorganize the garden." He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "One fire-element plant isn’t enough. I need at least six different types with varying energy levels… Then I can mix and match combinations until I achieve true energy harmony!"

  His current achievement was impressive.

  But this was just the beginning.

  For most cultivators, this level of experimentation would be overwhelming—the sheer complexity of energy balance, plant synchronization, and formation techniques would be too much to handle.

  But for Devor?

  He relished every step of the journey.

  He was not a cultivator who sought shortcuts.

  He was not someone satisfied with surface-level knowledge.

  If he had to spend years refining this method, he would do it without hesitation.

  Because once he perfected it—

  It would change everything.

  Stepping into the formation, Devor approached the Ignis Blossom at its center.

  With practiced movements, he pulled out a small vial filled with deep blue liquid and carefully poured a few drops onto the plant’s leaves.

  The effect was immediate.

  The Ignis Blossom froze in place, its fiery aura subdued as if trapped in ice.

  Devor nodded slightly.

  "Perfect."

  He crouched down, carefully digging into the soil, ensuring the roots remained intact before separating the plant from the garden bed.

  "There’s still a month and a half before harvest," he murmured to himself. "This should be enough for the first stage of the new harmony experiment."

  Reaching into his storage, Devor retrieved a special black pouch he had prepared in advance.

  Unlike ordinary storage bags, this one was infused with a preservation formation—capable of keeping plants in a frozen state, preventing decay while maintaining their vitality.

  A forced hibernation method.

  This technique had been developed in ancient times, when cultivators exploring the wild would come across rare plants not yet mature.

  Instead of leaving them behind, they sealed them in preservation pouches, ensuring they could be relocated and cultivated in a safer environment.

  It was also the same method used to store rare seeds, keeping them fresh for extended periods before planting.

  After storing the Ignis Blossom, Devor turned his attention to the intricate Rune formations he had painstakingly carved into the soil.

  Etched into the ground was a complex network of Rune markings, forming a central circle with thin lines extending outward, linking the surrounding plants to the main formation.

  Each marking was deliberately placed—not merely decorative, but a functional connection.

  "This entire setup is based on energy transfer." Devor had been gradually weaving these Rune pathways—establishing a method that would allow weaker plants to funnel their surplus energy into a stronger one.

  With careful balance, he could accelerate the growth cycle of a primary plant while maintaining the overall harmony of the garden.

  But this method had limitations.

  “It works,” Devor sighed, running a hand through his hair. “But at this rate, I can only carve about a centimeter per day.”

  Using Rune etchings to extend a plant’s perception was an innovative approach, but it had to be done slowly to fully integrate with the plant’s natural essence.

  If he rushed the process, the plant wouldn’t recognize the Rune connection, and the entire method would fail.

  Additionally—

  The process was single-use. If the plant died or was harvested, the entire Rune network would be lost, requiring him to start over from scratch.

  If he extended the Rune pathways too quickly, the plants would reject the formation, causing an imbalance in energy flow.

  "Everything in nature takes time," he murmured. "Trying to force it will only ruin the results."

  After one last check, he stepped out of the formation, leaving the plants to continue their slow transformation.

  However, the sacrificial plants—those that had donated their energy—were visibly weakened, their quality dropping far below their original state.

  A necessary cost.

  Back in his hut, Devor opened his status screen.

  Most of it remained unchanged, but one major difference stood out.

  [ Ultimate Comprehension (Lv4) ]

  His Ultimate Comprehension had leveled up.

  It had happened a few days ago, during one of his intense research and experimentation sessions.

  Devor narrowed his eyes.

  "When I reached the Foundation Building Realm, Ultimate Comprehension was the only ability that didn’t change."

  That meant something.

  Unlike his other system functions, which evolved alongside his cultivation progress, this one had remained separate.

  "Does that mean this ability wasn’t granted by the system—but is actually something that belongs to me?

  "And the system is merely displaying my natural growth?"

  That… would explain why he never felt an immediate transformation when it leveled up.

  There were no sudden bursts of power, no dramatic revelations.

  Instead, it was subtle—a shift in perspective, an increase in mental clarity and depth of thought.

  And when he looked back at his past self, the difference was undeniable.

  His understanding had deepened.

  His ability to analyze and process information had improved.

  His thoughts had grown sharper.

  It wasn’t that the system had granted him new power—it was merely confirming his progress.

  Devor’s eyes flickered with thought.

  "The system isn’t entirely passive. It’s aware of my cultivation path."

  It didn’t simply reward random abilities—it adapted to his choices.

  "If I reach Core Formation by mastering poison arts, then the system will likely reward me with something related to poisons."

  If he focused on Alchemy, the system would shift toward alchemy-based enhancements.

  It was malleable, shaping itself according to his cultivation focus.

  A double-edged sword.

  Devor clenched his fists. "If the system adapts to my cultivation path, then I have to be extremely careful about how I grow."

  It was tempting to spread his enhancements across multiple disciplines—Alchemy, Arrays, Combat Techniques, Poison Arts, Spiritual Farming.

  But cultivation took time.

  Each new realm required years, sometimes decades of effort.

  Spreading himself too thin would only result in a jack-of-all-trades, master-of-none situation.

  He had two choices:

  Option 1: Diversify his cultivation, gaining a wide array of knowledge, but risk weakening his system’s focus.

  Option 2: Refine his cultivation into a single, specialized path, allowing his system to develop into something truly formidable.

  The choice was clear.

  Instead of creating hundreds of scattered, weak branches—

  He would forge those branches into a single, unyielding spear.

  A weapon sharp enough to pierce through anything in his path.