A year had passed in the blink of an eye, the days slipping away like grains of sand through his fingers.

  Devor reclined outside his humble bamboo hut, his gaze wandering lazily across the vibrant garden that stretched over five hundred square meters. Each plant was a living proof of his relentless effort, a reflection of countless hours spent nurturing the land.

  As he breathed in the crisp, Qi-infused air, the essence of the garden seemed to flow through him, revitalizing his body and mind.

  In the year since his arrival, Devor had undergone a profound transformation. The boy who had once been lost and uncertain was now almost unrecognizable. Where there had been uncertainty now stood a man of quiet strength, his presence marked by the discipline and wisdom he had gained in the Azure Sky Sect.

  His youthful innocence had been replaced by a serene composure, his presence radiating a calm that made anyone who met his gaze feel as though they were in the presence of someone who had truly found peace with the world.

  A soft breeze tugged at his slightly longer hair, pulling him from his reverie. The air around him shifted, and something—an unspoken tension—broke the stillness.

  Devor rose to his feet, his posture instantly alert as his eyes scanned the horizon, searching for the source of the disturbance.

  A soft rush of air signaled the descent of a figure from the sky, landing soundlessly before Devor. The man was middle-aged, dressed in a rich purple robe embroidered with gold thread—a symbol of his esteemed position within the Azure Sky Sect.

  An unseen force seemed to ripple around him, as though the world itself bent to his presence.

  Devor's gaze flickered in recognition, his body instinctively lowering into a deep bow. "Greetings, Elder Sorin."

  Elder Sorin nodded briefly, his eyes closing as he focused, summoning his mental energy. A faint blue aura enveloped him as his Spiritual Sense swept across the garden, absorbing every detail, no matter how small.

  Devor stood still, watching the flow of Sorin's energy, knowing it was a testament to the Elder's skill and mastery.

  After a moment, Sorin opened his eyes, and his gaze sharpened as he began to walk through the garden, scrutinizing each plant with keen interest.

  He paused before a flowering plant, its petals wilting just a touch, as though in need of more light.

  Devor bowed again, his posture steady, accepting the feedback with quiet gratitude. "Thank you, Elder Sorin. I’ll move it immediately."

  Sorin moved along the rows of fruit plants, his gaze sharp as he stopped before a cluster that seemed to crowd each other. He studied the plants for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly before he spoke.

  “These plants are thriving, but they’re too cramped,” Sorin said, his tone measured but unwavering. “Their roots will begin to compete for space and nutrients, and that will stunt their growth in time.”

  “You’ll need to thin them out—prune them carefully, without hesitation.”

  Devor listened closely, each word sinking in, his mind racing with the importance of the task. He knew that these small changes, if left unchecked, could lead to bigger issues down the road.

  Sorin moved on, his eyes falling on a plant whose leaves had started to yellow at the edges. He knelt beside it, his fingers brushing the soil as he examined it with practiced attention.

  “This plant’s been overwatered,” Sorin said after a moment, his voice low but firm. “Cut back on the watering, and give the soil time to dry out. Moisture like this weakens the roots.”

  Devor inhaled deeply, steadying himself as he absorbed the correction. “Understood, Elder Sorin. I’ll make the changes immediately.”

  Sorin didn’t speak again, continuing his methodical inspection of the garden. A few minutes later, Sorin stopped in the center of the plot, turning slowly to face Devor.

  “The garden is well-kept,” Sorin said, his tone unexpectedly warm, a rare hint of approval in his voice.

  “No major issues, but the details matter,” Sorin continued. “It’s those small adjustments that set the great gardeners apart from the good ones. Perfection is found in the little things.”

  Devor bowed deeply, a wave of relief washing over him, his shoulders easing as the tension he hadn’t realized was there lifted. “Thank you, Elder Sorin. I’ll make sure to refine the areas I’ve missed.”

  Sorin allowed the faintest smile to touch his lips, the sternness in his features softening just a fraction. “You’ve made considerable progress, Devor,” Sorin said, his tone almost fatherly. “But the Azure Sky Sect values more than wisdom. We prize humility—the kind that allows you to see where you can improve.”

  Devor straightened, his heart swelling with determination, his eyes shining with the quiet intensity of someone who would never stop striving. “I will, Elder Sorin. I’ll continue to give my best in everything.”

  Sorin studied him for a long moment, the sharpness of his gaze softening as he nodded, his approval clear. “Your work is impressive,” Sorin said, his voice thoughtful. “Far beyond many of the disciples who rely solely on their Spiritual Root.”

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Devor hesitated, his mind racing. He wanted to respond, but wasn’t sure whether agreeing would come across as presumptuous.

  Sorin was no ordinary cultivator—he was an Outer Elder of the Azure Sky Sect. After the previous Garden Hall Master’s death, Sorin had temporarily taken on the role, his deep knowledge of spiritual plants making him a natural choice. His expertise in poisons was also well-known, a reputation that made some in the Sect uneasy about his methods.

  After a brief pause, Sorin spoke again, his tone noticeably softer, though still imbued with authority.

  “I’ve spoken to the Spiritual Hall Master about your progress,” Sorin continued, his voice carrying a hint of approval. “I’ve recommended you for promotion to the rank of true disciple of the Azure Sky Sect.”

  Devor’s heart raced, a mixture of excitement and disbelief flooding him as his pulse quickened. His mind struggled to process the weight of Sorin’s words.

  The Spiritual Hall Master was a figure of immense authority, even more so than the Garden Hall Master, overseeing the sect’s most important matters. Devor’s mind spun at the thought of being recognized by such a figure.

  “Your Spiritual Root may present some challenges,” Sorin continued, his voice steady but firm, “but your potential far outweighs any limitation.”

  A wide grin spread across Devor’s face, his heart soaring with a joy he couldn’t contain. His hands trembled slightly, and he couldn’t help but let out a breathless laugh of disbelief.

  Sorin reached inside his robe, pulling out a green-bound book that pulsed with faint spiritual energy, its pages seemingly vibrating with power.

  With a flick of his wrist, the book hovered for a moment before floating gracefully into Devor’s outstretched hands, which shook with both excitement and reverence.

  “This is a Cultivation Technique specifically tailored for someone working in the Spiritual Garden,” Sorin said, a rare, approving smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

  “Take your time with it. If you ever need guidance, don’t hesitate to come to me.”

  Devor felt a surge of gratitude spread through him, warmth blooming in his chest. He bowed deeply, his words sincere.

  “Thank you, Elder. I’m truly grateful for your kindness and belief in me.”

  “You’ve earned it,” Sorin said, his tone warm but firm. “This opportunity is the result of your perseverance. Once you reach Stage-2 Qi Refining, you’ll officially be recognized as a true disciple of the Azure Sky Sect.”

  “I’ll give it everything I have, Elder!” Devor vowed, his voice firm with resolve, though his clenched fists betrayed a hint of nervous excitement.

  Sorin’s gaze softened as he observed Devor, noting the sweat on his brow and the steady determination in his posture. Unlike many disciples who relied purely on their raw talent, Devor’s persistence and relentless effort had set him apart, something that even Sorin, a man known for his harsh standards, couldn’t ignore.

  “This technique is unique,” Sorin said, his voice carrying a note of pride. “It allows you to draw Qi and Spiritual Energy from the plants themselves, fortifying your body in a way that’s perfectly suited to your work in the Spiritual Garden. It’s not just about strength—it’s about harmony with the natural world.”

  Devor’s eyes brightened with excitement, but a shadow of doubt lingered beneath the surface. His heart raced with the possibilities of the technique, yet a knot formed in his stomach. His journey had only just begun, and he wasn’t sure he was ready for the weight of the path ahead.

  Devor hesitated, his throat tightening as the weight of the question hung in his mind. With a deep breath, he forced the words out. “Elder Sorin, may I ask one more thing?”

  Sorin raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. He studied Devor for a moment, sensing the hesitation behind his words. “What is it?”

  “I... I’d like to study the fundamentals of Cultivation,” Devor said, his voice steady but laced with a trace of uncertainty. He didn’t want to seem presumptuous, but he knew this knowledge was vital for his growth.

  Sorin’s expression remained neutral, though a flicker of curiosity passed through his eyes. “The Cultivation Technique I’ve given you covers the basics. What exactly are you hoping to learn?”

  Devor shook his head, a subtle frown creasing his brow. "I read in a book that Cultivation and Combat Techniques are just frameworks. To unlock their full potential, you need to personalize the energy flow and methods. I want to understand the basics better, so I can adjust them to fit my needs."

  Realizing he might have overstepped, a sense of unease crept into Devor's chest. He quickly bowed again, his voice a little more hesitant. "Forgive me, Elder Sorin. I didn’t mean to overstep."

  Sorin studied Devor for a moment, his gaze sharp but not unkind. After a beat, he chuckled softly, as if amused by the young disciple’s earnestness.

  Devor let out a quiet breath, his shoulders relaxing as the tension drained from him. He straightened up, a small but grateful smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

  "What you said is true," Sorin nodded slowly, his fingers tracing the edge of his beard as he considered Devor’s words. "But refining techniques to suit your needs is no small task. It’s a slow, methodical process. Rushing it would only lead to setbacks."

  "With your current contribution points, you could buy Techniques suited for Outer Disciples to get started," Sorin added. "But remember, those won’t push you toward your ultimate goals."

  Devor nodded but stayed silent, his mind already weighing the options. He had considered spending his contribution points on those Techniques, but something about it felt wrong—like settling for something less than what he truly needed.

  Sorin’s sharp gaze softened as he noticed Devor’s hesitation. “I can help you,” he said, his voice low and deliberate. “But there’s a condition.”

  Devor straightened, his jaw set with determination, though a flicker of uncertainty passed through his eyes. "What is it, Elder?" he asked, his voice steady. "As long as it doesn’t go against the Sect, I’ll do whatever’s needed."

  Sorin chuckled softly, shaking his head with a bemused smile. "Relax, boy. I’d never ask you to betray the Sect." He paused, letting the moment hang before continuing. "What I need is simpler: I need you to cultivate certain poisonous plants in the Spiritual Garden. You’ll tend to them for a year, and when the harvest comes, I’ll collect them."

  Devor’s body stiffened, his heart skipping a beat. Poisonous plants? The task suddenly felt far more serious—and dangerous—than he’d anticipated. A flicker of unease passed through him.

  Sorin’s smile remained gentle, yet there was an undercurrent of something else in his eyes, something that gave the request an unsettling weight. Devor couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t just another ordinary task. Sorin had temporarily stepped into the role of Garden Hall Master after the sudden death of the previous holder, a position he’d taken not only because of his expertise but also because the Sect’s cultivation of rare, poisonous plants was strictly monitored. There were quotas to meet, and by involving Devor, Sorin could discreetly bypass those limits.

  After a brief pause, Devor nodded, the weight of the request settling on his shoulders. "I accept, Elder," he said, his voice steady despite the unease stirring within him. "I’ll do it."

  Sorin’s eyes gleamed with approval, and a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He gave a soft, approving chuckle. "Good. I expected nothing less from you, Devor."

  Although Sorin’s words were warm, a shiver ran down Devor’s spine. Despite the Elder’s approving tone, Devor couldn’t shake the feeling that he had just stepped into something far more complicated—and dangerous—within the Sect.