Devor remained in the private recovery chamber provided by the competition organizers. Designed specifically for recuperating participants, the room was quiet, spacious, and infused with a faint trace of spiritual energy, subtly aiding his healing.

  Despite the comfortable setting, he was under strict restrictions—no training, no cultivation, and no exertion of any kind.

  That left him with only one option.

  Reading.

  Sitting cross-legged on a soft meditation mat, Devor slowly turned the pages of a thick, leather-bound book resting in his lap.

  The title: Synthesis Plant.

  It was a gift from Hulan, and from the moment he received it, he’d been captivated by its contents. But before the competition, he had deliberately avoided reading it in full.

  The reason was simple—he hadn’t wanted to disrupt his current understanding of Spiritual Plants.

  Even now, as he read, it felt like thousands of scattered puzzle pieces were tumbling into place in his mind, demanding to be assembled.

  The very first page alone was dense with intricate theories and elemental breakdowns, detailing various Spiritual Plants, their properties, growth patterns, and synthesis potential.

  But what truly set this book apart was its discussion of fusion—

  Synthesis. The process of merging two or more Spiritual Plants to create an entirely new species.

  Devor's grip on the book tightened as he read further.

  "Some of the Spiritual Plants I know… are actually products of Synthesis?"

  The realization unsettled him.

  Plants he had studied for years—ones he assumed were natural evolutions of their kind—had, in reality, been engineered.

  His eyes sharpened as he continued reading.

  "The theory relies on a specialized technique that fuses two Essence Seeds into one. The failure rate is extremely high, and even when successful, the outcome isn’t always useful."

  The failure rate was too high.

  Even when the fusion worked, most results were failures—mutated, undeveloped plants with no discernible value.

  "So that’s why no one uses this process to mass-produce rare plants… It’s too unreliable."

  Synthesis sounded brilliant in theory—but in practice?

  It was a gamble.

  Still, the implications were massive.

  The book revealed that certain powerful sects and factions had developed their own exclusive Spiritual Plants, ones unavailable to the public.

  This was why their alchemy, pill refinement, and even enchanted weapons held unique advantages—they controlled the resources.

  Devor’s gaze darkened.

  "If I could create a unique Spiritual Plant—one highly effective for Cultivation Pills—I might be able to collaborate with Nyuru… or even other Alchemists."

  The thought took root, and his mind raced with possibilities.

  Nyuru had mentioned something before—

  "If you could cultivate a garden that mimics the competition’s energy environment, countless Cultivators would fight to work with you."

  At the time, it had felt like a distant dream. But now…

  "And if I develop a rare Spiritual Plant that benefits Alchemists, Array Masters, and other professions… I could build connections across multiple fields."

  The more he considered it, the more compelling the idea became.

  Spiritual Farmers were among the weakest professions in the Cultivation World.

  But if a Spiritual Farmer controlled rare, exclusive plants, they could dictate the flow of alchemy, formations, and even talisman crafting.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  They wouldn’t need strength to survive—because their worth would make them untouchable.

  "Back on Earth, politics taught me one thing: there are no eternal allies, only eternal interests."

  Devor slowly closed the book, his fingers resting on the faded golden text embossed on the cover.

  As long as he proved his value, he wouldn’t need to ask for protection.

  The powerful would protect him themselves—not out of kindness, but because they couldn’t afford to lose what he provided.

  It didn’t matter what world he lived in. The rules were always the same.

  On Earth, it was politics.

  Here, it was cultivation.

  But the nature of power never changed.

  Devor’s expression slowly hardened.

  This was the perfect time to lay low, strengthen his foundation, and create something valuable—something that would give him leverage.

  But—

  "Someone won’t allow that."

  His grip on the book tightened.

  His thoughts drifted back to his destroyed garden—the place he had painstakingly cultivated for years, only to have it torn apart overnight.

  The attack hadn’t been random.

  "I was targeted."

  But by who?

  The longer he thought about it, the more certain he became—

  "There had to be multiple accomplices, layers of people shielding the real mastermind."

  No ordinary disciple had that much power.

  No, this was bigger.

  Whoever was behind this had connections, resources, and the ability to cover their tracks.

  Which meant one of two things—

  Either they were part of a powerful faction…

  …Or they were someone inside the sect itself.

  "If I create something valuable… I’ll draw even more attention."

  He knew that.

  But at this point, there was no turning back.

  He had already gained fame in the tournament. He had already proven his worth as more than just another Qi Refining disciple.

  The only choice left… was to make sure he controlled his own fate.

  Devor had his suspicions, but one name stood out above the rest.

  Sugu.

  Devor had never had direct conflict with him—barely even interacted with him—yet from the moment they met, there was an unspoken hostility between them. A tension with no clear cause.

  Strangely, that attitude had faded as the competition progressed.

  At first, he hadn’t thought much of it. But then—

  Monny.

  An old customer.

  Devor’s mind turned over the pieces, connecting the dots. Could Sugu’s dislike of him have been tied to Monny?

  The idea seemed absurd.

  And yet—he had to remind himself—Sugu was still a teenager.

  "Teenagers on Earth do all sorts of things that adults can’t even begin to understand. Sometimes, their actions don’t need a solid reason."

  Cultivators had sharper minds, greater intelligence, and stronger mental resilience—but none of that guaranteed maturity.

  Devor knew from his past life on Earth that age didn’t always bring wisdom.

  "Their goals are completely different from those of people on Earth."

  On Earth, life had structure—school, socializing, work. Simple priorities.

  But for Cultivators?

  Power came first. Personal gain ruled everything.

  Comparing their mindset to humans on Earth was like comparing a beast to a scholar—pointless.

  A child raised in war would think differently from one raised in peace. Neither path was inherently good or bad—just shaped by their reality.

  "Sugu comes from one of the great Cultivator families. If I had to compare him to someone on Earth… he’s like a spoiled rich kid."

  Privileged kids had layers of protection behind them.

  They didn’t need real reasons to take offense. A small slight, an imagined insult—sometimes, that was enough.

  "So why wouldn’t Sugu act against me? If he felt insulted—if he saw me as a threat—that alone could be enough."

  The more he thought about it, the more his head ached.

  Sometimes, people didn’t need a logical reason for their actions. Sometimes, they did things simply because they wanted to.

  And that made them even more dangerous.

  At that moment, the door to his room swung open.

  Devor’s head snapped up.

  Yulin stepped inside, carrying a large tray piled high with luxurious dishes. The rich aroma of carefully prepared ingredients filled the room, but his attention stayed on her.

  His thoughts shifted.

  A wry smile tugged at his lips.

  “Since when did Sister Yulin decide to cook for me?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

  He had expected sect servants to handle his meals.

  Yet here she was—personally bringing his food.

  Yulin set the tray down with precise movements. Then, turning to face him, she spoke—her voice calm but firm.

  "Just a precaution."

  Devor’s brow furrowed.

  “A precaution?”

  There were plenty of powerful figures here. Who would dare try anything in a place like this?

  “You haven’t forgotten about your destroyed garden, have you?”

  Her tone was serious, stripped of its usual teasing.

  Devor’s expression darkened.

  "The mastermind behind it wasn’t just some nobody."

  Yulin met his gaze.

  “And now that you’ve gained fame and proven your potential, it’s not impossible that they’ll try to kill you—or poison your food.”

  Silence stretched between them.

  Devor’s mind raced.

  He had been so focused on the competition, on his recovery, on Sugu—that he hadn’t fully considered this angle.

  "Poison. Simple. Subtle. Nearly impossible to trace if done right."

  His fingers curled slightly.

  He had assumed his enemies would wait until he had fully recovered before making a move.

  But what if they didn’t?

  Thinking back to his ruined garden, Devor knew—

  That attack hadn’t been random.

  The person behind it wasn’t just some petty rival with a grudge.

  No—they had resources. Connections. Influence.

  Sugu?

  Doubt crept in.

  Sugu was a privileged prodigy, but was he really the type to orchestrate something this elaborate?

  "No. Not alone."

  If Sugu was involved, he was just one piece of the puzzle.

  But then—

  Could he trust Yulin?

  He had considered the possibility before, but…

  From the very beginning, she had never once acted against him.

  She teased him, argued with him—but never sabotaged him.

  More importantly—

  She had no clear motive.

  If she wanted him dead, she’d had countless chances to make it happen.

  Yet instead of harming him—

  She was warning him. Protecting him.

  Devor exhaled slowly, pushing aside the tangled mess of thoughts.

  For now—

  Yulin was not his enemy.

  "Thank you," he said quietly.

  A small smile tugged at his lips.

  Yulin glanced at him, then let out a soft scoff.

  "Don’t think too much of it."

  She turned away, her tone lacking its usual sharp edge.

  "Just eat. And stay alive."

  Devor chuckled under his breath.

  Even as suspicions lingered in his mind, one thing remained clear—

  In a world filled with uncertainty and hidden threats, Yulin’s presence felt like a shield against the cold.