As Lin Zhi posed his query, all the disciples began chanting in their peculiar language, and green essence surged from the surroundings to the assembly.
‘There are no trees, no forest, nothing connected to nature—where is this essence coming from? And what are these images?’ Zamian’s eyes widened, his thoughts racing.
He watched intently as faint images formed above the disciples, his curiosity piqued by those depicting animals.
One image showed birds shot down from the sky by rocks, all but one falling. The lone survivor, with only one wing, kept flying. Another displayed wolves trapped in a pit, one using the bodies of its fallen companions as leverage to escape. A third showed a blue lizard feigning death, lying still while its predator devoured others of its kind. The last image depicted a peculiar insect—a butterfly—entering a monkey’s ear, evading its paw’s furious swipes, while the ape chewed on the wings of another butterfly.
As more green essence filled the space, Zamian’s mind sparked with realization. ‘The green essence is thin here, but it exists! It’s gathering quickly because of this type of external visualization. So many people are cultivating at once. But how...’ He suddenly glanced upward.
The sky, once a vibrant blue with scattered clouds, was now bathed in an intense green hue. Nature’s essence wasn’t just surging from below to the base of the tower—it poured from above as well. Soon, all the cultivators were enveloped in green light, their original appearances fading beneath its glow.
Turning his gaze to one of the human disciples’ visualizations, Zamian’s attention was drawn to a haunting image. A scrawny child knelt on a barren, grassless floor, begging as shadowy figures passed by, indifferent. Surrounding the child were others who had been with him—once sleeping but now still, their mortal cycles clearly ended.
“You have struggled,” Lin Zhi’s voice thundered, a cacophony of buzzing tones echoing around them, though it seemed not to disturb the disciples’ concentration. “You have done whatever it took to grow and prove your worth. Now, you stand on the verge of creating a Core! And once again, you must prove your worth.”
Above the white-robed disciples, more images appeared. What had been hundreds of distinct visualizations now numbered in the thousands.
Zamian’s mind reeled. The sheer influx of information spiked his headache, and he massaged his temples in frustration. ‘Blighted thing! Will I ever get used to these headaches? They’re like morning rains, coming and going as they please,’ he thought with a grimace, squinting as he tried to focus on more of the shifting images.
His instincts whispered, urging him to look, to learn. And more importantly, what if observing these images was the key to understanding the Seed of Creation technique? He couldn’t risk missing that chance.
A moment passed.
“Insects crawl, bury, squirm, flee... but die,” Zamian muttered, his bloodshot eyes darting from one image to the next.
A notification appeared in his vision.
+10 Mind Points
“Wolves gather, hunt, bite, kill... but also die,” he said through clenched teeth, pressing his fingers harder against his temples as the headache intensified.
Another message flashed.
+10 Mind Points
“Birds fly, dance, search, peck... and still die,” Zamian felt a dampness under his nose. Swiping a hand across it, he glimpsed blood on his palm. But he barely noticed, his focus locked on the images and the learning they promised.
As he pushed himself further, the burden on his mind didn’t just persist—it grew. A new message appeared.
+10 Mind Points
“Lizards fake, run, spit, poison... and in the end, they die,” he murmured, his voice strained. Green essence surged toward him as his eyes flickered alternately with green and white light.
+10 Mind Points
The pain in Zamian’s head was unbearable now. His awareness of his body faded; the headache consumed him entirely, screaming for his attention.
Yet, it only made him smile. His instincts screamed just as loudly, urging him to seize this opportunity and not let it slip away.
To struggle against the pain. To prove his worth.
As blood streamed from his eyes, Zamian muttered through trembling lips, “Humans beg, fight, lie, learn... and we die!”
He coughed violently, then vomited blood. It felt like taking repeated punches to his brain and heart, over and over.
+10 Mind Points (!)
(!) Your Mind Stat Cap has reached a milestone → 100/100
As the white crystal reformed and another scribble faded away, Zamian found himself back in his dark space.
He stood silently, without a body, staring at the crystal. The soft glow of its faceted edges reflected his swirling thoughts.
After a few moments of contemplation, he willed himself out of the dark space, returning to the garden.
“Wow,” he muttered, his gaze sweeping over the familiar scene. The white leaves shimmered above, tree trunks stood tall, thorned vines coiled forming the wall created by his father, and the grass swayed gently alongside vibrant clusters of flowers.
The world hadn’t changed—but for Zamian, it wasn’t the same anymore.
“You’re all struggling to avoid death, aren’t you?” His voice was calm, his gaze serene as he observed the plants around him. “Each of you is doing your utmost to grow.” He smiled faintly, a newfound determination flickering in his eyes. “I will do the same.”
Taking a deep breath, Zamian willed the White Dot to reveal his information.
PERSONAL INFORMATION
Name: Zamian Greenfield
Level: 2 [20%]
Tier: Mortal
Main Pathway: Creation
Title: None
STATS POINTS
Body: 40/54
Mind: 100/100
Soul: 80/100
QUEST LOG
Last Quest: Get revenge on your friend's behalf
Reward: 01 Book from White Tower's First Floor
Status: Completed
Main Quest: Destroy an Unholy Sapling before the end of the month
Reward: Special Physique (??)
Status: Ongoing (13 days left)
Nodding, Zamian dismissed the text. His knuckles still ached from the punches, but that was all.
“That place wasn’t real... or maybe the people weren’t. But even if I couldn’t absorb essence, how amazing it was to learn so much,” he muttered, standing up. His serene expression slowly morphed into a cold gaze as he struck the wall of vines.
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‘Verdant God! You blighted thing! What did you do to us?’ His fist collided with the vines again, the pain in his hand barely registering.
It was all because of one realization.
Death.
It was part of the natural cycle. Zamian had seen it countless times in his visualizations—every time he cultivated, every time he rested in a casket or imagined an older version of himself taking his final slumber.
But he had always seen it as a continuation. The last breath marked the end of a mortal’s cycle, sure, but it wasn’t final. He believed in rebirth, in returning as something else or perhaps being welcomed at God’s Tree. Whatever came after was uncertain, but he never doubted there was something.
Not anymore.
Like a blockage being lifted, the truth was clear now. Watching so many creatures doing everything to survive had shattered his understanding.
“We are all going to die!” Zamian roared, slamming his fist into the wall again, his eyes flashing with a white hue. “I am sure it’s your doing!” His voice echoed in the garden.
He clenched his fists as memories of the hundreds of books he had read flashed through his mind. None of them described death this way. No Chosen, no elder, had been enlightened enough to see that everyone’s understanding of Nature’s Cycle was flawed.
“You’ve been teaching us wrong from the start!” Zamian raged, his fists hammering the wall in a futile attempt to vent his frustration.
There was no external visualization method like the one he had seen, here in the Sanctuary. Even if his father had hidden things from him, it was impossible for Zamian to have missed such an obvious phenomenon. If green images had ever appeared above Dante’s or other cultivator’s head, someone would have noticed.
Controlling his breathing, Zamian eventually sat down, chuckling bitterly. “It means you’re not a good God,” he muttered, a faint, sardonic smile playing on his lips. “Does that make me a good guy for standing against you?”
But his anger wasn’t just directed at Verdant God. That realization was old news to him—he had doubted the deity ever since his mother was turned into a Saintess.
Tears streamed down Zamian’s face, and he hastily wiped them away.
“Mom…” he whispered. “You’re dead.”
The words hit him harder than any blow. Like a heavy weight he hadn’t even realized he was carrying, the truth lifted off his chest, replaced by a flood of grief and strange peace.
No matter how much he had denied it, there was always a childish hope. A part of him had clung to the idea of bringing his mother back. He thought constantly about saving his father, protecting the last of his family, because he couldn’t accept the truth about his mother. Talking to her in the Red World had been comforting, but it had also given him false hope.
Not anymore.
Crossing his legs, Zamian closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Taking some time to control his emotions once more, he then willed green essence to flow to his aching knuckles, soothing the pain.
“It’s time to face things head-on,” he said quietly. “First, I still have thirteen days to destroy the sapling. And I’ll do my best to make sure that blighted thing is gone.”
He concentrated, letting his thoughts align with his instincts. The constant anxiety, the endless second-guessing, and the rushed decisions of the past days were gone, replaced by a newfound clarity.
After a moment of reflection, Zamian opened his eyes and swiftly moved his hand, writing on the ground in front of him. Soon, he finished. A line separated two blocks of words.
Above the words on the right, there was ‘Later’, and on the left, ‘Now.’
“Learn more with Lin Zhi. Learn the Seed of Creation technique. Tell my father about the external visualization method. Destroy the Sapling. Research the Red World. Learn more about Verdant God and how he blocked knowledge from people’s minds. Learn how to activate the white essence and determine if I can cultivate two or more pathways—red essence seems incompatible with Nature’s Pathway,” he read the words under ‘Later,’ nodding.
“Cultivate and become a Zealot,” he said, reading the words under ‘Now.’
Zamian knew he might have only one day here, but he was so anxious to act, to gain power to deal with Chosen like Yokki, that he had previously chosen to learn new techniques instead of growing his cultivation.
But now, he understood—he had to struggle to grow and prove his worth, to avoid decline and death!
Sitting cross-legged in the middle of the garden, Zamian began chanting softly, "Nature is the Cycle, so our path is never-ending. Nature is the Creation, so our path is ever strong. Nature is the Truth, so our path is the only one."
Green essence, abundant in the garden, surged toward him, forming a vortex that bathed his skin and seemed to flow into his body.
He adjusted the flow, reaching for more with his mind. Instead of starting with inner visualization, he focused on gathering essence above him. Behind his closed eyes, white light flashed constantly, mingling with the visible green essence.
Though he couldn’t see it, invisible white essence also followed.
Abruptly, Zamian stood up, his eyes still closed. He moved his arms slightly, but when the green essence showed signs of slowing, he stopped.
The truth was that Zamian didn’t know how to cultivate with external visualization. He would try to learn with the hideous monster later, but now, he had another clue to follow—a peculiar word Lin Zhi had spoken earlier.
Sweating, blood rushing to his pale face, Zamian took deliberate steps toward a tree. Extending his hand, with the vortex of green essence still following him, he plucked a fruit.
He took a bite, then another, eating until only the seed remained. Slowly crouching, he dug into the grass, planted the seed, and covered it. Standing, he stomped the ground, sending green essence to the spot before moving to another tree. Repeating the process, he planted different seeds, each from the fruit growing under his father’s recreated garden.
As he worked, streams of green essence connected him to each seed. His instincts guided him, helping him locate even the smallest fruits. His movements became almost automatic, allowing his thoughts to drift.
He recalled learning about the Sanctuary’s Farms, where only commoners worked, and Zealots patrolled. Bohlo’s mother had worked there, teaching both boys about farming when they were young. Cultivators didn’t farm—Chosen could create gardens instantly, and others bought or traded for prepared food.
Zamian now saw how unnatural that was.
All because of how Lin Zhi had referred to him, even mistakenly: a Farmer.
Lin Zhi had said Zamian’s soul was stronger than a Farmer’s, but his body was weaker. That couldn’t mean a mortal Farmer—his essence-bathed body, even in that false world, couldn’t be weaker than a mortal’s.
‘There’s more to it,’ Zamian thought, his instincts sharpening. His movements became swift and precise, essence rushing through him. His mind wandered to another realization—there were no animals at the Sanctuary.
Lin Zhi and the monstrous disciples weren’t entirely human. Most were humanoid with animal-like traits, and even their visualizations depicted animals. And only by observing animals’ life cycles did Zamian grasp death’s place in the natural order.
Sure, Zamian read books, and outsiders that once in a while came and were accepted at the Sanctuary talked about animals, that most were extinct, that the lack of flora—trees, vegetation, good climate, everything—made surviving very difficult, mainly for commoners and creatures that couldn’t cultivate.
‘But then, why don’t bring a few animals to the Sanctuary?’ he wondered, and a flow of invisible white essence surrounded him. ‘This place is lacking important aspects of the natural cycle.’
He was finally truly enlightened.
Opening his eyes, he saw countless freshly dug holes filled with seeds, gushing out green essence, which flew to him and entered his body.
Sitting in the middle of the small space, he closed his eyes once more, starting inner visualization.
This time, he didn’t start with his birth. While he chanted, he imagined green essence gathering and forming his body, still a baby, in a dark place. Numerous flaws appeared, and while his mind would normally struggle to process so much information, he now slowly made the changes whispered to him by nature’s knowledge.
Little by little, a swirl of green essence rushed in, weaving layers and lines. The head began to form, and a glowing thread stretched down, connecting it to the rest of the body. A spark came alive in the chest—the heart. It took shape and began to beat, sending blood and essence flowing through the tiny form, aiding its growth.
After hundreds of other tries, finally, the spine appeared next, unfurling like a strong tree trunk down the back. Small buds pushed out from the sides, slowly growing longer, initially resembling flowers, and then stretching into arms and legs. They moved even before they were fully formed, directing the flow of green essence.
Another hundreds of flaws were corrected, and bit by bit, the baby’s face started to take shape. Eyes appeared like tiny glowing seeds, and a nose and mouth formed beneath them, soft and delicate. Inside the growing chest, organs like the lungs and stomach began to take their places, all bathed in a green hue.
Finally, correcting and following nature’s knowledge to adjust the last thousands of flaws, skin wrapped around the baby’s fragile body, sealing it in a protective shell, akin to a soft tree’s bark. Fingers and toes separated, their tiny tips flexing for the first time, resembling vines and roots connecting the body to the rest of the world.
The baby was alive, and it was waiting. Zamian didn’t know how much time had passed or how long it took for him to understand and apply nature’s knowledge to correct all the flaws.
But it was done.
He observed that a root connected the baby’s belly to the dark space.
‘Not a space, but a womb,’ Zamian thought, listening to nature’s knowledge. ‘My mother’s womb.’
Zamian then imagined himself, as a baby, leaving his mother’s womb. Struggling, breathing air for the first time, and proving not only to the world but to himself that he deserved to be born.
White light flashed in his visualization, and Zamian felt that he should leave the visualization and open his eyes at that moment.
And as he looked at the garden, the green essence had thinned out, and sprouts could be seen among the grass in the places where he had planted the seeds.
More importantly, his body felt full, stronger, with a pressure emanating from him.
Notifications then appeared.
Your Body Stat Cap has reached a milestone → 100/100
Analyzing…
Level: 2 [100%]
Tier: Mortal
Main Pathway: Creation
All stats capped
Cultivation level capped
Initiating breakthrough to Level 3 - Mortal Tier - Creation Pathway
