The conversation about the chosen Spiritual Plants grew more intense, the room humming with a mix of excitement and tension. Devor, calm and precise like a seasoned expert, took meticulous notes, refining every idea and suggestion. Each one had the potential to improve their formation or boost their resource sustainability.

  "Picking the right plants and materials is crucial for making effective pills, formations, and everything else," Devor said, his voice steady but thoughtful as he addressed the team. His eyes moved around the room, meeting the gaze of each person. "But this advantage won’t last forever. Over time, we’ll run low on resources, and if we don’t adapt, we’ll hit a wall."

  The room fell quiet, the weight of his words settling over them.

  "This competition," he continued, "isn’t a race—it’s a marathon. Victory won’t go to the fastest; it’ll go to those who can keep a steady, efficient pace."

  Everyone nodded in agreement. Even Sugu, who had been skeptical of Devor’s abilities before, couldn’t help but be impressed by the younger man’s confidence and practical approach.

  Devor carefully mapped out his suggestions, planning to test different combinations and formations once the Spiritual Garden was up and running. "The plants need to work in harmony," he explained. "We might need to swap out weaker elements as we go, making sure the balance is maintained."

  The conversation flowed smoothly, with half the team—once skeptical of Devor’s expertise—beginning to recognize the depth of his knowledge and the logic behind his methods. It became clear that adaptability was going to be their strongest asset.

  “As for the plants we’ve chosen,” Devor added, “creating a truly stable formation will take time. Rushing through this process could harm the entire ecosystem.”

  As the discussion began to wind down and the team prepared to test their ideas, Versti leaned forward, his sharp gaze locking onto Devor. His voice cut through the room, calm but unwavering.

  “What about Earth-Grade Spiritual Plants?” Versti asked, his tone steady but serious. “Are you sure you can cultivate more than 43 Earth-Grade Seeds in a garden as small as 50 square meters?”

  The room went silent. All eyes turned to Devor. Up until this point, the discussion had centered around Yellow-Grade Spiritual Plants—no one had dared to bring up Earth-Grade ones.

  Devor’s brow furrowed as his mind raced through the calculations. “It’s possible,” he said carefully, his voice steady but measured. “But it would take a lot of time and preparation.” He held Versti’s gaze, unwavering. “For one, I’d need to plant dozens of Yellow-Grade Spiritual Plants first to prepare the ecosystem. Planting Earth-Grade Seeds directly would cause imbalance and instability.”

  Nyuru nodded, her sharp eyes narrowing as she processed his words. “Earth-Grade Spiritual Plants need far more nutrients and natural energy than Yellow-Grade ones. It’s not something we can rush.”

  Devor gestured toward Nyuru. "Exactly. Things like the size of the garden, available natural energy, and even the weather will all be key factors."

  Versti folded his arms, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "The Spiritual Garden for the competition is exactly 50 square meters," he said, his tone even. "Just like the one you worked with in the cave."

  Devor blinked, his eyebrows lifting in surprise. The realization hit him. Had the small garden in Beastbound Hollow been part of a deliberate training exercise? Had the sect designed it to prepare him for this moment?

  "I’ll show you how I did it," Devor said, his voice filled with confidence.

  The room hummed with anticipation. Was Devor about to reveal the secret behind his success? Such knowledge was usually closely guarded—one of the cornerstones of a cultivator’s edge. Yet Devor seemed completely unbothered.

  With a calm, deliberate motion, he touched the Spatial Ring on his finger and retrieved a large scroll. As he unrolled it across the table, everyone leaned in, their curiosity palpable.

  Taking up a black brush, Devor began to sketch with practiced ease. Simple lines quickly took shape, outlining a small garden plot, with carefully placed 'x' marks at each corner.

  “These 'x' marks show where the Yellow-Grade Spiritual Plants will be planted,” Devor explained, his voice calm and steady. His focus remained on the scroll as he spoke. “Once these plants grow to about thirty centimeters, they’ll create enough stability for me to plant the Earth-Grade Seeds in the center.”

  The team watched quietly, their skepticism beginning to fade. Even Nyuru, who prided herself on her knowledge, found herself nodding in agreement.

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  “When the four corners are stable enough to support the Earth-Grade Seeds, I’ll expand the formation,” Devor continued, his brush moving smoothly as he added more 'x' marks in a grid pattern. “This method will let me cultivate at least fourteen Earth-Grade Seeds in the initial phase, building a stable foundation for the plants to grow.”

  The simplicity of his explanation concealed the complexity of the process, and even the most experienced cultivators in the room were impressed.

  Nyuru leaned back, her expression softening into genuine admiration. “It’s efficient,” she said, her voice filled with awe. “And the way you’re creating balance is brilliant. Most Spiritual Farmers would try to force the process, but you’ve found a way to let the plants do the work for you.”

  Devor offered a faint smile, his eyes scanning the room, meeting each teammate’s gaze. “It’s about understanding the natural flow of energy. If we work with it, not against it, the results will speak for themselves.”

  Versti’s smile widened, now one of approval. “With this kind of foresight and skill, we’re not just growing plants—we’re growing victory.”

  Heads nodded in agreement, and a renewed sense of energy filled the room as everyone absorbed Devor’s explanation. His method felt practical, achievable, and—most importantly—promising.

  “So, what’s the next step?” Nyuru asked, a mix of curiosity and admiration in her voice.

  Devor’s steady gaze remained fixed on the diagram in front of him. “Next,” he said, his tone calm, “I’ll plant more Yellow-Grade Spiritual Plants in the remaining spaces. That will complete the garden’s harmony, making it stable and self-sustaining.”

  Torni, the Array Master, leaned in, his eyes scanning the paper as if trying to decode its secrets. “So, you’re saying this setup can only support fourteen Earth-Grade Seeds? The space already looks pretty packed.”

  Devor nodded, his expression serious. “Fourteen is the ideal number for this layout,” he explained. “Any more, and we risk destabilizing the whole system.”

  He paused for a moment, taking a deep breath, as if preparing to dive into a deeper explanation. His sharp eyes swept over the room, meeting each team member’s gaze. The air grew thicker, like everyone was holding their breath in anticipation.

  “What you need to understand,” Devor continued, his voice low but commanding, “is that every Spiritual Plant, no matter its grade, has its own unique energy resonance. This resonance isn’t just about how the plant grows—it’s how it interacts with its surroundings and the other plants around it.”

  He gestured to the diagram, his fingers tracing the clusters of 'x' marks. “Yellow-Grade Plants have stable energy frequencies. They’re easier to integrate with their surroundings. But Earth-Grade Plants are much more dynamic and volatile. If planted carelessly, their energy can clash with the environment or even throw the whole garden out of balance.”

  Devor’s words hung in the air, their weight settling in the minds of his teammates. “In an ideal world, where resources are plentiful, we could plant Earth-Grade Seeds without a second thought. But in this competition, with resources so limited, we have to maximize every ounce of energy and potential.”

  The room fell silent as the gravity of his words sank in. For a moment, the only sound was the soft rustle of wind outside, a reminder of the challenges waiting for them in the fragment world.

  Devor spoke again, his tone calm but deliberate. “It’s not just about the energy of each plant. The flow of energy between them is just as important. Every plant has its own rhythm—its growth cycle, how it absorbs and releases energy. Even one misplaced Earth-Grade Seed can throw that rhythm off, creating chaos throughout the whole garden.”

  He leaned in, his voice growing sharper. “That’s why I don’t plant Earth-Grade Seeds randomly. I choose their spots carefully, making sure their resonance matches the surrounding Yellow-Grade Plants. This way, we create a natural energy network—a harmonious system that stabilizes the entire ecosystem.”

  Devor turned back to the diagram, his fingers moving across the paper as he began sketching complex patterns in the garden's center, forming concentric circles around several key points. “These points represent where I plant the Earth-Grade Seeds. They don’t grow in isolation. Instead, they support one another, creating a flow of energy that moves seamlessly throughout the entire garden.”

  The room watched in focused silence as Devor added more details, drawing smaller grids and lines to map out the energy pathways. “Even things like soil composition, water flow, and airflow need to be carefully balanced. If the soil is off, or if too much energy gathers in one place, the whole garden could collapse.”

  Nyuru, her brow furrowed in thought, broke the silence. “How do you monitor these energy flows so precisely? It sounds... almost impossible.”

  A faint smile tugged at the corner of Devor’s mouth. “It’s all about deep observation,” he replied simply. “I’ve spent weeks—months—sitting in the middle of my garden, attuning myself to every subtle shift in energy. Every breeze, every flicker of light—they all leave their mark. With enough practice, you can feel these flows as clearly as your own heartbeat.”

  The room fell quiet again, the weight of his words sinking in. But Devor wasn’t done yet.

  “Beyond just observation,” he added, “I use a cultivation technique that helps me sync with the natural environment. It lets me sense the vibrations of each plant, understand what it needs, and adjust accordingly. This isn’t just about planting methods. It’s about forging a deep, symbiotic connection with nature itself.”

  The room was thick with a quiet, almost reverent air. Even those who had doubted Devor before now regarded him with new respect. His words held a depth that went beyond technical know-how—they carried a kind of wisdom.

  Versti leaned back in his chair, a faint smile of approval tugging at the corners of his lips. “You’ve given us a lot to think about, Devor,” he said. “This isn’t just strategy—it’s philosophy.”

  Nyuru nodded thoughtfully, her expression deep in contemplation. “It’s rare to find someone who truly understands the essence of Spiritual Farming. Most treat it like a mechanical process, but you’ve turned it into an art.”

  Devor lowered his brush, a quiet determination settling in his eyes. “It’s not just about growing plants,” he said softly. “It’s about creating something alive—something that thrives and nurtures everything around it. That’s how we’ll win.”

  The room fell into silence, the weight of his words sinking in.