Cultivation is Creation [World-Hopping & Plant-Based Xianxia]

The aftermath of battle always has a curious quality to it—an almost holy stillness that descends after the chaos, as if the world itself needs a moment to process what has occurred.

This was especially true of the ruined shrine.

The stone platform was cracked and warped, bearing the unmistakable scars of immortal combat—deep furrows carved by those blood-red division lines, sections crystallized into jade, patches melted to glass by intense flame, and the distinctive radial pattern of stellar energy that had marked the death of a Civilization Realm cultivator.

Silence reigned for long moments.

Then, almost imperceptibly, something stirred.

A tiny speck of crimson, no larger than a grain of sand, emerged from a narrow crevice in the temple floor.

While all other traces of the ancient monster's essence had been consumed by the Genesis Seed, this minuscule fragment had somehow been shielded during that final devastating attack.

Perhaps it had been protected by the angle of the stone, or maybe it had already begun its desperate transformation into something more resilient the moment the stellar energy struck.

Whatever the reason, it had survived.

The blood droplet quivered, as if gathering its strength. Then, with agonizing slowness, it began to rise into the air. Its movement was erratic—lurching forward a few inches, then drifting sideways, occasionally dropping several feet before catching itself.

Each motion seemed to cost it tremendous effort.

Yet it persisted, gradually gaining height until it oriented itself away from both the ruined temple and the distant village where the Azure Peak disciples had retreated.

This single crimson mote, carrying the last fragment of a once-great cultivator's consciousness, began its journey across the mountain range.

Hours passed as the speck traversed the wilderness. Its progress was painfully slow, each mile a testament to the stubborn will that drove it forward. Occasionally it would falter, dropping into the shelter of trees or rocks when its energy ebbed critically low.

During these brief respites, it would draw what little nourishment it could from the ambient qi of the mountain, gathering just enough strength to continue its flight.

When it finally reached a secluded clearing miles away from the shrine, the droplet of blood descended to hover inches above the moss-covered ground.

It pulsed once, twice, then expanded rapidly, stretching and morphing until it took on a vaguely humanoid shape.

The transformation was painful to witness.

The red substance twisted and writhed, occasionally letting out wisps of crimson vapor that dissipated into the night air.

Gradually, features began to form—first a torso, then limbs that trembled with effort, and finally a face contorted in agony.

Ke Jun collapsed to his knees, his semi-transparent form flickering like a candle flame in a breeze. His once-imposing figure was now hunched and fragile, the edges of his body blurring and reforming in endless cycles.

The blood-red eyes that had gazed upon his descendant with such possessive hunger now struggled to maintain their glow, dimming and brightening in irregular patterns.

"A humiliating setback," he rasped, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Centuries of planning... undone by a child."

He stared at his trembling hands, watching as his fingers occasionally lost their definition, merging into a shapeless mass before painfully reforming.

The Divine Spirit Reclamation technique, a masterpiece that had preserved him through centuries, was failing. Without a proper vessel to anchor his consciousness, his essence was slowly, inexorably dissipating.

Ke Jun turned his gaze back toward the direction from which he had fled, his expression a complex mixture of fury and reluctant admiration.

"To think a descendant of mine would possess such talent," he murmured. "The World Tree Sutra... and stellar energy at the Qi Condensation stage." He shook his head in disbelief. "Such potential is rare even across millennia."

A bitter laugh escaped his half-formed lips.

"Perhaps I chose my vessel too well." Ke Jun's shoulders slumped slightly. "The irony is not lost on me. The very qualities that made him ideal—his exceptional spiritual sensitivity, his unusual constitution—are what allowed him to defeat me."

He attempted to stand but collapsed back to his knees as his legs temporarily lost cohesion.

"I would be a fool to pursue that body again," he admitted to himself. "I recognize the signs. I have seen talents like his before, back in my youth. They became monsters who surpassed even the Civilization Realm."

Ke Jun's expression darkened with memory.

"The World Tree Sutra..." he whispered, genuine fear threading through his voice. "Of all the cultivation methods, why that one? That boy treads a dangerous path. Either he will die horribly when the technique consumes him, or he will ascend to heights that only one before him has reached."

A shiver passed through his unstable form.

"No, it would be better for my continued existence to avoid that descendant entirely." Ke Jun nodded to himself, decision made. "The next time we meet, if we meet, he will certainly have means beyond even stellar energy at his disposal. And I..." he looked down at his deteriorating form, "I am in no position to challenge such power."

With renewed determination, Ke Jun focused his remaining essence on recovery. His form stabilized slightly as he drew in ambient qi, the outline of his body becoming marginally more defined.

It would take time—perhaps years—to regain even a fraction of his former strength, but he had waited centuries already. Patience was a virtue he had mastered long ago.

He would find a more suitable descendant, a talented one, just not monstrously so.

As he focused on recovering, something caused him to freeze.

A sudden pressure in the air. The subtle distortion of natural qi flows. The almost imperceptible sound of footsteps that touched the ground too lightly.

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Ke Jun's body tensed, his instincts screaming danger.

In an instant, four figures materialized around him, positioned at cardinal points to form a perfect square. They had approached with such stealth that in his injured state, he was unable to detect them until it was too late.

Three of the figures radiated power at the peak of Qi Condensation—ordinarily a threat Ke Jun would dismiss. Even in his weakened state, such cultivators would typically become nothing more than fuel for his recovery.

But the fourth figure...

Ke Jun's eyes narrowed as he assessed the masked individual standing directly before him. This one wore robes of absolute black that seemed to absorb light rather than merely blocking it.

The aura emanating from this masked figure made Ke Jun's essence run cold. Stellar Realm, without question—and not merely at the threshold, but firmly established within that level of power.

In his prime, Ke Jun wouldn't have even blinked at such an opponent, but in his current state, the disparity was insurmountable.

Still, centuries of political maneuvering had not left him without resources. Ke Jun arranged his features into a pleasant mask, deliberately relaxing his posture to appear unthreatening.

"Well, well," Ke Jun said. "To what do I owe the pleasure of such distinguished company?" His eyes darted between his four visitors, searching for weaknesses while his mind raced through possible escape routes. "I don't believe we've been formally introduced."

The masked figure tilted its head at an unnatural angle whilst the other three remained motionless, their faces hidden in the shadows of their hoods.

When no response came, Ke Jun's smile tightened. "Silent types, I see. Perhaps you're here by coincidence? This forest is lovely this time of year—excellent spiritual energy for cultivation. I was just passing through myself..."

As he spoke, he gathered what little energy he had left, preparing to make a desperate dash for freedom. He had no illusions about winning a direct confrontation—his only hope lay in escape.

With a sudden burst of speed that belied his weakened state, Ke Jun launched himself toward a narrow gap between two of the figures. His body transformed into a crimson streak, flowing like liquid through the air—

Only to slam violently into an invisible barrier.

The impact sent him reeling backward, his already unstable form rippling dangerously from the collision. Waves of pain washed through him as he realized the truth of his situation.

A formation.

The four cultivators had not just surrounded him; they had established a complex containment formation, likely activated the moment he had materialized in the clearing. The design was elegant in its simplicity—four anchors creating a perfect prison, with the masked cultivator serving as both participant and keystone.

Ke Jun turned slowly, facing his captors with renewed wariness. His gaze settled on the masked figure, recognizing the predatory stillness of someone who had cornered their prey.

"Well," he said, forcing a rueful smile onto his face as he straightened his semi-transparent robes, "juniors these days really are opportunistic, aren't they? I suppose we should discuss terms."

The masked figure made no reply but raised a hand.

Ke Jun's false confidence evaporated as he felt space beginning to warp around him.

***

The Masked One stood at the center of the formation, his breathing labored beneath the crystal mask.

At his feet knelt the broken form of Ke Jun, the once-mighty Civilization Realm cultivator reduced to a pitiful shadow of his former self. His semi-transparent body flickered between states of solidity, sometimes appearing almost physical, other times nothing more than a red outline filled with swirling mist. One of his arms was entirely missing, the stump leaking crimson essence that evaporated upon contact with the air.

"Remarkable," the Masked One murmured. "Even after being nearly destroyed by Stellar Realm energy, you still managed to put up such resistance. The Civilization Realm truly does produce fascinating specimens."

Ke Jun didn't respond, what little energy he had managed to preserve after his battle with his descendant had been exhausted in this brief, one-sided conflict. He had fought with the desperation of a cornered beast, employing techniques that risked what remained of his existence, but it had all been for naught.

The Masked One made an elaborate gesture with his right hand, drawing complex symbols in the air. As the final sigil was completed, reality tore open beside him, forming a portal of absolute darkness ringed with what appeared to be shards of broken crystal.

"You have the honor of joining my collection," the Masked One informed Ke Jun. "The first expert of such a high caliber that I have managed to acquire. Your knowledge of ancient cultivation methods alone makes you an invaluable addition."

With another gesture, tendrils of darkness extended from the portal, wrapping around Ke Jun's kneeling form. The former Civilization Realm cultivator made one last, feeble attempt to resist, his remaining hand clawing at the ground as the tendrils dragged him towards the void.

"You... will regret this," Ke Jun managed, his voice barely audible. "My descendant will—"

"Yes, yes," the Masked One interrupted. "The protagonist will avenge you, defeat me, save the world, and so forth. I've heard it all before." He leaned closer. "But between you and me, I've collected quite a few 'protagonists' in my time. Your descendant will simply be one more for the shelf."

With those words, the tendrils completed their work, pulling Ke Jun fully into the portal. The tear in reality sealed with a sound like breaking glass, leaving no trace of the ancient cultivator.

A moment of silence followed before the three other figures approached their master. Their forms seemed to waver slightly, as though struggling to maintain cohesion.

One of them—a young man with proud features but hollow eyes—finally spoke.

"Master, shall we pursue the other one as well?" Li Yuan asked. "The Azure Peak disciple who wielded stellar energy?"

The masked figure turned slowly, looking in the direction where Ke Yin and the other survivors had retreated. For a long moment, he seemed lost in contemplation, fingers moving in small gestures as though reading invisible text in the air.

"An intriguing prospect," he finally replied. "That one shows... significant narrative potential.

He then glanced at his servants—Li Yuan, Mo Qingyin, and Mo Tian.

All three showed signs of severe stress, their forms less stable than they had been days before. The edges of their bodies occasionally blurred, spiritual energy leaking from poorly sealed cracks in their artificial vessels. They would need maintenance soon, or risk complete disintegration.

Finally, he glanced down at his own body,

The battle with Ke Jun might have been brief, but it had not come without cost.

Beneath his robes, several stars in his body had dimmed, their light temporarily extinguished by the techniques Ke Jun had employed in his desperation. More concerning was the crack in his mask—a result not of today's battle, but of his previous encounter with that troublesome sword spirit.

The memory of that confrontation made the crack pulse painfully. The sword strike had come without warning, cutting through space itself to strike him in the shoulder. Even now, a week later, the wound had not fully healed, if anything, it seemed to be slowly spreading.

"I've already underestimated a mere Qi Condensation cultivator," the Masked One reflected bitterly. "I failed to consider that he might be carrying an ancient expert capable of bypassing all my defenses. A single slash, and he nearly severed my connection to this realm."

He shook his head, forcing his focus back to the present situation. "No," he decided. "I won't make the same mistake again. We will add him to the list and hunt him later."

Before any of them could respond, a ripple passed through their forms.

"It appears my ability to maintain your physical manifestations has reached its limit," the Masked One sighed. "Return to the collection for now. We shall resume our activities once proper repairs have been completed."

That suited his plan, the former Civilization Realm cultivator required processing before his essence degraded further. Not to mention, he had his own injuries to focus on.

The Masked One watched as his servants began to disintegrate, their bodies breaking down into particles of light that flowed into his body. They would reform within his inner world, preserved in their designated chambers until he had the strength to reconstruct their vessels.

He had pushed them too far, keeping them manifested in the physical world beyond their limitations. Had he maintained them any longer, the delicate bonds of control might have weakened enough for them to fight against his will—a complication he preferred to avoid.

Now alone in the clearing, the Masked One gazed up at the night sky. His collection had grown by one today, but the true prize still eluded him.

"The Azure Peak Sect," he mused to himself. "So many interesting threads converging in one place. Not just one potential protagonist, but several..."

With another elaborate gesture, he opened a new portal, this one smaller and more stable than the one that had swallowed Ke Jun. Before stepping through, he cast one last look in the direction of Azure Peak Sect.

"Enjoy your victory while it lasts, little protagonist," he whispered. "Our story is just beginning."

Then he was gone.

A/N

And that's Book 2 complete on RR!

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