The Dao of Envy’s transformation began to go wrong.
Chen Yong had been around long enough to know that most of the major sects maintained incomplete fragments of the World Tree Sutra in their archives, usually tucked away in the outer disciple sections where ambitious young cultivators could "discover" them.
It was an open secret among the elder councils, though never discussed officially. The Azure Peak Sect wasn't unique in this practice, the Heavenly Jade Sect had their "Garden of Eternal Growth" manual, while the Holy Light Sect called theirs the "Divine Tree Cultivation Method."
All names for the same cultivation method, all incomplete, all serving the same ultimate purpose.
The strategy was both cold and practical.
Young disciples with exceptional arrogance and natural talent would inevitably gravitate toward these Beyond Heaven rank fragments, convinced they could succeed where others had failed.
Most would simply stagnate at low levels, unable to make meaningful progress. But occasionally, perhaps once every few centuries, a disciple would advance far enough along the path that failure would trigger the transformation.
Chen Yong had always found the practice distasteful, but he understood the mathematics involved. Realm Stabilizing Trees were worth more than entire cities, and the alternative, purchasing them from other sects or cultivation families, would bankrupt even the wealthiest organizations.
This way, the cost was merely the occasional promising disciple who'd been too ambitious for their own good.
What made today's situation unusual was the formation of the tree itself, the Dao of Envy had clearly overestimated its copying ability and lost itself to the dangers of the World Tree Sutra.
"The Sutra strikes again," Elder Zhao muttered, but there was no mockery in his voice. Only hunger. The kind of hungry look that Chen Yong recognized from his own days as a young cultivator, when every resource seemed like it might be the key to the next breakthrough.
Elder Feng was already pulling out a jade slip, probably calculating the tree's market value. "Do you realize how many spirit stones something like that would be worth? The Heavenly Jade Sect would empty their treasury for a specimen of that quality."
"Market value?" Elder Liu scoffed. "You'd sell a Realm Stabilizing Tree? That's like selling your own cultivation future. Trees like that are what separate the great sects from the merely successful ones."
Stolen story; please report.
Chen Yong watched the growing excitement in the observation chamber with increasing unease. He'd seen this kind of fervor before, during the aftermath of successful inner world invasion or when ancient ruins yielded unexpected bounties. It was the look of cultivators who'd spotted an opportunity and were already plotting how to claim it.
The problem was, that tree had just formed from a creature that his disciple had been fighting. By any reasonable interpretation of cultivation law, it should belong to Ke Yin. But reasonableness had a tendency to evaporate when resources of this magnitude were involved.
"We need to discuss allocation protocols," Elder Meng said, his tone not quite masking the greed underneath. "A resource of this significance requires careful consideration of how it can best serve the sect's interests."
"Allocation protocols?" Elder Wan’s eyebrows rose. "That's a polite way of saying we should steal it from the boy who earned it."
"Earned it?" Elder Zhao stood up, his Peak Life Realm spiritual pressure flaring slightly. "The child stumbled into a failed cultivation transformation. This isn't about earning anything, it's about ensuring that such a precious resource isn't wasted on someone who can't properly utilize it."
Chen Yong felt his stomach clench. Here it comes, he thought. The rationalization phase, where stealing from a junior gets dressed up in the language of sect welfare and resource optimization.
"Elder Zhao raises a valid point," Elder Feng said, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "The boy is only at the Qi Condensation Realm. What use could he possibly have for a Realm Stabilizing Tree? It would be like giving a mortal a Civilization Realm technique, wasted potential."
"Besides," Elder Liu added, "Realm Stabilizing Trees are most effective when used by cultivators at the Life Realm seeking breakthrough to Civilization Realm. Several of us are approaching that crucial juncture. The tree could serve the sect far better in our hands than sitting unused in some Qi Condensation disciple's storage ring."
Chen Yong watched Elder Zhao's face as the arguments mounted. The man was at the peak of Life Realm, had been for nearly three centuries. Chen Yong knew from their private conversations that Zhao had been struggling with his bottleneck, unable to make the final push toward Civilization Realm advancement. A Realm Stabilizing Tree would be exactly what he needed to overcome that barrier.
"I volunteer to retrieve the resource," Elder Zhao announced, his voice carrying the confidence of someone who'd already made up his mind. "I can be in and out of the Fallen Realm within seconds. The boy won't even know what happened until the tree is safely in my inner world."
Chen Yong opened his mouth to object, but Elder Wan beat him to it.
"That sets a dangerous precedent," Wan said firmly. "If we start taking treasures that disciples earn during sect trials, what message does that send? How can we expect loyalty and dedication if we prove that their achievements can be confiscated at our whim?"
"This isn't confiscation," Elder Zhao replied, already moving toward the chamber's exit. "This is resource optimization. The boy will be compensated appropriately. A few thousand spirit stones, perhaps some technique manuals suitable to his level. He'll profit from this arrangement far more than if we let him keep something he can't use for decades."
Elder Feng nodded approvingly. "A sensible approach. The boy gets immediate benefits he can actually use, and the sect gains a resource that can be properly utilized. Everyone wins."
Chen Yong stood up, his own spiritual pressure beginning to flare. "Everyone except the disciple who actually earned the treasure through his own efforts and cultivation insights."
"Chen Yong," Elder Zhao paused at the chamber door, his expression patient but firm. "I understand your attachment to the boy. He's your student, after all. But personal sentiment can't override practical considerations. The greater good of the sect must take precedence."
"The greater good," Chen Yong repeated, tasting the words like bitter wine. "How conveniently that phrase appears whenever seniors want to take something from juniors."
Elder Zhao's eyes hardened. "Are you questioning the wisdom of the elder council?"
"I'm questioning the ethics," Chen Yong shot back. "But by all means, Elder Zhao, explain to me how stealing from our own disciples serves the sect's greater good."
The tension in the chamber was becoming palpable, spiritual pressures clashing as philosophical differences became personal conflicts. Chen Yong could see other elders choosing sides, alliances forming based on their own interests and moral positions.
Elder Zhao took another step toward the door. "I'm ending this discussion. The resource will be retrieved and allocated according to—"
He froze mid-sentence.
Not the kind of pause that comes from reconsidering one's words, but the absolute, total stillness that only occurs when an overwhelmingly superior force makes movement impossible.
Chen Yong felt it too, a pressure that descended on the chamber like the weight of mountains, like the attention of something vast and ancient turning its gaze upon them.
Chains erupted from the stone floor beneath Elder Zhao's feet.
Not metaphorical chains, not some symbolic binding of his spiritual energy. Actual chains, forged from what looked like crystallized starlight, wrapped around Elder Zhao's ankles and wrists with the sound of reality itself rearranging.
Elder Zhao's eyes blazed with fury as his Dao of Lightning flared to life. "You dare—!"
Brilliant blue-white electricity coursed through his body, crackling and hissing as it met the starlight chains.
For a moment, the chamber was filled with the deafening roar of thunder as lightning qi clashed against whatever mysterious force bound him. Sparks flew like angry fireflies, and the smell of ozone filled the air.
But the lightning that should have shattered stone and melted metal simply... fizzled.
The chains absorbed the electrical assault without so much as a flicker, their starlight glow remaining perfectly steady.
Elder Zhao poured more power into his struggle, his spiritual pressure rising until the very air around him began to ionize, but the chains tightened with each pulse of his qi.
Within seconds, his lightning sputtered and died, leaving him gasping and bound as thoroughly as if he'd never cultivated a day in his life.
The Life Realm cultivator, who had been radiating confident authority just moments before, was suddenly as helpless as a mortal child, and far more terrified.