My first attempt at creating rich, black earth resulted in something that looked more like tar – a sticky, dense mass that would have suffocated any plant unfortunate enough to try growing in it.

"Perhaps analyze the components separately?" Azure suggested as I dispersed the failed attempt. "Soil isn't just one material."

Right. I remembered Senior Sister Chen explaining soil composition during one of her lectures. "Good soil needs organic matter, minerals, proper texture..." I muttered, trying to recall the details.

I started again, this time focusing on creating the individual components first. The mineral base came easily enough – fine particles of rock and clay that would form the soil's foundation. But when I tried adding what I thought would be organic material, plants created by wood qi, it turned into a strange, crystalline substance that definitely wasn't going to support any life.

"That's...unique.”

"It's awful," I corrected, dissolving the bizarre crystal-dirt hybrid. "I'm thinking about this wrong. Instead of trying to create organic matter directly, maybe I should focus on creating something that could eventually hold organic material?"

The third attempt went better. I managed to create a dark, rich-looking soil by carefully balancing different mineral particles and leaving tiny spaces throughout the structure. It wasn't perfect – real topsoil would need actual organic matter – but it would serve as a framework for future growth.

Moving on to clay soil proved equally challenging. My first try produced something closer to ceramic – hard, brittle chunks that would have been great for pottery but useless for growing plants. The second attempt went too far in the opposite direction, creating a slimy mud that refused to hold any shape.

"Clay needs a specific balance of minerals," Azure reminded me. "And the particle size matters."

I adjusted my approach, focusing on creating the microscopically thin plates that made up real clay. This time, the earth essence responded better, forming a properly structured soil that would retain water without becoming impermeable.

The sandy soil was its own adventure. My first attempt literally created a beach – pure white sand that would have been perfect for a vacation but completely useless for cultivation. The second try produced something closer to gravel, while the third somehow ended up as glass.

"How did I even manage that?" I wondered, looking at the unexpected patch of transparent ground.

"The principles of glass-making do involve sand," Azure pointed out. "Though perhaps not quite what we're aiming for here."

Finally, I managed to create a proper sandy loam – coarse enough for good drainage but with enough fine particles to support growth. The real breakthrough came when I started thinking about how the different soil types would interact with each other.

Instead of creating distinct regions of each type, I let them blend at the edges, creating natural transitions. Clay soil gradually shifted to loam, then to sandier soil, each change subtle enough to look natural. In places where water would eventually flow, I added extra drainage capacity. Areas that would receive more sun got deeper soil beds.

Looking at the finished product, you'd never guess how many failed attempts it had taken. The various soil types transitioned smoothly across the garden quadrant, each area perfectly prepared for its future purpose.

"Don't forget about drainage layers," Azure reminded me.

I added layers of coarser material beneath the topsoil, creating natural filtration systems. In some areas, I embedded chunks of stone that would help regulate spiritual energy once we got that far. Other sections received deeper soil beds for plants that would eventually need to root deeply.

"What about the meditation areas?" I asked, remembering how the sect's gardens always had quiet spots tucked away among the plants.

Following that thought, I carved out small clearings throughout the garden space. Some were surrounded by raised areas that would eventually shield them from view, while others sat atop gentle rises with good sightlines across the quadrant.

The end result looked deceptively simple – rolling hills that flowed naturally into each other, various soil types blending at their edges, and hidden spots that seemed to have formed naturally rather than being deliberately crafted. It was the kind of landscape that looked effortless precisely because every detail had been carefully planned.

"The south-eastern section should be for testing and experiments," I continued, leaving that area mostly empty except for a few scattered platforms and basic structures. "We'll need somewhere to try out new techniques without risking damage to the rest of the terrain."

"And the south-western quadrant?" Azure prompted. "The one you've already started?"

I looked at the area I'd first created, with its subtle variations in elevation. "This can be our stable ground. A place for basic training and meditation." I added a few more features – a small plateau that would make a perfect meditation spot, some open fields for practice areas.

The Genesis Seed's roots continued to spread through all four quadrants as I worked, creating a complex network beneath the surface. They seemed to be stabilizing the terrain somehow, making it feel more permanent, more real.

"Now for the really interesting part," I said, looking up at the two suns. "We need to position them properly."

The red and blue suns had been drifting aimlessly around the edges of my inner world, occasionally throwing what they probably thought were subtle glances at each other. Now they perked up, clearly interested in being given actual roles.

"Without gravity, we'll need to manually define their positions and movements," Azure explained. "Think of it like setting up track for them to follow."

I nodded, considering the space. "They should be opposite each other, I think. Maximum coverage of the terrain."

Reaching out with my qi, I guided the red sun toward the eastern edge of my inner world. It went willingly enough, though it seemed to preen a bit under the attention. The blue sun drifted to the western edge without needing to be prompted, apparently not wanting to be outdone.

"Now for their orbit..." I concentrated, trying to visualize the path I wanted them to follow. Without time or gravity, I couldn't just set them in motion and let physics handle the rest. Instead, I had to create what amounted to a predetermined track for them to follow.

This took even more trial and error. Simply pushing them in circles didn't work – they'd either drift off course or overcompensate and spiral inward. Eventually, I discovered that by creating a sort of spiritual tether between each sun and the Genesis Seed, I could guide them along more stable paths.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"Think of it like a spiritual dance," Azure suggested. "The suns aren't just rotating, they're performing a coordinated movement with the Genesis Seed as their partner."

That helped. Instead of trying to force them into rigid orbits, I worked with their natural tendencies. The red sun preferred sweeping, dramatic arcs, while the blue sun moved in more measured, graceful curves. By letting them express those preferences while gently guiding their overall direction, I managed to establish a rhythm that felt... right.

"Excellent," Azure approved. "Now we can see about adding some basic plant life. Remember, without being in the Life Realm, you can't actually create living things. But you can set up the framework."

I started with the garden quadrant, using wood qi to form the shapes of trees, bushes, and flowers. They were like detailed sculptures, perfect in form but completely lifeless. No leaves rustled, no branches swayed. They just... existed.

Then something fascinating happened. As the blue sun passed overhead, its light seemed to infuse the plant forms with a semblance of life. Colors brightened, forms became more distinct, and there was an almost tangible sense of vitality.

The red sun had its own effects. When its light touched the trees, their forms would slowly shift and change, branches reaching in new directions before freezing again. The transformation energy seemed to work even on these lifeless forms.

"This is fascinating," I murmured, watching the interplay of energies. "The red sun transforms, the blue sun animates... together they create a kind of pseudo-life."

"Yes," Azure agreed. "But without gravity or proper time flow, the effects are limited. Notice how nothing truly grows or develops - it just cycles through states we've defined."

He was right. Without fundamental forces like gravity, and without proper time flow, everything in my inner world was essentially frozen in patterns I manually established. The suns moved because I told them to move. The trees appeared to live because of the suns' energy.

It was like a complex puppet show where I had to manage every string.

Still, it was progress.

“So even though I can't actually create life yet, the blue sun's energy can simulate it to some degree?"

"You're essentially creating a framework that life can eventually inhabit. Think of it like building a house – you're not creating the family that will live there, but you're making a space that can support life when the time comes."

I spent the next few hours adding more details to each quadrant.

In the mountain range, I carved out complex cave systems and created natural formations that looked like they'd taken millennia to form. The garden section received more varieties of plant forms – trees of different sizes and shapes, areas that could become flower beds, even a section that looked like it could be an herb garden.

The testing ground remained mostly empty, but I added some basic structures – pillars for target practice, flat areas for sparring, and a few more specialized zones whose purposes I hadn't quite decided yet.

Finally, I returned to the base quadrant, refining the meditation plateau and adding a few more features that felt right – a small grove of tree forms that would make a perfect quiet spot, some natural stone formations that could serve as seats or tables.

Standing (or rather, floating) in the center near the Genesis Seed, I smiled as I took in what I had created.

It was strange seeing it all together – a world that followed none of the normal rules of reality. No gravity meant the waterfalls I'd planned would need special attention later. No time meant nothing would age or change unless I specifically made it do so. The suns' orbit was completely artificial, their light affecting the world in ways that defied normal physics.

For a Qi Condensation cultivator, it was... unusual, to say the least. Most inner worlds at this stage were just empty voids with maybe a few basic features. Having stellar bodies and even the framework for life was practically unheard of.

"Master," Azure's voice held a note of pride, "I believe we've created something quite unique."

Looking around one last time, I had to agree.

In the Northwest, there were mountain ranges, deep valleys, and cave systems. The mountains formed a natural semicircle, with the highest peaks to the north and gradually descending as they curve around.

The Northeast was the garden quadrant. There were hills covered in tree sculptures, flat areas for future flower beds, and specially prepared soil zones for different types of plants. And when the blue sun passed overhead, everything took on an almost-living quality.

As for the Southeast quadrant, it was mostly empty but with platforms and structures for future use. Plenty of open space for experiments and practice.

In the Southwest, there were meditation plateaus and practice fields.

At the center stood the Genesis Seed, its roots spreading throughout all four quadrants, anchoring and stabilizing everything. The deep valleys radiating outward from it would eventually hold rivers, dividing the quadrants naturally.

And above it all, the red and blue suns followed their perfect orbit, opposite each other, their different energies creating an endless cycle of transformation and renewal.

It wasn't just a void with some dirt in it anymore. It was the beginning of a true world.

"Not bad," I said softly, "for a few hours' work."

The Genesis Seed's branches swayed, and I could have sworn it looked pleased.

"Master, I believe someone is approaching your room,” Azure alerted me. “Given the qi signature, it's probably Wei Lin coming to check if you've managed to blow yourself up with all that meditation."

As I opened my eyes, I noticed something wasn't quite right.

The garden's vines were still curled protectively around my body as they had been during meditation, but the stone courtyard floor seemed... much farther away than it should be.

It took me a moment to realize I was floating several feet in the air, with various flowering vines still wrapped around my arms and legs, hanging down toward the ground like green curtains.

"Well," I muttered, trying to figure out how this had happened, "this is awkward."

And of course, that's when I heard Wei Lin's knock at the door.