The arrival of the Immortal Zhou Qing was like a massive boulder thrown into the stagnant pond of Servant Peak, the ripples it stirred refusing to settle for a long time.

The stone door remained tightly shut, separating the Immortal from the Mortal, yet it could not contain the turbulent mix of longing and anxiety churning in the hearts of all the servants.

Chen Ping’s grip on his firewood axe tightened, then slowly relaxed.

He did not crane his neck like the others to stare at the stone house, nor did he try to push forward.

His gaze lingered for a moment on Manager Wang’s fawning, hunched back before he lowered his eyelids and continued chopping at the tough thicket of thorns before him.

The Immortal needed attendants. Manager Wang needed to curry favor with the Immortal.

For Chen Ping, this was the greatest opportunity.

Sure enough, Manager Wang soon came jogging back from the front of the stone house, his face still flushed with excessive excitement.

He cleared his throat, raising his voice several notches, trying hard to appear both authoritative and benevolent.

“Listen up! Exalted Immortal Zhou will be cultivating in seclusion on our Servant Peak for a few days! This is an immense blessing for us all! Everyone better perk up, work hard, and don’t make any filthy noises disturbing the Exalted Immortal’s peace!”

His eyes swept over the crowd with a tone that seemed almost like charity.

“The Exalted Immortal is merciful and has specifically requested two clever ones to serve him. As for the rest of you… make your tasks lighter! Chopping wood, fetching water, clearing weeds around the Shacks—divide these tasks up. Scarface!”

The Scarred Foreman hurriedly stepped forward. “Manager!”

“You, and you few.”

Manager Wang casually pointed at several Foremen who usually followed Scarface around throwing their weight about.

“For these next few days, keep a close eye on things, but don’t go overboard. Don’t disturb the Exalted Immortal. Especially…”

He paused, his gaze deliberately or inadvertently sweeping past the direction of the Back Mountain slope where Chen Ping was, before quickly looking away as if afraid of catching some bad luck.

“That area on the Back Mountain, just do a bit of tidying up. Don’t make too much noise. For everything else, carry on as usual, but keep your movements light!”

Manager Wang’s intentions were crystal clear.

He wanted to devote all his energy to the Immortal. He had neither the time nor the inclination to specifically monitor a “good-for-nothing” like Chen Ping anymore.

Assigning Chen Ping those effortless, unimportant light tasks served two purposes: it made Manager Wang appear “considerate” of his subordinates while also sending Chen Ping far away—out of sight, out of mind.

As for those heavy labor tasks?

Under the watchful eye of an Immortal, Manager Wang naturally had to be more “merciful” and temporarily rein them in.

Chen Ping understood perfectly. This was exactly what he needed.

He listened silently to the assignments. His task was to clear gravel and fallen leaves from several small paths near the shack area.

This work was easily ten or even a hundred times easier than clearing thorn thickets, digging cesspools, or moving stone materials.

In the following days, the atmosphere on Servant Peak became somewhat cheerful.

The direction of the stone house became an absolute forbidden zone. The two chosen servants entered and exited gingerly, their faces a mix of trepidation and a hint of secret excitement.

Manager Wang practically became a door god for the stone house, standing guard outside most of the time, ready to receive orders at any moment.

The Scarred Foreman and his other lackeys still patrolled around, but their eyes were noticeably distracted. Their minds were more focused on that stone house. Their usual shouting and beating of servants diminished considerably, fearing loud noises might displease the Immortal.

Many Laborers, no longer burdened with heavy physical work, gradually began to smile.

Chen Ping rose before dawn every day.

His assigned area wasn’t large; there was limited gravel and leaves to clear. He worked nimbly and steadily. In less than two hours, he could finish his assigned work spotlessly clean.

Once done, he immediately distanced himself from the shack area, seeking out a secluded corner where no one was around. Sometimes it was a shady spot in a mountain hollow; other times it was a gap surrounded by large rocks.

He vigilantly observed his surroundings. Confirming no one was watching, he immediately assumed his stance.

The Vitality Technique!

Slowly, steadily, meticulously.

Raising hands, pushing palms, bow stance twisting torso… Each movement was accompanied by faint sounds of stretching sinews and bones and aching muscles.

The bone in his left arm had already healed well, but when exerting force there were still faint threads of pulling pain deep within. He gritted his teeth and endured it, not daring to let his form deviate in the slightest.

Sweat soon soaked through his thin coarse cloth shirt, steaming faint white vapor in the cool morning air.

In the past, when he only had around a hundred pounds of Physical Strength, exhausting himself completely through one set of the Vitality Technique left him feeling utterly drained, dizzy, eyes blurry, and limbs weak.

Now, sustained nourishment from Spirit Rice and Wild Boar meat had quietly increased his Physical Strength to three or four hundred pounds.

After finishing one set, though still tired and muscles sore, he could maintain his breathing and still had some strength left in his limbs.

He didn’t stop!

After briefly regulating his breath for a few cycles, he started again.

Second set, third set…

The aching sensation in his body grew heavier as if every inch of muscle was protesting. Sweat dripped into his eyes, causing stinging.

But Chen Ping’s gaze remained calm. His breathing coordinated with his movements—deep, long, difficult inhalations and exhalations.

Only under this kind of extreme exertion would that faint yet tenacious flow of heat deep within his body be stimulated.

By the end of the fourth set, his legs were already trembling slightly, and lifting his arms became heavy.

Leaning against a nearby rock, he gasped heavily, his chest heaving violently.

After resting for about half an Incense Stick’s Time and wiping sweat from his face, his eyes regained their sharpness as he stood firm again.

Fifth set.

Movements were much slower than before, each stretch accompanied by muscle tremors and faint bone creaks. Sweat dripped from his chin onto the soil beneath his feet.

But he persisted until completing the final closing posture.

That wisp of heat deep within seemed slightly stronger, swirling momentarily before slowly sinking into limbs and bones throughout his body.

He could no longer support himself, sliding down with his back against the cold mountain rock, sitting with chest heaving and throat emitting hoarse gasps.

Extremely exhausted, yet his spirit held a strange sense of satisfaction. He silently calculated.

Five sets! A full four sets more than before the injury.

Resting awhile and recovering some strength, he immediately got up, nonchalantly returning near the shack area, picking up a broom or basket, and pretending to still be working.

Until the sky gradually darkened and the Foremen’s shouts grew sparse.

Late night, Jade Pendant space.

Chen Ping rushed over to the white rice pile, grabbing handfuls of raw rice and swallowing mouthfuls in large gulps.

Warm currents washed over his body, alleviating the overdraft from daytime exertion.

After eating the rice, he walked over to the corner, using a small knife to carefully cut a piece of meat roughly two ounces from the Wild Boar hind leg.

The meat color remained dark red, fresh to the touch, cool, and elastic.

In the corner, he used dry leaves and thin twigs to build a small fire.

Meat sizzled over the fire, fat dripping and emitting a pure, mouth-watering aroma. No salt, and the taste was bland, but the satiety and heat provided by the fat were something Spirit Rice couldn’t replace.

He chewed carefully, feeling the process of food transforming into strength.

After finishing the roasted meat, he started practicing the technique again.

Practice within the space was more focused and also more unrestrained. However, the time spent inside the space was limited.

At most, he could finish two sets of the Vitality Technique before having to exit the space. Otherwise, the next day would bring a splitting headache.

Day after day!

Simple light tasks gave him ample time. Five sets, even six sets of the Vitality Technique became his fixed routine homework.

Spirit Rice and Wild Boar meat provided a solid foundation and logistical support.

He could clearly feel that flow of heat deep within his body slowly, steadily growing, strengthening its tempering effect on his body.

The most direct and obvious manifestation was strength.

In the past, moving a hundred-pound rock required gritting his teeth; now, a three-hundred-pound stone material could be relatively easily carried a distance in a short while.

Muscle contours beneath his thin clothing were gradually becoming clearer; though still lean and gaunt, they contained a sense of power completely distinct from before.

He silently estimated inwardly.

Ten days! Another ten days!

He had full confidence he could elevate this body’s Physical Strength above five hundred pounds!