My Portable Spirit Farm: Rise of the Humble Servant

Chapter 193: Making the Opponent Faint from Anger

The disciples of the Wangyue Sect, along with the many spectators who detested Chen Ping’s fighting style, immediately erupted into excited cheers.

Facing this mountain-crushing attack, a “grave” expression finally appeared on Chen Ping’s face, as if he, too, felt the immense pressure of impending doom.

He dared not be negligent. His hands blurred as they formed rapid seals, and the True Essence from his Dantian surged out without reservation.

“Fire Dragon Art!”

He shouted loudly, his voice hoarse, as if straining every fiber of his being.

A crimson fire dragon, several times thicker and more solid than his previous manifestations, roared into existence. Its scales and claws were clearly defined, burning with intense heat as it soared into the sky, fiercely colliding with the descending giant black seal.

Boom——!!!

A deafening explosion erupted in the arena.

Fierce shockwaves surged in all directions, causing the protective light barrier around the stage to flicker violently.

The fire dragon and the giant seal were locked in a stalemate for a heartbeat. However, the dragon ultimately could not withstand the crushing power of a Second-Grade Top-Rank Dharma Artifact. With a mournful cry, it shattered into sparks and dispersed.

However, the dragon had done its job. The downward momentum of the giant seal was successfully hindered, its speed noticeably slowing, and an unstable gap appeared within its enveloping pressure field.

Now!

A sharp glint flashed deep in Chen Ping’s eyes. He fully activated his movement technique, the Spirit Control Art.

His figure became a streak of light. Seizing the fleeting moment that the gap appeared, he narrowly brushed past the fierce winds at the seal’s edge, escaping the kill zone by a hair’s breadth.

Crash!

The giant seal slammed down where he had just been standing, creating a shallow crater in the hard blue-steel stone floor and sending crushed rock flying.

“He dodged it again!”

Cries of disappointment and anger instantly filled the spectator stands.

Li Yingchun’s face darkened, but he did not panic. He changed his hand seals again.

“Lock!”

The massive Mountain Suppressing Seal did not retract. Instead, it rose into the air again, clinging like a stubborn parasite. It chased closely after Chen Ping’s figure, continuously smashing down with rhythmic brutality.

Simultaneously, Li Yingchun’s left hand formed seals, firing sharp golden Sword Qi towards Chen Ping’s dodging path like a torrential rain, blocking his maneuvering space. His right hand was not idle either, constantly releasing fireballs and ice spikes for harassment.

His tactic was clear: use the Mountain Suppressing Seal’s area suppression and continuous pursuit to force Chen Ping into constant, high-intensity movement, while using dense, low-cost Arts to whittle him down.

He didn’t believe Chen Ping’s First Layer Foundation Establishment cultivation could sustain this intensity of consumption for long.

The arena immediately devolved into a suffocating chase.

The giant black seal crashed down time and again, with Sword Qi, fireballs, and ice spikes following closely behind. Chen Ping’s figure was like a leaf in a storm, twisting and turning within the narrowing space, performing all sorts of incredible, extreme dodging maneuvers.

Six flying swords rapidly weaved and danced around him, clanging as they blocked attacks that couldn’t be completely avoided.

Every dodge looked perilously close; every block seemed reluctant and desperate.

It appeared as if everything was just luck—it was just that this luck was a bit too consistent.

Chen Ping’s face grew increasingly “pale,” his breathing became more and more “ragged,” and his steps began to seem somewhat “staggering.”

“Hit him! Stop dodging!”

“Trash! All you do is run!”

“Senior Brother Li, go! Wear him out!”

“What are you even doing? Are you here for a competition or a marathon? Fight back!”

Even some neutral observers were frustrated, feeling Chen Ping was wasting his potential on cowardice. Curses, boos, and cheers for Li Yingchun mixed together into a deafening roar.

Everyone could see that Li Yingchun held the absolute initiative. Chen Ping was merely struggling in his death throes; defeat was only a matter of time.

Li Yingchun thought so, too.

He continuously urged the Mountain Suppressing Seal and constantly released Arts, his True Essence pouring out like floodgates thrown open. Watching Chen Ping’s teetering yet persistently unyielding appearance, a surge of fury gradually rose in his heart.

Why won’t he just fall?

Time, once again, mercilessly passed.

Another hour went by.

On the arena, Li Yingchun’s offensive remained fierce, but his breathing had become heavy. Veins bulged on his forehead, sweat poured down his back, and the hand controlling the Mountain Suppressing Seal began to tremble slightly.

In contrast, Chen Ping, though still appearing “utterly wretched” and “about to collapse at any moment,” maintained his “barely effective” movements with suspicious consistency.

Li Yingchun’s heart sank bit by bit.

Who can tell me what exactly is going on?

Is this coward made of iron?

Abruptly, a terrifying thought surfaced in his mind: Could this guy’s True Essence… be deeper than mine?

Is he acting?!

This thought filled him with a mix of humiliation and rage.

Finally, when Li Yingchun once again forcibly urged the Mountain Suppressing Seal, preparing to launch a full-force suppression to end the farce, the True Essence within his body suddenly stagnated.

The tank was empty.

The Mountain Suppressing Seal shook violently in mid-air, its light instantly dimming, and its size rapidly shrinking back to its original form.

He had no strength left to follow up.

And right at this moment—when his old strength was exhausted and new strength had not yet been born—Chen Ping, who had been “passively taking a beating” all along, finally let the mask slip.

A sharp, mocking glint flashed in his eyes.

He forcefully pushed off with his foot, his body shooting out from the gap under the shrinking seal at an extremely tricky angle, moving as smoothly as a loach in mud.

The six flying swords instantly converged, transforming into a singular, sharp sword light that shot straight toward Li Yingchun’s body.

Li Yingchun was greatly shocked. He never expected Chen Ping would dare to counterattack at this precise moment. In his haste, and suffering from the backlash of exhaustion, he could only barely muster a thin layer of protective spiritual light while dodging sideways.

Sssshhh!

The sword light tore through the flimsy protective barrier, cutting a deep, bone-visible wound on his left arm.

If he hadn’t dodged in time, that sword might have pierced his shoulder or throat.

Intense pain shot through him, and Li Yingchun staggered back. His face was as pale as paper, his gaze toward Chen Ping filled with disbelief and overwhelming fury.

He knew he had completely lost.

His True Essence was exhausted, he was injured, and the other party clearly still had strength to spare.

From start to finish, he had been played like a fiddle.

“I…”

Li Yingchun opened his mouth, wanting to admit defeat, but the intense sense of humiliation choked his throat.

Chen Ping, however, did not pursue.

He stopped in place, “gasping” heavily, using his sword to prop himself up as if that last attack had drained his final reserves. He looked at Li Yingchun, a “weary” smile appearing on his face. His voice wasn’t loud, but it clearly reached the other’s ears.

“Fellow Daoist Li… your strength… is truly formidable… Chen nearly… couldn’t hold on…”

Already suffering from churning Qi and blood due to depleted True Essence, and now faced with this blatant sarcasm, Li Yingchun could no longer suppress his internal injuries.

“Pfft!”

A mouthful of rebellious blood violently sprayed out.

Pointing at Chen Ping, his finger trembling, Li Yingchun’s eyes rolled back. He was nearly fainting from anger on the spot.

“Alright, just kidding, I’m fine!”

Chen Ping suddenly stood upright, sheathed his flying swords, and dusted off his robes. His breathing instantly normalized, and his posture radiated energy.

“You’re not bad, though. You actually made me sweat. Much better than that other guy!”

The entire arena fell dead silent.

“Pfft…”

Li Yingchun sprayed another mouthful of blood. He glared with furious eyes that quickly turned white, his legs kicked out, and he completely lost consciousness, crashing to the floor.

Everyone was stunned by this dramatic turn of events.

Desecrating the corpse? Repeatedly?

This Chen Ping… he’s simply too shameless!

Immediately, an even more violent, almost roof-lifting wave of curses erupted from the spectator stands.

“Despicable! Shameless!”

“Lowlife! Scoundrel!”

“Get off the stage! You don’t deserve to be a cultivator!”

“He angered Senior Brother Li until he vomited blood! What kind of devil is he?!”

Amidst the deafening uproar, Chen Ping calmly cupped his hands toward the stunned referee. Then, ignoring the countless gazes that seemed ready to tear him apart, he composedly walked step by step down from the arena.

His steps were steady and light; where was any trace of the earlier “weakness”?

“This person has a short temper… can’t even take a joke…”

Before leaving the area, Chen Ping waved his hand dismissively, muttering loud enough for the front rows to hear, seemingly unsatisfied with the outcome.

Thus, his remarks triggered yet another round of curses, echoing long after he had left the stage.