My Portable Spirit Farm: Rise of the Humble Servant

Chapter 218: Arts Clash

There would only be one chance. If he missed this window, there wouldn’t be a second. Chen Ping’s gaze hardened into steel.

As the sickly green light of the Body Seizure faded, and Han Liren’s divine soul fully anchored itself within Han Feiyu’s flesh, the invisible Restriction shielding the cold jade bed—and the cavern entrance—silently shattered.

Stripped of its soul’s protection, the lifelike corpse of Old Ghost Han instantly lost its luster. The skin grayed and shriveled at a visible rate. Hundreds of years of delayed decay crashed down in a matter of seconds, reducing the body to a desiccated husk.

Now! A lethal glint flashed in Chen Ping’s eyes.

This was the exact opening he had waited for. The Restriction was gone. The old ghost was distracted, disgusted by his new body’s mediocre talent, and utterly disoriented.

“Spirit Controlling Art!”

Chen Ping barked the command, leaving a faint afterimage in his wake as he crossed the distance to the jade bed in a flash. His target wasn’t just the black Storage Ring on the corpse’s finger. His left hand shot out like a viper, plunging directly toward the desiccated chest. He was taking the whole damn corpse.

“Junior! You dare?!”

The old ghost finally reacted. A hoarse roar, grinding like coarse sandpaper, tore from “Han Feiyu’s” throat. He had fully expected Chen Ping to press the attack on him or try to save the girl. He never imagined this brazen rat would snatch the useless remains!

He reached out instinctively, but it was too late. Chen Ping’s palm clamped onto the cold, withered chest.

Swish! In a flash of light, the ancient corpse—and the priceless Storage Ring—vanished. Chen Ping had dumped them straight into his Jade Pendant space.

“Bastard! Spit it out! That is This Seat’s Storage Ring!” Han Liren’s face flushed a violent crimson. His previously arrogant facade shattered, replaced by agonizing heartache and explosive fury. His entire life’s fortune was in that ring!

He roared, his aura erupting like a detonating volcano.

BOOM! A suffocating Pressure, far exceeding the early Foundation Establishment stage, instantly crushed the air in the chamber. Third layer… fourth layer… peak of the fifth layer! In a split second, Han Liren forcibly dragged his new vessel’s cultivation up to the absolute peak of the fifth layer of Foundation Establishment.

Han Feiyu’s stolen face flushed an unnatural, sickly red. Veins bulged violently against his temples, the mortal shell clearly buckling under the immense strain of the forced enhancement.

Overdrawing the vessel’s potential for temporary power? Or is it a secret art? Chen Ping’s expression grew dangerously grave.

Against a third-layer Foundation Establishment cultivator, he was confident he could slay the old ghost here. But an opponent armed with Violet Palace realm combat experience, ancient Arts, and a temporary fifth-layer cultivation? His absolute certainty vanished. This was the most lethal enemy he had faced since reaching Foundation Establishment.

“Junior! Your methods are ruthless and quick,” Han Liren snarled, his voice dropping to a condescending chill. “But before absolute strength, tricks are futile! Hand over This Seat’s ring, and This Seat may yet leave you with an intact corpse.” He sneered, utterly unable to fathom a scenario where he lost to this thief.

“Brat, This Seat is speaking to you. What is with that attitude?!” Han Liren barked, losing his razor-thin patience as Chen Ping remained silent.

Chen Ping scoffed, his lips curling into a frigid sneer. “Old ghost, cannibalizing your own bloodline for a Body Seizure. Only a beast wearing human skin could stoop to such venomous methods. You want your ring? Come get it yourself!”

Before the echo of his voice faded, Chen Ping’s fingers blurred into a series of Hand Seals.

“Sword Formation: Strangle!”

The scattered forty-nine flying swords answered with a unified, piercing hum. Like a swarm of killer bees returning to the hive, they surged into the air. This time, they didn’t form a blunt drill. Instead, they scattered into a suffocating, omnidirectional net. Weaving sharp, blinding trajectories through the cavern, the blades closed in on Han Liren from every conceivable angle!

“Petty tricks. A laughable display,” Han Liren scoffed, his eyes flashing with utter disdain.

He might only possess fifth-layer spiritual power for now, but his mastery over Arts was untarnished. Without shifting his stance, he splayed his right hand and viciously clawed at the empty air.

BOOM! The emerald floor beneath Chen Ping’s feet violently buckled. Three massive, azure water dragons, as thick as tree trunks and perfectly condensed from pure water spiritual power, erupted from the jadeite tiles! With a deafening roar, the beasts slammed headlong into the descending sword net.

CLANG! CLANG!

The cavern exploded into a storm of torrential water and crisscrossing sword energy. The razor-sharp blades shredded the water dragons, but the sheer kinetic force and dense elemental power shattered the formation’s encirclement. Countless water droplets exploded outward like high-velocity arrows, pitting the jadeite walls with dense craters.

The very millisecond the water dragons collapsed, Chen Ping unleashed his second wave!

“Fire Dragon Art: Three Dragons Dance!”

His Hand Seals shifted with blistering speed, and fire-attribute true essence violently surged from his Dantian. This was the sole, terrifying advantage of his Five Elements Waste Spirit Root: he could seamlessly convert his true essence into any elemental attribute and execute the corresponding Arts.

Three colossal fire dragons, wreathed in blinding white-hot flames, roared into existence. This was the Art’s perfected form—every incinerating scale and fiery claw was rendered in hyper-lethal detail. The beasts lunged at Han Liren, their catastrophic heat instantly superheating the sterile cavern and boiling the air with a staccato crackle.

“Hmph! Showing off before a master?” A ghastly green light flashed in Han Liren’s eyes.

He didn’t even attempt to dodge the apocalyptic inferno. Bringing his right index and middle fingers together, a blinding point of crimson light erupted at his fingertips.

“Li Fire: Phoenix Beak!”

Han Liren flicked the crimson spark forward. It devoured the ambient air, expanding exponentially in a fraction of a second to form a massive, hyper-condensed phoenix head forged of pure flame. The razor-sharp beak radiated an archaic, terrifying heat that vastly eclipsed the purity of Chen Ping’s fire dragons.

It was an absolute, crushing demonstration of a higher-tier flame Art!