My Portable Spirit Farm: Rise of the Humble Servant

The stone steps hung suspended in the void, piercing straight into the churning sea of clouds above.

On the platform, the gazes of the twenty-seven battered survivors were uniformly focused on that bluestone staircase extending from the edge of the abyss.

No one knew what “Immortal Fate” lay at the summit. Was it a world-shaking inheritance? A peerless treasure? Or a path to transcendence?

It didn’t matter. That wisp of elusive hope was enough to drive them to suppress their agonizing injuries, force their exhausted spirits to rally, and take the next step.

Cultivators were still human; they possessed human greed.

Their goals were clear.

Chen Ping sat cross-legged at the edge of the platform, his brow furrowed in irritation as he watched the figures scrambling to step onto the staircase.

He felt vexed.

Although he had gathered the main ingredients for the Foundation Establishment Pill, the quantity was underwhelming. Based on his calculations, he had enough to exchange for perhaps two pills.

Two Foundation Establishment Pills.

For a genius, one was enough. But for him, with his Waste Spirit Root? Two might as well be zero. He was deeply skeptical that this amount would be sufficient to break through the bottleneck.

Furthermore, he had already obtained the Origin Thunder Bamboo Shoots—an unexpected, priceless harvest stored safely in his Jade Pendant space. The objective of this trip had been over-fulfilled.

The logical move for a calculating predator would be to take his gains, leave the Secret Realm safely, and go into seclusion. Or, leave this “Heaven Ascending Ladder” and hunt for more herbs in the outer forest.

Climbing this ladder and passing some arbitrary trial held little tactical significance for him.

Chen Ping sighed softly.

Curiosity had killed the cat. Stepping into that cave had dragged him into this bizarre, lethal trial mechanism. Now, he was trapped before this nonsensical staircase.

Behind him lay the sealed abyss cliff. Ahead lay the only path.

If he didn’t ascend, there was no way out.

Chen Ping sighed again. Ultimately, he had no control over the board; he was just a piece forced to move.

He was the last to stand up.

By the time his foot touched the first cold stone step, the beautiful figure ahead—Bai Yue—had already vanished around the mist-shrouded bend of the staircase.

Hum.

The moment his weight settled on the stone, an extremely faint yet exceptionally clear pressure descended. It was like an invisible gauze curtain, quietly enveloping his entire body.

The pressure did not act on his flesh or bones. It pressed directly upon the Qi flowing within his Meridians, attempting to bind and solidify it into sludge.

Chen Ping didn’t overthink it. He lifted his foot and began to ascend.

One step. Two steps. Ten steps. A hundred steps.

The initial pressure was negligible, but as the altitude increased, that intangible feeling of restraint grew exponentially.

The sluggishness of the Qi circulating within his Meridians became apparent. It felt as if he were dragging sandbags that grew heavier with every meter of elevation.

The total amount of Qi within his body was denser than others of the same level due to his constant consumption of high-grade resources, but this pressure seemed to act directly on the quality of the Qi, ignoring the quantity.

Time lost its meaning.

He didn’t know how long he had walked or how many steps he had climbed. His legs felt as though they were filled with lead, each lift a monumental effort.

The Circulation Cycle of Qi within his Meridians became incredibly sluggish; pushing the energy through his channels felt like wading through drying cement.

A sense of exhaustion surged like a black tide from deep within his marrow, flooding his limbs and drowning his consciousness.

His eyelids were heavy, weighing a thousand pounds. Intense drowsiness assaulted his brain, whispering that if he just closed his eyes, he could sleep… sleep forever.

The mist ahead remained thick and impenetrable. He could no longer see any trace of his fellow travelers.

On the silent stone steps, only the sound of his own labored panting and the heavy thud of his heartbeat echoed in the void.

Stop… must rest… otherwise I’ll die…

The thought screamed wildly in his mind.

But his survival instinct—the instinct of a predator—warned him that stopping meant death. This staircase was a filter, and filters discarded the weak.

Caught in a dilemma of exhaustion and danger, Chen Ping took a deep breath. A cold glint flashed in his eyes.

Hum!

Space shifted. The familiar, earthy scent of the Black Earth rushed over him.

That omnipresent, suffocating pressure vanished without a trace, like a receding tide.

His body suddenly lightened. His overly tense nerves and nearly exhausted stamina, like a parched sponge encountering sweet rain, frantically absorbed the pure Qi within the Jade Pendant space.

Chen Ping unhesitatingly sat cross-legged on the Black Earth. He retrieved a handful of Spirit Stones and began his recovery.

The rich Qi within the Spirit Stones, without needing guidance, spontaneously surged into his nearly dried-up Meridians, nourishing his exhausted body.

He didn’t even need to actively circulate his cultivation technique; every cell in his body greedily absorbed the energy.

Several hours passed in the sanctuary.

When Chen Ping opened his eyes again, the exhaustion was swept away. The spiritual power within his body was full and surging, his condition restored to its absolute peak.

With a thought, his figure reappeared on the bluestone staircase in the outside world.

Hum!

The familiar pressure returned instantly, clamping down on his body like a vice.

However, having just experienced the contrast between extreme exhaustion and complete restoration, the pressure—though heavy—no longer felt despairing.

His body and Qi seemed to have undergone a tempering process; his adaptability to the pressure had clearly increased.

He looked up. The stone steps still seemed endless, disappearing into the vast, indifferent mist.

“Continue.”

Chen Ping’s face was expressionless.

Since he couldn’t escape, he would see where this staircase led.

A strange, unyielding spirit quietly rose within him. He wanted to see if, relying on this unique “cheat” granted by the Jade Pendant space, he could ascend to that unreachable peak.

…

His steps steady, he climbed upward, step by step.

After rounding another mist-shrouded bend, Chen Ping clearly felt the intangible pressure intensify by a whole level.

If the previous pressure was a gauze curtain, it had now become a heavy iron shackle.

The flow speed of Qi within his Meridians was forcibly slowed. Each Circulation Cycle felt like pushing a massive millstone, the consumption of stamina and Qi increasing manifold.

Sweat soaked through his inner garments again, dripping down his temples.

The rules of this staircase were clear: the higher the altitude, the stronger the spiritual pressure.

This was not just a test of endurance, but a tempering of the purity of one’s Qi and the resilience of one’s Dao Heart.

Chen Ping gritted his teeth and persisted, controlling his speed at the very edge of his endurance limit.

Qi circulation became increasingly sluggish. The feeling of physical exhaustion surged over him again like a tide.

When he felt his Meridians aching and swollen, his spiritual power circulation grinding to a halt, and his legs becoming too heavy to lift, he unhesitatingly entered the Jade Pendant space again.

Pressure vanished. Qi surged in. Body recovered.

This cycle repeated.

When Chen Ping emerged from the Jade Pendant space for the fifth time and continued climbing for roughly half an hour, a figure appeared in the mist ahead.

It was a disciple of the Burning Sky Valley, wearing dark, tight-fitting clothes with a flame pattern embroidered on his chest.

He had his back to Chen Ping. His body was trembling violently, drenched in sweat as if he had just been pulled from a river.

The exposed skin on his neck and arms showed a sickly pallor, utterly bloodless.

He struggled to lift his foot, trying to step onto the next stone slab. But that foot hung in mid-air, trembling, as if pressed down by an invisible giant hand. He could not bring it down.

Chen Ping silently walked past him.

Just as they passed each other, the Burning Sky Valley disciple seemed startled by the movement. He jerked his head to look at Chen Ping.

His eyes were bloodshot, filled with disbelief, shock, and a trace of unwilling despair.

Pfft!

A viscous, dark black clot of blood violently sprayed from his mouth.

In the next moment, his body, drained of all strength, collapsed before Chen Ping’s eyes. He tumbled backward, rolling off the edge of the staircase and vanishing into the abyss below.

Only a faint scent of blood remained on the cold stone. The cultivator was gone.