My Portable Spirit Farm: Rise of the Humble Servant

The terror of the ladder was burned into his bones.

He had experienced it personally. In that final stretch, every step had been a struggle through purgatory.

Especially during the last ten steps. He had only managed to crawl to the summit by relying on the Jade Pendant space, forcibly recovering his stamina and mental energy time and time again.

Yet, this Cave Master—while only at the Qi Condensation stage—had climbed it successfully relying solely on his own strength?

What kind of heaven-defying soul talent and unwavering Dao Heart did that require?

Chen Ping couldn’t even imagine how formidable and condensed the Senior’s soul foundation must have been back then.

His own success was entirely due to the “cheat” of infinite recovery provided by the Jade Pendant.

If they were to compare true foundations, the gap between him and the Cave Master was as vast as the distance between the clouds and the mud.

This realization instantly washed away the flicker of arrogance Chen Ping had felt upon reaching the top.

The self-satisfaction of obtaining the opportunity vanished. Replacing it was a deep reverence for true prodigies—and a sobering awareness of his own inadequacy.

He turned his attention to the final part of the jade slip.

It wasn’t a puppetry technique. It was a cultivation manual.

Nine Yang Nine Yin Scripture!

The text explained that this was the primary cultivation method the Cave Master practiced in his youth. However, what he possessed was only a remnant volume.

Even so, this fragmented scroll was assessed as an Earth Rank Mid-Grade technique!

The jade slip went further, speculating that if the Nine Yang Nine Yin Scripture were complete, its rank might touch upon the legendary Heaven Rank!

Heaven Rank.

Chen Ping drew a sharp, cold breath.

The weight of those two words exceeded ten thousand jun.

In the current cultivation world, Heaven Rank techniques were ethereal legends, unseen for ten thousand years.

Even Earth Rank techniques were hoarded by ancient, unfathomable sects or reclusive aristocratic families.

For a faction like the Qingyun Sect, their ultimate guardian technique was, at best, Profound Rank High-Grade. An Earth Rank manual simply did not exist in their library.

This Cave Master was truly generous!

Not only did he leave behind the Xuan Huang Puppet Technique—which pointed directly to the Great Dao—he had thrown in an Earth Rank remnant manual as a bonus!

A wave of relief and gratitude surged through Chen Ping’s chest.

Although this journey had been a narrow escape from death, the harvest was beyond his wildest imagination.

Compared to these treasures, the main ingredients for the Foundation Establishment Pill were trash—not even worth mentioning.

With this, his exploration of the cave was complete.

The jade slip also detailed the exit method: the Secret Realm had a fixed cycle. When the time limit expired, the realm’s laws would forcibly reject all surviving trial takers, teleporting them back to their entry point.

Chen Ping felt a weight lift from his shoulders.

He sat cross-legged on the miraculous cushion, gripped a Spirit Stone in each hand, and began circulating the Evergreen Art.

The cushion’s amplification effect was terrifying. Coupled with the thin but pure Qi of the cave, his recovery was rapid.

Over the next three days, he not only fully recovered from the exhaustion of the Heaven Ascending Ladder, but the compressed, purified Qi in his dantian also began to circulate with greater fluidity. It felt denser, heavier.

On the third day, just as Chen Ping completed a Circulation Cycle, an irresistible spatial force descended.

It wrapped around his body like a vice.

The scenery before his eyes spun into a blur. A wave of intense vertigo and weightlessness hit him.

The next moment, the sensation of solid ground returned.

The silence of the cave was replaced by the familiar noise of human voices and the scent of the mountain forest.

He was back.

He stood on the massive valley platform at the Secret Realm’s entrance.

Chen Ping stabilized himself and looked around. The number of cultivators on the platform had plummeted.

When they entered, there had been a mighty force of several hundred. Now, counting Chen Ping, barely a hundred remained standing, waiting for their sects to retrieve them.

Every survivor looked haggard, covered in wounds, their auras weak and listless.

The brutal trial had eliminated over sixty percent of the participants.

Chen Ping’s gaze swept the crowd and quickly locked onto a familiar moon-white figure.

Bai Yue.

She stood in the Qingyun Sect assembly area. The green robe he had given her was shredded, stained with dirt and dark, dried blood.

Her face was paper-pale, her lips devoid of color. Her aura was chaotic and fragile, flickering like a candle in the wind. Clearly, the Heaven Ascending Ladder had inflicted severe damage on her very foundation.

A Foundation Establishment Elder from the Qingyun Sect stood beside her, his expression pained.

He had one hand pressed against the center of her back, pouring pure spiritual power into her meridian system to stabilize her injuries.

Chen Ping understood immediately.

That woman was stubborn to the extreme. She had held on until the bitter end, refusing to give up, even as the ladder’s rules tried to erase her. She had survived, but the price was steep.

Almost at the exact moment Chen Ping noticed her, Bai Yue seemed to sense something.

She snapped her head up.

Her eyes, though exhausted, were icy and sharp. She scanned the crowd rapidly, urgently searching for someone.

Her gaze swept past Chen Ping.

He was ready.

The moment the teleportation light had flashed, he had quietly activated the Formless Mask.

The face he wore now was that of a generic Outer Disciple—honest, simple, and utterly forgettable. He suppressed his cultivation to the eighth layer of Qi Condensation, blending perfectly into the background.

Bai Yue’s scrutinizing gaze slid over his face without a pause.

She frowned, her eyes filled with confusion, reluctance, and a trace of… frustration?

She hadn’t found him.

The Outer Disciple who had surpassed her on the ladder. The man with the weak aura but the steady, mountain-like pace. The one who had saved her dignity and asked for nothing in return.

Chen Ping felt a mix of relief and respect.

‘That woman is proud,’ he thought. ‘The ladder must have left an indelible mark on her ego. Perhaps this failure will actually help her future cultivation.’

He withdrew his gaze and quietly merged into the group of surviving Qingyun Sect disciples, keeping his head down.

Upon returning to the Qingyun Sect, Chen Ping didn’t waste a second.

He headed straight to the Inner Sect Deacon Hall. His goal: exchange the Spirit Medicine for the promised Foundation Establishment Pill quota.

The Deacon Hall was bustling. Survivors were lining up to hand over herbs and register their contributions.

Chen Ping stood in the queue, his mind racing.

His gains were immense, but the Foundation Establishment Pill remained his most urgent bottleneck.

However, after seeing the cruelty of the Secret Realm and the hidden rules of the sect, his paranoia was at an all-time high.

When it was his turn, he faced a stern middle-aged deacon.

Chen Ping reached into his storage bag and pulled out ten jade boxes. He placed them neatly on the counter.

Ten sets. Just enough for one pill.

The rest of the harvest remained safely locked in the Jade Pendant space.

“Name. Peak.” The deacon asked without looking up, his tone bored and bureaucratic.

“Chen Ping. Outer Disciple.”

The deacon froze.

His eyes snapped up, flashing with shock as he looked at the nondescript youth before him. An Outer Disciple survived with a full set of main ingredients?

He stared for a moment too long, but eventually masked his surprise.

He checked the boxes, recorded the information, and nodded.

“Ten portions of main ingredients. Verified. This meets the criteria for one Foundation Establishment Pill. Your registration is complete. Go back and wait for notification.”

The deacon waved a hand, dismissing him.

Chen Ping bowed and turned to leave, keeping his face impassive.

But internally, alarm bells were ringing.

That look in the deacon’s eyes… it wasn’t just surprise. It was calculating. It made his skin crawl.

‘If the exchange goes smoothly, I can trade the rest later for more resources,’ Chen Ping reasoned as he walked out. ‘But if there are complications… these extra herbs are my lifeline.’

If the sect tried to cheat him, he would plant the seeds in the Black Earth. He would find the pill formula and refine it himself if he had to.

He returned to his cave dwelling on Green Cliff Peak and waited.

Three days passed in silence.

On the morning of the fourth day, the Restriction outside his cave flickered.

Chen Ping opened his eyes.

The visitor wasn’t a disciple from the Alchemy Hall delivering a pill.

Standing outside was a young cultivator in Inner Sect Deacon robes, his chin lifted in an expression of unmistakable arrogance.