My Portable Spirit Farm: Rise of the Humble Servant

The final item on the agenda was the selection of a cave dwelling.

Zhao Yuanqi produced another map, this one etched onto a slab of translucent jade. It displayed a detailed topographical view of the Qingyun Sect’s core territory, pulsing with faint light to indicate the flow of ley lines.

The Main Peak, Qingyun Peak, stood in the center like a pillar propping up the heavens, surrounded by a cluster of secondary peaks.

“Junior Brother Chen, the location of your cave dwelling is of paramount importance,” Zhao Yuanqi said, tapping the center of the map.

“The Main Peak sits atop a Third-Grade High-Rank Spirit Vein. The Qi density here is the richest and most pure, offering immense benefits to cultivation. However…”

His tone shifted, becoming more pragmatic.

“If you choose the Main Peak, you will be allocated a cultivation chamber on the mountainside or at the foot. You will not have independent territory to develop your own industries. Your resources will rely entirely on the monthly Sect stipend and whatever Contribution Points you earn by completing tasks.”

His finger slid outward to the ring of smaller mountains.

“If you choose one of these independent peaks, the entire mountain becomes your private dojo. You may plan and develop it as you see fit. The trade-off is the Spirit Veins. They generally range from Second-Grade Mid-Rank to Top-Rank—far inferior to the Main Peak.”

Chen Ping’s gaze swept over the map, his mind working rapidly.

The Main Peak?

He dismissed the idea instantly.

Too many people. Too many prying eyes. With powerful cultivators surrounding him on all sides, the secret of the Jade Pendant space would be in constant danger of exposure.

He needed isolation.

His eyes drifted to the edges of the map, settling on a solitary peak located about one hundred and fifty li southeast of the center.

The label was simple: Green Mountain.

Next to the name, small glowing characters detailed its specs:

Spirit Vein: Second-Grade Top-Rank (formerly Third-Grade Low-Rank; degraded due to the heavy nutrient drain of sixty acres of Spirit Fields).

Terrain: Mostly flat plains. Suitable for agriculture.

Sixty acres of Spirit Fields?

Chen Ping’s heart skipped a beat.

He had already secured the position of Spirit Plant Hall Master. If he added sixty acres of autonomous farming land to his portfolio…

It was as if the heavens had handed him a pillow just as he laid his head down to sleep. A perfect stroke of luck.

With this setup, earning Sect Contribution Points would be as easy as reaching into his own pocket.

It was far from the political scrutiny of the Main Peak, offered vast independent space, and provided a legitimate cover for large-scale herb cultivation.

“Senior Brother Zhao,” Chen Ping said, his voice decisive. He pointed to the lonely peak on the map. “I choose Green Mountain.”

“Green Mountain?”

Zhao Yuanqi looked at the map, then back at Chen Ping. The surprise on his face melted into a look of resigned understanding.

“Ah… I see.”

He finally understood this new Junior Brother’s “style.”

A remote, thankless job (Spirit Plant Hall). A desolate, abandoned shop (West Corner Warehouse). And now, a peak one hundred and fifty li away from civilization, burdened with a degraded vein and high-maintenance fields.

Chen Ping wasn’t just low-profile; he was the epitome of the “aloof hermit” archetype—someone who disdained worldly prosperity in favor of solitude.

“Junior Brother Chen… are you absolutely certain?” Zhao Yuanqi asked, feeling a duty to verify one last time. “The cultivation speed on the Main Peak is significantly faster. It is not a trivial difference.”

Chen Ping offered a faint, polite smile.

“Green Mountain is fine. I prefer the quiet. And it is suitable for planting herbs.”

Zhao Yuanqi was rendered speechless. He shook his head with a bitter, helpless chuckle.

“Very well. Since Junior Brother’s will is set, I can only offer my congratulations.”

He wasted no more breath. Zhao tapped the “Green Mountain” node on the jade map, infusing it with Chen Ping’s soul imprint to finalize the deed.

“From this moment on, the entire domain of Green Mountain, including the sixty acres of Spirit Fields, belongs to you. How you manage it is entirely your prerogative.”

He retracted the map and straightened his posture, his expression turning official.

“These are the conveniences the Sect grants to its Elders. As for cultivation techniques, secret arts, Dharma Artifacts, and Pills, you must exchange for them yourself at the Scripture Depository or the Hundred Treasures Hall using Contribution Points. This is the Sect’s rule; I hope you understand.”

“It is only natural,” Chen Ping nodded.

The Sect was not a charity. There was a balance between giving and taking. To have secured a private mountain with such production potential was already a massive victory.

With the dust settled, the Deacon Hall moved with impressive efficiency.

Moments later, a pile of items was placed in Chen Ping’s hands: the cyan jade token representing the Spirit Plant Hall Master, the deed to the West Corner Warehouse, the deed to Green Mountain, and the Core Disciple token that symbolized his status as an Elder.

Zhao Yuanqi offered a few more pleasantries before personally escorting Chen Ping out of the hall.

Standing outside under the open sky, Chen Ping felt a profound sense of grounding.

He had done it.

His secrets were safe behind layers of distance and privacy. And simultaneously, he had tapped into the Sect’s vast resource network.

Without hesitating, he summoned a hazy streak of cyan light, flying straight toward the temporary cave dwelling at the summit of Qingyun Peak.

His parents and Yuan Jingtian were waiting. It was time to go home.

As Chen Ping piloted a large Spirit Boat—spacious enough for four—away from the Main Peak with his parents and Yuan Jingtian onboard, news of his decisions rippled through the sect’s grapevine.

“Did you hear? That new Foundation Establishment Elder, Chen Ping, actually chose the Spirit Plant Hall!”

“The Spirit Plant Hall? Hah! That pit? You don’t see the shadow of a bonus there for years at a time. The ‘oil and water’—the perks—are nonexistent. The hall master before the last one quit out of frustration, and the last one pulled strings to transfer out in less than a year. And this guy jumped into the fire pit willingly?”

“That’s not even the worst part! For his marketplace property, he picked the West Corner Warehouse. You know, that old slag heap at the edge of the market? It’s big, broken, and completely dead.”

“And his cave dwelling? Heh, even better. He passed up the Third-Grade Spirit Vein on the Main Peak for Green Mountain! It’s over a hundred li away! Sure, it has sixty acres of Spirit Fields, but those fields are a massive drain on the vein. It’s a burden, not an asset!”

“Tsk, tsk. This Elder Chen… he reached Foundation Establishment so young, I thought he was a genius. Why is he systematically destroying his own future?”

“You don’t get it, do you? It’s called knowing your place! His Spirit Root aptitude is probably garbage, and he likely broke through on pure luck. He knows he can’t compete with the true prodigies of the Main Peak, so he’s hiding out in the boondocks to live a life of leisure.”

“That actually makes sense. Being a ‘Hall Master’ sounds impressive, but he’ll just collect his stipend and do nothing. And out on Green Mountain, the heavens are high and the emperor is far away. He can live like a king without anyone watching.”

“Pity… I was thinking of trying to curry favor with the new Elder. Doesn’t seem worth it now.”

The discussions were a mix of confusion, ridicule, and cynical “understanding.”

In the eyes of the masses, Chen Ping’s choices were tantamount to self-exile. He had voluntarily walked away from the center of power, resources, and influence. Unless a cataclysmic event shook the Sect, this new Elder Chen would likely fade into obscurity, never to step foot in the core circle of power again.

…

Among the gossiping disciples, a tall, elegant female figure walked silently through the crowd.

Her temperament was cold and aloof, carrying a frost that warned strangers to keep their distance.

She caught snippets of the conversation, her steps slowing slightly.

“Chen Ping? Could it be him?”

The woman lowered her head, murmuring to herself as she passed by. A flicker of surprise—and perhaps recognition—flashed across her icy features.

Around her, numerous male disciples watched her leave, their eyes filled with burning admiration, unaware that the object of their affection was thinking of the “foolish” Elder they had just mocked.