My Portable Spirit Farm: Rise of the Humble Servant

Chapter 153: Alchemy Assessment

Should he ask his parents to manage the shop?

Chen Ping shook his head almost immediately.

His father, Chen Dashan, was at the fifth layer of Qi Condensation. His mother, Madam Lin, was only at the fourth. Their cultivation was weak, and their remaining lifespans were short.

He provided them with pills to buy them time—to let them advance their cultivation and perhaps steal a few more years from the heavens.

If he shackled them to a storefront, forcing them to bow and scrape to customers and drown in daily trivialities, their cultivation would grind to a halt. It would defeat the entire purpose of his support.

Moreover, the marketplace was a dragon’s pool and a tiger’s den. It was mixed with all manner of shady characters. He wouldn’t feel at ease leaving his elderly parents to guard a cash cow in such a chaotic environment.

‘What about Yuan Jingtian?’

The thought flickered and died in an instant.

Yuan Jingtian’s primary mission was the physical safety of Chen Ping’s parents. That was non-negotiable.

Furthermore, the man had just broken through to Tier 1 Low-grade in the Dao of Talismans. He needed time to consolidate his skills. Splitting his focus to manage a shop would ruin his progress as a craftsman.

‘Yao Min and Shan Yu?’

His two disciples were loyal, certainly. But they were already drowning in work.

Managing 60 acres of Spirit Fields was a brutal task. Weeding, tilling, channeling spiritual springs, monitoring growth cycles, maintaining the Spirit Gathering Array… it consumed half their waking hours.

Chen Ping needed them to grow stronger so they could manage larger territories in the future. If he pulled them away to sell pills, the fields would suffer. The loss of the Spirit Herbs would far outweigh the profits of a retail shop.

Chen Ping rubbed his temples, a frown creasing his brow.

He looked left and right, but saw no one.

“Manpower… I am still severely lacking manpower.”

For the first time, the fragility of his operation became starkly apparent. To support his expanding “empire” and his own voracious cultivation needs, his current team was stretched to the breaking point.

He needed subordinates. Reliable, capable subordinates who could handle the grunt work.

He sat down, his mind dissecting the problem with cold logic.

To solve the Spirit Stone shortage, he needed a two-pronged approach: Open the Source and Throttle the Flow.

1. Open the Source (Increase Income): He needed new revenue streams beyond just wholesale pills. This would require time and luck to discover.

2. Throttle the Flow (Reduce Loss): He had to stop bleeding profits to middlemen. Opening his own pill shop was imperative to capture the full market value of his work.

3. The Core Issue: To achieve the above, he had to liberate himself from low-value labor. Currently, he spent way too much time refining Tier 1 consumables like Qi Gathering Pills. These pills had thin margins but high demand. Refining them in bulk was a massive time sink.

4. The Solution: He needed an assembly line. If he could train qualified alchemy apprentices to handle the mass production of Tier 1 pills, he would be free. Free to focus on high-margin Tier 2 pills like the True Essence Pill. Free to focus on his own cultivation.

5. Execution: A shop needed a manager. An assembly line needed apprentices. Instead of hiring untrustworthy outsiders, he would build his own workforce from scratch.

‘I need to take disciples,’ Chen Ping realized, his eyes sharpening. ‘I need to cultivate my own faction.’

But one did not simply announce they were teaching alchemy.

To recruit talented seedlings legitimately, he needed status. He needed to be a Sect-recognized Alchemist.

Becoming an official Alchemist of the Qingyun Sect came with obvious perks: elevated status, resource quotas—though those were a drop in the bucket for him—and, most importantly, the official license to recruit and teach apprentices within the Sect.

There were obligations, of course. He would be assigned mandatory alchemy quotas by the Sect.

“Refining a few batches for the Sect? A small price to pay.”

Chen Ping was unconcerned. With his absurdly high success rate, he could finish the Sect’s monthly quotas in his sleep and probably still skim a profit off the top.

In exchange for a legitimate identity and a platform to build his power base? It was a bargain.

Decision made, Chen Ping didn’t linger. He packed his belongings, checked out of the tavern, and headed straight for the heart of the Qingyun Sect—Pill Cauldron Peak.

The peak towered into the clouds, the rock itself stained a warm, vibrant red from centuries of heat and spilled medicinal dregs. A perpetual mist clung to the summit, smelling faintly of star anise and spirit grass.

The Qi here was dense, laced with a unique wood-element essence that nourished both plants and the soul. It sat atop a Tier 3 Mid-grade Spirit Vein, making it one of the most valuable strategic points in the entire Sect.

Yet, for all its importance, Pill Cauldron Peak was quiet.

As Chen Ping ascended the winding stone steps, he saw only a few hurried herb boys and apprentices in ash-colored robes. The number of true Alchemists and Elders in the Alchemy Hall likely didn’t exceed twenty.

It was a testament to the difficulty of the profession.

Inside the main hall, Chen Ping was received by an Elder surnamed Sun.

Elder Sun was a Foundation Establishment Mid-stage cultivator responsible for the hall’s daily administration. He was a thin man with a scholarly air and the distinct scent of fire and sulfur clinging to his robes—the mark of someone who spent their life beside a furnace.

“Elder Chen?”

Elder Sun looked at the young man before him, a flicker of surprise in his calm eyes.

He recognized Chen Ping, of course. The Sect’s newest rising star. To reach Foundation Establishment before the age of thirty was a feat that marked one as a true genius.

But why was a combat genius visiting the Alchemy Hall?

“Greetings, Elder Sun.” Chen Ping bowed politely, cutting straight to the chase. “I am here to take the assessment for the Tier 1 Alchemist qualification.”

“Oh?”

Elder Sun’s eyebrows shot up.

A young Foundation Establishment cultivator wanting to dabble in alchemy? It seemed… indulgent.

He couldn’t help but offer a word of advice. “Elder Chen, your talent in cultivation is outstanding. Your future is boundless. But the Dao of Alchemy is vast and unforgiving. It consumes time like a beast eats meat. It is not something one can master overnight. Are you certain you wish to distract yourself with this?”

“This disciple is certain,” Chen Ping replied, his voice calm but iron-clad. “Please make the arrangements.”

Seeing the young man’s resolve, Elder Sun didn’t push further. Rules were rules. If the boy wanted to burn his money and time, that was his prerogative.

“Very well,” Elder Sun nodded, switching to his official tone. “The assessment fee is twenty Low-grade Spirit Stones.”

“The test is as follows: You will be provided with ten sets of materials for the Tier 1 Low-grade ‘Qi Gathering Pill’. To pass, your success rate must exceed thirty percent. Furthermore, each successful furnace must yield no fewer than four pills.”

“Understood.”

Chen Ping handed over the Spirit Stones without hesitation.

The assessment took place in a standard quiet room.

The decor was sparse. In the center sat a standard-issue brass alchemy furnace, connected to the earth fire vent beneath the floor. The flames danced steadily, controlled by a simple array.

On a jade table to the side, ten neat bundles of spiritual herbs were laid out—the ingredients for the Qi Gathering Pill.

Elder Sun stood to the side, acting as the proctor.

He crossed his arms, his gaze critical. He was curious to see just how much weight this young genius actually carried. Alchemy wasn’t like swinging a sword; it required patience, finesse, and decades of bitter study.

Chen Ping walked to the furnace, his expression unreadable.

‘Qi Gathering Pills?’

He suppressed a sigh. For a Grandmaster of his caliber, this was like asking a calligraphy master to draw a stick figure. He could refine these with his eyes closed.

The real challenge wasn’t passing. The challenge was holding back.