My Portable Spirit Farm: Rise of the Humble Servant

Chapter 166: Eight Sects Grand Competition

The moment the three handfuls of Black Earth touched the ground, the gentle green luminescence of the Qingyun Secret Realm flared into a blinding brilliance!

The massive, ink-green trunk—large enough to rival a mountain—trembled violently.

The ancient will that permeated every inch of the pocket dimension collapsed inward at an impossible speed. It condensed from a vast, omnipresent fog into a singular, laser-focused point of attention, locked entirely onto those three small mounds of soil.

A tremor.

It was a shudder originating from the deepest core of life itself.

It was the reaction of a traveler dying of thirst who had finally collapsed beside a pristine spring.

“Young friend!”

The Ancient Tree’s voice had changed completely. It remained grand and archaic, but the arrogance was gone. In its place was a trembling excitement, profound gratitude, and even a trace of genuine respect.

“This kindness… this virtue… I, Qingyun, shall carve it into my very heart! Once my Origin stabilizes and my cultivation is fully restored, I swear I will shatter the boundaries of this Secret Realm and appear before you in my true form. I will grant you a true Fated Chance worthy of this debt!”

The shift was absolute. It no longer addressed Chen Ping as “Junior” or “Ant.” It solemnly called him “Young Friend.”

Three handfuls of dirt had bought the eternal loyalty of an Innate Spirit Root.

Chen Ping could feel the wave of joy and commitment washing over him from the Tree’s soul. He bowed slightly, maintaining his professional demeanor.

“Senior, you speak too heavily. The transaction is complete; we owe each other nothing. This junior wishes you a speedy recovery and a swift return to your peak. If there is nothing else, I will take my leave.”

“Go, Young Friend! I must enter seclusion immediately to draw upon the power of this Sacred Earth!”

The Ancient Tree’s voice was urgent, practically vibrating with anticipation.

Chen Ping didn’t linger. He turned and walked back along the path, heading toward the glowing exit gate.

Behind him, the three mounds of Black Earth lay quietly by the roots, emitting a deep, mysterious sheen. The massive consciousness of the Ancient Tree fell silent, beginning the most critical metamorphosis of its ten thousand years of life.

Chen Ping stepped through the curtain of light.

The familiar scenery of the Sect’s Back Mountain filled his vision. The sunlight felt harsh and glaring compared to the eternal twilight of the realm, and the air tasted thin, lacking the rich, pure Wood Qi he had grown used to.

As soon as he steadied his footing, two figures flickered into existence before him.

Sect Leader Li Lingfeng and Elder Zhao Yuanqi.

Their faces were a mask of barely concealed shock and burning curiosity.

“Elder Chen!”

Li Lingfeng scanned Chen Ping with a hawk-like gaze, as if trying to dissect him with his eyes to find some earth-shattering mutation.

“Do you… do you have any idea how long you were inside?”

Chen Ping paused. He did a quick mental calculation. Between the negotiation, the “wisdom enhancement,” and the final transaction, it felt like a significant meeting, but not an era.

“Reporting to the Sect Leader,” Chen Ping said tentatively. “I feel… perhaps a few hours passed?”

“A few hours?!”

Elder Zhao Yuanqi exclaimed, his voice cracking and rising an octave.

“You were inside for four full days! Four days!”

“Four days?”

Chen Ping was genuinely surprised.

He hadn’t realized the time dilation was that severe. It seemed that after consuming the Tree Heart and entering that state of “Absolute Clarity,” his perception of time had dissolved.

To him, the enlightenment process had felt like mere breaths.

Li Lingfeng took a deep breath, forcing himself to suppress the shock. He looked at Chen Ping with a complex expression—a mix of astonishment, envy, and fervent anticipation.

This time discrepancy shattered their understanding of the Secret Realm.

They couldn’t imagine what Chen Ping had experienced inside. Four days in the presence of the Ancient Tree? What kind of heaven-defying Fated Chance had he obtained?

Could it be true? Had he really obtained the Qingyun Ancient Tree’s Ultimate Inheritance?

Facing the burning gazes of the Sect’s two most powerful men, Chen Ping offered an awkward, modest smile.

He knew exactly what they were thinking. But if he told them his “Greatest Opportunity” was just a slightly faster brain, they would probably vomit blood from disappointment.

“Sect Leader, Senior Brother Zhao,” Chen Ping said, carefully selecting his words to sound sincere yet vague.

“This disciple indeed gained something. Senior Qingyun bestowed upon me a… fruit? Perhaps something condensed from its essence. After consuming it, I felt… hmm… I felt my mind become clearer. My thoughts are more agile, and I can analyze problems faster. Aside from that, there are no significant changes. My cultivation is still at early Foundation Establishment.”

It was technically the truth. He simply swapped “Tree Heart” for “fruit” and downplayed “Absolute Rationality” to “clearer thoughts.”

Li Lingfeng and Zhao Yuanqi exchanged a glance. They saw the astonishment in each other’s eyes, which quickly morphed into knowing smiles.

“Hahaha! Chen Ping, oh Chen Ping!”

Li Lingfeng stroked his long beard and laughed heartily, clapping a heavy hand on Chen Ping’s shoulder.

“You kid, you are cautious! Good. Very good! Rest assured, this is your opportunity. The Sect will not pry into the details. That you could gain such a harvest is a blessing for the entire Qingyun Sect!”

“Indeed!” Zhao Yuanqi chimed in, giving Chen Ping a look of profound understanding. “The Qingyun Ancient Tree is an Innate Spirit Root. How could its gift be ordinary? Enhancing wisdom, clarifying the Dao Heart—these things sound intangible, but they are the very foundation of the Great Dao! In the long run, this is far more precious than a Dharma Treasure or a single level of cultivation. The Sect Leader is right; you need not worry. We will keep this secret for you.”

The two elders had clearly filled in the blanks themselves. They believed Chen Ping had received some heaven-defying comprehension inheritance or a transformation of his soul, and was simply playing it down to hide his true power—a wise move for a genius.

Nobody would believe he spent four days inside just to get “a bit smarter.”

This “mutual understanding” saved Chen Ping a lot of trouble. He put on a smile that said, ‘I know you know, and I appreciate that you know,’ and bowed.

“This disciple thanks the Sect Leader and Elder for your understanding.”

“En.”

Li Lingfeng nodded, his laughter fading as his expression turned serious. The air of the benevolent senior vanished, replaced by the weight of a sect leader.

“Chen Ping. Your success in the Secret Realm is a fortune for the Sect. But now that your cultivation has stabilized, there is a matter of grave importance we must discuss.”

Chen Ping’s heart tightened. The pleasantries were over.

“Sect Leader, please speak.”

“In three years, it will be time for the Eight Sects Grand Competition.”

Li Lingfeng’s voice dropped an octave, heavy with gravity.

“This event is hosted once every sixty years—a full cycle—by the Grand Mystery Sect, the superior power that protects our Anli Country. Its purpose is to audit the potential and military strength of the eight major Cultivation sects under its banner. We are required to send our best disciples under the age of thirty to compete.”

He paused, locking eyes with Chen Ping to ensure the weight of his next words landed.

“The results of this competition dictate the Tribute Tax we must pay to the Grand Mystery Sect for the next sixty years.”

“The higher the ranking, the lower the tax. And if… if a sect can seize the position of Champion, they are completely exempt from tribute for the entire cycle. For the Qingyun Sect, this is a matter of economic life and death.”