My Portable Spirit Farm: Rise of the Humble Servant

Chapter 192: Facing the Second Layer!

The first round of the elite battle concluded with mixed results for the Qingyun Sect.

Of the three participating disciples, Bai Yue had won with ease, Chen Ping had won through “opportunism,” and Zhao Long, despite a valiant and fierce struggle, had ultimately fallen unconscious and conceded.

The final tally: two wins and one loss, accumulating eight points for the sect—three each from Chen Ping and Bai Yue, and two from Zhao Long due to his performance.

The two-day rest period passed in the blink of an eye. Thanks to the Sect Elders’ treatment and high-grade healing pills, Zhao Long’s injuries had stabilized, though he remained too weak to fight further.

As the second round commenced, the atmosphere in the arena grew tense.

Bai Yue took the stage once more.

Her opponent was another Second Layer Foundation Establishment elite, hailing from the Quicksand Sect, a faction known for its defensive prowess.

This disciple, much like his predecessor from the Thick Earth Sect, specialized in Earth-attribute Arts. He manipulated the soil with great finesse, creating shifting barriers and quicksand traps. However, Earth-attribute cultivators often found themselves at a disadvantage against… sword cultivators.

It seemed the heavens were playing a joke; this Quicksand Sect disciple and the previous Thick Earth Sect disciple were truly brothers in misfortune.

Thinking of this, the corner of Chen Ping’s mouth twitched slightly.

The flow of the battle was almost identical to Bai Yue’s previous match. She erupted with fierce Profound Ice Sword Intent from the very first breath. Her attacks came crashing down like a tidal wave—continuous, suffocating, and unending.

Her sword was faster, colder, and more ruthless than before.

Her opponent lasted less than half the time of her first adversary. His earthen defenses were torn apart like wet paper, forcing him to concede in disarray before he was skewered.

“Immortal Maiden Bai is mighty!”

“Too strong! She forced her opponent to surrender again without even fully drawing her sword!”

“The Qingyun Sect’s Bai Yue has a real shot at the championship!”

“It has to be the White-Clothed Immortal Maiden! Such strength… we are utterly unworthy to even follow in her dust!”

Cheers and lavish praise washed over Bai Yue like a warm tide. She maintained her signature aloof expression, but Chen Ping’s sharp eyes noticed the subtle changes: when she stepped off the stage, her back was straighter, and her chin was raised just a fraction higher.

The feeling of being the center of attention clearly intoxicated her.

Chen Ping shook his head inwardly but had no intention of bursting her bubble. The path of cultivation is solitary; choices are made by the self, and consequences must be borne alone.

The higher the praise, the harder the fall.

Bai Yue’s ambition soared too high, untethered by the grounding of reality. No words could advise someone in such a state. Only by hitting a wall—hard—would she realize how ridiculous her arrogance truly was.

However… Chen Ping smiled faintly. After experiencing such a blow, would she crumble or reforge herself?

For some reason, he was suddenly curious to see the outcome.

The following battles remained spectacular, showcasing the depth of the participating sects.

When the Yunshui Sect’s Han Feiyu took the stage to face another Foundation Establishment Third Layer disciple from the Tianling Sect, Chen Ping perked up.

Han Feiyu’s opponent was formidable, wielding fierce Arts and commanding exquisite Dharma Artifacts.

From the very start, Han Feiyu displayed methods he had kept hidden. His movement technique was bizarre and elusive, ghostly in its unpredictability. He wove effortlessly through the Tianling disciple’s dense barrage of Arts, always managing to dodge by a hair’s breadth just when evasion seemed impossible.

Simultaneously, he controlled seven gleaming flying swords, forming an exquisite sword formation that perfectly balanced offense and defense. At times they scattered to harass, at times they converged for a fierce assault, actually fighting the Tianling Sect disciple to a standstill.

Gasps of surprise rose continuously from the spectators.

“This Han Feiyu is incredibly strong!”

“His movement technique is ghostly! And that sword formation is formidable!”

“The Yunshui Sect actually hid such a figure? He’s fighting toe-to-toe with a Tianling elite!”

The battle was exceptionally fierce, lasting nearly an hour. Han Feiyu’s sword formation was ever-changing, forcing the Tianling Sect disciple into disarray several times.

Just as everyone thought Han Feiyu truly had a chance of winning, the tide turned.

The Tianling Sect disciple, seemingly provoked and humiliated by the stalemate, suddenly summoned an ancient-looking bronze mirror.

The mirror’s surface flashed, and an extremely condensed, blazing white pillar of light shot out instantly. The speed was astonishing.

Han Feiyu’s face “changed drastically.” He seemed to want to dodge, but his body “lagged half a beat.” In a panic, he hastily recalled his flying swords to lay down a defensive screen in front of him.

Ssss!

The light pillar slammed fiercely into the sword screen.

The defense lasted only a single breath before shattering with a crash. The residual force of the light pillar heavily struck the protective spiritual light Han Feiyu had hastily condensed around his body.

“Pfft!”

Han Feiyu looked as if he had been struck by a siege hammer. He spat out a mouthful of blood, his body flying backward like a kite with a severed string, crashing directly outside the arena boundary.

He struggled for a moment before barely managing to stand, his face deathly pale and his aura withered.

“Tianling Sect wins!” the referee announced.

A wave of regretful sighs rose from the crowd.

“What a pity! He was so close!”

“The Tianling Sect’s foundation is too deep after all.”

“Han Feiyu, though defeated, fought gloriously!”

Chen Ping’s eyes, however, narrowed slightly.

The mirror used by that Tianling Sect disciple was likely an imitation of an ancient Dharma Treasure. Although it was a replica, it possessed perhaps one percent of the real treasure’s power—enough to dominate at this level.

With such immense power in play, Han Feiyu’s defeat appeared perfectly normal.

Or was it?

Chen Ping’s gaze turned sharp. He had seen it clearly.

At the instant the light pillar shot out, Han Feiyu’s body had shown an extremely subtle inclination to shift sideways, but he had forcibly stopped it. He chose to block with the sword screen and precisely allowed it to shatter, taking an impact sufficient to make him appear severely injured without truly harming his foundation.

Even his final tumble out of the arena had a calculated grace to it.

“Hiding one’s edge… hiding it really deep.”

Chen Ping understood. Han Feiyu was a kindred spirit.

The strength he displayed was enough to garner respect, but his defeat by “a single misstep” cleverly avoided making him a primary target for the other sects. Simultaneously, it saved face for the Tianling Sect disciple, who would have looked incompetent had he lost.

This level of scheming and strength is not to be underestimated. Chen Ping felt even more anticipation regarding the ancient cultivator’s meditation cave Han Feiyu had proposed.

The second round continued. Soon, it was Chen Ping’s turn again.

When the referee called his name, the spectator stands immediately erupted into a wave of boos and undisguised mockery.

“It’s him again! The one who only knows how to run!”

“Bad luck! Why do we have to watch his match?”

“I hope someone teaches him a proper lesson this time!”

Chen Ping’s opponent was the Wangyue Sect’s strongest participating disciple—Li Yingchun.

He possessed a Second Layer Foundation Establishment cultivation, a well-proportioned build, and a steady countenance. A long sword was strapped to his back, and his eyes were sharp. In the Wangyue Sect’s area, he enjoyed adoration similar to Bai Yue’s.

Seeing that his opponent was Chen Ping, a flash of cold confidence passed through Li Yingchun’s eyes. Clearly, he had studied Chen Ping’s “tactics” from the previous match.

“Please!” Li Yingchun clasped his fists, his voice cold and hard.

“Please.” Chen Ping remained indifferent.

The moment the referee signaled the start, Li Yingchun moved.

He wasted no time on probing attacks, striking out with thunderous force immediately.

“Suppress!”

He shouted low, his hands forming rapid seals, and pressed down fiercely toward the ground.

Whoosh!

A massive, pitch-black square seal, radiating a heavy, crushing aura, materialized directly above Chen Ping’s head.

The seal expanded in the wind, instantly growing to several zhang in size. It loomed like a small mountain, carrying a terrifying momentum that threatened to flatten everything beneath it.

A Second-Grade Top-Rank Dharma Artifact—the Mountain Suppressing Seal!

Even more frightening was the area covered by the seal’s descent. It cast a shadow over a ten-zhang radius around Chen Ping, locking down the space.

The air itself seemed to solidify under the pressure.

This was precisely the strategy Li Yingchun had devised against Chen Ping’s “slippery” movement technique—using overwhelming force to break finesse, and area suppression to eliminate dodging space.

Let’s see where you run now!

“Good! Senior Brother Li is mighty!”

“Let’s see how he dodges this!”

“Crush him flat!”

“I’ve been looking down on this kid for a long time. Turn him into paste!”

On the spectator stands, the malicious cheers reached a fever pitch.