My Portable Spirit Farm: Rise of the Humble Servant

Chapter 208: I Am the Hunter

Han Feiyu’s eyes burned with a touch of madness.

Chen Ping met that gaze with cold indifference. Yet, for a fleeting moment, he felt a strange kinship. This man resembled him.

It wasn’t just his methods; it was his temperament, his very demeanor.

However, Han Feiyu’s ambition exceeded even Chen Ping’s expectations.

This man intended to swallow his ancestor’s legacy whole, without the slightest intention of sharing it with his clan.

If Han Feiyu could truly seize this Fated Chance, he might indeed soar to the heavens. Given his character, he might even surpass the ancestor who lay buried here.

But his mistake lay in his greed.

All things in this world operate according to the Dao. Han Feiyu had been guided by a strange force to his ancestor’s resting place. The ancestor’s will was clearly to channel this legacy through him to revitalize the Han family—to restore the glory of eight hundred years ago.

By seeking to monopolize the inheritance and strengthen only himself, Han Feiyu was violating his ancestor’s dying wish.

He had committed a taboo.

The consequence of such a transgression against the unseen currents of fate was a backlash—indescribable, invisible, yet undeniably real.

That backlash had led him to Chen Ping.

Han Feiyu believed himself to be the oriole waiting behind the mantis. He did not realize he had stumbled upon a hunter hiding in the shadows, bow drawn and aimed.

Oblivious, Han Feiyu maintained his posture of absolute control. He stared fixedly at Chen Ping, cold light flickering in his eyes.

“The Ancestor’s legacy is the foundation of my Han family’s revival! How could I allow outsiders to stain it? So, Brother Chen… and those dead men…”

Han Feiyu swept a glance over the corpses on the ground.

“…are nothing more than the sacrifices needed to open the cave dwelling.”

“Sacrifices?”

Chen Ping scoffed.

In a way, he wasn’t wrong. Using blood to wash away misfortune or heighten auspiciousness was indeed an ancient, if barbaric, practice.

But what use would it be today?

“Brother Han, you… truly overestimate yourself.”

Before Chen Ping’s voice had even faded, Han Feiyu and Han Jingying struck simultaneously!

There was no probing, no testing of waters. They launched their killing moves instantly!

“Brother Chen, I won’t hide it from you—I am a Second-grade Middle Grade Talisman Master!”

Han Feiyu’s expression was the picture of arrogant triumph.

With a sharp shout, his hands blurred like butterflies flitting through flowers.

In an instant, dozens of Talismans shimmering with multicolored spiritual light erupted like a swarm of locusts, blotting out the sky as they surged toward Chen Ping!

Fireballs, ice spikes, wind blades, golden needles, earth spikes… a dense net of destruction covered every inch of Chen Ping’s dodge space.

Hidden within the swarm were even several Second-grade High-grade Talismans!

For this scheme, Han Feiyu had evidently hoarded a massive arsenal.

Simultaneously, Han Jingying parted her lips slightly. A sharp, high-pitched, eerie sound wave ripple silently outward, aiming to pierce directly into the soul!

Target: Chen Ping.

This was her unique secret art—the Soul-Startling Howl!

It specifically attacked a cultivator’s Divine Sense. Against a weaker opponent, it would shatter their soul and leave them an idiot; even a strong opponent would be rendered dizzy and defenseless.

Paired with Han Feiyu’s torrent of Talismans, it was a perfect kill box.

Yet, facing this desperate assault, Chen Ping’s face remained devoid of panic.

With a thought, his powerful Divine Sense surged, constructing an impenetrable dam within his Sea of Consciousness!

Han Jingying’s Soul-Startling Howl, potent enough to disorient a cultivator in the middle stages of Foundation Establishment, crashed against his mental defenses like a gentle breeze against a mountain range. It failed to stir a single ripple.

Perhaps this sonic attack would work on others. But against Chen Ping? It was useless.

His soul power had already reached the level of Foundation Establishment Grand Perfection. In fact, it might even surpass it.

Against such a vast Sea of Consciousness, her scream was a drop in the ocean.

Han Jingying’s eyes widened in shock. She couldn’t understand why her technique had no effect on the man standing before her.

At that exact moment, Chen Ping’s aura exploded!

Foundation Establishment Fourth Layer!

He finally released a portion of his true strength. Even now, he was holding back; he had no intention of revealing his full Foundation Establishment Sixth Layer cultivation.

To deal with these two, the Fourth Layer was more than sufficient!

Powerful True Essence fluctuations swept out like a gale. His hands formed seals so fast they left afterimages.

“Fire Dragon Art!”

Roar!

Three crimson fire dragons, far more solid and colossal than the ones used against Xie Qingshi, roared into existence!

Their scales were vivid and lifelike, radiating a scorching heat capable of incinerating steel. They were fully double the size of his previous display.

The massive dragons coiled above Chen Ping, emitting a terrifying Pressure that shielded him completely.

Sizzle! Sizzle! Boom!

The dense torrent of Talisman Arts slammed into the wall of fire!

Explosions rang out incessantly.

Ice spikes vaporized into steam; wind blades shattered; golden needles melted into slag; earth spikes crumbled to dust. The attacks from the Second-grade Low and Middle Grade Talismans were annihilated the moment they touched the dragons.

Only the few Arts birthed from the High-grade Talismans—a thick ice spear, a rain of golden swords, and an exploding magma ball—managed to pierce the outer flames.

But their power had been stripped away. When they finally struck Chen Ping’s protective spiritual light, they caused only violent ripples before vanishing without a trace.

“What?!”

Han Feiyu’s face twisted in horror.

He hadn’t expected Chen Ping’s true cultivation to be the Fourth Layer.

He hadn’t expected his sister’s trump card to fail completely.

And he certainly hadn’t expected his flood of Talismans—enough to kill a Third Layer cultivator ten times over—to be blocked so effortlessly.

He felt deceived. He had been played.

Connecting the dots of the previous events, his pupils contracted sharply. He finally understood.

But in the moment Han Feiyu’s mind wavered, Chen Ping moved.

Spirit Driving Method—Full activation!

His figure blurred, leaving a faint afterimage where he stood. Ignoring spatial distance, his true body materialized instantly in front of Han Feiyu!

The speed was heart-stopping.

Han Feiyu saw only a blur before a cold, suffocating killing intent enveloped him completely.

Terror seized him. He wanted to activate his defensive Dharma Artifact, to trigger a life-saving Talisman, to retreat—anything!

But it was all too late.

A slender, powerful hand clamped onto his throat like iron pliers.

A surge of tyrannical True Essence invaded his body, instantly sealing his meridians and locking down his cultivation.

All of Han Feiyu’s movements came to a grinding halt.

His eyes bulged, his face filled with supreme horror and disbelief. His throat emitted wet, gurgling choking sounds. He could not move an inch.

If that hand squeezed just a fraction harder, his neck would snap like a dry twig.

“Brother!”

Han Jingying let out a shrill scream, her face draining of blood. The sonic jade Talisman in her hand glowed, but she froze, terrified of harming her brother, daring not to release it.

Chen Ping held Han Feiyu by the throat, dangling him like livestock awaiting the butcher. He looked calmly at the terrified Han Jingying, then cast a glance at the ashen-faced man in his grip.

“Now,” Chen Ping said, his voice flat but carrying a chill that seeped into the marrow, “can we have a proper talk?”