My Portable Spirit Farm: Rise of the Humble Servant

Chapter 221: Leaving the Cave Dwelling

Han Daoren’s escape left a lingering, icy dread in Chen Ping’s gut.

Even though he hadn’t revealed a sliver of personal information. Even though his true face remained hidden behind a flawless disguise. The fear remained.

The abilities of a Violet Palace cultivator were simply too unfathomable—especially their divine abilities.

A Violet Palace expert’s methods are unpredictable… there might actually be a way for him to track me down, Chen Ping thought, his brows knitting tightly together.

For a moment, he debated his options. Should he pursue the old ghost? Use the teleportation array to give chase?

Unrealistic. An ancient monster who had plotted for centuries wouldn’t make such a glaring rookie mistake. That array was undoubtedly a random teleportation platform. It didn’t even require much thought to deduce.

Once Han Liren returned to his Sect and successfully broke through to the Violet Palace realm… even if his own divine abilities couldn’t locate Chen Ping, he could simply leverage the tracking Arts of other Violet Palace cultivators.

That was the true nightmare scenario.

Furthermore, even if the old ghost lacked a specialized tracking divine ability, he was a centuries-old veteran. Who was to say he didn’t possess some obscure divination technique or esoteric tracking secret?

The more Chen Ping considered it, the colder his blood ran. He truly wasn’t safe.

I need to get my hands on a high-tier method or Dharma Artifact to obscure my heavenly secrets and block tracking. As soon as possible!

He made his decision. Once he returned and processed his loot, his first priority would be hitting a major auction house to hunt down such a treasure. Safety was always paramount.

“To think this whole endeavor would end with me provoking such a terrifying enemy,” Chen Ping sighed.

He had schemed and calculated every step, yet a momentary lapse had allowed the old ghost to slip away. Once Han Liren fully matured in his new body, the consequences would be catastrophic.

Fortunately, the sheer scale of his haul offered some comfort. A Bodhi Seed, a Top Grade third-grade Alchemy Furnace, a High-grade third-grade Heart-Calming Meditation Mat, the Thousand Fold Pill Refining secret technique, Han Liren’s lifelong alchemy insights, three rare spiritual plants, and the storage Dharma Artifacts of the Han siblings and Mo Liu’s crew.

And most importantly: Han Liren’s original corpse and the black Storage Ring still clinging to its finger!

The contents of that ring likely held the true core legacy of the Han family’s ancestor.

Thinking of this absolute mountain of wealth, the heavy gloom in Chen Ping’s chest lifted slightly. Risk and reward were two sides of the same coin. Offending a potential Violet Palace powerhouse was an agonizing headache, but with these resources, his own odds of breaking through to the Violet Palace—and beyond—had skyrocketed.

The old ghost needed time to recover his cultivation. That time gap was Chen Ping’s greatest opportunity.

We’ll see who kills who in the end.

Chen Ping’s gaze sharpened, the momentary fear burning away into cold resolve. He was no sheltered hothouse flower. He had clawed his way up from the absolute bottom, surviving countless brushes with death. He had nearly been worked to death by Fatty Liu, and he had almost died in the pitch-black mines.

He had survived those desperate, suffocating environments when he possessed zero power and zero capital to resist. Now that his wings were finally hardening, why should he fear a crippled old ghost who had to rely on a Body Seizure just to cling to life?

Give him enough time to grow, and what did a Violet Palace cultivator matter?

Forcing down his chaotic thoughts, Chen Ping began a meticulous sweep of the devastated jadeite cavern.

His Divine Sense washed over every inch of the ruins. He checked beneath the shattered jadeite slabs, probed the cracks in the walls, and turned the cold jade bed over several times.

The results were disappointing. Aside from the decorative jadeite and a few high-quality night pearls—which he ruthlessly pried from the walls—there was nothing else of value.

“You ran fast this time, old ghost. But the next time we meet, it won’t be so simple,” Chen Ping muttered, glaring at the empty cold jade bed.

Driven by a sudden flare of petty spite, he stepped forward and unceremoniously shoved the massive, frost-radiating bed into his Jade Pendant space. Even a mosquito’s leg had meat. Maybe the bed had some hidden utility.

With the cavern utterly stripped, he didn’t linger. He stepped onto the dimly glowing teleportation platform.

The core was barely functioning. Cautiously, he injected a thread of true essence.

Hum…

The ancient runes on the platform flickered weakly, the light strobing in a highly unstable rhythm.

Chen Ping frowned, but this was his only exit. Gritting his teeth, he flooded the array with true essence.

Swish!

A sickly blue light flared up, far weaker than the first time, accompanied by a sluggish, tearing spatial pull. In a flash of dim light, Chen Ping vanished from the platform.

The scenery warped violently. Blinding, unfiltered sunlight stabbed at Chen Ping’s eyes, forcing him to squint. The stale, sterile air of the tomb was instantly replaced by the rich, damp scent of loamy earth and ancient vegetation.

He stood in the heart of a dense, primeval forest.

Towering ancient trees completely boxed him in, their massive trunks choked by thick vines. The forest floor was buried under decades of decaying leaves and withered grass. In the distance, the faint, echoing roars of wild beasts and the sharp cries of exotic birds drifted through the canopy. Sunlight filtered through the dense leaves, painting the ground in mottled gold.

“Random teleportation, exactly as expected,” Chen Ping muttered, quickly assessing his surroundings.

He was clearly miles away from the barren mountain range, likely deposited deep into the sprawling ancient woods that bordered it. The faint spatial fluctuations clinging to his clothes rapidly dissolved into the ambient air, signaling the total, permanent silence of the Han Ancestor’s tomb.

With the third-grade spiritual vein drained and withered, the distant mountain range would lose its dense Qi, inevitably degrading into a completely ordinary, mortal peak.

Chen Ping didn’t rush to leave. Remaining highly cautious, he located a hollowed-out tree trunk, slipped inside, and laid down a simple warning Restriction at the entrance.

Then, With a thought, he entered the Jade Pendant space.

The space was as perfectly tranquil as ever. The soft, moon-like luminescence bathed the environment, instantly washing away Chen Ping’s battle-weary tension.

As long as he possessed this mysterious Black Earth…

Han Liren was a terrifying threat, true, but with the Black Earth on his side, Chen Ping refused to cower!

He immediately walked over to check on the spiritual plants he had seeded at the start of the month.

The mysterious gourd vine had already shot up to over a foot tall. The stalk was a vibrant, emerald green, and its plump, heavy leaves practically overflowed with vitality. A few delicate, spiraling tendrils had even sprouted near the crown.

Chen Ping inspected it closely, but he still couldn’t identify the exact species. He would just have to wait for it to flower and fruit.

As for Han Feiyu’s grand tale about a legendary “Five Treasure Gourd”…

Chen Ping didn’t believe a single word of it. He fully assumed the kid had spun a load of greasy salesman bullshit to jack up the price.

Still, Chen Ping couldn’t help but feel a flicker of genuine anticipation.

If nothing else, the vine’s agonizingly slow growth rate was a massive indicator of its worth. Nourished by third-grade spiritual spring water, it enjoyed a fifty-fold growth acceleration compared to the outside world. One month inside the space was equivalent to four years and two months outside—yet it had only grown a single foot.

At this glacial pace, reaching full maturity could easily take five or six hundred years.

And that was a conservative estimate. If it was a millennial-grade plant, its value would be incalculable.

In the cultivation world, the rule of thumb was absolute: the longer a spiritual medicine took to mature, the more heaven-defying its worth. Fast-growing herbs were mere weeds in comparison.

After admiring the stubborn vine for a moment longer, Chen Ping turned his attention to his three newly planted crops.