My Portable Spirit Farm: Rise of the Humble Servant

Chapter 226: Mystic Primordial Pill Formula

Chen Ping couldn’t stop a low, bitter curse from slipping through his teeth.

He was equally paralyzed by the sheer, apocalyptic scale of Old Ghost Han’s hoard and the agonizing tragedy of its complete waste.

He moved like a machine, mindlessly popping the lids off the remaining jadeite boxes. The initial adrenaline spike of a treasure hunt had long since curdled into shock, which had now settled into a hollow, suffocating numbness.

The cumulative value of the incinerated Spirit Grass rapidly breached the 4 million mark. Then 5 million.

By the time he had cracked open nearly 1,000 boxes, Chen Ping ran a conservative mental calculation: the total value of the legendary herbs that had just crumbled to dust before his eyes exceeded 6 million Spirit Stones.

6 million.

Even with his ironclad mental fortitude, a wave of profound powerlessness and absurdity washed over him. So this is what it feels like to starve to death while sitting on a mountain of gold.

He had burned through the vast majority of the blind boxes. Only a few dozen remained clustered in the deepest corner of the storage space.

Chen Ping forced his hands to stop. He exhaled a long, ragged breath, desperately trying to bleed off the mounting frustration. His eyes locked onto the remaining cluster.

The odds of a miracle were plummeting by the second. If these final boxes held the same decaying ash, this entire endeavor—his greatest heist yet—would instantly transform from a triumph into a massive, suffocating psychological burden.

He was staring at a pile of “air” worth millions.

Timing and fate. You can’t force the heavens, Chen Ping thought grimly. If I truly walk away from this hoard with nothing but dust, I just have to swallow it.

Bracing himself for absolute disappointment, he picked up the next box.

The weight felt slightly different.

He popped the lid. Inside, instead of the brittle, disintegrating husk of a dead plant, lay a tightly rolled scroll of animal skin.

Despite enduring centuries of isolation, the hide—harvested from some unknown, high-tier spirit beast—remained incredibly supple. Ancient, faded characters were scrawled across its surface.

“Pill formulas?”

A jolt of electricity shot through Chen Ping. At the very least, it wasn’t medicinal ash.

He unrolled the scroll and scanned the text.

The formula was one of several tucked into the remaining boxes. They covered a wide spectrum of utilities, mostly focusing on standard Qi recovery, trauma healing, or highly specialized, niche effects. There was the “Ink Dye Pill,” designed to temporarily alter hair color and facial bone structure. An “Insect Attracting Pill” tailored to lure specific low-grade demonic swarms. A standard “Spirit Recovery Pill.” And a “Bloodthirst Pill” that violently accelerated physical regeneration at a heavy physical cost.

Many of these were Tier 2 and Tier 3 formulas. To any ordinary cultivator or independent alchemist, these scrolls were incredibly precious. A single formula could easily be auctioned off for a small fortune.

But for Chen Ping’s current progression, they were largely useless. Their reference value was minimal. To be brutally honest, the Qingyun Sect’s internal archives contained variations of these exact formulas that were arguably more refined.

Chen Ping felt a twinge of disappointment, but he carefully stacked the scrolls to the side regardless.

I can still hand these over to the Sect in exchange for Contribution Points, he reasoned. They aren’t entirely worthless.

He went back to the boxes.

Halfway through the third batch of remaining cases, his fingers violently froze over an unrolled scroll.

It was another animal skin formula, but the three ancient characters stamped across the header caused his heart to slam against his ribs.

Mystic Primordial Pill.

Just reading the name made the blood rush to Chen Ping’s face. In the Cultivation world, any pill bearing the character “Primordial” (Yuan) was almost exclusively engineered for Foundation Establishment experts.

Could this really be…?

Chen Ping snatched the scroll, his eyes devouring the archaic text.

It is.

This was an ancient, lost cultivation formula designed specifically to accelerate the progression of Foundation Establishment cultivators!

As he meticulously read through the refining process and the intended physiological effects, Chen Ping’s eyes practically glowed.

The potency of the Mystic Primordial Pill completely blew the standard True Origin Pill he currently relied on out of the water. According to the text, the density of pure primordial Qi compressed within a single pill was staggering. It promised explosive efficacy for mid-to-late stage Foundation Establishment cultivators, and even offered substantial benefits to those at Grand Perfection.

It had the terrifying ability to actively purify and condense a Grand Perfection cultivator’s true essence.

But…

When his eyes dropped to the required ingredients list, Chen Ping instantly understood why such a miraculous formula had been phased out of existence.

The recipe demanded three primary components: the Mystic Primordial Fruit, Mystic Yellow Grass, and Chaotic Star Sand.

Chen Ping knew of the Mystic Primordial Fruit. Its rarity and baseline value completely eclipsed the True Origin Grass used in standard pills. A single fruit easily commanded 2,000 to 3,000 Spirit Stones on the open market.

Mystic Yellow Grass was slightly more common, but it was still a premium, highly sought-after Tier 2 Spirit Grass that cost a small fortune.

And then there was the Chaotic Star Sand. This was a bizarre, highly volatile Tier 2 spirit metal saturated with chaotic stellar energy, typically reserved for forging specialized Dharma Artifacts or high-end formation plates. Its market price was astronomical—easily ten times that of standard spirit metals.

Just gathering the raw materials for a single batch would require a staggering mountain of Spirit Stones, completely dwarfing the cost of mass-producing True Origin Pills.

Chen Ping ran a rapid, brutal mental calculation.

A single batch of ingredients for the Mystic Primordial Pill would cost roughly 3,000 Spirit Stones.

3,000 Spirit Stones… Chen Ping hissed, inhaling sharply through his teeth.

Was this a formula for accelerating Foundation Establishment cultivation, or a method for ritually incinerating currency? The material cost was over ten times that of a standard True Origin Pill batch. And the final product wasn’t even a realm-breaking pill designed to shatter a cultivation Bottleneck! It was just a daily supplement!

The cost-to-performance ratio was so aggressively abysmal it bordered on insulting.

Any sane, rational Foundation Establishment cultivator would immediately choose to spend those resources mass-producing True Origin Pills. No one in their right mind would bankrupt themselves for a slightly stronger, obscenely expensive alternative.

“No wonder this formula was lost to history,” Chen Ping scoffed. “It’s a literal black hole for Spirit Stones.”

But even as he complained, a manic, brilliant light ignited in his eyes.

To any other cultivator in the world, this formula was a useless, bankrupting scam.

But to Chen Ping? It was a godsend. It was practically tailor-made for him!

He possessed the Jade Pendant. He possessed the Black Earth and its terrifying fifty-fold temporal acceleration!

As long as he could acquire a single seed or seedling of the Mystic Primordial Fruit and the Mystic Yellow Grass, and buy enough Chaotic Star Sand, he could mass-produce these hyper-potent pills at an impossibly low cost!

His body had already begun building a tolerance to the True Origin Pill. The diminishing returns were becoming a serious issue. He desperately needed a higher-tier substitute to maintain his progression speed.

The Mystic Primordial Pill formula had dropped into his lap at the exact perfect moment.

“I have to find those seeds,” Chen Ping muttered, his grip tightening on the ancient scroll, absolute conviction burning in his eyes.

He carefully rolled the formula up and stored it in a dedicated, secure compartment of his Storage Ring. This single piece of animal skin was the absolute key to his future Cultivation speed.

He forced his racing heart to slow down, turning his attention back to the final handful of blind boxes.

A genuine miracle had just occurred. His anticipation for the remaining hoard was completely reignited.

The pile in the corner rapidly dwindled until only 5 boxes remained.

The preceding dozen boxes had yielded nothing but more obscure, highly niche pill formulas that he deemed practically useless.

But these final 5 boxes were noticeably different.

They weren’t just tossed into the pile. They had been deliberately sequestered in the absolute center of the Storage Ring’s spatial dimension, separated from the rest of the hoard like monarchs overlooking a sea of peasants.

The boxes themselves were still carved from imperial green jadeite, but the material was profoundly different. The color was an abyssal, hypnotic green, and the surface had been polished to such an impossible, glass-like sheen that a faint, internal luminescence seemed to pool and flow beneath the stone.

Chen Ping’s heart began to hammer against his ribs involuntarily.

He knew exactly what this meant. The main event had arrived.

Whatever Old Ghost Han had considered his absolute, untouchable core legacy—his true trump cards—were locked inside these 5 boxes.