The arrival of the Immortal Zhou Qing was like a massive boulder thrown into the stagnant pond of Servant Peak, the ripples it stirred refusing to settle for a long time.
The door of the stone house remained firmly shut, separating immortal from mortal, yet unable to still the longing and anxiety in the servants’ hearts.
Chen Ping tightened his grip on the chopping knife, then slowly loosened it.
He did not crane his neck like the others to stare at the stone house, nor did he try to push forward.
His gaze lingered for a moment on Manager Wang’s fawning, hunched back before he lowered his eyelids and continued chopping at the tough thicket of thorns before him.
The Immortal needed attendants. Manager Wang needed to curry favor with the Immortal.
For Chen Ping, this was the greatest opportunity.
Sure enough, Manager Wang soon came jogging back from the front of the stone house, his face still flushed with excessive excitement.
He cleared his throat, raising his voice several notches, trying hard to appear both authoritative and benevolent.
“Listen up! Exalted Immortal Zhou will be cultivating in seclusion on our Servant Peak for a few days! This is an immense blessing for us all! Everyone better perk up, work hard, and don’t make any filthy noises disturbing the Exalted Immortal’s peace!”
His gaze swept over the crowd as he spoke, as though dispensing charity.
“The Exalted Immortal is merciful. He’s chosen two clever ones to serve him. As for the rest, keep the work light! Give them wood to chop, water to carry, weeds to clear around the shacks. Scarface!”
The Scarred Foreman hurriedly stepped forward. “Manager!”
“You, and you few.”
Manager Wang casually pointed at several Foremen who usually followed Scarface around throwing their weight about.
“For these next few days, keep a close eye on things, but don’t go overboard. Don’t disturb the Exalted Immortal. Especially…”
He paused, his gaze drifting toward the Back Mountain slope where Chen Ping was, then quickly moving away as though he feared its bad luck might rub off on him.
“That area on the Back Mountain, just do a bit of tidying up. Don’t make too much noise. For everything else, carry on as usual, but keep your movements light!”
Manager Wang’s intentions were crystal clear.
He wanted to devote all his energy to the Immortal. He had neither the time nor the inclination to specifically monitor a “good-for-nothing” like Chen Ping anymore.
Assigning Chen Ping those effortless, unimportant light tasks served two purposes: it made Manager Wang appear “considerate” of his subordinates while also sending Chen Ping far away—out of sight, out of mind.
As for those heavy labor tasks?
Under the watchful eye of an Immortal, Manager Wang naturally had to be more “merciful” and temporarily rein them in.
Chen Ping understood perfectly. This was exactly what he needed.
He listened silently to the assignments. His task was to clear gravel and fallen leaves from several small paths near the shack area.
This work was easily ten or even a hundred times easier than clearing thorn thickets, digging cesspools, or moving stone materials.
In the following days, the atmosphere on Servant Peak became somewhat cheerful.
Manager Wang was practically the guardian of its door, waiting outside most of the time, ready to answer any summons.
The Scarred Foreman and his other lackeys still patrolled around, but their eyes were noticeably distracted. Their minds were more focused on that stone house. Their usual shouting and beating of servants diminished considerably, fearing loud noises might displease the Immortal.
Many Laborers, no longer burdened with heavy physical work, gradually began to smile.
Chen Ping rose before dawn every day.
His assigned area was small, with little gravel or leaf litter to clear. He worked quickly and steadily, finishing his share in less than two hours.
Once done, he immediately distanced himself from the shack area, seeking out a secluded corner where no one was around. Sometimes it was a shady spot in a mountain hollow; other times it was a gap surrounded by large rocks.
He vigilantly observed his surroundings. Confirming no one was watching, he immediately assumed his stance.
The Vitality Technique!
Slowly, steadily, meticulously.
Raising his hands, pushing his palms, lunging, twisting—each movement brought faint sounds from stretching muscles and joints, along with an aching tightness.
The bone in his left arm had already healed well, but when exerting force there were still faint threads of pulling pain deep within. He gritted his teeth and endured it, not daring to let his form deviate in the slightest.
Sweat soon soaked through his thin coarse cloth shirt, steaming faint white vapor in the cool morning air.
Before, when his strength amounted to only a hundred jin or so, one full set of the Vitality Technique left him utterly spent, dizzy and weak-limbed.
Now, steadily nourished by Spirit Rice and Wild Boar meat, he had quietly gained strength of three or four hundred jin.
After finishing one set, though still tired and muscles sore, he could maintain his breathing and still had some strength left in his limbs.
He didn’t stop!
After briefly regulating his breath for a few cycles, he started again.
Second set, third set…
The aching sensation in his body grew heavier as if every inch of muscle was protesting. Sweat dripped into his eyes, causing stinging.
But Chen Ping’s gaze remained calm. His breathing coordinated with his movements—deep, long, difficult inhalations and exhalations.
Only under this kind of extreme exertion would that faint yet tenacious flow of heat deep within his body be stimulated.
By the end of the fourth set, his legs were already trembling slightly, and lifting his arms became heavy.
Leaning against a nearby rock, he gasped heavily, his chest heaving violently.
He rested for about as long as half an incense stick took to burn, wiped his face, and stood ready again, his eyes sharp once more.
Fifth set.
Movements were much slower than before, each stretch accompanied by muscle tremors and faint bone creaks. Sweat dripped from his chin onto the soil beneath his feet.
But he persisted until completing the final closing posture.
Unable to hold himself up any longer, he slid down against the cold rock. His chest heaved, and his breath rasped in his throat.
He was utterly exhausted, yet a strange satisfaction filled him. He silently counted.
Five sets! A full four sets more than before the injury.
Resting awhile and recovering some strength, he immediately got up, nonchalantly returning near the shack area, picking up a broom or basket, and pretending to still be working.
Until the sky gradually darkened and the Foremen’s shouts grew sparse.
Late night, Jade Pendant space.
Chen Ping rushed over to the white rice pile, grabbing handfuls of raw rice and swallowing mouthfuls in large gulps.
Warmth flowed through his body, easing the effects of the day’s overexertion.
After eating the rice, he went to the corner and carefully used a small knife to cut about a hundred grams of meat from the Wild Boar’s hind leg.
The meat was still dark red and fresh, cool and springy beneath his fingers.
In the corner, he used dry leaves and thin twigs to build a small fire.
The meat sizzled over the fire, dripping fat and giving off a mouthwatering scent. Without salt, it tasted bland, but the fat filled him up and gave him energy in a way Spirit Rice could not.
He chewed carefully, feeling the process of food transforming into strength.
After finishing the roasted meat, he started practicing the technique again.
Practice within the space was more focused and also more unrestrained. However, the time spent inside the space was limited.
At most, he could finish two sets of the Vitality Technique before having to exit the space. Otherwise, the next day would bring a splitting headache.
Day after day!
The easy tasks left him plenty of time. Five, or even six, sets of the Vitality Technique became his daily practice.
Spirit Rice and Wild Boar meat kept him well nourished through it all.
He could clearly feel that flow of heat deep within his body slowly, steadily growing, strengthening its tempering effect on his body.
The most direct and obvious manifestation was strength.
Before, he had struggled to move a hundred-jin stone. Now he could carry three hundred jin of stone for some distance with relative ease.
Muscle contours beneath his thin clothing were gradually becoming clearer; though still lean and gaunt, they contained a sense of power completely distinct from before.
He silently estimated inwardly.
Ten days! Another ten days!
He was utterly confident that he could raise his strength above five hundred jin!