Transmigrated into a Grandpa, Embracing the Laid-Back Life

His divine sense, like the most precise instrument, swept over the heap of corpses once more, and for the last time.

This time, he slowed his pace, raising the precision of his divine sense to the utmost.

When his divine sense passed over Su Ming’s “corpse” again, he finally detected an extremely faint, almost negligible anomaly.

Although the “corpse”’s heartbeat had stopped, his muscles retained a kind of… a very subtle elasticity only a living person would have.

Dead bodies’ muscles are rigid, or slack.

But a living person, even when pretending to be dead, still keeps a subconscious, ready-to-strike tension deep in the muscles.

Ordinary mortals could not perceive such a difference, and even common Qi Refining cultivators could not tell.

But to Zhao Qianshan at Foundation Grand Perfection, it was like a speck of dust in the night—tiny, but undeniably there.

“Interesting.”

A trace of amused curvature appeared at the corner of Zhao Qianshan’s mouth.He did not immediately expose it.

He slowly lowered his body and walked casually to Su Ming’s “corpse.”

He extended his foot and pressed Su Ming’s finger with the tip of his boot.

“How long do you plan to keep playing dead, little bug?” His voice was soft, laced with mockery.

At that moment, Su Ming’s heart felt as if gripped by an icy hand, nearly stopping.

Exposed!

He didn’t know where his flaw had shown, but he knew his greatest reliance—playing dead—had failed!

Run!

That was the only thought in Su Ming’s mind!

The instant Zhao Qianshan finished speaking, Su Ming’s tensed body, like a compressed spring, suddenly exploded!

He did not spring up. Instead, he rolled on the spot, using all his strength to thrust the half-broken blade in his hand like lightning toward Zhao Qianshan’s ankle!

When surrounded, strike another to save your ally! Attack to relieve!

For ordinary warriors facing an unbeatable enemy, this was the only way to survive!

“Oh?”

A flicker of surprise passed through Zhao Qianshan’s eyes; he had not expected this “little bug” to attack instead of wetting himself in fear.

He did not even move.

A faint cyan shield of spiritual energy flashed at his ankle.

Clang!

The broken blade struck the shield as if hitting ten-thousand-year black iron, producing a crisp sound. The massive countershock shattered Su Ming’s Tiger’s Gate, blood gushing.

Using that recoil, Su Ming’s body was flung backward. He kicked hard against the ground; like an arrow loosed from a bow, he shot toward the dense forest on the valley side without turning his head!

“Trying to run?”

Zhao Qianshan laughed, the derision in it like a cat playing with a mouse.

He did not pursue.

He only snapped his finger.

Whoosh!

The jade-green flying sword transformed into a streak of light and instantly caught up with Su Ming. It did not pierce his vitals; instead, it struck the ground ahead of him with a thunderous crash, carving a trench several feet deep!

Gravel flew, dust billowed.

The massive shock threw Su Ming to the ground. He rolled several times before stopping, every bone in his body feeling disjointed.

“Did I tell you to run?”

Zhao Qianshan’s voice sounded like a specter behind him.

Su Ming whipped his head back and saw that Zhao Qianshan, when had he gotten there, was three steps behind, looking down at him. His gaze was like watching a moth flail on a spiderweb.

Su Ming’s heart dropped to the bottom of a ravine.

Speed, power, reaction—complete, all-around domination!

This was Foundation Grand Perfection!

“Disciple! Don’t give up! Use the short sword in the ring later!” Lin Yu’s voice roared frantically in Su Ming’s head. “He’s playing with you right now! This is our only chance!”

A flash of the lethal weapon Lin Yu had shown him streaked across Su Ming’s mind.

He didn’t draw it immediately, because he knew once he revealed it, he would lose his last trump card.

He struggled to his feet, face stained with blood and dust, eyes fixed on Zhao Qianshan.

“Who are you? Why do you seek our deaths?” Su Ming’s voice was hoarse; he was stalling, his brain racing to find the smallest sliver of hope.

“You don’t need to know.” Zhao Qianshan shook his head, as if conversing with a dying insect bored him.

“Merely carrying out orders, loyal service to a client.”

“The Yongchang Marquis?” Su Ming blurted out.

For the first time, Zhao Qianshan’s brow twitched.

“You’re clever.” He nodded, acknowledging it. “Unfortunately, clever people die faster.”

“Because you know far too much.”

He raised his hand. The jade-green flying sword emitted a faint hum, floating at his fingertip, the tip pointing toward Su Ming’s brow from afar.

A palpable killing intent, like an actual ice spike, prickled Su Ming’s skin.

“Any last words before you die?” Zhao Qianshan asked, tone almost charitable.

Staring at the flying sword and feeling the martial force capable of instant death, Su Ming knew this chance would come only once.

Slowly, very slowly, he raised both hands and adopted a surrendering posture.

“I… I have a secret.” Su Ming’s voice trembled, equal parts fear and the baiting of something huge.

“A secret… about the Lantai Secret Garden.”

“The Lantai Secret Garden?”

Zhao Qianshan’s expression finally shifted.

It mixed surprise, contempt, and a thread of greed even he had not expected to find in himself.

“With you? A mortal who can’t even be counted as Qi Refining?” he scoffed, but the flying sword at his fingertip paused infinitesimally.

“I... I accidentally found a clue to the key that opens the Secret Garden among old paperwork in the Hanlin Academy.” Su Ming’s performance reached its peak.

His eyes darted, full of fear toward the supposed secret, and the desperate yearning to trade it for his life.

“Oh? Do tell.” Zhao Qianshan’s interest was piqued. He retracted the flying sword and folded his hands behind his back, offering Su Ming an opportunity to “confess leniently.”

Su Ming swallowed saliva, stepped forward two paces, and leaned in, lowering his voice as if about to divulge a cosmic secret.

“The clue is right…”

His voice dropped, his body leaning slightly forward.

Zhao Qianshan instinctively leaned in too, trying to catch every word.

At that instant!

Unprecedented brilliance exploded in Su Ming’s eyes!

He suddenly flung a clump of black-red filth from his hand!

It was the handful of muck Su Ming had secretly gripped while pretending to be dead—mud, decayed leaves, and corpse blood, all mixed into a disgusting mass!

The move was too sudden, and too vile!

Zhao Qianshan, as a Foundation Grand Perfection cultivator, had never seen such a low, dirty trick!

He instinctively leaned back, and with a sleeve-swipe, a gust of wind blocked the muck.

Although none of it struck him, the stench that hit his face made him dry-heave.

When masters spar, they fight for a sliver of time!

In that 0.1-second gap when Zhao Qianshan leaned back to block!

Su Ming moved!

He didn’t retreat. He lunged forward and crashed into Zhao Qianshan’s chest!

By some unknown moment, a broken sword had appeared in his hand, only half a blade and an archaic hilt, covered in rust!

It was the relic Lin Yu’s previous landlord had left in the ring.