Transmigrated into a Grandpa, Embracing the Laid-Back Life

Su Ming hugged the two drab sets of menial clothes and followed the junior disciple who led the way into Courtyard ”Ding-Qi”.

The courtyard was small, paved with greenstone, with an ancient well covered in moss in the corner. A few clumps of cold-resistant spirit moss grew crookedly beside it, the only green in the yard. The three side rooms had their doors and windows tightly shut, only the eastern room was empty, its lintel coated in dust.

“This is it, Junior Brother Su.” The junior disciple pointed to the east side room, “There are some old brooms and rags in the storage room, sort them out yourself. Every day at the first quarter of mao hour, the External Affairs Hall will have a steward strike the bell to assign that day’s tasks, don’t be late.”

“Thank you, Senior Brother.” Su Ming bowed and thanked him politely.

Seeing his tact, the junior disciple’s tone softened a little. “My name’s Sun Miao, I also serve in the External Affairs Hall, in the Bing courtyard up ahead. If anything comes up, you can come find me.” With that he turned and left.

No sooner had Sun Miao left than the wooden door of the west side room creaked open.

A burly, dark-skinned man poked his head out. He looked about twenty-seven or twenty-eight, wearing the same gray short jacket as Su Ming. His muscles were knotted and steam rose from him, as if he had just finished heavy labor.

He sized Su Ming up from head to toe, his gaze lingering briefly on the pale, thin face, then he gruffly asked, “New here?”

Su Ming immediately cupped his hands and offered a gentle, harmless smile. “I am Su Ming. I just joined today and was assigned to this Ding-Qi courtyard. I ask for your guidance, Senior Brother.”

Seeing Su Ming’s proper manners, the man’s expression softened and he stepped out.He was tall, a full head above Su Ming, standing in the yard like an iron tower.

“My name’s Zhang Meng.” His voice was loud as he patted his solid chest, “I work in Spirit Beast Valley, taking care of the Cloud-Steppers. You look scrawny, where were you assigned?”

“Temporarily serving in the External Affairs Hall’s Accounting Office.” Su Ming replied.

“Accounting Office?” Zhang Meng’s eyes lit up, his big hand clapped like a fan, “Hey! That’s a good place! No wind, no rain, much better than me dealing with beasts every day and smelling like sweat!”

He was loud and straightforward. He walked a few steps up to Su Ming, very friendly. “With you here, this courtyard finally has four people. There’s also Li Kai, who does odd jobs at Formation Peak, a gloomy type who keeps to himself for days. And that other one…”

Before he could finish, the main room to the north opened.

A slightly portly young man, dressed more neatly in a gray robe starched into crisp folds, emerged frowning.

He held a white cloth and was carefully wiping his fingertips as if removing nonexistent dust, his eyes carrying scrutiny and displeasure as they fell on Zhang Meng and Su Ming.

“Zhang the Rough, at this hour, what are you making noise about? Disturbing the peace.”

His voice was low but carried a clear air of superiority.

Zhang Meng seemed slightly cowed, his voice unconsciously dropping a few registers as he mumbled, “Manager Zhao, we’ve got a newcomer in the yard, I was just saying hello…”

The portly young man called Manager Zhao turned his gaze to Su Ming and scanned him from head to toe, lingering particularly on the new menial clothes in Su Ming’s arms and the wooden tag at his waist.

“A new menial?” His tone was indifferent. “How did he come?”

Su Ming understood in his heart that this man was likely the “figurehead” among the menials, possibly with some backing.

He maintained his humble posture and answered, “Reporting to Manager Zhao, I am Su Ming. I was recommended into the sect by Senior Brothers Qingfeng and Mingyue.”

He had chosen the title “Senior Brother” carefully.

“Qingfeng? Mingyue?” Manager Zhao paused, then seemed to remember something. The little arrogance on his face instantly smoothed away and was replaced by a hint of uncertain surprise.

He looked at Su Ming again, as if trying to see something in that plain face, then simply nodded and his tone became much more accommodating. “If those two recommended you, you must have some ability. The Accounting Office is a respectable place, work hard.”

With that he said no more, turned and went back into his room, closing the door.

Zhang Meng spat a little toward the closed door, then lowered his voice to Su Ming: “Don’t mind him. Fat Zhao’s like that! He’s cocky because his uncle is a steward in the External Affairs Hall and handles our meager monthly rations. Not a terrible person, just full of himself.”

Su Ming smiled but didn’t reply. Newly arrived, it was best not to get tangled in any disputes.

“Oh right,” Zhang Meng suddenly remembered, pointing to the south room that had been shut tight, “that’s Li Kai’s room. He works at Formation Peak. A bit odd, but his skills are solid. When my roof leaked, he fixed it for me.”

As he spoke, the south side room’s door slid open a crack.

A thin, somewhat pale young man stood in the doorway. He looked only slightly older than Su Ming and his gaze was evasive. He held half a carved wooden stick etched with twisted patterns.

He quickly glanced at Su Ming, his eyes lingering for a moment at Su Ming’s pallid, frail face, a fleeting look of sympathy crossing his features before he dropped his eyes and softly said, “I… I’m Li Kai.”

Having spoken, he didn’t wait for a response and slammed the door shut.

Zhang Meng laughed as if this were nothing: “See? I wasn’t wrong—what a closed-off fellow!”

But something stirred in Su Ming’s heart.

Odd jobs at Formation Peak?

A flash of the fragments Lin Yu had mentioned earlier streaked through his mind.

“Senior Brother Zhang, what exactly does Senior Brother Li do at Formation Peak?” Su Ming asked casually.

“What could he do? He helps move formation materials, clears discarded formation plates and flags—rough work.” Zhang Meng waved it off, “But I heard he likes tinkering with small things privately. Last time he fixed a broken time bell for Fat Zhao, saved him several spirit stones.”

Su Ming nodded, mentally noting the names and snippets: “Li Kai,” “Formation Peak,” “likes tinkering.”

He held the clothes and pushed open the east side room’s door.

A musty scent of old dust rushed out. The room contained nothing but a hard plank bed and a shabby wooden table.

Still, a genuine, relaxed smile—the first since arriving—spread across Su Ming’s face.

The place was simple, but at least it was entirely his own, a corner where he could temporarily put down roots.

He moved to the bed and carefully arranged the menial clothes, his fingers unconsciously stroking the warm Xuantian ring in his arms.

His consciousness sank into it and he could sense the Spirit Gathering Array operating imperceptibly, nourishing his master’s soul body, which was still dim but no longer a candle flickering in the wind.

“Master,” he whispered in his heart, “for now… we’re safe.”