Transmigrated into a Grandpa, Embracing the Laid-Back Life

Late at night.

Su Mansion study.

The snow outside the window made the room somewhat bright.

Su Ming had dismissed all the servants and sat alone at the desk.

A sheet of fine xuan paper was spread before him, held down by a smooth, warm Hetian jade paperweight.

He lifted the brush, dipping it fully into thick ink.

He did not intend to write characters.

A deeper impulse, originating from his soul, was driving his arm.

The brush tip descended, ink lines meandering.

The starting stroke was decisive, the running stroke smooth, the transitions sharp.Not characters.

Lines.

Runes.

”Gathering,” ”Control,” ”Flow,” ”Balance”...

Those patterns he didn’t know why he could produce, yet felt intimately familiar, flowed naturally from his brush tip.

Those basic runes once etched into his heart were not currently channeling any heaven and earth spiritual energy; they were merely ink seeping into paper.

But Su Ming’s hand trembled slightly.

A long-lost tremor, originating from the depths of his soul, traveled through the brush handle and spread throughout his body.

It was the imprint carved by thousands upon thousands of monotonous practice sessions during those days and nights at Hundred Refinements Peak, under dim oil lamps, amidst piles of cold scrap material.

This body lacked spiritual power and had not been tempered by spiritual energy, yet this imprint had long transcended the flesh, engraved into his consciousness.

The brush tip moved faster and faster.

The rudimentary form of a complex formation diagram slowly emerged on the paper.

Nine-Curve Solar Yang Formation - Variant.

This was the flash of inspiration he had in that instant during the second stage of the outer sect assessment. Using water to guide fire, transforming rigidity into softness.

He didn’t remember when he had seen this pattern, but it had appeared just like that, carrying an undeniable sense of ”reality.”

Looking at the imperfect, smudged, shaky lines on the paper, his eyes grew warm.

These ”imperfections” felt more intimate and solid to him than that perfect world outside.

”My path...”

Su Ming put down the brush, gazing at the ink-drenched xuan paper, murmuring softly to himself.

”...does not lie within this perfect cage.”

The moment these words fell.

The air in the study seemed to freeze.

The candle flame, which had been burning with extreme stability, suddenly flickered violently, its flame elongating, turning into an eerie bluish-gray color.

Su Ming stood up, calmly surveying his surroundings.

”Dissipate.”

He said flatly.

There was no earth-shattering explosion, nor heart-rending screams.

It was like a scroll being scorched by fire.

The rosewood grain at the edge of the desk began to twist, fade, transforming into countless tiny gray ashes, silently disintegrating.

That smooth, warm Hetian jade paperweight rapidly lost its luster, turning into rough, crude stone, then immediately into dust.

The famous calligraphy and paintings hanging on the wall, the Persian rug on the floor, even the perfect snowscape outside the window...

At this moment, all began collapsing silently from the edges toward the center.

That ”Xu Qing” wearing the crimson official robe, that kind mother, that imposing father... Their figures flashed one last time in Su Ming’s mind, then shattered like bubbles.

Su Ming stood amidst the flying ashes. The official robe on his body also began to dissipate, revealing the familiar, patched gray menial disciple robe underneath.

Cold.

A bone-piercing cold enveloped his body once more.

That was a real sensation.

Darkness surged in like a tide, swallowing that brightly lit Hanlin Academy, swallowing that warm capital.

Su Ming closed his eyes, a relieved smile curling at the corner of his mouth.

...

Outside the Questioning Heart Forest.

Inside that seemingly ordinary mountain rock, the atmosphere suddenly grew tense.

On the originally calm, water-like spiritual energy light screen, violent ripples were now churning.

The light point representing Su Ming, which had previously been emitting a soft, stable milky-white glow, slowly meandered at the edge of the light screen, as if slumbering in warm water.

But just a moment ago, the brightness of the light point suddenly surged.

Immediately after, its originally slow fluctuation frequency changed drastically, shifting from a deep, gentle rhythm to an intense, high-frequency tremor.

The milky-white glow rapidly faded, replaced by a deep, ancient, metallic bronze color.

”This fluctuation...”

The Questioning Heart Elder, who had been sitting cross-legged with his eyes closed, suddenly opened his eyes wide, staring fixedly at that violently trembling light point.

”Severe mental shock, yet not collapse, but rather... awakening?”

Beside him, Zhang Lie’s perpetually cold, iron-hard face also revealed unconcealed astonishment.

”Shishu, this is...” Zhang Lie pointed at that bronze hue, his voice somewhat hoarse. ”This isn’t the feedback a ’Basic Mode’ illusion should have! When breaking a Basic Mode illusion, it should be a clear light soaring skyward, the inner demon dispersing. This bronze tremor... it’s more like...”

”True Mode.”

The Questioning Heart Elder slowly uttered these two words, a trace of incredulity in his tone. ”He directly triggered ’True Mode’ resonance.”

”True Mode?!”

Zhang Lie gasped sharply. ”Isn’t that the formation mode only activated during assessments for inner sect core disciples, or even true disciples? This kid... he’s just a menial disciple. How could his thoughts be so complex that they could stir the deep formation lines of the Questioning Heart Forest?”

The Questioning Heart Forest formation adapts to the strong and the complex.

Ordinary menial disciples have simple thoughts, their desires limited to attaining immortality and longevity; their illusions remain at the shallow level of worldly wealth and status.

Only those whose hearts align with the path of formations or possess special soul bodies would cause the formation to judge the ”Basic Mode” insufficient, thus automatically upgrading.

”The last time someone triggered True Mode before entering the inner sect...” The Questioning Heart Elder lightly tapped his knee with his finger, his gaze profound. ”...was three thousand years ago, that former patriarch of Formation Peak, Xuan Yunzi.”

Zhang Lie’s expression turned solemn.

Xuan Yunzi, a monumental figure in the history of the Cloud Hidden Sect’s path of formations.

Legend says he was born with a ”Seven-Aperture Exquisite Heart,” breaking formations upon entry, comprehending all methods naturally.

”This disciple...” Zhang Lie looked at that still violently trembling, increasingly deep-colored light point, his throat feeling dry. ”Could he be a special soul body? Or is it that he, too, has a natural affinity with the path of formations?”

The Questioning Heart Elder did not answer.

He raised his hand, sending a spell seal into the light screen.

”Since it has been triggered, it is his fortune, and also his tribulation.”

The elder’s voice regained its calmness, but the slightly trembling tip of his horsetail whisk betrayed his inner turmoil.

”Under True Mode, great terror approaches. I hope he does not breed inner demons because of this.”

...

Inside the illusion.

The perfect world had completely collapsed into a void of ashes.

Su Ming stood in a dead silent darkness.

There was no light, no sound, not even a sense of time’s passage.

The joy of just having regained his true self was being rapidly devoured by a deeper, colder presence.

If the previous ”Hanlin Academy” was a gentle tomb, then now, the malice pressing in from all sides was a naked blade.

Su Ming did not move.

He simply stood quietly, adjusting his breathing.

Having chosen to shatter that false perfection, he was prepared to face whatever came.

”Whatever it is...”

Su Ming silently recited in his heart, his fingers curling as if the brush was still in his hand.

”...it is better than the fake.”