Transmigrated into a Grandpa, Embracing the Laid-Back Life

Xuanheng’s hand holding the teacup paused slightly.

“Seven hundred and fifty?” A flicker of surprise gleamed in Xuanheng’s eyes. He gently set the teacup down on the table with a crisp clink. “Go ahead and draw a variant of the Gathering rune in the void for me to see.”

“As you command.”

Su Ming raised his right hand, his index finger slightly curled. A thread of extremely fine water-attribute spiritual energy flowed along his fingertip. He casually traced a few lines in the air.

No hesitation. No extraneous movements.

A faint blue-glowing, incomplete formation rune hovered steadily in midair. Its turns were no longer rigid, squared-off lines, but bore a naturally flowing curve, like a stream of water.

Xuanheng stared at the rune for a full five breaths.

“This isn’t the transmission method of the Cloud Hidden Sect,” Xuanheng said, his voice growing low. “Your formation lines are missing a stroke at the turn. Who taught you?”

Su Ming’s expression didn’t change. He answered calmly, “Disciple observed the ancient tree’s formation lines in the secret realm and found that stroke to be superfluous—it hindered the flow of spiritual energy instead. So I tried removing it.”

“Superfluous?” Xuanheng’s brow furrowed slightly. “Do you realize that by omitting that stroke, while the spiritual energy flow speeds up by thirty percent, it also becomes much more prone to dissipating?”“Disciple compensated for the risk of dissipation with the lingering nature of water-attribute spiritual energy.” Su Ming withdrew his hand, yet the hovering rune remained steadily lit, with no sign of fading.

Xuanheng’s gaze shifted from the rune to Su Ming’s face.

“Compensating for a formation’s flaws with your own spiritual energy characteristics? That’s the domain of ‘Formation from the Heart,’ which only those at the Golden Core stage can touch.” Xuanheng waved his hand, and the rune dissolved into nothingness in an instant. “Have a seat.”

Only then did Su Ming walk to the guest seat and lower himself halfway onto it.

“You’ve gone further on this path than I expected,” Xuanheng said, his tone returning to calm, though the atmosphere in the hall had noticeably eased.

He didn’t press further into the details of the secret realm. Instead, he pivoted directly to the main point.

“The three principal ingredients for the Heaven-Mending Pill—Nine Netherworld Lotus, Phoenix Rebirth Branch, and Ten-Thousand-Year Sky-Blue Stone Marrow. How much do you know about them?”

Upon hearing these three names, Su Ming’s spine instinctively straightened.

Inside the Xuantian ring, Lin Yu’s Soul Body also ceased its drifting, silently observing the outside world.

“Disciple has consulted the ancient texts in the Scripture Depository,” Su Ming replied truthfully. “I only know their names and effects. The Nine Netherworld Lotus reshapes the meridians; the Phoenix Rebirth Branch stimulates blood vitality; and the Ten-Thousand-Year Sky-Blue Stone Marrow fuses the extreme cold of the first with the extreme heat of the second, ultimately reforging the Dao foundation. As for their whereabouts, I don’t know.”

“It’s only natural that you don’t.” Xuanheng gazed at the morning mist beyond the hall, his tone cold. “These three items aren’t available on the open market. Even at the Four Seas Trading Company’s top-tier auctions, none have appeared in the past hundred years.”

Su Ming’s heart sank sharply.

If even the Four Seas Trading Company couldn’t procure them, where could he, a mere Foundation Establishment cultivator, possibly search?

Just as Su Ming was silently brooding.

Xuanheng’s wide sleeve flicked gently.

“Thud.”

Two three-inch-long jade boxes landed silently on the rosewood table between them.

Su Ming’s gaze was immediately drawn to them.

The surface of the jade boxes was carved with intricate sealing formation lines. Even through the jade layer, one could sense two immensely vast and utterly opposing auras sealed within.

Xuanheng extended two fingers and rested them on the edge of the first jade box.

“Click.”

The lid was pried open.

There was no dazzling burst of spiritual light. But the moment the lid lifted, the steady flow of air in Star Pivot Hall suddenly stalled.

Then, a bone-piercing chill erupted like a breached dam, spreading wildly outward from the jade box as its center. A thick layer of white frost instantly formed on the greenstone floor tiles beneath Su Ming’s feet. The frost climbed along the edges of his boots, and even the breath he exhaled crystallized into fine ice crystals in midair.

Shadow let out a frightened “cheep,” darting straight from Su Ming’s shoulder and burrowing into the collar of his robe at the back of his neck, shivering uncontrollably.

At the center of the jade box lay a lotus the size of a palm.

Its entire body was a deep, ghostly blue, with not a single leaf. The petals had a near-transparent, crystalline quality. Deep within the stamens, faint phosphorescent flames seemed to burn silently.

“The Nine Netherworld Lotus,” Xuanheng’s voice rang out in the frigid air. “Sourced from deep within the Northern Mang Ghost Domain.”

Su Ming’s pupils contracted sharply.

Before he could even recover from the oppressive weight of that extreme cold, Xuanheng’s fingers had already moved to the second jade box.

“Click.”

The second jade box opened.

Accompanied by an extremely faint chirp, as if from an ancient primordial bird.

A dazzling, blood-red light burst forth from the jade box, instantly casting the star chart in one corner of the hall into a vivid red. The biting chill from before melted away like residual snow under the blazing sun in the face of this red glow.

The air began to warp and burn.

Inside the jade box lay a withered, crimson branch.

The branch was only as thick as a finger, yet on its fractured cross-section, an extremely tiny phantom of a phoenix continuously flapped its wings and flickered. Each flicker carried a massive surge of life force that struck the heart.

“The Phoenix Rebirth Branch,” Xuanheng said, slowly withdrawing his hand. “Sourced from the heart of the Southern Frontier’s ten-thousand-mountain range.”

Extreme cold and extreme heat converged on the rosewood table, forming a visible vortex of spiritual energy.

Su Ming stared at the two jade boxes.

For a brief moment, his mind went completely blank.

Inside the Xuantian ring, Lin Yu’s Soul Body flickered intensely once before falling utterly silent. He said nothing, simply staring at the two glows—one red, one blue.

Su Ming abruptly stood up.

His movement was so sudden that he knocked over the wooden chair behind him.

He took two steps back, bent both knees, and knelt firmly on the greenstone floor tiles, pressing his hands together above his forehead, executing the most solemn salute in the cultivation world.

His forehead touched the ice-cold ground.

“Master’s great kindness,” Su Ming said, his voice trembling with an irrepressible emotion. “Your disciple is eternally grateful and could never repay this debt, even with a thousand deaths.”

He knew far too well the value of these two items. This was no longer something measurable in spirit stones—this was a supreme treasure that even Nascent Soul cultivators would kill to possess.

Xuanheng looked at Su Ming kneeling on the ground.

After three breaths, he raised his right hand and gently lifted it in the air.

A soft, invisible force supported Su Ming’s arm, forcing him back to his feet.

“Rise,” Xuanheng said, his tone still devoid of much fluctuation, but his gaze fixed firmly on Su Ming. “These two medicines aren’t given to you for free.”