Transmigrated into a Grandpa, Embracing the Laid-Back Life

Chapter 398: The Principle of the Formation Corpse

Elder Qingquan.

He still wore that same gray cloth robe, washed until it was pale. There were no intricate formation lines adorning it—it was as simple as an old village schoolteacher’s attire.

His hair and beard were pure white. His face was gaunt and refined.

At that moment, he was holding a worn-out palm-leaf fan in his hand. Facing the small red-clay stove before him, he gently fanned the flames, one stroke at a time.

His movements were unhurried, steady. They carried a strange, rhythmic cadence.

On the stove sat an earthenware pot. The water inside had already reached a rolling boil, bubbling and hissing as steam rose. White vapor quickly dissipated in the wind at the cliff’s edge.

Hearing Su Ming’s deliberately slowed footsteps, Elder Qingquan didn’t even lift his head.

His gaze remained fixed on that little red-clay stove.

“Finally decided to come?”

His voice was faint. There was no joy or anger in it—like he was asking about the weather.Su Ming’s heart tightened sharply.

He didn’t dare to be careless. Quickly stepping forward, he stopped at exactly three zhang from the stone table and stood in proper form.

This distance was the most appropriate polite distance for a junior to meet an elder.

Su Ming clasped his hands together, raised them above his head, and bowed deeply, his hands reaching the ground.

It was an extremely standard, formal salute.

“Disciple Su Ming pays respects to the Elder.”

Su Ming’s voice was clear, laced with sincerity.

“Disciple was entangled in mundane affairs and failed to come and pay respects earlier. Disciple arrived late; please forgive this transgression, Elder.”

Silence fell over the courtyard.

Only the wind and the sound of boiling water remained.

Elder Qingquan did not look at him. He didn’t even pause his movements. That worn palm-leaf fan still traced a steady arc through the air.

One stroke. Two strokes. Three strokes.

Su Ming maintained his bowed posture. His back was taut.

Time seemed to stretch on.

A full dozen or more breaths passed.

The steam from the earthenware pot suddenly burst open the lid, letting out a sharp whistle.

Only then did Elder Qingquan set down the fan.

out, lifted the scorching pot handle, and

“Rise.”

Qingquan finally spoke. His voice

“Standing there—aren’t you tired?”

up. He didn’t move recklessly. He kept his hands lowered,

the teapot back on the

“Sit.”

pointed to the stone stool across from

obeyed and

his back ramrod straight, his hands placed properly on his knees.

Qingquan finally

deep, abyss-like eyes passed over the rising steam

on Su

“Foundation Establishment.”

was no discernible emotion in

a True Disciple. Wings got tough. The sun must be rising from the west today for you to suddenly remember that on this mountainside, there’s

instantly beaded

were

“Disciple would never dare.”

Ming took a deep breath, his

not mean that. It’s just... after returning from the Northern Border, one thing followed another. The Heart-Questioning Formation, Foundation Establishment, taking a master—the affairs were truly numerous. I’ve never been able to find the

make excuses; he only stated

long-term mission. Thinking that I would soon go down the mountain to train, with no fixed return date, I suddenly realized that I had never formally come to the Listening to Waves Pavilion to pay

Ming lowered

was rude. If the Elder wishes to punish me, Disciple

Qingquan stared at

in the courtyard seemed

Elder Qingquan let out an

still

had weighed on Su Ming’s heart dissipated

through the gaps in the bamboo leaves, casting scattered, dappled shadows on the stone

put down the fan in

coarse ceramic teapot and

was an orange-golden, translucent color. An extremely faint fragrance spread

not pour tea for Su

leaves floating on the surface, and took

was

‘Eight Gates Lost

tone as casual as if he were asking Su Ming if he’d

have you

heart

Here it was.

main event today. It was the test Elder Qingquan had given him during their first

meant it was

might never step through this

Ming didn’t

he had simulated during those countless sleepless nights at Iron Wall Pass, replaying it before his