Transmigrated into a Grandpa, Embracing the Laid-Back Life

Chapter 409: Nocturnal Commotion

The rain at Wind Crossing Ferry finally stopped at the Zi hour.

On the eaves of Yuelai Inn, residual rainwater dripped from the broken tiles onto the bluestone slabs below, producing a monotonous and heavy sound. The air was thick with a strong smell of earth, mixed with the sour stench of fermented low-quality horse feed.

Inside Room Jia, no lamps were lit.

Su Ming sat cross-legged on the slightly damp wooden bed, his eyes half-closed. The liquid spiritual energy of the Foundation Establishment stage flowed silently and steadily through his meridians like streams of deep blue light. He maintained the Aura Concealment Art at an extremely delicate balance—not appearing too conspicuous, yet perfectly blending his aura into the mundane, worldly atmosphere of this mortal inn.

His divine sense extended outward.

Although in this turbid mortal realm, the range of his divine sense was compressed by a full thirty percent, it was still more than enough to cover this small inn.

In the corner of the downstairs lobby, several drunken martial artists lay sprawled across wooden benches, snoring thunderously. In the stables, the two Yunnan horses snorted restlessly. In the room next door, Elder Qingquan’s breathing was long and even, clearly fast asleep.

Just then, Su Ming’s brow twitched slightly.

From the direction of the inn’s backyard came an extremely faint noise. It sounded like some dry, withered branches being dragged across muddy ground—barely audible, but to a Foundation Establishment cultivator’s ears, it was as clear as thunder.

Su Ming didn’t get up. He simply extended his divine sense covertly.Under the eaves of the woodshed in the backyard hung several strings of dry flatbreads and roughly-made jerky, kept there to prevent dampness. These were the coarse rations the inn used to fend off impoverished porters passing through.

At this moment, three scrawny, shadow-like figures pressed tightly against the base of the wall, slowly inching toward those rations under the cover of darkness.

They were three refugees.

The oldest looked no more than fourteen or fifteen, while the youngest was perhaps seven or eight. Their clothes had long since become tattered rags, barely covering their vital areas. All three children shivered violently from the cold.

But their eyes, fixed on those dried provisions, glowed with the primal instinct of survival.

The oldest boy gritted his teeth, stepping onto the shoulders of a slightly sturdier child, and tremblingly stretched out a hand covered in frostbite and grime, desperately reaching for the string of flatbreads hanging a bit too high.

Their movements were very light, but their hunger-weakened bodies couldn’t maintain their balance.

“Crash—”

child at the bottom slipped, stepping onto a broken clay pot, which shattered

that sound was amplified

“Who’s in the backyard?!”

the inn, a fierce, spirited shout rang out. Immediately afterward, a rapid series of footsteps, accompanied by the dragging sound of a wooden stick,

workers at these border inns often knew a

break your damn

assistant cursed loudly, kicking open

crashing heavily into the mud from mid-air. Ignoring the searing pain in his body, he

rickety wooden gate had already been securely locked by the shop assistant with a thick bolt

three children pushed and yanked at the wooden door with all their might, but the heavy bolt was like

assistant carrying a torch

abruptly turned around, shielding his two younger companions behind him, clutching the half-string

the second-floor

in the darkness. The index finger of his right hand curled slightly, and at its tip swirled a strand of deep blue spiritual energy, a hundred times finer

simply will the shop assistant into a deep sleep

didn’t

must above all

the mortal world. You can save one, but you can’t save ten thousand. Forcibly

This was the ironclad law of the jungle in the cultivation world, the survival principle he had learned walking

sense had clearly captured

tightly to the older boy’s clothes, his hunger-emaciated face filled with fear, his lips bitten until they bled as he

Ming of the villagers outside Qingshi Town, driven to desperation by unpaid

took a deep breath

him to stay

corner deep in his heart held an unyielding force, stubbornly pulling

corner of the backyard. The jujube wood staff was raised high, and the

bastards, stealing

whistling down with savage

eyes snapped open in the