Transmigrated into a Grandpa, Embracing the Laid-Back Life

Chapter 411: The Shackles of Balance

Su Ming pointed at the gruesome street outside the window, his voice trembling slightly from the immense effort of holding himself back.

"Master, there's something this disciple doesn't understand."

He lifted his head, meeting Elder Qingquan's eyes, which were as calm and unreadable as an ancient well. A stubbornness and indignation unique to youth seemed ready to burst forth from his clear gaze.

"Since both Great Xing and Northern Barbarian are vassal states of the Cloud Hidden Sect, why does the sect allow them to slaughter each other like this? With the sect's foundation, they only need to send a Golden Core expert like you, or even just a Foundation Establishment steward, to pay a visit to the palaces of both nations. This war… shouldn't it come to an immediate halt?"

He paused, the confusion in his voice growing even heavier. "Wouldn't forcing a ceasefire be better than letting so many people die?"

The room in the inn fell into a brief silence.

Outside the window, the soldiers' harsh shouts, the desperate wailing of women, and the helpless sobbing of young boys mingled together, like a bunch of blunt knives repeatedly cutting through the stagnant air.

Elder Qingquan did not look at Su Ming. His gaze remained fixed on the chaotic street scene outside, as if he were looking at an ancient painting that had nothing to do with him. His face, always carrying a hint of drunkenness, was now cold and stern, like a block of ten-thousand-year-old ice.

He did not directly answer Su Ming's question. Instead, he asked a flat counter-question:

"Su Ming, do you know why the sect strictly forbids all cultivators from privately passing down teachings to the mortal world?"Su Ming was suddenly taken aback.

He had never deeply considered this question. In the Cloud Hidden Sect, it seemed like an inherent iron law, as natural and unquestionable as breathing or the sun rising in the east and setting in the west.

He hesitated for a moment, then tried to answer from the perspective of the sect's rules. "Disciple… does not know. Perhaps it is to… maintain order in the mortal world, to prevent an imbalance of power?"

"Order?" A faint, almost mocking curl appeared at the corner of Elder Qingquan's lips. He finally turned around, facing Su Ming directly. "You think it's about maintaining order? No. It's about atonement."

"Atonement?" Su Ming's brow furrowed even deeper.

Elder Qingquan slowly walked to the table, picked up the cold teapot, and poured himself a cup of tea that had long gone cold.

"In ancient times, the immortal and mortal realms were not separated."

His voice was not loud, but it carried a vicissitude and weight that seemed to come from a distant time. Every word struck heavily against Su Ming's heart.

"It was an era… where mortal lives were as worthless as grass, but not because of war and famine."

Elder Qingquan picked up the teacup, but did not drink. He simply stared at his own weather-beaten face reflected in the tea.

"Can you imagine the scene of two Golden Core cultivators, battling with all their might over a magical artifact or a cave dwelling, right above a mortal city?"

Without waiting for Su Ming to answer, he continued on his own, his voice devoid of any emotional fluctuation.

hundred miles, and the residual energy from their sword aura could level half the city walls. Techniques would clash, with flames engulfing the city and ice sealing off ten miles. In a single thought, tens of thousands of living beings would be turned into charcoal or ice sculptures. When they grew tired, they might casually grab a city's worth of a hundred thousand living souls to replenish their magic power. That city would then become a dead city,

similar descriptions in the sect's books of strange tales, but he had never imagined they

Elder Qingquan's tone grew even colder. "When a Nascent Soul cultivator becomes enraged, mountains and rivers change, and great rivers flow backward. The Longhuai River, the mother river of the Great Xing nation, originally flowed from west to east, traversing the entire country in ancient times. Seven thousand years ago, two Nascent Soul Lords fought for seven days and seven nights over an underground spirit vein here. In the end, one of them slammed down his palm, forcefully cutting off the middle reaches

its foundational cultivation method was refining living souls. Every sixty years, they would send their disciples into the mortal world to massacre cities and annihilate nations, using millions of living souls to refine magical artifacts and break through bottlenecks. The places they visited would become barren lands for a thousand miles, not a

of the cup's bottom hitting the table was a dull thud, like a heavy hammer striking deep

of those mortals who died silently in the residual waves of cultivator battles during ancient times. Would they be willing to let cultivators remain in the

intangible pressure making

their whole bodies left behind, giving their families something to remember them by. In ancient times, when mortals encountered cultivators,

built from the blood and tears of countless mortals! It was bought by the mortal emperors who survived, who knelt at the mountain gates of the various great sects for nine hundred and ninety-nine days, paying the price of

like ice. A chill surged from the soles of his

his mouth to refute, but found his throat so dry he

thought that immortal cultivation was about transcendence, freedom, and the power to look down on all living

what a bone-chillingly bloody past was buried behind

a bloody Great Wall built from the bones of billions of mortals, protecting the fragile

cacophony roared in Su Ming's

Qingquan's words were like thunderbolts, shattering the slightly idealistic understanding of the cultivation world

back, his back hitting the cold wall with a heavy

said was true, and such an ancient era were to reappear, they wouldn't even count as dust. In the eyes of cultivators, they would just be "resources" to be taken and used to

cruel reality. "So, the sect completely abandons direct jurisdiction over the mortal world, leaving

If cultivators were such a huge threat to mortals, then complete

the

suddenly became extremely weary, losing its previous hardness

wooden window, and a cold wind rushed in, mingled with the faint sounds

sect built those seventy-nine border-guarding grand formations in the northern frontier? Do you know

was stunned. He knew this, of course. It was to resist the Demon and Ghost Tribes, to

head. "No. It's about protection. From ancient times to the present, the bloody battles between the human, demon, and ghost races have never ceased. The Cloud Hidden Sect was established for twenty thousand years. It built those seventy-nine border-guarding grand formations to block those alien races that wanted to treat humans as livestock and slaves. Mo Heng died in battle because behind him were tens of millions of mortals, just like your family,

more afraid to let cultivators set foot in

His voice dropped low.

were to let things go, allowing cultivators to wander and pass

and those traitors expelled from the sect… what would they treat this mortal

"A hunting ground."

treating mortal cities like herb gardens they could pick at will. When that time comes, who would stop them? The sect? The sect

around and looked into Su Ming's

not interfere in mortal affairs. It's not about managing from a lofty position, but about firmly

the sect. They formed naturally over a thousand years. What the sect needs to do is to give a gentle push when they are about to lose balance, and to quietly pull them back when they are on the verge of destruction. Make this triangle keep spinning forever, instead of turning into a straight

gently and tentatively pressing on an existing wound, to make the bleeding slow down, to prevent

voice grew even