Transmigrated into a Grandpa, Embracing the Laid-Back Life

Chapter 412: The Great Xing Veteran

Just as Su Ming's heart was churning, on the verge of falling into a whirlpool of self-doubt.

Su Ming's entire body shook violently!

It was as if a bolt of lightning had instantly cleaved through his chaotic thoughts.

Second Brother...

That honest face, covered in calluses yet always carrying a warm smile, flashed instantly in his mind.

It was one evening, when he was about to set off for the capital. Second Brother was holding his still-sleeping infant nephew in his arms, looking at this younger brother of his who was about to become a "Provincial Graduate," his eyes brimming with pride. But when Su Ming jokingly suggested that if he ever had a chance at immortality, he would definitely take his little nephew along to cultivate, Second Brother became unprecedentedly serious.

"Xiao Ming, for our family to produce one scholar like you, someone who can bring honor to our ancestors, that's already more than our ancestors could have dreamed of. As for this child, don't let him think about those vague, distant things."

"Let him grow up safe and sound, marry and have children, learn to count and write his own name. In the future, let him quietly guard the family's few acres of land and the paper mill business, stay by our side—that's enough."

...Stay by our side, that's enough.

These words echoed repeatedly in Su Ming's mind, each one weighing heavily on his soul.In that moment, Su Ming suddenly understood.

He understood Second Brother's choice. For an ordinary mortal, longevity, magical power, soaring through the sky and burrowing into the earth—these were all too distant, too illusory. What they wanted was nothing more than a hot meal, the smiling faces of family by their side, the patch of land beneath their feet that could be cultivated, and a stable life, visible and tangible, passed down from generation to generation.

But the world of cultivators was filled with slaughter, scheming, secluded cultivation sessions that lasted centuries, and endless risks of contending with heaven, earth, and other people. For Second Brother and his kind, this wasn't a celestial realm—it was a hell far more terrifying than the war before their eyes.

The Chasm Between Immortals and Mortals wasn't just an iron wall set up by the sects for "management." In a sense, wasn't it also a barrier protecting the fragile yet precious "stable life" of mortals?

The sect's "ruthlessness" was a broader, longer-lasting "stability" paid for with the blood and lives of countless people.

And what Second Brother wanted was to live out his ordinary yet warm life in this mortal world, shrouded by this "management" and "stability."

Su Ming's clenched fists slowly loosened.

The indignation, struggle, and confusion in his eyes receded like a tide, replaced by an unprecedented, profound calm.

He no longer looked at the tragic scene outside the window.

He lowered his head and was silent for a very, very long time. It felt like an eternity had passed.

his head. In those clear eyes, there was no longer

bowed deeply, deeply to Elder Qingquan. His waist bent at a ninety-degree angle, his posture utterly

"Master."

absolute steadiness, betraying

"Your disciple... understands."

hadn't "accepted"

He had "understood" it.

the logic behind the positions, the fact that this seemingly heartless chasm between mortals and immortals was built from countless blood, tears, and

undergo a monumental transformation of his mind within a single hour. A look of extreme complexity flashed

once, he nodded

means that your years on the sect's path

that, he reached for the familiar red-mud gourd of wine at his waist, pulled out the stopper, and took

pressure radiating from him. He turned back into that somewhat carefree

He waved his hand. "Pack

up and bowed once

"Yes, Master."

...

the two swapped for a

of driving naturally fell to

muddy official road, heading toward the capital of Great Xing, neither fast

gourd, leaning against a pile of soft luggage, sleeping like the dead,

Ming sat on the swaying carriage shaft, holding a thread-bound ancient book—*Analysis of Ancient Runes: Volume

structure of each ancient rune in his mind, trying to find the evolutionary relationship between them and the three thousand

No wonder the modern 'Break' rune demands such an explosive burst of spiritual energy when inscribed—it's simulating the instant momentum of a meteor striking

he immersed himself in the ocean of knowledge, as if the noise

the carriage off the crowded official road, parking beside a long-abandoned

unharnessed the horse, and fed it some

sat on the

wind blew, carrying the chill

...

days of

rain had stopped, but the scenes on the official road

refugees hadn't diminished with distance from the border; instead, it had snowballed into an even

the entire official road. The carriage could only crawl like a snail through