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.

no longer

bowed deeply, deeply to Elder Qingquan. His waist bent

"Master."

voice returned to absolute steadiness, betraying no

"Your disciple... understands."

hadn't "accepted"

He had "understood" it.

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

a monumental transformation of his mind within a single hour. A look of extreme complexity flashed in those usually somewhat murky eyes—admiration, relief, and a

once, he nodded

to grasp this means that your years on the sect's

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

alcohol instantly dispelled the chilling, severe pressure radiating from him. He turned back into that somewhat carefree and lazy old

stop standing there like a post." He waved his hand. "Pack up.

up and bowed once

"Yes, Master."

...

leaving Wind Crossing Ferry, the two swapped for a slightly more spacious and

naturally fell to

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

Elder Qingquan was back to hugging his precious wine gourd, leaning against a pile of soft luggage, sleeping like the dead, snoring

on the swaying carriage shaft, holding a thread-bound ancient book—*Analysis of Ancient

mind, trying to find the evolutionary relationship between them and the three

'Break' rune demands such an explosive burst of spiritual energy when inscribed—it's simulating the instant momentum of a meteor striking

ocean

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

down alone, skillfully unharnessed the horse, and fed it some hay mixed with spiritual

the doorstep of the dilapidated temple, stroking the cool Xuantian Ring on his

carrying the

...

of travel by

rain had stopped, but the scenes on the official

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

the entire official road. The carriage could