Transmigrated into a Grandpa, Embracing the Laid-Back Life

The carriage left the ridge from which the capital’s outline could be seen, followed the official road, and merged into the stream of horses, carts, and people headed for the city gate.

The closer they drew, the more the gray-black colossal thing that squatted on the land looked fierce. The towering city walls cast shadows like tangible weight, pressing down on everyone’s hearts in advance.

The moment the carriage entered the city gate tunnel, the light abruptly dimmed.

Noise and sunlight were both cut off by the heavy walls. The sound of wheels rolling over the smooth stone road mixed with the crackle of torches on the wall, echoing back and forth through the deep passage.

Xu Qing instinctively sat up straight, breathing the capital’s air through the gap in the carriage window. That air carried a complex mix of dust, livestock, and food, but it also possessed an indescribable, substantial sense of prosperity.

Su Ming sat quietly. He could feel that vast, omnipresent pressure called Dragon Qi becoming denser here, like mercury, wrapping in from all directions and weighing heavily on his soul.

“Disciple, restrain your spirit.” Lin Yu’s voice sounded in his mind, unusually grave. “Don’t let your senses flail about. Here your meager cultivation is like a firefly in the night, far too conspicuous.”

Su Ming followed the advice, withdrawing his outward senses into his body, relying only on his eyes and ears to observe.

The carriage slowly emerged from the gate tunnel, and the view opened wide.

The capital’s prosperity unfolded like a painting suddenly spread out, striking with tremendous force.A broad street that could accommodate eight carriages abreast was paved with huge bluestone slabs, smooth as a mirror. Lining the avenue were three- to four-story wooden pavilions with upturned eaves and carved beams. Golden signboards glittered in the sunlight…

The street teemed with people and constant traffic.

There were young masters riding tall steeds and dressed in brocade, noble ladies in green-linen sedan chairs with heavy curtains, and more—hurrying merchants, shop assistants, and provincial newcomers like them, whose faces showed a mix of confusion and awe at their first arrival.

Gulp.

Xu Qing swallowed and clenched his blue cloth bundle tightly, as if that was the only way to anchor himself amid the flood of splendor.

Their carriage was forced to stop a few hundred steps from the inner city gate.

Ahead, the line of people waiting to enter stretched like a long dragon.

Several soldiers wearing uniform coats and swords at their waists were impatiently checking passersby.

They barely glanced at carriages with lavish escorts and waved them through; but ordinary folk with handcarts or shoulder poles were barked at and shoved roughly.

The light in Xu Qing’s eyes dimmed. He watched silently, lips pressed tighter.

Su Ming said nothing, only watched calmly.

At that moment, the rapid thud of hooves sounded from behind.

A wildly ornate carriage, drawn by two magnificent northern horses, rudely squeezed through the line, ignoring the startled shouts and dodging pedestrians.

The driver wore a haughty face and snapped his whip, which cracked loudly in the air.

“Get out of the way! All of you, move! Don’t you see this is the carriage of the Wei Duke’s house? If you delay the young master, can you answer for it?”

The crowd parted like butter cut by a hot knife, making a path.

When the soldiers saw the Wei family crest on the carriage, their faces immediately changed to servile smiles as they ran over.

“Your young master! I salute you!”

The luxurious carriage showed no sign of stopping; a knuckle-boned hand lifted the curtain a little, revealing a pale, almost sickly handsome young face.

The youth, around seventeen or eighteen, wore a moon-white brocade robe embroidered with intricate cloud patterns in gold thread at the collar and cuffs. He lazily glanced out, his gaze full of innate arrogance and indifference.

“Trash.”

He parted thin lips, spat out two words, then let the curtain fall.

The soldiers bowed, watched the carriage disappear in a cloud of dust, and didn’t even check the travel pass.

“Tsk, tsk, big official airs.” Lin Yu commented in Su Ming’s mind.

As their carriage inched forward, another carriage tried to imitate that young master and force its way in.

This carriage was finely made but looked petty beside the Wei Duke’s.

A squad leader-looking soldier frowned, stepped forward, and knocked impatiently on the carriage shaft with a scabbard.

“Stop! Whose carriage is this? Know the rules? Get to the back of the line!”

A house steward-like middle-aged man pushed back the curtain, smiling with practiced politeness.

“Officer, please be accommodating. My young master is from Minister Wang’s household in the Ministry of Personnel. He has urgent business entering the city.”

Hearing “Minister Wang,” the squad leader’s expression softened a bit, but he still refused to let them cut in.

“Even Minister households must follow rules. Back to the end of the line.”

The steward’s face soured but he dared not cause a scene. He had the driver take their place at the back.

“See, disciple.” Lin Yu laughed. “The capital’s circles are divided clearly. A duke’s house is top VIP; a minister’s household is a high-level member, treated much lower. People like us with no name or status are queueing for handouts.”

Finally it was their turn.

A soldier sauntered over and held out his hand for the travel pass.

Old Chen, the driver, had it ready and handed it over with a smile.

The soldier opened it and scanned the contents carelessly.

When he saw the three characters Qingshi County, a slight sneer flashed in his eyes.

But when his gaze moved down and landed on the five characters Disciple of Zhou Wenhai, his hand froze.

He looked up and gave the carriage a longer look, his expression growing odd—an uneasy mix of scrutiny, curiosity, and an indefinable hint.

He didn’t immediately wave them through. Instead he took the pass over to the squad leader who was drinking water nearby and whispered a few words.

The squad leader looked up, his sharp gaze like a hawk’s, fixed straight on Su Ming’s carriage.

His stare lingered on the carriage for three full breaths.

Then, with no particular warmth, he waved the soldier over.

The soldier returned the pass to Old Chen, voice flat.

“Go on.”

The carriage slowly started.

As it passed the squad leader, Su Ming felt that man’s gaze sweep his body once more.

It was not friendly scrutiny, nor routine inspection.

It was a mark.

Like an experienced hunter discovering an unfamiliar prey in the woods, perhaps linked to an old enemy, and leaving a sign only he could understand.

“Master, he—”

“He recognized Zhou Wenhai’s name.” Lin Yu’s voice was very calm. “Your teacher made a big stir in the capital back in the day. Though it’s been over ten years, some still remember. The city’s low-ranking clerks have the keenest ears. We’ve been tagged.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“Hard to say. But remember, disciple, from now on our every move might be watched from the shadows.”

After passing through the inner gate, the atmosphere on the street changed.

If the outer city had been boisterous and common, the inner city carried a colder order. People there were dressed more neatly, walked with more composure. Patrol soldiers in armor passed in orderly rows, eyes straight ahead.

The air pulsed with the pressure of power as if it had substance.

“Brother Su, let’s go to the south of the city first. There are many inns there, places where examinees from all over usually stay.” Xu Qing had obviously done his homework. He put aside his earlier awe and switched to a practical tone.

Old Chen steered the carriage deftly through several wide streets and turned into a quieter neighborhood.

Indeed, inns crowded the lanes, their signs hung densely along both sides.

“Top Scholar Tower!”

“Promotion Inn!”

“Wenchang Guesthouse!”

The names were auspicious.

Xu Qing jumped down and asked at three places. Each gave the same answer.

“Full, guest.”

And the prices made him wince. The cheapest lower room for a night cost as much as three days in Qingshi Town.

“Looks like with the Metropolitan Examination coming, rooms are tight.” Xu Qing frowned.

At the end of an alley they finally found an inn called Penglai.

The inn looked aged: two-story wooden building, small frontage, paint on the sign peeling—an air of old times.

“Shopkeeper, any rooms?” Xu Qing went inside.

Behind the counter, a gaunt old man flicking an abacus lifted his eyelids and glanced at them.

“Yes. No heavenly-grade rooms left, only two human-grade rooms.” His voice was dry and flat.

“What’s the price?”

“One room, three hundred copper coins a night, no haggling.”

That price was still over three times that of comparable rooms in Qingshi Town.

Xu Qing looked back at Su Ming, who nodded.

“Two rooms, then.” Xu Qing counted copper coins from his pouch.

The shopkeeper took the money and tossed a rusty key at them.

“Second floor, the two at the end. A fair warning: the shop runs on thin profits, hot water is supplied one bucket a day, so fetch water early.”

Xu Qing accepted the key and thanked him.

The shopkeeper hummed, then bent over his abacus and muttered.

“Rice is dear in the capital; living here is not easy.”

The room was tiny—barely space for a bed, a table, and a chair. The window looked out on the back wall of the inn opposite, covered in moss.

A faint musty smell hung in the air.

Xu Qing seemed satisfied. He put down his luggage, took out a small notebook, and began recording the day’s expenses and planning future costs.

Su Ming tidied the room briefly and closed the windows and door.

Night deepened.

Daytime clamor faded, and the capital fell into another kind of quiet. Only the faint sound of the night watch’s wooden clappers and an occasional dog bark marked time.

Su Ming sat cross-legged on the bed and tried to enter a meditative state.

But the moment he concentrated he felt a huge resistance.

The ambient spiritual energy here was no longer lively and intimate as in the wilds; it was dead, heavy, and hostile—full of rejection. The omnipresent Dragon Qi formed an airtight iron net that bound everything. His consciousness felt like a bird trapped in a cage; no matter how it beat its wings, it could not leave its body.

“Don’t force it.” Lin Yu’s voice came. “You’re struggling against the capital’s entire fate. A mantis trying to stop a chariot.”

“What should I do?”

“Run the Aura Concealment Art.” Lin Yu said. “Remember, our cultivation method centers on one principle: merge and follow. Don’t resist; adapt. Become part of it, like a drop of water merging into the sea.”

Su Ming obeyed. With a thought his spiritual energy followed the unique canalization of the Aura Concealment Art.

His breath quickly sank and withdrew until it was almost imperceptible. He became like a roadside stone, a withered blade of grass at a courtyard corner, utterly devoid of presence.

In this near-turtle-breath state, the heavy mountain-like pressure of Dragon Qi eased a little.

Within his closed perception the world took on another texture.

The entire capital was like an iron plate compacted by enormous pressure.

Yet when Su Ming pushed the Aura Concealment Art to its limit, his highly compressed consciousness detected several extremely faint “anomalies” on that iron plate.

The sensation was like touching with a fingertip a few invisible nails driven into a smooth table.

One “nail” came from the southeast.

It felt sharp, arrogant, and aggressive, like a spear planted in the ground—its tip of cold steel still showing despite being buried in earth.

Another “nail” came from due west.

It was gentle yet tenacious, like a piece of jade that had been coiled for a thousand years, emitting its own faint, undying glow under weight.

But the most alarming was one at the southeastern corner of the Imperial City.

It was neither sharp nor gentle. It was vast, solemn, and filled with an order-bound lawfulness. It wasn’t an outsider’s intrusion but a node forged and refined as part of the iron plate itself.

“Do you sense them?” Lin Yu’s voice carried a hint of approval.

“Mm.” Su Ming answered mentally. “Those are…”

“Dragon Qi doesn’t eliminate spiritual energy; it suppresses and disciplines it.” Lin Yu explained. “It forces all wild, disorderly spiritual energy into the imperial system. Under this system, any cultivation without authorization gets repressed.”

“The ‘nails’ you sensed are exceptions. They can maintain their own spiritual sources under the Dragon Qi iron curtain for two reasons.”

“Either they’re authorized by imperial power—institutions like the Astronomical Bureau or the Imperial Sacrificial Court. They are part of the Dragon Qi system itself, tools the emperor uses to control supernatural forces. The southeastern corner one in the Imperial City is probably that.”

“Or they possess a powerful formation or concealment treasure that blocks Dragon Qi detection, carving out a small space on the iron plate. The western one is likely the latter.”

Lin Yu’s tone turned playful.

“To dare privately set formations in the capital to resist Dragon Qi… If there isn’t shady business behind it, I’ll write my name the other way around.”

Su Ming slowly ceased the exercise and opened his eyes. The darkness outside was ink-deep.

All his initial excitement at arriving in the capital had vanished, replaced by alertness.

Early the next morning Su Ming and Xu Qing went downstairs for breakfast.

The inn’s main hall had seven or eight tables occupied, mostly by provincial examinees like them, hunched over tasteless porridge and pickles in a muted atmosphere.

Only a table by the window held two middle-aged men who looked like merchants, leaning in low and whispering.

Su Ming chose a seat at their neighboring table.

With his sharpened hearing, even their hushed speech came through in fragments.

“Not only that! My distant nephew working in the Ministry of War says the northern military reports are unstable. The court is in turmoil. Marquis Yongchang is the fiercest advocate of war, slamming the table daily against the dovish civil officials.”

“War? That’s trouble…” the thin merchant’s face showed worry. “If war breaks out, taxes rise and business will suffer.”

“Who could disagree…”

Su Ming ate silently and stored these fragments of information mentally.

Yongchang Marquis.

Again Yongchang Marquis.

That name, like an invisible thread, linked Teacher Zhou’s past, last night’s spiritual probe, and the current street gossip.