Transmigrated into a Grandpa, Embracing the Laid-Back Life

And his gains in formation runes were even more unbelievable than his cultivation progress. The Spirit Gathering Array at the lakebed was like a tireless teacher, running before him day and night without rest. He sat beside it, watching it spin, listening to it spin, feeling it spin—and the knowledge of runes swelled within him like a dry sponge meeting water. By the day he was ready to leave the Spirit Lake, the number of formation runes he had fully mastered had grown from three hundred and fifty to four hundred and fifty.

It wasn’t the number that mattered—it was the feeling. Now, when he looked at a single rune, he no longer just saw its shape and function. He could see its place in the entire system. Like looking at a tree: no longer just seeing a single leaf, but following the veins back to the branches, back to the roots, back to the direction where they dug into the soil.

Su Ming stood up, brushed the dust from his robes. Shadow hopped back onto his shoulder, and Lin Yu drifted behind him.

He took one last look at the Spirit Lake. The faint blue glow on its surface seemed a bit dimmer than two months ago—maybe it was an illusion, maybe this depression had indeed consumed some of itself after supporting him for so long. He gave a slight bow toward the depression.

Then he turned and stepped onto the stone path.

The familiar faint fluctuation of spiritual energy came from under his feet. The Ancient Path still stretched out unhurriedly beneath him.

Su Ming walked as he observed. His divine sense at the late-stage Foundation Establishment had expanded by nearly half, allowing him to simultaneously perceive the differences in spiritual energy fluctuations of three stone slabs beneath his feet. He could also see deeper into the ancient trees along the roadside. Before, he could only discern the flow of formation lines on the outer two layers at most; now, he could see three layers. He picked up a fallen leaf, held it high, and let it go. The arc of its falling was clearly distinguishable—the flow, strength, and direction of spiritual energy were almost completely judged before the leaf even touched the ground.

Gradually, the path began to narrow.

It wasn’t that the stone slabs were fewer—they still stretched forward one after another—but the ancient trees on both sides were pressing inward. Each one grew closer than the last, branches intertwined and tangled, their canopies merging into a continuous dome of verdant green. The light leaking down from above grew sparser, until only a few extremely thin rays remained, piercing into the mist between the trees like golden needles.

Su Ming did not walk quickly.His late-stage Foundation Establishment divine sense spread out, enveloping the area over ten zhang ahead. The spiritual energy fluctuations beneath the stone slabs remained stable, but the frequency was changing. Every ten steps, the fluctuation slowed one beat compared to the previous segment. Like a person’s heartbeat gradually slowing, approaching the threshold of slumber.

Shadow crouched on his shoulder, her tail feathers slightly tensed.

This little creature had been unusually well-behaved lately. Ever since leaving the Spirit Lake, Shadow rarely hopped around to scout ahead anymore. Most of the time, she curled up in the hollow of Su Ming’s shoulder, her golden eyes half-closed, occasionally twitching something that wasn’t quite ears—she didn’t have ears, but the roots of her feathers would quiver slightly.

Su Ming patted the back of her head.

”What’s wrong?”

Shadow didn’t cry.

She just rubbed her head against his neck, then continued staring ahead.

Su Ming withdrew his hand and kept walking.

Lin Yu drifted out from the ring.

Recently, he had been appearing much more frequently than before. In the past, when walking on the Ancient Path, he mostly stayed inside the ring observing, occasionally emerging to offer a word or two of guidance. But ever since leaving the Spirit Lake, he had been floating outside almost constantly.

The luster of his soul body had stabilized considerably—no longer flickering between bright and dim, but shining evenly and steadily, like an old piece of jade polished repeatedly. The folds of his robes, the direction of his hair strands, even the curve of his finger joints were crystal clear, condensed solidly enough that he hardly seemed like a soul body at all.

But his expression wasn’t exactly relaxed.

Su Ming noticed that his master’s gaze kept fixed ahead. Not the kind of casual scanning—it was as if he had locked onto something and refused to look away.

”Master?”

”Mmm.”

”What’s ahead?”

Lin Yu didn’t answer.

He floated faster than usual, passing Su Ming and probing over five or six zhang ahead. Then he stopped.

Su Ming caught up.

The material of the stone slabs beneath his feet had suddenly changed from the previous gray-white to a deeper ink-gray. The patterns had changed too.

Straight lines ran horizontally from the left side of each slab to the right, one after another, like some extremely regular scale marks.

Su Ming crouched down and examined them for a moment.

”These lines... they look like markings.”

Lin Yu turned back to look at him.

”They are markings.”

”Markings for what?”

”Distance.”

A slight tension tightened in Su Ming’s heart. He stood up, his gaze following the stone path as it stretched forward—the path was still there, but about thirty zhang ahead, the ancient trees that had been pressing closer and closer suddenly vanished.

Beyond the ancient trees lay an open expanse.

Su Ming activated the Aura Concealment Art, suppressing his spiritual energy to its minimum, and walked forward slowly.

With each step, the spacing between those horizontal lines on the stone slabs grew narrower. On the first step, the distance between two lines was about half a chi. After ten steps, it had shrunk to two cun. After another ten steps, the lines were so dense they nearly merged into a solid block.

Su Ming stopped before the last ancient tree.

He saw clearly what lay ahead.

It was a stone wall, standing alone directly in front of the path, like a barrier someone had carried here out of nowhere.

The stone wall wasn’t too tall—about three zhang. Its width was considerably more than the path’s, extending a fair distance to both sides before disappearing into darkness. Su Ming estimated that the entire wall was at least twenty zhang wide. Its surface was incredibly smooth—so smooth that from ten paces away, Su Ming could see his own blurry reflection cast upon it.

No cracks.

No patterns.

No moss.

Nothing at all.

It was just a stone wall. Smooth as a mirror, blocking the path straight ahead.

Su Ming stared at it for over ten breaths.

Then he stepped forward.

Shadow tensed on his shoulder, her small claws gripping the fabric of his robe, but she didn’t cry out.

Su Ming stopped two paces away from the stone wall. He raised his right hand, hesitated for a moment, then reached out.

His fingertips touched the stone wall’s surface.

Ice cold.

A chill that seeped into his bones, spreading from his fingertips along his arm to his shoulder, then from his shoulder down into his chest.

Su Ming withdrew his hand.

There was nothing unusual on his fingertips.

He stepped back, channeled his spiritual energy, and extended his divine sense to probe into the stone wall.

Humm—

The moment his divine sense touched the wall’s surface, it was repelled by a gentle force. Su Ming’s divine sense couldn’t penetrate even a fraction of an inch into the stone wall.

He furrowed his brow.

He tried a different approach—sending an extremely fine strand of water-attribute spiritual energy to his fingertip, gently pressing it against the stone wall.

The moment his spiritual energy touched the stone wall, it vanished.

Like a drop of water landing on scorching sand, instantly swallowed without leaving a trace. Su Ming didn’t even have time to sense what path the energy had been absorbed through—it was too fast. The moment of contact, it was gone.

Su Ming stepped back several paces.

He looked at the stone wall, silent for a while.

The stone wall silently looked back at him.

Su Ming’s reflection shimmered on the smooth, mirror-like stone surface—blurry but complete. Even Shadow’s silhouette was clearly visible: a person and a bird, standing before an utterly blank stone wall.

”It’s not the end.”

Lin Yu’s voice came from behind.

Su Ming turned around.

Lin Yu floated up to the stone wall, separated by only a chi. His soul body reflected on the stone surface, even clearer than Su Ming’s reflection—because the soul body itself emitted light, casting a pale blue silhouette onto the stone wall.

Lin Yu stared at the stone wall for a long time.

”It’s a door.”