Transmigrated into a Grandpa, Embracing the Laid-Back Life

When he heard the name Tianji Pavilion, Su Ming’s finger holding the teacup paused for a moment, but his face showed no change.

“Hey.” A companion snorted, “Those fortune-telling charlatans, when do they not make a fuss? What prophecy have they come up with this time?”

“They say something big will happen in the Central Continent.” The bearded man’s expression turned a bit grave, “When that divination came out, Tianji Pavilion immediately sealed the mountain gate and even pulled back the guest-receiving outer disciples.”

The companion shook his head dismissively.

“Divination’s like that; believe it and it works, don’t and it doesn’t. Do you remember thirty years ago?” the companion scoffed. “The pavilion master swore up and down that Myriad Treasures Pavilion’s luck was gone, that a catastrophe would hit within half a year. And look now—Myriad Treasures Pavilion is still over on South Street doing better business than anyone else.”

“That’s not certain.” The bearded man retorted. “Myriad Treasures Pavilion paid a huge price that time, hiring two eccentric Refined Void elders to hold watch. Only then did they barely survive. Without that omen warning, they would have collapsed long ago.”

They lowered their voices and argued fiercely, dredging up old grievances from thirty years ago.

Su Ming listened silently.

A major event?

He quickly ran scenarios through his mind.A super sect like Tianji Pavilion moves with purpose. Sealing the mountain gate would not happen without cause.

Master Xuanming choosing this moment to bring them to Tianji Pavilion—was that timing a coincidence, or did he already know something?

Was that so-called “favor” really to send him to fetch medicine, or was it to make him a sacrificial piece in some larger scheme?

“That old sly bastard really has no good intentions,” Lin Yu snorted coldly in the ring, his soul body jittering anxiously in the void.

Su Ming didn’t answer immediately. He picked up the now-cold tea and took a small sip.

The tea slid down his throat with a slightly bitter tang.

The main hall’s arguing kept on, but the gossip about Tianji Pavilion gradually shifted to some wandering cultivator’s romantic scandals.

Su Ming returned his attention.

At that moment, a shadow cut across the corner of the table.

“Are you three young friends from out of town?”

An old practitioner in a robe faded by washing stood by their table. He gripped a walking stick carved from some unknown wood and wore a practiced, streetwise smile that spoke of years mingling in markets.

Qingfeng immediately tightened his hand on the sword at his waist.

Mingyue put down her pastry and edged closer to Su Ming.

Su Ming looked up.

His divine sense swept the man casually. Nine layers into Qi Refining, his aura was chaotic, his meridians showing many blockages—no hope for Foundation Establishment in this life.

There was no lethal threat on this old man.

“What does elder require?” Su Ming asked without rising, his tone even.

The old practitioner’s smile grew broader when Su Ming didn’t shoo him away.

“I won’t presume to teach.” The old man bowed slightly. “I saw you three roaming the streets for a long while, seemingly unfamiliar with Myriad Manifestations City’s rules. This city runs deep; one misstep and you can fall into someone’s trap.”

He paused, lowered his voice, and skillfully laid out his chips.

“I’ve lived in this city for thirty years. I can tell you which alleys sell fake medicines, which shops have big backers—could do it with my eyes closed. Need a guide? One hour, just ten low-grade spirit stones.”

He patted his shriveled chest with an oathlike air. “I’m selling not only routes but life-preserving intel.”

Su Ming met the old man’s eyes.

He ran a quick calculation in his head.

Worst case, the old man is a plant from a black shop, trying to lure them to a secluded spot to rob them. But in public like this, as long as he didn’t follow the man into some dark alley, the risk was controllable.

Best case, ten low-grade spirit stones would buy them a basic distribution map of the city’s major powers. For someone needing to probe Central Continent factions, the cost-effectiveness was excellent.

His trump card: his mid-stage Foundation Establishment cultivation and seven hundred and fifty formation runes could snap this old man’s neck in a single breath if needed.

Decision made.

Su Ming’s fingers moved slightly, a very subtle spark of spiritual light flashing beneath his sleeve.

“Ding.”

Ten low-grade spirit stones were neatly placed on the table.

The old man’s eyes lit up; he deftly swept the stones into his wide sleeve.

“Sit.” Su Ming gestured to the empty stool across.

The old man didn’t refuse. He sat down brazenly and even poured himself a cup of tea.

“You’re direct, young friend.” The old man cleared his throat, the flattering smile receding into the worn manner of an old hand. “This city has three main streets.”

He dabbed his finger in tea and sketched a crude cross on the table.

“East Street is where they sell magical implements. That place is the deepest—nine out of ten implements are refurbished junk. If you don’t have a pair of fiery gold eyes, don’t spend your money there.”

“West Street sells elixirs, South Street sells formation plates. Those two streets maintain a bit more discipline; after all, elixirs can kill people and formation plates can blow people up—no one wants to take responsibility.”

He tapped the cross’s top.

“North Street is where the wandering cultivators cluster. It’s a mixed crowd; whatever shady things you can imagine are there. You can bargain them down to the bone, but if you get scammed you just have to swallow it.”

As he listened, Su Ming cross-checked the old man’s layout with the jade slip map Master Xuanming had given him. The jade slip only showed terrain, not these marketplace twists and turns.

“Which are the city’s dominant forces?” Su Ming asked the most important question.

“There are three major merchant houses that run deep in the Central Continent, and they’re entrenched here.” The old man held up three fingers.

“Jubao Studio controls seventy percent of the city’s low-tier elixir trade; Myriad Treasures Pavilion sells everything, and rumor says they have a Nascent Soul elder backing them.”

At that, the old man lowered his voice and leaned forward.

“The one you least want to provoke is Myriad Pavilion.”

He pointed at the ground.

“They mainly deal in formation plates. Half the city’s defensive formations are maintained by them. Myriad Pavilion people are domineering; if they eye a wandering cultivator’s good find, they usually just forcibly buy it. Vendors on the street pay them a protection fee every month.”

Su Ming stamped these three names and their traits into his memory.

“And Tianji Pavilion?” Su Ming tossed the name casually, as if asking about an ordinary sect.