Transmigrated into a Grandpa, Embracing the Laid-Back Life

Su Ming’s voice echoed through the grand hall, carrying no aggression yet an unshakable certainty. “Water has never been the hardest substance in this world. Any blade can easily cut through a current; any raging flame can evaporate it.”

He raised his hand, his fingertip gently pressing against the sphere of the “jellyfish.” A tiny ripple spread across the formation’s surface, embracing his fingertip without any sign of cracking.

“But likewise, water can never truly be shattered.”

Su Ming’s gaze was deep. “No matter how sharp the sword, drawing it to cut water only lets it flow on; no matter how violent the explosion, once the shockwave passes, the water’s surface will eventually return to calm.”

He slowly withdrew his hand, and the formation continued its silent breathing in the void.

Su Ming folded his hands before him and bowed deeply, maintaining proper etiquette.

“My Dao is this shield that can never be broken. As long as this disciple’s spiritual energy is not exhausted, this shield will never shatter.”

Star Pivot Hall fell into a long, dead silence.

In Ling Shuang’s perpetually icy eyes, a flicker of strange light flashed. Her gaze was locked onto that soft, miniature formation, as if she were frantically simulating in her mind what would happen if her seven sword intents slashed into something so utterly unyielding and force-absorbing—where they would slide off to.

Qin Yi nodded approvingly, and the spirit marten in his sleeve seemed to sense the gentle water-attributed spiritual energy, poking its little head out to sniff comfortably.Meanwhile, Luo Feng had the expression of someone who had just seen a ghost. He scratched his head in agitation, mumbling incoherently: “That’s impossible… How could the instantaneous potential energy of a spiritual energy impact be seeped into? And how were the stress limits of those four flow-split points calculated…”

Xuanheng sat on his obsidian chair, silent for far longer than when he had reviewed the previous three disciples.

His deep gaze did not look at Su Ming but was fixed intently on the slowly writhing “jellyfish” in midair.

A full ten breaths passed.

Only then did Xuanheng slowly straighten his back, his fingers ceasing all movement on the armrest.

“Ling Shuang wields the sword. Qin Yi commands beasts. Luo Feng and you—you use formations.”

Xuanheng finally spoke. His voice was no longer sharp with critique like before, but instead carried a profound depth, as if he were stating some ancient law of heaven and earth.

“These three paths—some seek killing, some seek life, some seek breaking through, some seek stability. No path is inherently more brilliant than another; no Dao is inherently inferior.”

Xuanheng’s gaze swept over the four disciples below the steps.

“A sword cultivator’s edge can cut through the thorns ahead; life’s endurance can outlast the harshest winter; destruction’s fury can blast open a certain-death trap; and absolute defense can preserve a foundation for standing firm in chaotic times.”

He slowly rose to his feet.

His deep blue wide-sleeved Dao robe swayed gently under the hall’s cold light.

“The immortal cultivation world is vast and boundless. Formation Peak does not need four identical clay figures. You four have four completely different paths. As long as you can walk your own path to its limit, then you will be Formation Peak’s backbone.”

Xuanheng’s gaze finally settled on Su Ming, and a flicker of hidden approval passed through his eyes before vanishing.

“Today’s Dao discussion ends here.”

Xuanheng had no extra words and directly announced the conclusion.

“Everyone now knows how to continue on their own path.” He paused, then continued in a natural tone, “Su Ming, stay behind. The rest of you may leave first.”

No one paid much attention to this abrupt, solitary detention. On Formation Peak, it was common for the Peak Master to give private guidance to any True Disciple.

Ling Shuang was the first to turn around.

Her stride was still as crisp and unhesitating as when she had arrived. Her white skirt swept through the air in a cold, rigid arc.

But just as she was about to step past the heavy stone gate of Star Pivot Hall, her exceptionally fast steps paused for an unusual fraction of a second.

Luo Feng had already sidled up to Qin Yi, agitatedly tugging at his sleeve and still mumbling frantically: “Second Senior Brother, you understand life energy flow—help me think. If I minutely add Little Junior Brother’s ‘Seep’ rune into the second-layer buffer zone of my explosive formation plate, could it perfectly absorb the internal explosion pressure? No, no, fire and water attributes would directly repel each other… What if I use Void Stone powder as a tiny isolating layer…”

Qin Yi smiled gently, letting Luo Feng pull at his sleeve.

He turned around and patted Su Ming’s shoulder in a casual, friendly manner.

“Ignore him. He’s having another episode. Little Junior Brother, come find me at Beast Peak later—I just got a jar of rare Jade Bee Nectar, which works wonders for stabilizing the Golden Core realm.”

With that, he half-dragged, half-carried the still-muttering Luo Feng and strode steadily out of the grand hall.

The heavy star-engraved stone gate slowly closed behind them, emitting a dull rumble.

Star Pivot Hall instantly became empty and deathly silent.

Only Xuanheng on the main seat and Su Ming standing below remained.

Su Ming kept his hands properly folded before him, making no unnecessary movements, showing no curiosity about being kept behind. He simply stood there, as still as the “jellyfish” he had demonstrated, quietly awaiting external contact.

Xuanheng did not speak immediately.

He slowly descended from the main seat, his deep blue Dao robe lightly brushing against the obsidian steps.

He stopped only when he was three feet away from Su Ming.

His sharp, deep eyes stared intently at Su Ming’s face, as if trying to pierce through the purple True Disciple robe and see every secret beneath his skin.

“The medicinal power of the Heaven-Mending Pill—fully absorbed?” Xuanheng’s voice was no longer ethereal like when he discussed the Dao, but low and heavy, even carrying a faint, oppressive weight.

“In response to Master,” Su Ming replied, lowering his head slightly, his tone steady. “The Dao foundation has no flaws. The Golden Core is stable.”

“Very good.”

Xuanheng slowly nodded.

He turned around, his back to Su Ming, and gazed at the ancient formation lines shimmering coldly deep within the hall.

“I expended a great deal of favor, even drawing on the sect’s hidden reserves, to secure those two main ingredients from Tianji Pavilion and Punishment Peak for you.”

Xuanheng’s voice echoed through the empty hall, carrying a stark, harsh reality.

“I did this not because you are Formation Peak’s genius. Formation Peak has never lacked geniuses—Luo Feng’s talent is even greater than yours.”

Xuanheng turned his head, his sharp, deep gaze piercing Su Ming.

“I did this because I need someone to inherit the Peak Master’s position.”