Transmigrated into a Grandpa, Embracing the Laid-Back Life-Chapter 261: That’s Not How Business Is Done

The night of the black market always feels heavier and colder than the outside world.

Here, there are no sect rules to bind, only naked exchanges of profit. The air is thick with the smell of rotting spirit herbs, cheap rouge, and that musty odor of gutter rats that can never be washed away.

Wang Defa sat at a greasy square table in the furthest corner of the "Drunken Immortal Inn," holding a bowl of watered-down, low-quality spirit wine, his gaze somewhat vacant.

This was his third day in the black market.

Following Su Ming's instructions, he hadn't recklessly set up a stall hawking "Bumper Harvest No. 1" like a greenhorn. Instead, he had spent three days, like a diligent spider, weaving an invisible web in every corner of the black market.

"Have you heard? A batch of special farming tools has recently surfaced."

"What farming tools? Hoes?"

"Hey, these aren't your ordinary hoes. I hear they're specifically for splitting mountains and cracking rocks. Just a tiny pellet, 'BOOM,' and even bluestone can be blasted to dust. Even the protective spiritual light of a late-stage Qi Refining cultivator would shudder three times if hit."

"Really? Where's the stuff from?"

"Shh... better not ask that. Anyway, it's not that fancy-looking junk from the Vessel Hall."

These words, spread through a few carefully chosen, big-mouthed middlemen by Wang Defa, had taken flight among the lower-level cultivators of the black market. He was extremely cautious, his wording deliberately vague, only talking about "land reclamation," not "killing"; only mentioning "farming tools," not "thunder fire."

He was waiting.

Waiting for the first fish to bite.

As soon as someone showed interest, he could follow the vine to find the melon, screening for suitable buyers.

*Tap, tap.*

Two light knocking sounds echoed on the tabletop.

Wang Defa jolted, nearly dropping the wine bowl in his hand. He looked up to see a figure shrouded entirely in a gray robe standing beside the table, having appeared out of nowhere.

The person didn't speak, just pulled out the long bench opposite and sat down, took a black iron token from their sleeve, flashed it quickly on the table, and immediately withdrew it.

Though it was only for an instant, Wang Defa's pupils instantly contracted to pinpoints.

That token was engraved with a ferocious *Bì'àn* beast head—that was the symbol of the Outer Sect Enforcement Hall!

Cold sweat instantly soaked through Wang Defa's back. He felt as if his throat was being choked, his breathing becoming difficult.

It's over.

Is this entrapment? Or has the matter been exposed?

Countless thoughts flashed through his mind in an instant. He was even already calculating how to bite down and never reveal Su Ming if he was dragged into the Enforcement Hall's prison.

"Don't be nervous."

The voice of the gray-robed person was low, carrying the cold, hard edge of someone accustomed to giving orders, but there was no killing intent. "I'm here to discuss business."

Wang Defa swallowed hard, forcibly suppressing the urge to flee, and let out a dry laugh. "Y-you jest, sir. I'm just a small-time dealer in second-hand junk. What kind of business could possibly catch your discerning eye?"

"Cut the nonsense."

The gray-robed person slightly lowered their hood, revealing a pair of sinister eyes. "I hear you have a batch of particularly 'potent' farming tools?"

Wang Defa's fingers dug tightly into the edge of the table, his knuckles turning white. He neither admitted nor denied, just stared fixedly at the other person.

The gray-robed person seemed quite satisfied with his reaction, the corner of their mouth twitching. "I don't care where this stuff comes from, or whether it follows the rules. I just need to solve one problem."

They dipped a finger into the wine and wrote a few characters on the table, then immediately wiped them away.

"There are some 'structures' built in violation of regulations. Their location is rather... obstructive. They need to be demolished. But..." The gray-robed person stared at Wang Defa. "The commotion can't be too big. It's best if they... collapse silently and without a trace. Can it be done?"

Wang Defa was stunned.

Illegal structures? Demolition?

Having mixed in the outer sect for so many years, he understood this underworld jargon all too well.

So-called "illegal structures" likely referred to the cave dwelling of some wandering cultivator unwilling to pay protection money, or a secret stronghold of some hostile faction. And "demolition," naturally meant...

"Sir, you mean..." Wang Defa probed cautiously, "As long as it falls down?"

"Correct. As long as it falls, and no trace of human intervention can be found." The gray-robed person pulled a heavy cloth pouch from their sleeve and tossed it onto the table, producing a crisp clinking sound. "This is the deposit. There will be a substantial reward upon completion."

With that, the gray-robed person stood up and vanished into the crowd like a ghost.

Wang Defa looked at the spirit stone pouch on the table, feeling it wasn't money, but a red-hot branding iron.

Someone from the Enforcement Hall, coming to the black market to buy "demolition tools"?

These waters run too deep.

...

Clear Stream Valley, the night was deep.

The atmosphere inside the cave dwelling was somewhat tense.

After listening to Wang Defa's report, Su Ming tapped his fingers rhythmically on the stone table, his brow slightly furrowed.

"Hall Master, we can't take this job!"

Wang Defa was still shaken, his face pale. "That's someone from the Enforcement Hall! If our stuff leaves any trace and gets discovered, that would be colluding with dark forces, violating sect rules—a beheading offense!"

Su Ming didn't speak, just turned to look at the ring floating beside him.

"Master, what do you think?"

"This is hiding in plain sight."

Lin Yu's voice sounded in the Consciousness Sea, carrying a hint of amusement. "Even Enforcement Hall people have dirty work to do, and they often need to cover their tracks more than ordinary cultivators. For us, this is both a crisis and an opportunity."

Su Ming nodded, his gaze returning to Wang Defa, his tone calm. "Old Wang, you did very well. You didn't refuse on the spot, nor did you directly agree to sell 'Bumper Harvest No. 1,' leaving room for maneuver."

"But Hall Master, it's the Enforcement Hall..."

"Precisely because it's the Enforcement Hall, we must do this business."

Su Ming stood up and paced a couple of steps in the stone chamber. "If we sell him 'Bumper Harvest No. 1,' that would indeed be seeking death. The explosion would ring out, the whole sect would know someone was using explosives to blow something up. They'd investigate the residue, follow the clues, and trace it back to the Repair Hall."

"Then..."

"Therefore, we cannot sell finished products."

Su Ming stopped walking, a flash of insight in his eyes. "Starting today, our strategy changes. We don't sell 'general-purpose farming tools.' We switch to 'customized services.'"

"Customized services?" Wang Defa looked utterly confused.

"Correct." Su Ming pointed at the spirit stones on the table. "The client presents a specific problem—such as how much power is needed, what attributes, what effect. We provide a one-time solution based on the requirements. Used once, then destroyed, leaving no trace."

"This way, what we're selling isn't 'contraband,' but 'technical consultation.'"

Lin Yu whistled from the side. "Listen to that, that's vision. Turning the arms trade into a consulting firm—the profit margin instantly skyrockets."

Su Ming looked at Wang Defa. "Did that Enforcement Hall person leave contact information?"

"They left a communication talisman."

"Contact them." Su Ming said coolly. "Tell them, 'Farming tools' are not available, but we have experts specializing in 'handling illegal structures.' Ask for specifics: what exactly they want to demolish, the material, the thickness, whether there are any formation enhancements."

...

Late the next night, the specific requirements came back.

The target of that gray-robed steward was not some cave dwelling, but a door.

A door located deep within a remote, abandoned mine shaft, made of Mystic Iron, three inches thick.

The requirement was simple: break it open, get inside, and do so without triggering the alarm formation linked to the door, and without making a loud noise that would alert any guards.

"Three inches of Mystic Iron, with an alarm attached."

Su Ming looked at the intelligence in his hand, a cold smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. "This isn't some illegal structure. This is clearly wanting to engage in a black-on-black heist, trying to steal someone's private treasury."