Transmigrated into a Grandpa, Embracing the Laid-Back Life

The autumn wind swirled withered leaves outside the high walls of the Prefectural School.

Su Ming walked at a steady, unhurried pace on the small path outside the school.

His gaze fell on the base of the wall, where an ant was struggling to drag half a withered, yellowed blade of grass, slipping again and again, only to bite down and try once more.

Yet Su Ming's spiritual sense was like an invisible net, enveloping the thin, receding figure a hundred paces ahead.

Yan Zisu.

Over the past half month, Su Ming had seen him over a dozen times.

Every time, Yan Zisu would emerge punctually from the Prefectural School's side gate, a few scrolls of yellowed ancient texts cradled in his arms, disappearing into the dilapidated old residential district in the western part of the city.

Yan Zisu never spoke with anyone, nor did he ever look around.

His world seemed to consist only of the books in his arms and the path beneath his feet.

"Master, this Yan Zisu doesn't seem to have any fluctuations of spiritual energy around him," Su Ming said inwardly.

His spiritual sense could clearly perceive the faint spiritual energy fluctuations emanating from the jade pendant at Yan Zisu's waist.

Yet, Yan Zisu's own body revealed not a trace of spiritual energy.

There were no signs of spiritual energy circulating within him. His vital energy and blood were even weaker than that of an ordinary person, completely unlike someone who had stepped onto the threshold of cultivation.

"A mortal, wearing a magical artifact?" Su Ming felt puzzled.

"What's so strange about that?" Lin Yu's lazy voice sounded, carrying a tone of having seen it all before. "The family has fallen into decline."

Lin Yu, however, was inwardly muttering: Thank goodness, it's just a family fallen on hard times. I thought cultivators were crawling all over this prefectural city.

"Fallen into decline?"

Lin Yu patiently explained, "This Yan Zisu most likely had one or two true cultivators among his ancestors who refined this jade pendant. Unfortunately, the inheritance was broken, the cultivation method lost. Later generations, left merely guarding the treasure, can only wear it as an ordinary antique."

"This pendant's spiritual energy is internalized and restrained. Its only use is probably to calm the mind and focus the spirit, keeping one warm in winter and cool in summer. For him, it's not much different from wearing a comfortable, ordinary piece of jade."

Su Ming understood instantly.

He recalled what Xu Qing had said: the Yan family had declined, its members scattered.

Perhaps, the true inheritance had already dissipated like smoke in the wind and rain of a hundred years.

Yan Zisu was just a man guarding his ancestors' relic.

Su Ming withdrew his spiritual sense.

Since it was just a misunderstanding, there was no need to continue observing.

He turned and walked towards the direction of Wenan Inn.

The waters of the prefectural city might run deep.

But at least, this small ripple before his eyes had already settled back into calmness.

...

For the next half month and more, Su Ming sank into complete quietude.

He and Xu Qing turned their inn room into a small study.

The various selections of Provincial Examination policy discussions and critiques of famous contemporary essays that Xu Qing had gathered from major bookstores piled up over half the table.

"Brother Su, look at this essay! Discussing the pros and cons of the 'Kai Zhong Fa' system, quoting classics and citing sources, progressing layer by layer, truly the work of a master!" Xu Qing pointed at an article, his eyes shining.

"Look here, he uses an allusion from the 'Salt and Iron Debates.' It seems ordinary, but it secretly aligns with Minister Wang's viewpoint from his early memorials. This ability to fathom the superior's intentions is absolutely brilliant!"

Xu Qing possessed an almost instinctive sharpness for these things.

Su Ming listened quietly, occasionally flipping through pages.

He focused more on reading those archives concerning Yunshuo Prefecture's water conservancy, agriculture, and military preparedness.

These dry numbers and records, tasteless as wax to others, appeared to him as vivid models.

The mental strength of the second level of Qi Refining allowed him to easily construct the entire operational framework of the prefectural city in his mind.

Where the granaries were, where the barracks were, which river channels were prone to siltation, which areas had the densest population.

These felt more "real" to him than any flowery, elegant essay.

"Disciple, what are you doing? Simulating a city?" Lin Yu asked curiously.

"Know yourself and know your enemy," Su Ming's reply was simple. "In case something happens, I'll know where to run."

Lin Yu almost laughed out loud inside the ring.

Good lad, teachable indeed! He truly grasps the essence of my Way of Survival! The fight hasn't even started, and he's already planning escape routes! Not bad, not bad, the student surpasses the master!

The day of the Provincial Examination drew steadily closer.

The entire Yunshuo Prefectural City was permeated by an intangible, tense atmosphere.

The scholars in the inn all wore grave expressions, their steps hurried, even their voices lowered by several degrees.

Only Su Ming and Xu Qing's room remained as calm as ever.

They ate when it was time to eat, studied when it was time to study.

Xu Qing's composure stemmed from the confidence accumulated through years of diligent study.

Su Ming's calmness, however, came from the fact that he never considered the "top scorer" position his goal.

... 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝓮𝒘𝙚𝙗𝒏𝙤𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝒐𝙢

On the day of the Provincial Examination, the sky was not yet light.

Outside the gates of the Examination Hall, a sea of people had already gathered.

The dark, dense crowd, like a surging tide, was firmly held back several zhang away by rows of soldiers holding long spears, their faces stern and cold.

The air was mixed with the chill of early morning and the white mist exhaled by countless people due to nervousness.

Su Ming and Xu Qing were wedged within the crowd, utterly inconspicuous.

All around were low prayers, nervous coughs, and the sounds of book boxes colliding. A scholar walking beside Xu Qing, perhaps too tense, accidentally dropped his examination basket. Ink, brushes, paper, and inkstones scattered across the ground. His face instantly turned ashen, eliciting several suppressed gasps and impatient shouts from the soldiers. Xu Qing silently helped him pick up the items. The scholar thanked him repeatedly, his voice trembling.

"You two, please present your examination plaques and household registration documents!" a yamen runner responsible for inspection boomed, his eyes sharply scanning them.

Xu Qing handed over the documents methodically.

The runner checked carefully, nodded, then looked at Su Ming.

Su Ming similarly handed over his documents.

The runner checked carefully, nodded, and waved them through.

Inside the Examination Hall, the atmosphere was stern and forbidding.

Rows upon rows of low, narrow examination cells were arranged as neatly as honeycombs, stretching as far as the eye could see.

Each cell was extremely cramped, barely large enough for one person. Inside were only two wooden planks: one served as a seat, the other as a desk; at night, placed together, they became a bed.

Su Ming was assigned to Cell Xuan Ninety-Five.

He walked in. A damp air, mixed with the smell of mildew and ink, assailed his face.

He didn't rush to sit down, but first inspected the cell.

Some parts of the wooden planks were already cracked, cobwebs clung to the corners.

He took out a dry cloth he had prepared from his bag and unhurriedly wiped the planks and walls clean.

Only then did he sit down, arranging his ink, brush, paper, and inkstone one by one.

The entire process was calm and composed, as if he hadn't come to take the fate-deciding Provincial Examination, but to review his lessons in a simple study.

"Boom—Boom—Boom—"

Three muffled drumbeats sounded, reverberating throughout the entire Examination Hall.

The examination had officially begun.

The examination papers were distributed.

The first session tested classical exegesis.

The question came from the "Book of Rites," standard and conventional.

Su Ming dipped his brush in ink, pondered briefly.

An extremely ingenious method for breaking into the topic instantly formed in his mind. If written out, it would surely astonish everyone, making the examiner's eyes light up.

But he merely ran through it in his mind, then decisively discarded it without hesitation.

He chose another approach, more reliable, but also more mediocre.

The essay's structure was balanced and steady.

The arguments were solid and reliable, absolutely error-free.

The language was plain and unadorned, without any flashy displays of skill.

He was like the most diligent craftsman, using the most standard mortise and tenon joints to build his essay. Not a trace of brilliance, yet no flaws that could be pointed out either.

Halfway through, he needed to cite an allusion.

Three choices simultaneously surfaced in his mind.

One from the "Zuo Zhuan," the most fitting and widely known.

One from the "Book of Han," slightly obscure, but capable of displaying erudition.

Another, from a long-lost Han dynasty miscellany he had dug out from the pile of old papers in the County School library, so obscure that using it would surely shock all the examiners.

Su Ming's brush tip hovered over the paper for a moment.

Then, he decisively chose the second one.

Using the allusion from the "Book of Han."

This would make him appear like a "diligent" student, not a "genius."

While writing swiftly, a strand of Su Ming's consciousness quietly spread out.

His spiritual sense covered the entire examination hall.

He "saw" Xu Qing sitting upright and proper in a "Di"-numbered cell not far away, writing as if divinely inspired.

He "saw" Wei Zi'ang, further away in a "Tian"-numbered cell, brimming with high spirits, his brush flying across the paper like a dragon, even a trace of self-satisfied smile on his face.

He "heard" the countless rapid or steady heartbeats of the examinees.

He "smelled" the increasingly thick scent of ink in the air, and faint traces of sweat seeping out due to nervousness.

Simultaneously, he also sensed the powerful auras within the examination grounds.

On the surrounding walls, patrolling soldiers, their internal vital energy and blood like blazing furnaces, hot and steady—martial artists who had trained their external skills to the extreme.

Deep within the Examination Hall, in the courtyard where the chief examiners resided, there were also several auras, some like ancient pines, others like unsheathed swords, clearly also martial arts masters of considerable cultivation.

All this was within his expectations.

The entire examination hall was like a sheep pen guarded by countless fierce beasts, its rules strict and severe.

But, there was no second cultivator aura like Yan Zisu's.

"Master, it seems it's safe," Su Ming said inwardly.

"Mhm, for mundane imperial examinations, cultivators generally disdain to participate. Even if there are, they're mostly small fry who've just entered the door, or down-and-out types like Yan Zisu. They can't stir up any waves," Lin Yu's voice was relaxed.

The first session ended the next day.

After submitting his paper, Su Ming took down both wooden planks used during the exam and fitted them together, laying them on the floor space of the cell. This was their "bed."

Su Ming took out the water and dry rations he had brought from his pack to replenish his energy. The second session was two days later. He had to wait in this place "where standing was insufficient to accommodate the body, and lying down was insufficient to stretch the legs."

The second session tested essays, judgments, and official documents. This placed extremely high demands on memory, logic, and format.

Within the cramped cells, candle flames flickered, illuminating the concentrated or anxious faces of the examinees.

The smell of ink in the air grew stronger, mixed with the odor of sweat and the greasy smell of cooled food. It was a tremendous test of memory and format. Some scholars already looked sallow from days of ordeal, their brushstrokes slowing.

Su Ming, however, relying on his powerful soul, wrote methodically, effortlessly handling various official document formats, his judgments written flawlessly.

For him, this was more like a test of patience and meticulousness. He had to consider more how to catch the examiner's eye without appearing too outstanding.

The third session, policy discussion, was the true main event.

The question involved the difficult problem of military grain and fodder transportation for the Yunshuo Prefecture border troops, precisely the area Su Ming had focused on in his usual studies.

This was exactly the subject Su Ming had secretly deduced multiple times in his daily life, combining geographical records and official government gazettes.

Su Ming instantly outlined a clear framework in his mind: the northern waterway silted up, the southern mountain roads treacherous, the transit granaries wasteful and inefficient...

But he still strictly controlled the sharpness of his expression. The essay was solid, insightful, but definitely not earth-shattering.

What ultimately landed on paper was solid data analysis, safe, absolutely error-free conventional suggestions—nothing more than dredging waterways, reinforcing roads, strengthening warehouse management, and the like.

The essay structure was rigorous, the arguments ample, sufficient to prove his deep understanding and pragmatic attitude towards the matter. But reading it through would only make one feel this young man was steady and hardworking, a talent, but would never elicit exclamations of genius.

Nine days, three sessions. For the vast majority of examinees, it was a dual torture of body and spirit.

The cramped cells, cold autumn nights, poor-quality food, and immense psychological pressure were enough to break a person's will.

Su Ming saw people vomiting during the exam, people unable to write due to nervousness, people sobbing quietly in the dead of night.

During the intervals between each session, he could see scholars being carried out of the Examination Hall on stretchers, either due to physical exhaustion or mental breakdown.

Su Ming, however, was like a rock in a rushing stream, always maintaining inner peace. His spiritual sense occasionally swept over the examination hall, able to "hear" countless rapid heartbeats, "smell" the increasingly heavy scent of exhaustion.

Yet, for Su Ming, these nine days were exceptionally "fulfilling." Not only did he perfectly complete the examination, but he also treated this experience as a special form of cultivation.

The "Aura Concealment Art" operated constantly, keeping his mind calm as water. The physique of the second level of Qi Refining made him indifferent to cold, heat, and fatigue. His powerful spiritual sense allowed him to be fully aware of the entire examination hall's dynamics.

When the drumbeat signaling the end of the final session sounded, Su Ming calmly put down his brush and carefully arranged his examination papers.

He walked out of his cell. The autumn sunlight fell on him, warm and gentle.

All around, crowds surged out like a tide, faces varied—ecstatic, dejected, numb.

Xu Qing waited for him not far away, his face showing unconcealable fatigue, but a glimmer of light deep in his eyes, clearly having performed well.

"Finally... it's over," Xu Qing let out a long sigh of relief.

"Mhm, it's over," Su Ming nodded.

His gaze swept over the noisy crowd, looking towards the depths of the Examination Hall. Nine days of ordeal were, to him, merely a small trial on the path of cultivation.

Su Ming had controlled everything with precision, like a masterful chess player, placing his pieces without regret, quietly awaiting the outcome.

Inside the Hall of Impartiality within the Examination Hall, the ink-written examination papers were being gathered. No one knew that among those thousands of papers, one from Cell Xuan Ninety-Five was quietly awaiting its fate with its impeccable "mediocrity" and deeply concealed solidity.