Chapter 6: Mom (Requesting Monthly Votes)

“Mom, what’s wrong?” Dou Dou stepped forward and asked sweetly.

“N-nothing… Mom’s fine.”

Dou Dou seemed to give Jiang Wenxin enough courage; she straightened her body, hugged her close, and sat down on the sofa with her.

She pulled out her phone, wanting to call her husband and ask him to come home early, but hesitated.

Because that old man was pacing outside their door—what if her husband came back and something bad happened to him?

Thinking of evil spirits in movies, she shivered involuntarily.

She looked down at Dou Dou in her arms and asked, “Dou Dou, tell Mom—after you become a ghost, can you… do bad things?”

Dou Dou scratched her little head, then said, “Mom, I’m a good baby—I don’t do bad things.”

Clearly asking her wouldn’t yield anything, so she thought a moment and asked, “Do you often see Grandpa Lu?”

Dou Dou nodded, her voice innocent: “Yes, Grandpa Lu can’t bear to leave Zi Xu, so he circles here every day.”

Hearing this, Jiang Wenxin pondered briefly: if Old Lu truly had the power to harm people, he’d have done it already—no one in this building had reported any misfortune.

Realizing this, she finally dialed her husband Tao Guangxia’s number. Being alone at home, she was truly frightened—without a man, she felt like she’d lost her anchor.

“Honey, where are you now?”

“On the way, I’ll be home any minute.”

Tao Guangxia’s voice came through the phone; Dou Dou immediately leaned forward and called “Dad!” but Tao Guangxia seemed not to hear.

“Be careful on the road.”

Jiang Wenxin gave this warning, then hung up—but didn’t put the phone down. Instead, she opened Enterprise WeChat.

As an outsourced finance officer, her rank was low, but her authority was immense: in the company group, she could view every detail—from the CEO down to the lowest employee.

Though she didn’t even know Shen Siyuan’s full name, she knew he was from Operations.

She opened the Operations group and scrolled down—there were only about ten employees, so she quickly found Shen Siyuan’s name. How could she be sure it was him? Naturally, because everyone used personal photos as their avatars.

Guanghui Animation, as the largest game company in Binhai City, maintained highly standardized management across the board.

With his name confirmed, Jiang Wenxin could directly find Shen Siyuan’s contact details and address in the company directory.

After finding Shen Siyuan’s contact, Jiang Wenxin didn’t hesitate—she dialed immediately.

At that moment, Shen Siyuan was eating dinner while studying the Ten Thousand Souls Banner.

Dinner was brought up from downstairs: a bowl of beef fried rice with egg and a bottle of iced black tea—a simple meal.

One hand scooped rice, the other rolled the tattered Ten Thousand Souls Banner.

Because he had devoured the Nine You Demon Lord, the Ten Thousand Souls Banner required no initial cultivation—it responded to his will as effortlessly as an extension of his own body, shifting size and form at will.

The purple banner was riddled with holes and tears, the edges charred black; even the staff bore faint cracks, looking utterly ravaged.

Shen Siyuan probed it with his spiritual sense, trying to open its internal space—but it felt like touching a black abyss, hollow and hungry, as if it wanted to swallow him whole. Startled, he yanked his spiritual sense back.

Shen Siyuan possessed spiritual sense only because he had absorbed the remnants of the Nine You Demon Lord’s soul—a power akin to mental force or telekinesis, though weak, barely enough to roll a pen on his desk.

But its utility was significant: with spiritual sense, he could see all around him in a full 360-degree radius within three feet.

With spiritual sense, he could internally inspect his organs, meridians, and every part of his body—greatly aiding his future cultivation of the physical body along the external path.

Of course, Shen Siyuan had also tried internal cultivation methods; with the Nine You Demon Lord’s experience, he was familiar with the techniques.

He quickly entered meditation and drew in Qi—but when he inhaled, he swallowed nothing but worldly turbid energy, like gulping down a mouthful of feces, nearly vomiting his organs out—he abandoned the idea entirely.

For external cultivation, Shen Siyuan found a method in the Nine You Demon Lord’s memories called the “Eighteen Forms of Great Arhat.”

This cultivation method was seized by the Nine You Demon Lord after destroying a Buddhist-Daoist sect called Xiao Nalantu Temple.

The method resembled modern yoga, consisting of eighteen postures; with sufficient food and diligent practice, one could transcend the physical form.

In modern society, food was the one thing in greatest abundance—especially high-energy foods—so this method was currently the most suitable for Shen Siyuan.

However, this method could only take one to the Bone-Washing Realm—but for modern society, it was more than enough.

These realms were divided according to the Great Huang cultivation system: external cultivation was divided into Whole Strength, Muscle Growth, Tendon Refinement, Bone Forging, Bone-Washing, Blood Replacement, Meridian Opening, and Human Immortal.

But given modern resources, the last three stages were practically unattainable—so for Shen Siyuan, whether or not there were advanced techniques made no difference.

Shen Siyuan tried the first posture—and immediately broke into a cold sweat, his whole body trembling, barely able to breathe; his body was far too weak to even complete the first movement.

There were two options: one, persist in training to improve his physical condition—a very long process with uncertain results.

The other was to repair the Ten Thousand Souls Banner, open its internal space, and retrieve the heavenly treasures plundered by the Nine You Demon Lord.

As Shen Siyuan was pondering this, his phone rang. He picked it up—it was his mother calling.

“Xiao Yuan, have you eaten dinner yet?”

The moment the call connected, his mother Huang Huijuan’s loud voice boomed through.

It was her habit—when she called, she shouted as if the other end couldn’t hear otherwise.

“I’m eating. What do you want?”

Shen Siyuan knew: if his mother had no reason, she’d never call him.

“Are you free this weekend? Can you come home?” Huang Huijuan asked.

“What’s wrong?” Shen Siyuan asked, surprised.

Shen Siyuan’s hometown was close to Binhai City—a one-hour drive—so he often returned. Huang Huijuan couldn’t possibly be calling just because she missed him.

“I pickled some salted green beans—come get them and take them back.”

“Liar, Mom. Tell me the truth.”

With her stingy nature, why would she make him drive all the way just for some pickles? The trip cost more than the pickles were worth.

“How dare you talk to your mother like that? Do you think I’d lie to you?”

Huang Huijuan’s voice rose an octave on the other end, making Shen Siyuan’s ears ring—her energy was astonishing.

“Pfft~ Last time I came home, you told me the milk in the fridge was fresh. I drank it and got diarrhea—later I found out it had expired.”

“I didn’t want to waste it! It was only one day past—how was I supposed to know it’d go bad? It’s not my fault.”

“Then why didn’t you let Dad drink it?”

“I didn’t want him to get sick.”

“You’re really… am I even your biological son?” Shen Siyuan was speechless.

“I don’t know. Ask your grandma.”

“You don’t even know if I’m your son—you have to ask my grandma?”

“Because when I gave birth to you, your grandma delivered you. I always suspected I gave birth to a girl—but your grandma loved boys, said she needed to carry on the Shen family line. I wonder if she switched us…”

“Why did you think you gave birth to a girl?”

“Because sour for boys, spicy for girls—I craved spicy food when I was pregnant.”

“That’s because you always loved spicy food. Don’t give me this nonsense—tell me the truth—”

Before Shen Siyuan finished speaking, the call clicked off abruptly.

Clearly, Huang Huijuan didn’t want to say anything, and was too lazy to invent another excuse—so she just hung up.

Looking at the disconnected call, Shen Siyuan was speechless.

His mother Huang Huijuan was an elementary school teacher, so she’d picked up some childish habits. At over fifty, she still spoke nonsense sometimes—her husband and son always had to humor her.

Just then, the phone rang again. Shen Siyuan thought his mother had reconsidered—but he was wrong; it was an unknown number.