Chapter 75: Cultivation Advancement

“How’s your progress going?”

Jiang Tao was eating crispy corn snacks as she asked.

“Progress? What progress?” Ruan Hongzhuang asked, surprised.

Hearing this, Jiang Tao exclaimed: “You two didn’t contact each other all day?”

“Of course we did—we chatted for a bit this morning,” Ruan Hongzhuang said.

“What about morning? Noon? Afternoon? Evening?” Jiang Tao dropped her crispy snack, staring wide-eyed at Ruan Hongzhuang as if she were some rare creature.

“Everyone was busy with work in the morning, so it wasn’t easy to reach out. Same in the afternoon. At noon, I didn’t want to disturb his rest. But I didn’t contact him at all in the evening—that really isn’t good enough…”

Ruan Hongzhuang frowned, criticizing herself.

Jiang Tao chewed her lips, at a loss for words.

“What’s the problem?”

“What’s the problem? The problem is huge! Is this how you two are dating?” Ruan Hongzhuang said, dumbfounded.

“Dating means communication, back-and-forth. You two just do your own things—how is that dating?”

“You’re right. I’ll send him a WeChat message. No, better to call him—wonder if he’s had dinner yet…”

Ruan Hongzhuang pulled out her phone, ready to dial Shen Siyuan.

But Jiang Tao grabbed her hand, voice tinged with annoyance: “Why doesn’t he call you first?”

Ruan Hongzhuang blinked, then said: “Maybe he’s afraid of disturbing my work?”

Jiang Tao was stunned—she never expected someone so decisive in her career to be this clueless in love.

So she said flatly: “Then don’t call him. Don’t disturb his work.”

“But he should be off work by now.”

Ruan Hongzhuang lifted her wrist to look at her elegant ladies’ watch.

“Right, you know he’s off work? Come on… come on… let’s talk later…”

Jiang Tao pushed Ruan Hongzhuang forward, exasperated.

They were on their way home for dinner.

Jiang Tao had convinced Ruan Hongzhuang to treat her to several meals by claiming she’d stolen her “boyfriend.”

The “meals” she meant weren’t those trendy online restaurants or starred eateries—they were private dinners cooked by chefs brought to the house.

These private chefs didn’t take just any invitation, but Ruan Hongzhuang happened to know an exceptionally skilled one.

The chef’s cooking was phenomenal; Jiang Tao had eaten once and couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Now that she had the chance, she wasn’t letting it slip.

When the two arrived at Ruan Hongzhuang’s seaside residence, the chef had already arrived with ingredients, and the housekeeper was helping in the kitchen.

As for ordering dishes—there was none. Aside from a few special dietary restrictions, the guest ate whatever the chef prepared. It was that eccentric—and yet, still wildly sought after.

But while waiting for the meal, Ruan Hongzhuang couldn’t resist calling Shen Siyuan first.

“Since I’m the one who proposed dating, I should take the initiative,” Ruan Hongzhuang declared firmly.

Jiang Tao was left speechless.

Unfortunately, the call went unanswered.

Of course it went unanswered—Shen Siyuan was crying his heart out right now.

If not for his skeletal structure holding him together, he’d have collapsed into a pile of mush on the floor.

He looked utterly wretched—large patches of his skin cracked, lifted, and peeled off.

Intense pain made him drenched in sweat, as if washed by water; his floor was littered with teeth and blood, making him look both pitiful and disheveled.

“Sister, is Sweet Potato Pot Pot going to die?”

Dou Dou whispered quietly into Yin Xingyue’s ear. They’d just returned and, seeing Shen Siyuan’s horrific state, Dou Dou was frightened, tears welling in her eyes.

“Don’t talk nonsense,” Yin Xingyue scolded, though her own eyes betrayed deep concern.

“It’s fine. It’ll be over soon.”

Shen Siyuan forced out a weak reassurance, but with all his teeth fallen out, his speech was muffled and unclear.

No sooner had he finished speaking than the pain vanished—but immediately, an unbearable itch swept over his entire body.

This wasn’t surface-level skin itch—it was an itch deep into the marrow.

Shen Siyuan shifted his posture repeatedly, trying to ease the itch, moving from Second Phase, Level Three all the way to Second Phase, Level Six.

Then he couldn’t go further. The first thread of merit had catapulted him from First Phase, Level One straight to Second Phase, Level Two—eight stages skipped in one leap.

The second thread of merit halved that gain, only allowing him to leap four stages.

Even so, he had fully mastered the First and Second Phases.

It might seem simple, but anyone who’s studied math knows: if this halving pattern continues, to reach the final level of the Eighteen Phases of Great Arhat—108 levels total—the merit required would be unimaginably vast.

Unless the later stages deviate from this diminishing return pattern, it’s impossible to reach the final level of the Eighteen Phases of Great Arhat using merit alone.

So he still needed to repair the [Ten Thousand Souls Banner], unlock its storage space, and retrieve the celestial and terrestrial treasures accumulated by the Nine You Demon Lord over millennia. With these spiritual items as aids, his cultivation of the Eighteen Phases of Great Arhat would surge forward.

“Brother… are you… okay?”

Seeing Shen Siyuan’s expression ease, his pain gone, Yin Xingyue stepped forward tentatively to ask.

Her small face was filled with worry; behind her, Dou Dou clung to her skirt, eyes brimming with tears—Shen Siyuan’s appearance had frightened her.

“I’m fine. I feel great—better than ever,” Shen Siyuan quickly reassured her, coming back to himself.

He truly felt wonderful—immense strength, boundless energy, and all his fallen teeth had regrown, his new white pearly teeth far superior to before; he felt he could chew iron and crush gold.

“But… but you just looked so scary,” Yin Xingyue whispered.

Dou Dou nodded frantically beside her, confirming that Shen Siyuan had truly scared the baby.

“Cultivation is never easy. Building muscle, strengthening bones, washing tendons and purifying marrow—none of it’s ever pleasant.”

Yin Xingyue nodded vaguely, understanding a little; Dou Dou understood nothing.

“Alright, go play. I’m going to take a shower,” Shen Siyuan said.

But first, he had to clean up the mess on the floor—it looked gruesome, no wonder Dou Dou was scared.

After tidying up and taking a shower, Shen Siyuan felt refreshingly invigorated.

Seeing Yin Xingyue teaching Dou Dou the [Embrace the Wind and Sleep] technique, he remembered they’d been missing all afternoon.

He asked: “Where did you two go this afternoon?”

“Looking for the dog, looking for the dog…”

Dou Dou had spotted a dog and wanted to bring it home to keep, but the dog ran away whenever it saw her, keeping its distance. She knew why—it was afraid of her—and couldn’t do anything about it.

Seeing Yin Xingyue return, she begged her sister to help her catch the dog.

“Where’s the dog? Did it run away?”

“The puppy has an owner,” Yin Xingyue said.

“Wait—you mean a living dog, or a ghost dog?”

“A ghost dog.”

“It has an owner?” Shen Siyuan asked, surprised.

Yin Xingyue nodded. “A little girl owned it. It died, but still follows her every day.”

“I see.”

Shen Siyuan wasn’t surprised. When animals die, if they reincarnate, they return directly to the Underworld.

If they don’t reincarnate, most dissipate into the cosmos—they lack the deep attachments and obsessions humans have.

Still, some remain in human form as animals, mostly dogs, waiting to reunite with their masters.

“When I put out the fire on my head, I’ll go talk to the little girl and ask if I can borrow the dog to play with,” Dou Dou said.

Yin Xingyue glanced at her. “The little girl’s older than you—you should call her big sister.”

“Keep working on it.”

Shen Siyuan muttered, picked up his phone, and remembered he’d missed a call.

He checked—it was Ruan Hongzhuang. He suddenly realized he was currently dating someone, and after so long without a girlfriend, he’d simply forgotten.

They hadn’t contacted each other all day except for a morning greeting—that wasn’t normal.

Besides, he’d received a thread of merit that morning, so his entire workday had been consumed by thoughts of how to use it.

That was truly inappropriate.

Thinking of this, Shen Siyuan quickly typed a message and sent it.