Chapter 9

Seeing Shen Siyuan ask him this,

Old Lu said with certainty: “No.”

“Why do you think that?” Shen Siyuan asked, curious.

Old Lu dared not hide it and honestly voiced his guess.

He was good at reading people; the first time he noticed Dou Dou and her mother could communicate, he suspected they had met some high cultivator.

As for why he thought it was a high cultivator rather than some special opportunity, it was because he understood Dou Dou—someone who, like him, lingered near family.

These two women lived a rigid two-point life; if there had been some special opportunity, it would’ve shown up long ago. The most likely explanation is they met someone.

A high cultivator, kind-hearted, couldn’t bear to see mother and daughter separated, so he let them meet again.

And just now, seeing Shen Siyuan outright refuse Jiang Wenxin’s reward, he became even more certain: the high cultivator was a good-hearted person.

Shen Siyuan smiled upon hearing this.

“I’m a good person, true—but I’m not a fool. I helped Dou Dou because she’s pure, kind, and her soul is untainted. But look at yourself—your karmic debt stirs your deepest desires, turning you into this repulsive sight. So just because you call yourself a good person, you expect me to help you unconditionally?”

“But… no one is perfect… aside from newborn infants, who doesn’t have desires? Who hasn’t done something they regret?” Old Lu whispered in defense.

“That’s true—everyone has desires; without them, you can’t even be called human. But the greatest difference between humans and beasts is that humans can restrain their desires, not indulge them. Your karmic debt clings to you precisely because, in life, you indulged your desires too freely. Now, in death, that karmic debt stirs your desires, turning you into this monstrous form…”

Old Lu wanted to say more, but Shen Siyuan turned and walked back upstairs.

Old Lu dared not stop him; after thinking it over, he could only pace below.

In truth, though Old Lu’s face bore a monstrous form from karmic debt, the debt itself wasn’t deep—indicating he hadn’t committed great evils in life.

Shen Siyuan knew this well; on his way home after work, many ghosts couldn’t even maintain human form, twisted into grotesque shapes.

But Shen Siyuan wasn’t a saint—he didn’t help everyone who asked.

Not immediately wielding the Ten Thousand Souls Banner to absorb them, erase their consciousness, and either enslave them or use them as repair material—this was already mercy.

Shen Siyuan returned home, took a shower, and went straight to sleep—no words passed that night.

The next day, when he went to work as usual, he saw Old Lu still pacing outside the door.

Seeing Shen Siyuan emerge, he waved from afar but didn’t approach.

“Master, good morning.”

Shen Siyuan glanced at him, said nothing, and rode off on his bike.

Old Lu watched Shen Siyuan’s retreating figure, didn’t follow, only sighed and continued pacing in place.

When alive, he had no time. Now dead, time was the one thing he had in excess.

“Shen Siyuan…”

Riding along, Shen Siyuan suddenly heard someone call his name from the roadside.

He braked quickly and turned—Lin Manzhi, backpack on her back, was running toward him from the bus stop.

Then, without ceremony, she sat down behind him on the bike.

“Sister Manzhi, why aren’t you driving today?”

“I left late. Driving’s slower than the bus—and lucky I ran into you,” Lin Manzhi said, her tone slightly excited.

During rush hour, a bike was far better than a car—faster, more convenient, no traffic jams.

“Did you eat breakfast?” Shen Siyuan asked.

“I didn’t either. Want to go together?”

“Sure. I was just going to grab something quick downstairs at the office.”

Lin Manzhi was unusually talkative, chattering nonstop—but wind made some of her words hard to hear.

Though Lin Manzhi usually spoke without restraint, saying anything that came to mind, she was in fact very measured.

She sat behind him, not straddling, but on one side, one hand gripping his shirt hem, the other holding the rear seat, keeping a respectful distance from him.

Shen Siyuan parked in front of a place called “Starlight Breakfast.”

Their pan-fried buns were delicious, and their soup was excellent—he usually ate here on workdays.

“What do you want? I’ll treat you,” Lin Manzhi said.

“Six buns, one bowl of spicy porridge.”

Shen Siyuan didn’t refuse; he walked in and found a seat.

Lin Manzhi ordered, came in, and sat across from him.

“You haven’t answered my question yet.”

Lin Manzhi placed her bag on the bench.

“What?”

“I just asked you—should I set you up with someone?”

“Sister, how old are you, starting to play matchmaker?”

“Why not? Save yourself twenty years of detours. Don’t change the subject—just say yes or no?”

“No need. I’m fine on my own.”

“You’re twenty-six. Aren’t you worried? Don’t your parents care?”

Lin Manzhi struck right at Shen Siyuan’s weak point—his parents wouldn’t have called and lied to get him home if they weren’t anxious.

Seeing Shen Siyuan silent, Lin Manzhi pressed: “Still thinking about your ex?”

“How could I? I can’t even remember what she looked like.”

Shen Siyuan had dated a girlfriend in college, but they’d broken up years ago.

“Liar. I’m telling you, the girl I’m introducing you to is stunning,” Lin Manzhi said.

“More beautiful than you?”

Lin Manzhi burst out laughing, revealing a bright row of white teeth.

“Am I beautiful?”

“You know the answer.”

“Too bad I’m married—if I weren’t, I’d seriously consider you.”

“Sister, please spare me. Don’t tease me—your husband would beat me senseless if he heard that.”

“That’s an exaggeration.”

Lin Manzhi dropped the subject and pressed again: “So? Think about it?”

As she spoke, she pulled out her phone and showed Shen Siyuan a photo of her friend.

The girl in the photo was indeed beautiful.

“Pretty, right? Only you get this—most people I wouldn’t even bother.”

“Am I really that special?”

“Of course—you don’t drink, smoke, gamble, or do drugs…”

“Sister, I think you’re insulting me.”

After breakfast, they headed to the office—but Shen Siyuan still didn’t accept Lin Manzhi’s offer.

Why? Not because he didn’t like the girl—he just knew he wasn’t good enough for her.

Shen Siyuan had self-awareness: right now, he couldn’t match her.

No house, no car, no savings—what could she possibly want from him? So he refused outright, to spare himself humiliation.

At the office, another quiet day—slacking off, loafing all day, sitting idle. If inner cultivation weren’t impossible, he’d have chosen it.

As quitting time neared, Shen Siyuan decided to stay late and test the Ten Thousand Souls Banner—but not to repair it.

He didn’t want to, but he couldn’t: from the Nine You Demon Lord’s memories, he learned that the dead of Da Huang had mostly pure souls, with few desires—even when they had them, they were simple: enough to eat, a patch of land, a wife, children. Basic human desires.

Modern humans, living comfortably, had far more desires. After death, their souls were polluted by these desires, becoming muddled with chaotic spiritual energy.

If such souls were absorbed into the Ten Thousand Souls Banner, they wouldn’t repair it—they’d only contaminate it.

Of course, if he had magic power and the banner were intact, he could use magic to purify those desires and extract pure soul energy—but he had neither.

There were naturally pure souls that could be used directly—like Dou Dou’s—but that’s precisely why he couldn’t use them.

He couldn’t let someone who was good in life, after death, be instantly obliterated—what kind of hellish joke was that?

So Shen Siyuan planned to test the Ten Thousand Souls Banner by absorbing a few souls—not to repair it, but to use them as spies. This was one of the banner’s innate abilities, requiring no magic power.

Though he was just an ordinary employee, and spies meant little to him.

But he’d just gotten a new toy—he had to try it out.

As he thought this, Dou Dou appeared again—for the first time in a full day.