Hellcoin Billionaire: My Ghost Shop Fuels My Cultivation

Chen Yuanyuan's apartment was located in a quiet neighborhood near the West Courtyard snack street, right by the school.

It was only a five-minute walk to the snack street or campus. The watercolor class building was even closer to this area than their old dorm had been, making the new place surprisingly convenient.

Song Miaozhu's rented apartment was right above Chen Yuanyuan's—a standard studio layout with one bedroom, a living room, a kitchen, and a bathroom.

As soon as she stepped inside, Song Miaozhu began examining the space. Behind her, Chen Yuanyuan slammed the door shut and immediately blurted out: "Miaozhu, I was right, wasn't I? You really got some kind of protagonist-level opportunity, and it's related to…"

Song Miaozhu's heart skipped a beat—until Chen Yuanyuan's rapid-fire guesses continued:

"It's your great-grandma, right? Back then, she kept appearing in your dreams, which was why you went back to your hometown to pay respects. And that's how you found out about the spiritual energy revival, right?

Your great-grandma is so reliable! Is she a ghost official or something? How else could she send you so many dreams?

My great-grandparents never gave me any hints at all!"

"…" 

Song Miaozhu didn't know whether to laugh or cry at how close yet wildly off the mark Chen Yuanyuan's guess was.

"If your great-grandparents never sent you dreams, it's either because they were rich enough to bribe their way into early reincarnation—or too poor to afford the dream-sending fees."

From what she knew, the Underworld's dream-delivery services were exorbitantly expensive.

If someone wanted to send a dream on their own, without official permission, they would not only have to break the rules of the underworld and sneak into the mortal realm, but also have enough ghost energy to manifest a stable dream and deliver a clear message.

Uncle Chen didn't have enough ghost energy or the proper skills. He tried for ages to send a dream, but neither Chen Shuanghe nor Aunt Chen ever connected it back to him. If dreams were easier and cheaper to send, the ghosts of the underworld would have already spread word of the spiritual revival to all their living relatives.

"That can't be right," Chen Yuanyuan said. "We burn so much paper money every year!"

"What kind do you burn?" Miaozhu asked.

"The usual kind. Whatever's sold on the market. Every time we restock, we buy in bulk."

"Then yeah, your ancestors probably really are broke," Miaozhu explained, and then walked her through the truth about paper money offerings.

Chen Yuanyuan's jaw dropped. "So all those years of burning paper money… we were just polluting the environment, and my ancestors barely got any of it?"

Song Miaozhu nodded sympathetically. "Don't worry, it's common in the underworld. Ghosts are used to it—your great-grandparents won't hold it against you. Besides, the Fengdu government distributes annual stipends. They don't rely solely on the money sent from the living world."

Chen Yuanyuan sighed in relief. "The underworld has welfare?"

"The amount depends on how much merit they accumulated while alive."

"Oh, then it's fine! My great-grandparents were good people!"

Back when they were talking over the phone, Miaozhu had to be extremely careful. She only gave vague hints, in case her phone was being tapped. She never brought it into the basement, and the basement computer and printer were set up in a separate, secure room.

But now that they were face to face, there was no need to hide anything. Song Miaozhu shared everything she knew about the spiritual energy revival—especially the details about the cultivation stages.

"Absorbing spiritual energy, tempering the body, opening the heavenly eye, awakening the spiritual platform... This doesn't sound like the cultivation novels I've read,"

Chen Yuanyuan immediately pulled out her phone and opened a notes app. "Hold on, let me write this down! I've been thinking of writing a cultivation novel—this is perfect reference material!"

Song Miaozhu flicked her forehead.

"Are you serious about practicing illustration, or are you switching to writing web novels? Mastering any skill takes time and dedication. Don't spread yourself too thin and waste this opportunity! The spiritual tide hasn't even hit yet—everyone's scrambling for what little energy there is. If your skills aren't refined, others will absorb the energy before you can!"

"Wait, writing webnovels counts as a skill?" Chen Yuanyuan asked.

"Yes!" Song Miaozhu said. "But if you're serious about writing, you can't be as inconsistent as before. You'd have to commit to it daily."

After imagining the grind of daily updates, Chen Yuanyuan quickly gave up. "I think I'd rather read web novels than write them. Food illustration suits me better."

Speaking of food, her stomach growled.

She had overslept that morning, rushed out to pick up Miaozhu, and hadn't had breakfast yet.

"Miaozhu, I'm starving. Let's get something to eat! Even if spiritual energy could fill you up, it's nowhere near as satisfying as real food."

"Sure! I saw a place just outside the neighborhood called Imperial Kitchen. Let's eat there," Miaozhu said.

"That place? I heard even a simple steamed egg custard costs 188 yuan. It's only been open for a little while, but it's already famous for being overpriced. People say only suckers go there."

"When we walked past earlier, I noticed that the spiritual energy around the area was flowing directly into that restaurant. That means they probably have a chef who can prepare dishes infused with spiritual energy," Miaozhu explained.

"Eat more of that kind of food. It's good for you. The latest report from the SEIU says that eating spiritual food can even shorten the body-tempering stage."

"Really?" Yuanyuan wasn't short on money, but she had been raised not to spend extravagantly or waste unnecessarily.

That shared love for exploring hidden food spots was what had brought her and Miaozhu together in the first place.

But when it came to food, she was willing to spend—if it was worth it.

"Let's go! I'm sold!"

When they stepped into Imperial Kitchen, Chen Yuanyuan quickly realized that while students liked to mock the place, it wasn't lacking for customers. It wasn't packed to the brim, but during mealtime, about 80 percent of the seats were filled.

The place had a ton of tables, even a second floor. There just weren't many students around. Most of the diners were adults—especially professors.

"Isn't that the professor from the neighboring department?"

"Isn't that the principal?"

...

Chen Yuanyuan pulled Song Miaozhu to a corner table.

"I thought professors never ate around West Campus! Turns out they're all here!"

If the university was about to make skill-based courses mandatory, the faculty must've known about the spiritual energy revival.

That made her even more curious about the food.

As they entered, Miaozhu had glanced at the dishes on other people's tables. One look was enough for her to tell that this place had chefs who were even better than Aunt Chen.

The dishes here radiated stronger spiritual light. Even the plain white rice glowed faintly.

But it was the clientele that really confirmed the quality of the restaurant.