Courtyard House: Time Traveler Not Yet a Ghost

On the way back to Nanluoguxiang from Hongbinlou, the sun shone brightly, and pedestrians bustled about the streets, exuding the busyness and vitality unique to the new society. He Damin walked steadily, while He Yuzhu beside him was noticeably more excited, his cheeks flushed with emotion. He would occasionally steal glances at his uncle beside him, his eyes filled with gratitude and rekindled hope. Little Yushui obediently held her uncle's other hand, her little head curiously looking around.

However, He Damin's mind remained as still as a deep pool. With Zhu Zi's future resolved, the whereabouts and situation of his elder brother, He Daqing, became the pressing question. According to information gleaned from the deaf old woman's (Haruno Hanako's) memories, He Daqing was forced to go to Baoding by a scheme orchestrated by the White Widow, Bai Yulan, and Yi Zhonghai. Now Yi Zhonghai is dead, and the deaf old woman is nearing death, but the White Widow's connection remains. Did his elder brother stay willingly, or was he forced into it? Is he safe and sound, or has he met a tragic end? As a pawn, is the White Widow still carrying out some kind of order, or is she merely exploiting He Daqing's value?

These doubts churned beneath He Damin's calm exterior. If the truth wasn't uncovered, this matter would remain a thorn in his side. Especially considering that his elder brother might still be deceived and humiliated by that wicked woman, or even… a chilling anger quietly welled up within his almost undisturbed mind as a Nascent Soul cultivator.

Back in the courtyard house, the somber atmosphere of the Yi family's funeral in the central courtyard remained. He Damin ignored this and led the children straight back to the backyard.

"Rain, play inside, don't go out," He Damin gently instructed his little niece, then said to He Yuzhu, "Zhuzi, put your things away and think about what else is missing."

"Hey! Uncle, don't worry!" He Yuzhu replied loudly, full of energy.

After settling the children in, He Damin went into the inner room, sat cross-legged on the kang (a heated brick bed), and closed his eyes. The next moment, an incomparably condensed, formless, and intangible avatar of the Yang God left his body, pierced through the roof, soared into the sky, discerned the direction of Baoding, and then broke through the air at a speed far beyond the imagination of the mortal world.

The spirit of Yang travels, roaming the vast void; a thousand miles is but a thought away. He Damin's consciousness descended upon the sky above Baoding City along with his clone. The ancient city's appearance differed slightly from Beiping, its bustling atmosphere carrying a hint of commercial activity. Based on clues from his memory—the approximate residence of the White Widow, her original name Bai Yulan, and her past as a courtesan—he spread his divine sense like a dense net, meticulously screening the information.

Before long, deep in the "Donkey Meat Alley" in Xicheng District, he locked onto his target in a blue brick house with a courtyard.

It was late afternoon, and the sunlight was lazy. Three boys were playing in the courtyard; they must be the sons of the widow's deceased husband. The window of the main house was half open, and strange noises came from inside.

The avatar of the Yang God drifted in, ignoring the obstruction of doors and windows, and appeared directly inside the house.

On the kang (a heated brick bed), two bodies were entwined in a passionate embrace, their breaths and moans filling the air. The man on top appeared to be in his early thirties, with a robust physique, while the woman was none other than the widow Bai Yulan! Though nearing forty, she was well-preserved and still possessed a captivating charm, her eyes now glazed over with desire, her breath coming in soft gasps.

He Damin's gaze was sharp as a knife, and he instantly recognized the man's face—it was not He Daqing! It was a completely unfamiliar young man with a street thug air about him. Looking at the furnishings inside the room, although they were ordinary, there was a brand-new red silk quilt on the kang (a heated brick bed), and there were unfinished dishes and wine on the table. The air was filled with a sweet and cloying smell of lust mixed with the aroma of alcohol.

It's true what they say, a leopard can't change its spots. My brother, He Daqing, was probably lured here by this venomous woman with sweet words and flattery. He works hard during the day to support her, and then comes home at night to feign affection for this slut. Perhaps... this woman is still secretly running her prostitution business, using my brother as a long-term meal ticket and cover. Judging from the way those three children play indifferently in the yard, they're probably used to it.

He Daqing, oh He Daqing, your devoted heart, hoping for a "rebirth," has been rewarded with such shameless betrayal and trampling! You've lost everything—your money, your dignity, and you're being cuckolded without even realizing it!

If things had gone according to his initial plan, he might have punished the perpetrator, making him look foolish and ruining his reputation. But the moment he witnessed this sordid scene, a surge of rage stemming from blood ties, mixed with extreme disgust for such despicable behavior, erupted like a dormant volcano, shattering the calm and calculating shell he had been wearing.

Why bother with such a shameless, destructive, and deeply humiliating woman and her lover, only to add to the disgust?

"Since you've chosen your own path to death, then so be it."

The avatar of the Yang God hovered in the air, its gaze indifferent as if looking at ants. With a slight thought, the power of the Nascent Soul within its body flowed, drawing upon a trace of the most yang and powerful thunderous energy in the world. Although it was indoors, and although it was only an avatar of the Yang God, with its perfected Nascent Soul realm and powerful divine sense, its comprehension and connection to the laws of heaven and earth were extraordinary.

There were no hand seals or incantations, no gathering of wind and clouds. He simply raised his phantom-like right hand, and a tiny, purplish-gold lightning bolt silently gathered at his fingertip. It was as fine as a bean, yet it contained an aura of destruction that sent shivers down one's spine.

"Imperial edict."

The silent decree was issued at the level of divine consciousness.

A flash of purple-gold lightning suddenly appeared at his fingertips!

"BOOM—!!!"

A thin, hair-thin, yet dazzlingly bright purple-gold bolt of lightning appeared out of thin air above the kang (heated brick bed), ignoring all obstacles and striking the two still entangled, filthy bodies below with perfect precision!

There was no deafening explosion, only a dull and strange hissing sound, as if the leather had been charred instantly.

Time seemed to freeze for a moment.

The white widow and the young man on the kang (a heated brick bed) didn't even have time to fully show their astonishment before their movements completely froze.

The instant the golden lightning entered their bodies, the supremely yang and powerful thunderous force erupted within them! This was no ordinary lightning, but a Daoist thunder technique containing a trace of the true meaning of heavenly punishment, specifically designed to destroy evil spirits and annihilate life!

Their eyes widened instantly, their pupils dilated, and all their expressions froze on their faces—the white widow's allure had not yet faded, mixed with disbelief and bewilderment; the young man's infatuation had turned into eternal terror.

There were no screams, no struggles.

Their internal organs, meridians, bones, and even the very essence of their souls were completely destroyed, carbonized, and annihilated in a fraction of a second by that subtle yet violent purple-gold lightning!

Outwardly, there were no obvious scorch marks or wounds, only that the skin had instantly lost all color, turning ashen and gray, as if all life and vitality had been drained away in an instant. The two naked bodies remained in that shameful connected position, but had become two rapidly cooling, lifeless corpses.

A faint, indescribable scent of burnt flesh and the passing of life filled the air. The previously sweet, sensual aroma was completely dispelled.

He Damin's avatar coldly swept over them. Confirming that both their souls had been scattered, there was no chance of survival. He did not destroy the evidence, leaving the scene intact, for his own reason.

Her gaze shifted to the window. In the courtyard, the three boys seemed bewildered by the soft "click" and the sudden deathly silence inside. One of the older boys stopped playing, looked puzzledly towards the main room window, and called out, "Mother?"

No one responded.

The child scratched his head, perhaps thinking his mother was resting, and then turned back to play with his brothers.

He Damin did not linger. His avatar dissipated like wisps of smoke, and his consciousness instantly returned to his main body in the courtyard house in Beijing.

Slowly opening her eyes, she found the room dimly lit. The faint sounds of He Yuzhu trying to start a fire came from the stove, along with his low, encouraging mutterings. The soft clattering of He Yushui's building blocks added to the peaceful atmosphere.

He Damin sat motionless, his expression unchanged, as if he had only taken a short nap. Only deep within his eyes, a chilling glint slowly settled.

The matter in Baoding is over. The White Widow and her lover have paid the most direct price for their shameless betrayal—utter annihilation. This is not only a cleansing of the household, but also a brutal wash away of the humiliation suffered by the elder brother.

As for the eldest brother, He Daqing... when he finishes a day's work, returning to that "home" with perhaps a faint expectation of a "new life," and pushes open the door to see those two corpses, stiff and lifeless in such a wretched state, what will his feelings be? Shock? Fear? Anger? Or... collapse?

He Damin picked up the cold, coarse porcelain teacup from the table and unconsciously ran his fingertips along the inside of the cup.

That scene must have been incredibly impactful. It would have shattered any remaining illusions, allowing the elder brother to see the true face of the person he had entrusted with his life, and to realize the absurdity and danger of his own situation.

The cuckoldry was exposed in the most cruel and straightforward way, bloody and naked.

This may be cruel, but only such a complete shattering can awaken He Daqing from that delusional dream, and force him to turn back, or at least prevent him from deceiving himself and remaining in that quagmire.

As for whether it would trigger any investigations, rumors, or even involve any clues behind the White Widow... He Damin wasn't worried. The thunderous traces he left behind were beyond the comprehension and tracing of ordinary people in this world. To outsiders, it might just be a scandal of a bizarre and sudden death, a shocking scandal that would ruin He Daqing's reputation and make him unable to stand in Baoding.

And that's exactly what he wanted.

Brother, you've come this far. Whether you continue down this path or see the light and turn back is up to you.

He Damin downed the herbal tea in one gulp. The bitter taste spread across his tongue, but it was far less intense than the cold disgust he felt for certain despicable people and things in the world.

He got up and walked to the stove, ready to instruct the flustered He Yuzhu on how to properly start a fire.

Outside, the afterglow of the setting sun bathed the eaves of the courtyard house in a warm golden light, as if nothing had ever happened. But the strings of fate had already been plucked hard by the two silent, golden bolts of lightning that struck Baoding.