Courtyard House: Time Traveler Not Yet a Ghost

As night slowly fell, the stars, like scattered diamonds, shimmered with a mysterious glow in the darkness, and the courtyard fell into slumber. In the He family's house in the central courtyard, He Yuzhu and He Yushui were already breathing evenly under thick, new bedding. After experiencing so much, the two children could finally get a good night's sleep.

He Damin sat cross-legged on the kang (a heated brick bed) in the inner room, neither asleep nor practicing his usual pure breathing exercises. His eyes were slightly closed, but his consciousness, like an undercurrent beneath a calm sea, slowly swept across the entire city of Beijing, passing through the sleeping streets and courtyards, finally reaching the more distant north—where, across the Yalu River, the flames of war raged. The scattered discussions he had heard on the streets during the day, the mobilization slogans he had seen, and the call to "donate airplanes and artillery to support the Volunteer Army" were like pebbles thrown into a still lake, stirring up long-dormant ripples.

He was already a cultivator detached from worldly affairs, seemingly severing all ties to the mortal realm. Yet, the blood flowing in his veins was still that of this land. After eight years of seclusion, what he saw upon emerging was a newly reborn nation, a vibrant life force emerging from the ruins, and the stark reality of foreign enemies and soldiers shedding blood on the front lines. While a Nascent Soul cultivator's mind may be detached, it is not without emotion. Especially when this bond between "nation" and "family" becomes tangible and subtle because of the pillar and the rain, that long-dormant sense of patriotism quietly rekindles.

The purge of Yi Zhonghai, the deaf old woman, the white widow… these petty villains were personal grudges, family matters. But the war before us, which concerns the fate of the nation, is a matter of righteousness.

He recalled the almost boundless warehouse of his own little world. More than eight years ago, he swept through the Japanese and puppet regime strongholds in North and Northeast China, seizing a massive amount of supplies. Apart from a few everyday items, the vast majority remained untouched, perfectly preserved in a space where time seemed to stand still. It wasn't just grain, cloth, and canned goods; it was also… the industrial base the Japanese had cultivated in Northeast China for years, attempting to use to support their war machine—hundreds of precision machine tools of various models, mining equipment, complete generator sets, large quantities of fuel, mountains of steel and copper… even some military supplies that hadn't had time to move or destroy: intact truck and armored vehicle parts, disassembled and maintained aircraft engines and fuselage components, well-preserved artillery, light and heavy machine guns, rifles, pistols, and astronomical amounts of ammunition. Not to mention the precious medicines, medical equipment, and communication devices…

These were his trump cards prepared for a possible period of chaos, or bargaining chips to be sold at a higher price. But now it seems that keeping them dormant in his private space is far less desirable than having them appear where they are most needed, transforming them into a force to protect this nascent nation.

"Take from the enemy, use for the country." A clear idea took shape in his mind.

Tonight, we will do this important thing.

With a thought, his Yang Spirit clone separated from his body, transforming into an invisible stream of light that sped northward at a terrifying speed exceeding the speed of sound. Target—the vicinity of Shenyang.

Almost at the same time that Yang Shen set off, He Damin's physical body, which was sitting cross-legged on the kang, along with the kang mat beneath him, disappeared into thin air and entered the small world that he completely controlled.

Within this small world, time flowed extremely slowly. The central area, where he usually spent his time, was clean and tidy. At the edges, however, stretched like a mountain range, with various warehouses of supplies neatly arranged and categorized. His divine sense swept over the area, and he made up his mind.

Grain section: Mountains of sacks (rice, wheat flour, sorghum), boxes of compressed biscuits and canned goods (meat, fruit, fish). Take four-fifths.

Clothing section: Brand new military overcoats, quilts, cotton-padded clothes, and shoes. Take most of them.

Industrial equipment area: all types of machine tools (lathes, milling machines, planers, grinders, drills), generators, motors, transformers, cables, bearings, tools... all taken out.

Fuel section: Barrels of gasoline, diesel, and lubricating oil. Take 90% of the stock.

Metal materials section: steel, copper ingots, aluminum materials... take the majority.

Ordnance section: This is the key area. Artillery pieces in good condition or after maintenance (mountain guns, field guns, mortars), light and heavy machine guns (Type 92, Type 99, Browning, etc.), rifles (Type 38 rifles, Type 24, etc.), pistols, and matching ammunition (categorized and in astonishing quantities). Take them all out.

Vehicle and aircraft components area: intact trucks, jeeps, and motorcycles; disassembled and maintained aircraft engines, propellers, wing components, and instruments. All removed.

Medicine section: sulfonamides, hemostatic powder, bandages, surgical instruments... take most of them.

Other items, such as communication equipment and observation instruments, were also listed out, along with anything that could be used for construction at the front or rear.

With a thought, the mountain of supplies began to "move" according to his plan, categorized and arranged, to a vast open space at the entrance of the small world. They were stacked layer upon layer like building blocks, forming magnificent "small mountains." This process lasted for quite some time (within the small world). He Damin's divine sense meticulously controlled the process, ensuring that the supplies were relatively stable for later handling and minimizing damage to the external environment where they would be placed (although he knew it was unavoidable).

Outside, He Damin's divine avatar had arrived in the outskirts of Shenyang. He chose a relatively flat, open wasteland near a simple dirt road. It was late autumn, and the winter wheat planted in the field was already about an inch tall, rippling with dark green waves in the night wind. This place was far from the village, with a wide view, facilitating large-scale transportation without immediately disturbing the people.

The Yang spirit hovered in the air, carefully surveying the terrain and confirming it was correct. It then communicated with its true self through thought.

Within the small world, He Damin sensed the coordinates chosen by the Yang God. He took a deep breath (though there was no actual breathing within the small world) and focused all his mental energy on it!

In an instant, the massive pile of supplies, resembling several small mountains, that had been stacked on the open ground at the entrance was enveloped and moved by an invisible force!

On the outskirts of Shenyang, above that quiet wheat field, without warning, the space rippled violently like water!

Then, something astonishing happened—

One, two, three... a total of seven "mountains" made of various materials appeared out of thin air as if by divine intervention, and landed in the wheat field with a bang! They appeared so suddenly and were so huge that the ground trembled!

At the very front was a mountain of grain, piled high with sacks like a city wall; next to it was a mountain of clothing, neatly wrapped in military green; the mountain of industrial equipment was the most complex, its metal reflecting the cold moonlight; the mountain of fuel drums gleamed with an oily sheen; the mountain of metal materials was heavy and solid; the mountain of ordnance exuded a menacing aura, though sealed off, it emanated a steely and ruthless spirit; vehicle parts and other miscellaneous supplies formed the last small mountain.

These "peaks" are spaced apart from each other and are distributed in a fan shape, occupying nearly a hundred acres of land! The originally lush green winter wheat below was instantly turned into dust under the heavy pressure, mixed with the soil, forming a glaring blank space and crushed marks.

He Damin's avatar hovered quietly to the side, watching the "miracle" he had created with his own hands. Even he couldn't help but feel a ripple in his heart upon witnessing such a massive amount of resources appear in the world in an instant. This had almost emptied most of the "stock" in his small world, except for a small amount reserved for his own use and those that might be used for future exchanges.

He left no writing or markings. Let the origin of these items remain a mystery. It is believed that once the country takes them over, capable individuals will determine their value and quickly transform them into combat power on the front lines or construction resources in the rear.

Having done all this, the Yang God clone no longer lingered, instantly dissipating, its consciousness returning to its original body in the courtyard house in Beijing. Almost simultaneously, He Damin's physical body within the small world also reappeared on his own kang (heated brick bed), in the exact same position.

He slowly opened his eyes, his gaze bright and clear, then quickly subsided. His divine sense spread out again, confirming that the pillar and the rain were still asleep, and there was no disturbance inside or outside the courtyard. The wheat field outside Shenyang should still be immersed in the darkness and shock, and wouldn't be discovered until dawn by early-rising farmers or patrolling soldiers.

He exhaled a soft breath, as if a heavy burden had been lifted. Several family matters were settled, and he had done his utmost in national affairs. As for the sensation these supplies would cause, or the changes they would bring to the front lines, he didn't care, nor did he seek credit. He acted only to be true to himself and in accordance with his own conscience.

Outside the window, the sky remained dark, and dawn was still some time away. He Damin closed his eyes again, his breathing calming down, as if his previous seemingly earth-shattering actions were merely a routine breath in the still night.

Meanwhile, on the outskirts of Shenyang, the cold wind howled over the seven suddenly appearing "supply mountains," sweeping across the flattened wheat fields, as if telling a legend unknown to anyone. In the distance, the morning star quietly lit up the sky, faint yet resolute.