Courtyard House: Time Traveler Not Yet a Ghost

The seven "supply mountains" that appeared out of nowhere on the outskirts of Shenyang were like seven silent thunderclaps, stunning not only the farmers who first discovered them and the local officials who arrived later, but also triggering a chain reaction that is spreading to higher levels at an unimaginable speed.

The site was immediately sealed off and taken over by the garrison. Experts from the fields of industry, military industry, and logistics were urgently mobilized to conduct a preliminary inventory and assessment of this incredibly large amount of supplies under the strict protection of armed guards.

The more they inventoried, the more their hands trembled, and the shock and ecstasy in their eyes almost overflowed.

"My God... these machine tools are the latest model of precision milling machines from Germany! And these too, American lathes, Japanese heavy-duty stamping presses... they're maintained like new!"

"Fuel! All high-quality gasoline and diesel! And this lubricating oil... enough to power a heavy machinery plant at full capacity for several years!"

"Look at all this steel! The quality, the specifications... and the copper ingots, the aluminum... My God, how many tons is that?"

"Armaments... complete artillery pieces, light and heavy machine guns, rifles... mountains of ammunition boxes! Most are well-preserved and ready to use with a little work! And these truck parts, aircraft parts..."

"Food, clothing, medicine... these are all the supplies most urgently needed on the front lines!"

The preliminary report was submitted at the highest level of secrecy and with the fastest speed, eventually landing on the table of an important meeting at the central government headquarters. The leaders present stared at the report, filled with exclamation marks and incredible data, along with the accompanying photos, and fell into a brief silence.

The seven "mountains" encompass heavy industrial bases, strategic materials, military equipment, and logistical supplies... Their scale, variety, and value far exceed ordinary people's imagination, even surpassing the strategic reserves of some small countries over many years! Moreover, the way they appeared was so bizarre—they fell out of nowhere without warning, flattening large areas of wheat fields without alarming any surrounding troops or civilians, as if they were dropped directly from outer space.

"This is by no means a coincidence, nor could any civilian organization or even hostile force have accomplished it." A leader spoke slowly, his fingers lightly tapping on the report. "The timing is also intriguing, coming right when we are calling on the whole country to support the front lines and when we need these things the most."

"Could it be... a strategic reserve left behind by some comrades on the secret front during the War of Resistance Against Japan? Or perhaps a remarkable feat by patriotic overseas Chinese?" some speculated.

"Impossible. Such a large-scale mobilization, transportation, and concealment of materials couldn't possibly have happened without leaving a trace under our noses. Especially those large industrial equipment, transportation alone is an enormous challenge. Moreover, according to the on-site investigation, the crush marks left when these materials landed and the soil stress analysis... experts believe that they appeared there 'instantly,' rather than being transported from elsewhere." The comrade in charge of on-site technical analysis reported, his tone filled with disbelief.

"Appearing instantly..." The conference room fell into deep thought once again. This was beyond the realm of conventional understanding.

"There's another possibility," another leader said sharply, "During the War of Resistance, our land had many talented people, and some things happened that science couldn't explain. Could these things... be related to certain 'non-human' factors? Are they friends or enemies, and what are their intentions?"

This speculation made the atmosphere even more tense. If it was due to "non-human" factors, then it would be even more complicated and difficult to control.

"Regardless, this batch of supplies is real and of great help to the front lines and national construction; that's a fact." Ultimately, the top decision-maker set the tone: "Immediately establish a special investigation team, composed of comrades from the Central Military Commission, the Ministry of Public Security, the Commission of Science, Technology and Industry, and… those responsible for special affairs, and send them to Shenyang. First, ensure the safe receipt, inventory, and utilization of the supplies, and transform them into combat power as quickly as possible. Second, spare no effort to ascertain their origin! Focus on investigating special individuals and organizations active in Northeast China during the War of Resistance Against Japan, as well as unsolved mysteries. Contact, identify, and judge. If they are collaborators, we should thank them and strive to win them over; if they have ulterior motives… we must also be prepared to respond."

The order was issued swiftly. A highly qualified and elite special investigation team was assembled overnight and flew to Shenyang by special plane. An investigation into this extraordinary event, aimed at unraveling the mystery, assessing the risks, and potentially touching the edges of some hidden world, quietly began.

In the still of the night, at No. 95 Nanluoguxiang, in the old city of Beijing.

He Damin sat cross-legged on the kang (a heated brick bed), the moonlight streaming through the window and illuminating his serene face. Although he hadn't witnessed the devastating events in Shenyang firsthand, he could roughly guess what had happened. Those supplies were enough to change the course of a battle and accelerate the foundation of the nation's industry; he had a clear conscience. As for the investigation… let them investigate. As long as he didn't expose himself, no one in the world could connect that "miracle" with him, a newly returned resident of the courtyard house.

His thoughts turned to Wang Hongxia, the street-level cadre who harbored hostility towards him due to self-interest and suspicion. Her presence was like a tiny thorn, not fatal, but capable of inadvertently piercing certain secrets. Especially since she knew parts of his past (his extraordinary skills), was deeply suspicious of the deaf old woman's death, and might even have some dark associations with Yi Zhonghai's death. This unstable factor, if left unchecked, would inevitably cause trouble sooner or later.

He Damin was not a bloodthirsty person, but on his path of cultivation, especially after experiencing bloody wars and dark schemes, he deeply understood the importance of "cutting the weeds and eliminating the roots" and "eliminating hidden dangers." Wang Hongxia had already harbored malice towards him and possessed certain investigative abilities and channels, so she had a way to bring about her own demise.

With a slight thought, a wisp of pure soul, even more condensed and ethereal than his Yang God clone, emanating almost no energy fluctuations, quietly emerged from between his brows. This was a more concealed "soul clone" he had condensed by combining the soul power of the Soul Refining Banner with his own soul cultivation. It specialized in stealth, possession, manipulation, and other covert tasks, and was especially adept at operating at night, blending seamlessly into the darkness.

The soul clone, formless and intangible, passed through walls and courtyards, drifting silently towards Wang Hongxia's home, just like the night itself. As a neighborhood committee member, Wang Hongxia lived in a secluded courtyard in another nearby alley, where the conditions were better than those in a typical tenement.

The spirit easily passed through the door and walls and entered the bedroom. Wang Hongxia and her husband were fast asleep. Her husband, a factory technician, had an honest appearance and was snoring softly. Wang Hongxia lay on her side, her brows slightly furrowed even in her sleep, showing signs of weariness and unease.

He Damin's soul avatar hovered in front of the bed, coldly "staring" at him for a moment. This was the person who, because of kinship and personal interests, had developed unwarranted suspicion and hostility towards him.

With a slight movement, the soul transformed into an almost invisible stream of light, entering Wang Hongxia's brow.

Wang Hongxia, who was in a deep sleep, trembled almost imperceptibly before returning to calm. Her self-awareness was temporarily suppressed and imprisoned deep within her sea of ​​consciousness by this powerful foreign soul, plunging her into an even deeper state of slumber.

He Damin manipulated Wang Hongxia's body, slowly opening her eyes. Her gaze was empty, unfocused, filled only with a cold indifference. She sat up stiffly and threw back the covers.

The noise startled her husband awake. He groggily opened his eyes and mumbled, "Hongxia? What's wrong? In the middle of the night..."

"Go to the toilet." Wang Hongxia, who was being controlled, opened and closed her lips, producing a slightly dry but unmistakable voice, her tone flat and emotionless.

"Oh...come back soon, it's getting cold." The husband, unsuspecting, turned over and fell into a deep sleep again.

Wang Hongxia (He Damin) got out of bed, put on her slippers, and walked steadily to the outer room. She (he) seemed to know the layout of the house like the back of her hand (by reading Wang Hongxia's surface memories), and went straight to the dresser, pulling open the bottom drawer. Inside was a small cloth bag wrapped in a handkerchief.

Opening the cloth bag revealed a well-maintained Browning M1900 pistol (commonly known as a "gun brand pistol"), along with two rows of gleaming yellow bullets. This was a memento left by Wang Hongxia's late father (who had worked in the old government's police department), something she secretly kept for self-defense, and perhaps even something she held a special attachment to. She would occasionally take it out to clean it, unbeknownst to her husband.

He Damin guided Wang Hongxia's hand, skillfully ejecting the magazine and loading the bullets one by one, his movements meticulous yet with a mechanical precision. He loaded the magazine, chambered a round, and disengaged the safety.

The entire process took place in the quiet of the night, with only the faint sound of metal scraping against metal.

Then, she (he) took the gun, walked back to the bedroom door, and stood there, facing the back of her husband who had fallen asleep again on the bed.

Without any hesitation or unnecessary movement, the controlled Wang Hongxia slowly raised her right hand, which was holding the gun, and the cold muzzle of the gun was firmly pressed against her right temple.

The index finger is on the trigger.

The husband on the bed seemed to sense something and stirred restlessly, but did not wake up.

next second.

"Bang--!!!"

A muffled, not-too-loud gunshot rang out in the quiet bedroom! But under He Damin's subtle energy control, most of the sound was confined to the room and did not travel very far.

Wang Hongxia's body stiffened abruptly, her gun-wielding hand falling limply to her side. The bullet had entered through her right temple, tumbling and wreaking havoc inside her skull, instantly extinguishing all life. Her eyes remained open, staring blankly ahead. Her body swayed, then collapsed softly to the ground with a muffled thud. Blood mixed with grayish-white brain tissue gushed from the bullet hole and the other side of her skull, quickly spreading across the cold ground, staining her slippers and pajamas red.

The husband in bed was completely awakened by the gunshot and the sound of heavy objects falling to the ground. He sat up in terror and turned on the bedside lamp.

In the dim light, he saw his wife lying in a pool of blood, her head broken and already dead, and in her hand the pistol she cherished, now emitting a faint blue smoke.

"Red...red glow?! Ah—!!!" A heart-wrenching scream pierced the night sky. The husband scrambled over, his hand trembling as he reached out to check his wife's breath. His hand was ice-cold, only warm blood stained it. He held his wife's body, letting out a desperate wail, as if his soul had been ripped away in an instant.

The neighbors were alerted, lights came on one after another, and some knocked on doors to inquire.

He Damin's spiritual avatar had already detached itself the moment Wang Hongxia pulled the trigger, hovering in a corner of the room, coldly "looking" at the bloody scene and her distraught husband. It was confirmed that Wang Hongxia was dead, and the scene perfectly matched the characteristics of "suicide by gunshot"—the deceased had access to and a history of handling firearms, was recently emotionally unstable due to the death of a relative (a deaf elderly woman), there were no traces of a second person at the scene, and only her own fingerprints were on the gun.

perfect.

The soul clone no longer lingered, transforming into a wisp of smoke that pierced through the roof and quickly returned to the main body of the courtyard house.

He Damin slowly opened his eyes, his gaze calm, as if he had simply completed an ordinary nighttime cultivation session. In the distance, the faint sounds of commotion and crying from the direction of Wang Hongxia's house gradually grew clearer, breaking the stillness of the night.

He got up, walked to the window, and pushed it open a crack. The cool autumn night breeze blew in, carrying with it the faint sounds of distant noise.

An unstable pawn was eliminated in the most "reasonable" way. Her suspicions, her hostility, and the trouble she might have caused all vanished with that bullet. As for her husband's grief, the neighbors' suspicions, the tremors in the streets... those were trivial matters that the living had to face, and had nothing to do with He Damin anymore.

The "miracle" in Shenyang shocked the government and the public, and an investigation team rushed north overnight. In a corner of Beijing, an insignificant street official "accidentally" committed suicide.

One bright, one dark; one massive, one minute. The torrent of the times and the fate of individuals intertwine in the deep autumn night, creating a bizarre and chilling pattern.

He Damin closed the windows, shutting out all the noise. He turned and looked at the two children sleeping peacefully in the inner room.