Courtyard House: Time Traveler Not Yet a Ghost

It was 2 a.m. on the 25th day of the twelfth lunar month. Shenyang City slept soundly in the cold winter night, all was quiet except for the howling north wind swirling fine snowflakes, whipping against the eaves and bare branches. However, Dongta Airport, located a dozen miles away from the city, was not entirely silent—it was an important air force base in Northeast China, and even in the dead of night, it maintained necessary vigilance.

The searchlight beams, like cold, massive swords, sliced ​​back and forth between the dark sky and the silvery snow, illuminating the barbed wire, the watchtower, and the runway edge. Every fifteen minutes, a squad of fully armed soldiers patrolled along a predetermined route, their boots scurrying rhythmically across the frozen ground. At the top of the control tower, red navigation lights flashed regularly, a dim yellow light emanated from the duty room, and the radar screen glowed with a ghostly green light. From deep within the hangar came the faint clanging of metal, the ground crew performing final checks on the warplanes under the cover of night. Most of the barracks were dark, but occasionally one or two windows remained lit, from which whispers or coughs could be faintly heard.

The entire base resembled a giant beast crouching in the cold night. Although most of its functions had entered a period of rest, its senses and claws remained alert.

No one noticed that high above the airport, behind the thin clouds scattered by the strong wind, a faint, almost imperceptible purple-gold light, like the blink of a distant star, quietly lit up and then quickly disappeared.

He Damin's Yang Spirit stood suspended in mid-air, enveloped in a pale, inky glow that almost blended into the night sky. Having reached the peak of his Nascent Soul cultivation, his control over his energy had reached a state of perfection, his aura completely concealed. Unless specifically probed by an entity of the same or higher level, it would be extremely difficult to detect the anomaly in the sky. In his hand lay a small banner—neither gold nor jade, its color dark and its surface seemingly covered with countless tiny soul shadows flowing slowly like a school of deep-sea fish, bound by blood-red soul-locking chains—a Soul Refining Banner whose essence had undergone a complete transformation after five advancements.

His gaze pierced through thousands of meters of vertical distance and the thick darkness, landing on the blackout airport below. Without any deliberate effort, his divine sense spread like mercury, silently covering the entire base and the surrounding area for miles. Runways, hangars, control towers, barracks, fuel tank areas, ammunition depots, command posts… a clear three-dimensional image was imprinted in his mind. More importantly, the location, status, breathing, heartbeat, and even superficial thought fluctuations of the 374 individuals were all clearly visible under his divine sense scan. The weariness hidden beneath the tense nerves of the sentries on duty, the drifting thoughts of the control tower operator facing the monotonous screen, the focused concentration of the mechanics in the hangar as they worked with wrenches and screws, the peaceful dreams of the sleeping in the barracks… every detail was under his control.

"The location is ideal, heavily guarded but not overly tense, with sufficient transport capacity, and... close enough to the front lines." He Damin's mind raced, and he completed the assessment in an instant. Shenyang Dongta Airport met all his requirements—a "drop-off point" that could ensure the "gift" was quickly discovered, highly valued, and efficiently transported, while also avoiding any unexpected incidents due to its proximity to the front lines.

Without further hesitation, he subtly activated his mind, establishing a deeper connection with the Soul Refining Banner in his hand. The refined control of the core ability "Soul Banner Domain" of the advanced Soul Refining Banner was far beyond what it used to be.

There were no incantations, no hand gestures, only the flow of intention. The speed at which the fragmented soul shadows on the surface of the Soul Refining Banner circulated slightly increased, and a strange, formless yet overwhelming soul fluctuation, centered on He Damin, spread gently and irresistibly downwards like ripples spreading from a pebble thrown into a still lake, or like a "harmonic wave" whose frequency resonated with the deep sleep waveband of the human collective subconscious.

This fluctuation is not a brutal shock to the soul, but a complex effect combining deep hypnosis, sensory desensitization, blurred sense of time, and interference with shallow memories. It bypasses the defenses of consciousness and acts directly on the most essential rhythms of life's mental activity, aiming to guide rather than force.

A ripple passed by quietly—

Inside the control tower, the operator, staring at the tiny dots of light on the radar screen, suddenly felt an immense weight on his eyelids, and an indescribable sense of peace rose from the depths of his heart. He vaguely felt that he had been on duty for a long time, perhaps... he could take a short rest? As soon as this thought arose, his consciousness quickly sank into a warm, dark, dreamless realm, his head slowly drooping down onto the control panel, his breathing becoming long and steady.

At the edge of the runway, a sentry patrolling with his rifle in standard position suddenly stopped. A sudden wave of fatigue washed over him, not from muscle strain, but from mental relaxation. He blinked; the searchlight beams seemed to blur for a moment, and the outline of the hangar in the distance appeared somewhat shaky. Before he could figure out where this unusual drowsiness came from, his thoughts had already stopped, but his body remained ramrod straight, like a wax figure frozen in time, only his chest rising and falling slightly with slow, deep breaths.

Inside the hangar, a soft "clink" sounded as a wrench slipped from the mechanic's unconsciously loosened hand, bouncing twice on the concrete floor. The mechanic, however, seemed oblivious, leaning against the cold aircraft landing gear bay, slowly sliding down to sit, his head tilting to the side, a soft snore rising from his lips, his face still bearing the blank look of someone suddenly relaxing after focusing on work.

Inside the barracks, the snoring, varying in volume and intensity, seemed to be tuned by an invisible hand within seconds, becoming uniform and deep. All the sleepers sank into an even deeper, more profound sleep. Even those officers and soldiers who were already awake, or tossing and turning in light sleep, quickly lost their sense of reality under this force, sinking into boundless tranquility.

Oil tank area, ammunition depot, command post, communications station, dormitory building, even kennel... every corner of the airport, every living creature, whether human or trained military dog, was simultaneously touched by this gentle yet vast harmonic wave of the soul. Their vital signs were all normal, even more stable than during natural sleep; only their consciousness was temporarily "silenced," completely losing its ability to react to changes in light, sound, and temperature.

Within a few dozen seconds, the entire airport fell into an extreme and eerie silence.

The wind continued to howl, the searchlights continued to turn slowly according to their preset mechanical programs, and the low hum of certain machines persisted. But all human sounds—footsteps, conversations, coughs, the clanging of tools, even the murmurs of sleep—had vanished. This vast, sophisticated military base, always ready for war, seemed to have been put on pause; all personnel had become lifelike yet motionless sculptures, immersed in a collective deep sleep. He Damin precisely controlled this state, which would last for approximately two hours.

High in the sky, He Damin sensed that all the life fluctuations below had entered a uniform, deep "dormant" frequency, and that their souls were completely unharmed. He nodded slightly. The upgraded Soul Refining Banner, combined with his perfected Nascent Soul control, made this level of precise group hypnosis effortless.

The next instant, the Soul Refining Banner in his Yang Shen's hand dimmed. Simultaneously, in a shadow between the main runway and Hangar One, the space rippled like a stone breaking the surface of still water, spreading out in minute, almost imperceptible ripples. He Damin's body stepped out, as if entering reality directly from another dimension. He was still wearing that seemingly ordinary yet exquisitely made dark gray cotton robe, his long hair simply tied back with a wooden hairpin, his face half-lit and half-shadowed by the occasional flashes of the searchlight, calm, profound, and undisturbed.

Standing on the empty, cold runway, filled with the distinctive smell of aviation fuel, the biting wind instantly enveloped him. He Damin, however, seemed oblivious, his gaze as sharp as cold stars, quickly sweeping over the sleeping sentries, the silent control tower, and the dark hangar doors.

Time was limited. He focused his thoughts on the Taiji Yang polarity space—that inner miniature world that had expanded to a thousand square kilometers. Mountains of "trophies" awaited his summons.

There were no dazzling light and shadow effects, nor any deafening noise. Everything took place in an unusual "silence".

First, the vehicles. At the thought's whim, on the largest spare parking area beside the main runway, the air subtly distorted and refracted, the light seemingly momentarily swallowed up. Then, thick shadows appeared out of thin air, quickly solidifying and materializing. One, two, ten, a hundred… various military vehicles painted in standard US olive green or North African desert yellow camouflage appeared silently on the smooth concrete ground as if by magic. Willys MB jeeps, compact with their canvas tops folded down; Dodge WC series medium trucks, square-fronted with robust tires; GMC CCKW ten-wheeled trucks, massive in size with empty cargo beds… They stood side-by-side in neat formations, their headlights dim, their engines cold, but their metallic bodies reflected a chilling luster in the dim light, their tire tracks clear, as if they had just rolled off the production line, or perhaps traveled directly from a battlefield in a parallel universe. A total of two hundred vehicles, with jeeps and trucks in a roughly one-to-one ratio, formed the first striking sight of this steel formation.

Next came the truly life-saving supplies. He Damin's figure moved like a ghost, rapidly "blinking" throughout the sleeping airport—not flying, but combining his perception of subtle spatial fluctuations with his extraordinary agility. Each step he took seemed to shrink the distance between them, appearing at the target location in an instant. Each pause was accompanied by a slight distortion of space, followed by a massive influx of supplies appearing out of thin air.

The heavy metal sliding doors of Hangar One slid open silently (their internal mechanical locks were easily disarmed by divine sense). In the spacious, high-ceilinged area near the entrance, light and shadow flickered, and then, mountains of standard US military-grade wooden crates appeared out of thin air, rapidly piling up to almost touch the 30-meter-high ceiling. The words "MEDICAL SUPPLIES," "SERUM," and "MORPHINE" in bold black lettering on the crates were still glaringly obvious in the dim light. A strong smell of medicine mingled with the tung oil odor of the wooden crates filled the air. Sulfonamide powder, morphine injections, penicillin, blood plasma bags, surgical instrument kits, first-aid kits… the sheer quantity was enough to sustain several large-scale battles.

Hangar No. 2 was filled with another kind of "hard stuff." Various caliber artillery shell boxes, long, rectangular rocket launcher cartridges, disc-shaped landmines, bundles of TNT explosives… neatly categorized and stacked like a disciplined army. Although all were dangerous goods, under He Damin's precise control of his divine sense, the stacks were stable, with no risk of tipping or collision. The gunpowder smell emanating from these munitions, even through their packaging, faintly exuded a chilling killing intent.

Hangar No. 3 and its adjacent smaller warehouses became a sea of ​​winter gear. Thick, brand-new wool overcoats (M1943 Field Jackets), still carrying the distinctive smell of textile mills; pairs of high-top service boots (Shoes, Service, Combat); winter combat caps with ear flaps (Winter Combat Caps); wool gloves; and a large quantity of olive-green down sleeping bags (M1945 Sleeping Bags)... like a bountiful cotton mountain, fluffy and magnificent. These were precisely the life-saving supplies most desperately needed on the icy, snowy front lines of Korea.

Outdoor space was also fully utilized. On the taxiway beside the main runway, artillery pieces were "placed." 105mm M2A1 howitzers, 75mm M1A1 mountain guns... the barrels either pointed straight to the sky or stretched horizontally forward, their steel bodies gleaming coldly against the snow. They were arranged in neat artillery positions, and although there were no towing vehicles or gunners, they possessed a silent and majestic aura. Next to them were mountains of ammunition boxes, their wooden bodies marked with prominent ammunition symbols.

More trucks and jeeps (in addition to the initial two hundred "display" vehicles, there were hundreds of spares) were neatly parked on the secondary runway and parts of the apron, almost filling up the available flat ground. Huge piles of supplies covered with thick olive-green waterproof tarpaulins, like suddenly appearing hills, were scattered throughout the open spaces of the airport. Underneath the tarpaulins were tens of thousands of tons of various military rations: SPAM luncheon meat cans, canned fruits and vegetables, chocolate bars (D ration), instant coffee powder, milk powder, sugar... These high-calorie, easily stored supplies were the foundation for maintaining the troops' combat effectiveness.

The entire "deployment" process was highly efficient, precise, and maintained a chilling silence. Only when the supplies materialized from thin air did they cause extremely faint spatial ripples, imperceptible to ordinary people, and the dull "thud" of heavy objects landing—a sound that became almost inaudible in the howling wind. In the vast airport, apart from He Damin's ghostly figure "flickering" around, and the ever-appearing, mountain-like supplies, there was no other activity. The more than three hundred sleeping officers and soldiers were completely unaware of the miraculous events unfolding around them, events that could tip the scales of war.

He Damin didn't just randomly pile them up. Based on the airport layout, the hangar's load-bearing capacity, the reserved passageways, and the convenience of future transfers, under the precise planning of his divine sense, he systematically categorized and placed the massive amount of supplies in the best locations. He even deliberately "left" some clearly marked clues near some key supply piles: tarpaulin fragments printed with "US ARMY PROPERTY"; crates marked with specific US military unit numbers (such as the 1st Cavalry Division, the 2nd Infantry Division, etc.); several scattered waterproof document bags with English operating instructions or unit logs; and even several military mess kits and canteens printed with the Stars and Stripes and the word "USA". These details silently tell the "past life" of these supplies.

When the last batch of supplies—dozens of SCR-300 series walkie-talkies, binoculars, compasses, entrenching tools, and other miscellaneous equipment—was neatly stacked in a corner of a small tool shed, He Damin stopped all his work.

He stood on the center line of the airport's main runway, his feet on solid concrete, flanked by towering steel vehicles and a forest of artillery, and in the distance, piles of canvas supplies undulating like mountains. Looking around, a surreal sense of absurdity intertwined with a silent awe. The dormant base, the mountains of supplies that appeared out of nowhere, the cold machinery, the swirling snowflakes—all combined to create a scene beyond comprehension. The beams of searchlights swept across, illuminating the clear American signs, olive green paint, and English lettering, further enhancing the psychedelic atmosphere of temporal displacement.

A cold wind whipped up, ruffling the edges of some canvas panels and revealing wooden crates marked "US" and "ORDNANCE." He Damin's expression remained as calm as a deep pool. He knew that as dawn broke and the airport personnel awoke from this collective slumber, what a tidal wave of shock, disbelief, elation at escaping death, and a deep-seated vigilance and desire to investigate would ensue when they saw all this.

And this was exactly the effect he wanted. This batch of supplies, especially life-saving medicines, cold-weather clothing, and high-energy food, was a true lifeline for the Chinese People's Volunteer Army soldiers who were fighting against the overwhelming enemy forces in the icy wilderness of the Korean Peninsula. It was a strategic gift that could change the fate of many. They would be transported to the front lines as quickly as possible from this hub airport.

As for the overly obvious "American" characteristics, the accompanying "clues" pointing to the logistics system of a powerful adversary, and the supernatural event of everyone mysteriously and simultaneously falling asleep for several hours, it will undoubtedly be like a boulder thrown into the hearts of the top leadership, stirring up endless speculation, analysis, and debate, and possibly even triggering undercurrents at the international level. However, faced with this real, enormous, and extremely advantageous "anonymous gift," accepting and utilizing it is almost the only wise choice. This requires courage, but even more so, the wisdom to see through the fog. He Damin has this confidence in the giants who will soon lead the era on this land.

There were 350 P-51 Mustang fighter planes and 88 C-47 transport planes, along with ammunition, fuel, and some ground support equipment. There was almost no room left.

The physical work was done. He Damin looked up at the increasingly clear dawn light on the eastern horizon, then glanced at the figures still sound asleep throughout the airport. It was almost time.

He didn't linger, a slight thought stirring within him. In the center of the track, his figure, like a reflection in water, was scattered by ripples, blurring and dimming instantly until it vanished completely, as if he had never set foot there. Only a faint, mysterious aura, not belonging to this winter's chill, remained in the air, which was quickly dispersed by the biting north wind.

High in the sky, that purplish-gold light quietly disappeared into the gradually brightening morning light.

Dongta Airport returned to silence. But this silence was completely different from that of two hours ago. The sound of the wind carried the cold scent of steel, the bitterness of medicine, the roughness of canvas, the metallic feel of food cans, and... the steady, long, and peaceful breathing of the more than three hundred officers and soldiers, who were completely unaware of the drastic changes happening around them.

The mountains of supplies stood silently in the deepest darkness before dawn and the rising morning light, like the skeletons left by prehistoric beasts, or like treasures carelessly left behind by the gods.