Courtyard House: Time Traveler Not Yet a Ghost

The morning mist, like a veil, enveloped the winter chill of Beiping. When He Damin stepped out of the courtyard, clutching the steamed buns Lü Bingxin had given him, the sky was still not fully bright. His body, now at the Foundation Establishment stage, was incredibly light; each step on the bluestone path was silent. True essence flowed through his meridians, nourishing not only his limbs and bones but also expanding his perception range to over ten zhang (approximately 33 meters) away—the subtle sound of a tabby cat licking its paws on the wall, the soft "poof" of a breakfast stall lifting its steamer basket twenty zhang away, were all clearly audible.

This absolute control over himself and his environment brought a slight smile to He Damin's lips. In his past life, he relied on his honed killing skills, but in this life, he has embarked on the profound path of following the natural way.

As I reached the alley entrance, a harsh shout shattered the morning mist's tranquility. Two Japanese soldiers in yellow woolen uniforms were grabbing Old Man Zhang, who sold tofu pudding. The shorter soldier kicked over his carrying pole, spilling the white tofu pudding mixed with braising liquid all over the ground, mingling with dirt and broken porcelain. Old Man Zhang, over sixty years old, his white hair trembling in the morning breeze, knelt on the ground, repeatedly bowing: "Sir, please spare me... this is my family's food supply..."

The tall Japanese soldier grinned maliciously and shouted in broken Chinese, "Good citizen certificate! Show it to me!" Old Zhang trembled as he pulled out his certificate, carefully wrapped in oilcloth. The soldier snatched it away, tore it in half without even looking at it, and yelled, "Fake! Arrest him!" Several early-morning neighbors, their faces pale with fright, hurriedly made their way around him. In those days, it was common for the Japanese to kill people in the streets of Beiping.

He Damin's eyes turned cold. If it were before he established his foundation, he would have chosen to use the Soul Refining Banner at night to harvest the souls of these two beasts. But now it's different—his true essence is just beginning to emerge, and he has more methods at his disposal.

With a slight thought, a wisp of pale golden true essence separated from his dantian, seeping into the ground through his feet and spreading like mercury spilling onto the floor. The true essence was formless and intangible, yet in He Damin's perception, it was as clear as the lines on his palm. It coiled around the short Japanese soldier's ankle like a serpent, giving it a gentle pull.

"Baka!" The Japanese soldier was about to kick Grandpa Zhang when he suddenly slipped and fell face-first into the mud. His front teeth hit the bluestone slab, and blood mixed with dirt spurted out.

The tall Japanese soldier was stunned for a moment, then angrily bent down to help him up. He Damin moved again, a wisp of his soul power like an invisible needle, precisely piercing the wrist of the man holding the gun. "Clang!" The Type 38 rifle fell to the ground, the butt hitting his own toes squarely. "Ah—!" A shrill scream echoed through the alley.

Two Japanese soldiers, one clutching his mouth and the other his foot, rolled on the ground in pain, cursing each other and assuming the other had tripped them. In the distance, neighbors suppressed their laughter, and a young man secretly gave He Damin a thumbs-up. Grandpa Zhang stared blankly, then repeatedly bowed to the sky, saying, "Thank you, God, for your mercy!"

He Damin's lips curled slightly as he quietly turned away. The consumption of true essence was negligible, yet the effect was surprisingly good. "A small punishment to serve as a warning, without revealing myself," he thought to himself. "I'll settle the score tonight and give the Soul Refining Banner a boost."

Fengzeyuan was a famous Shandong cuisine restaurant in Beiping. It was a three-story building with blue bricks and gray tiles, and its facade was impressive. Early in the morning, the kitchen was already bustling with activity—unloading goods, starting fires, and preparing ingredients, with the staff working non-stop.

When He Damin entered the kitchen, the manager, Chef Wang, was directing his apprentices to move flour. Upon seeing He Damin, Chef Wang's eyes lit up: "Damin's here? You're here early today!" "Good morning, Chef Wang. I wanted to come early to learn knife skills," He Damin said respectfully.

Master Wang, in his fifties, always had a smile on his chubby face, but his eyes were sharp. He patted He Damin on the shoulder: "Good lad! You cut those radish shreds well yesterday, how about trying potato shreds today? They need to be as thin as hair, thin enough to thread a needle!" Everyone in the kitchen looked over, their expressions varied—some curious, some disdainful, some waiting to see him fail. Cutting potato shreds was a basic skill, but to make them "as thin as hair, thin enough to thread a needle," only Master Wang and He Daqing in the entire Fengzeyuan kitchen could do it. How could a teenager who was doing odd jobs yesterday possibly do it?

He Damin walked to the cutting board and picked up the slicing knife. The blade was thin and sharp. He weighed it in his hand; it felt just right.

His inner energy circulated slightly, flowing down his arm and into the blade. This wasn't magic; it was simply using his inner energy to enhance the stability of his hand and his control over the knife. To onlookers, he was just a young man with a perfectly executed knife-wielding posture.

Peel the potatoes and place them in the center of the cutting board. He Damin held the potatoes down with his left hand and wielded the knife with his right. "Swish, swish, swish—" The knife flashed like snow, so fast that only afterimages could be seen. The potatoes spun rapidly under his left hand's control, each cut precisely slicing thin, cicada-wing-like slices, layering them, and then shredding them. The whole process was fluid and seamless. Three breaths later, he sheathed the knife.

On the cutting board, a pile of potato shreds, as thin as cow's hair, was neatly arranged. Each strand was uniform in thickness, translucent, and without a single break, gleaming in the morning light. The kitchen was deathly silent. The old apprentice leaned forward, picked up a few potato shreds to examine them against the light, and gasped: "My goodness… this skill is amazing! Even finer than Qing-ge's!"

Master Wang strode over, examined the potato shreds carefully, and then picked up the longest one. He pulled a sewing needle from his pocket—its eye as small as a grain of rice—and the potato shreds actually went through! "Good! Good! Good!" Master Wang exclaimed three times. "Damin, your knife skills are amazing! Even better than your brother's! How did you learn that?"

He Damin smiled shyly: "It's just a lot of practice. I also think about it at home at night." He knew in his heart that this was due to his previous life as an assassin and his mastery of knives, but more importantly, it was due to his true energy cultivation—after reaching the Foundation Establishment stage, he had exquisite control over his body, making slicing potatoes a piece of cake.

"Alright, from today onwards, you're done with chores." Master Wang waved his hand. "Learn Tan Family Cuisine from your brother! Our Fengzeyuan Tan Family Cuisine is the best in Beiping. Your brother has inherited the true skills, so study hard, and you're sure to have a bright future!"

Tan Family Cuisine? He Damin's heart skipped a beat. He had heard of this name in his previous life—a leader in official cuisine, emphasizing "exquisite ingredients, generous portions, meticulous preparation, and perfect cooking time," and many lost imperial dishes were preserved here.

"Thank you, Master Wang!" he said sincerely. This was not only an opportunity to learn culinary skills, but also a perfect cover for his public identity. It was only natural for the younger brother of the Tan family cuisine inheritor to learn cooking; no one could find fault with that.

During the midday break, He Daqing called He Damin to the secluded woodshed in the backyard. The woodshed was piled high with firewood and rarely visited. He Daqing took out a small cloth bag wrapped in multiple layers of coarse cloth from his pocket, carefully opened it, revealing several handwritten books with yellowed pages, the covers bearing the simple title "Tan Family Recipes."

"Damin, Master Wang has spoken, so today I will officially teach you Tan Family Cuisine." He Daqing said solemnly, "But there are a few things I must say beforehand—Tan Family Cuisine has its own rules." He Damin replied respectfully, "Brother, please speak, I'm listening." "First, Tan Family Cuisine is passed down only within the family, not to outsiders, and only to sons, not daughters. You are my younger brother, so you are considered 'inner' and can learn. Outsiders, even apprentices, will not be taught the core techniques."

"Secondly, one must learn virtue before learning any skill. In the culinary profession, no matter how skilled one is, one will not go far if one's character is flawed. Especially in these chaotic times, with the Japanese running rampant, we must have a sense of right and wrong in our hearts regarding whom we cook for and whom we don't cook for, and we must uphold our national integrity!"

He Damin nodded emphatically: "Brother, I understand, I've got it all in mind." He Daqing smiled with satisfaction and opened the handwritten book: "Tan Family Cuisine is divided into three parts: First, the basic skills—knife skills, cooking time, ingredient selection, and broth preparation; second, classic dishes—braised shark fin, clear soup bird's nest, braised sea cucumber, etc.; third, the secret techniques and recipes, which are the essence. Let's take it one step at a time."

He pointed to the illustrations in the book: "There are eighteen knife techniques for cutting and preparing food. You showed off your skills yesterday, which was quite good. You can speed things up. Today, we'll focus on the heat control—Tan family cuisine emphasizes 'gentle and strong heat.' Gentle heat for slow simmering and strong heat for quick stir-frying. Knowing when to use gentle heat and when to use strong heat, the intensity of the heat, and the cooking time—even a second's difference can drastically alter the taste and texture..."

He Daqing explained in great detail, from the properties of different fuels to the required heat for different ingredients, and then to the requirements of various cooking techniques. He Damin listened attentively.

In his past life, he had studied various cuisines to disguise his identity, but compared to modern cooking, Tan Family Cuisine, a century-old official cuisine, was far inferior in terms of its heritage and refinement. What captivated He Damin even more was that the Tan Family Cuisine's philosophy of "exquisite ingredient selection, generous use of ingredients, meticulous preparation, and perfect cooking time" was remarkably similar to the Taoist arts he cultivated!

"Exquisite Selection of Materials"—Taoist alchemy, weapon crafting, and talisman drawing demand equally stringent requirements for materials, demanding naturally occurring treasures rich in spiritual energy. "Generous Use of Materials"—Refining high-grade magical artifacts and elixirs requires a vast quantity of rare materials; stinginess is unacceptable. "Meticulous Craftsmanship"—In Taoist incantations, every hand gesture, seal, and talisman must be precise; otherwise, failure is the least of the problems, while backlash is the worst. "Sufficient Control of Heat"—Controlling the heat in alchemy and weapon crafting is a hundred times more complex than in cooking; strict rules govern when to use a gentle, warming heat and when to use a strong, scorching heat.

"Interesting..." He Damin mused to himself, "Could it be that all things in the world, the ultimate principles, are interconnected on certain levels? Culinary skills and Taoist arts, seemingly unrelated, can actually corroborate each other?"

This discovery further fueled his interest. The circulation of his internal energy enhanced his memory and comprehension. He could remember 90% of what He Daqing explained after one explanation; and he could imitate 70-80% of the essence of a demonstration after one attempt.

An hour later, He Daqing asked in surprise, "Damin, you really haven't studied cooking before? Are you born with a talent for it?" He Damin smiled sincerely and said, "I really haven't studied it systematically. Maybe... I just have a bit of talent and learn things quickly."

He Daqing laughed heartily and patted his younger brother on the shoulder: "Good! It's good that you have talent! Our He family is going to have a second famous chef! Study hard, and when I get old, you might be the one to carry the torch for Fengzeyuan Tan Family Cuisine!"

In the afternoon, He Damin found the innermost compartment of the woodshed, a place piled high with old firewood and miscellaneous items, where almost no one ever came. With a slight thought, he entered the Tai Chi Space.

The spiritual energy in his study, located on the positive side, was as dense as a light blue mist, thirty percent denser than before he established his foundation. Clearly, the Taiji space was also changing as his cultivation level increased.

Sitting cross-legged on a futon, he began circulating the Daoist Primordial Elixir. Within his dantian, nine drops of golden true essence, like nine tiny suns, slowly rotated. As the practice continued, the rich spiritual energy of heaven and earth was drawn in and gathered, flowing into his body through his pores and qi gates, circulating throughout his meridians, being refined and purified, and finally converging into his dantian.

One drop, two drops, three drops... the tenth drop of golden true essence slowly condensed. According to the "Taoist Innate Elixir Method," one can condense a maximum of twelve drops of liquid true essence in the early stage of Foundation Establishment. Only when all twelve drops are complete can one attempt to break through to the middle stage of Foundation Establishment.

He Damin was not in a hurry. He knew that the foundation was important, and every drop of true essence had to be refined to the extreme, striving for purity.

Half an hour later, he opened his eyes, a glint of light flashing in them. The tenth drop of true essence within his dantian had stabilized, radiating a dazzling golden light. He could clearly feel that his dantian was more full, and his whole body was brimming with power.

"My True Essence is steadily increasing; it's time to try using it to perform Taoist arts." He got up and went to his desk, taking out the high-quality yellow paper, cinnabar, inkstone, and wolf-hair brush that he had "borrowed" from the Japanese warehouse. The first basic talisman in the "Complete Collection of Maoshan Talismans"—the Exorcism Talisman—appeared in his mind. This talisman has a single function, mainly dispelling low-level evil spirits and ghosts. It is the foundation of all talismans and the basis for learning complex talismans.

He Damin held his breath and concentrated, dipping his brush in cinnabar and channeling his true energy into the tip, causing it to glow faintly with golden light. His brushstrokes flowed like dragons and snakes, rapidly forming the runes on the yellow talisman. Each stroke contained true energy, and each line subtly aligned with the Dao. With the final stroke, the talisman suddenly lit up, its golden light swirling for three breaths before fading away.

"It's done!" He picked up the lowest-level yellow talisman and clearly sensed the pure yang energy sealed within it—it truly had the power to restrain yin and evil things.

After trying various basic talismans for calming the mind, protecting oneself, and warding off evil, the success rate exceeded 70%. "The art of talismans is indeed profound," He Damin thought to himself as he put away the talisman papers. Just three basic talismans had consumed two drops of true essence; the path of cultivating Taoist arts was long and arduous.

In the evening, carrying the meat buns and braised beef given to him by Master Wang from Fengzeyuan Restaurant, he headed home. Just as he entered the alley, he saw Xiao Yuzhu squatting on the stone stool by the door, peering out. "Uncle!" the child's eyes lit up, and he jumped up. He Damin smiled and handed him the warm buns: "Eat slowly." He then handed the braised beef to Lü Bingxin, who came out to greet him: "Master Wang gave it to me as a reward, saying my knife skills have improved."

Inside the main room, He Daqing wiped the table and laughed, "Fengzeyuan's braised beef uses beef shank, marinated and then braised, cooked to perfection." At dinner, the millet porridge was thick and served with braised beef and pickled vegetables. Xiao Yuzhu ate a steamed bun, her mouth smeared with oil, and smiled with her eyes narrowed.

Gazing at this heartwarming scene, He Damin felt a surge of warmth in his heart—this was everything he wanted to protect. In the still of the night, a spirit silently drifted out of the window. The Soul-Refining Banner trembled in the spiritual sea, the Blood Soul Chains thirsting for more. Tonight's target was those traitors in the west of the city who had surrendered to the Japanese; they were said to be ruthless extortionists and villains.

A pale golden light streaked across the night sky, and a cold smile curled at the corner of his lips: "Time to collect some interest." Inside the Moon-Viewing Tower in the west of the city, the air was thick with the smell of alcohol. Four traitors were drinking heartily with singing girls in their arms, and on the table were silks and jade artifacts looted from the people. "Captain Liu, the Imperial Army said they'll be collecting another twenty dan of grain tomorrow," the skinny man with a pointed mouth and monkey-like cheeks said obsequiously, the gold watch on his wrist gleaming wickedly under the lamplight—it was the heirloom of Butcher Zhang.

He Damin's spirit hung suspended on the beam, coldly observing. The traitorous captain in the black silk shirt pulled out a Browning and slammed it on the table: "Tomorrow, anyone who doesn't pay their grain tax will be directly arrested by the Transportation Office!"

As soon as he finished speaking, a cold wind suddenly rose outside the window, and the candlelight abruptly turned green. "Who?!" Captain Liu drew his gun sharply, only to see a pale golden light shooting straight at his face.

"Ah!" The scream abruptly stopped. He Damin's spirit had pierced through his brow, the Soul Refining Banner spun rapidly, and the Blood Soul Chains coiled around the drifting remnant soul like venomous snakes. The traitorous captain fell straight to the ground, his pupils dilating to gray-white.

The other three were so frightened they collapsed to the ground. The skinny man scrambled to crawl under the table, but an invisible force gripped his neck, his tongue lolling out. Within three breaths, the four remnant souls were dragged into the banner by chains.

He Damin glanced at the valuables on the table, flicked his finger, and a spark landed on the account book. The flames spread rapidly, engulfing the evidence of these scoundrels' crimes along with the Wangyue Tower. He transformed into a streak of light and dashed out of the fire, the cries of the people being extorted still seemingly echoing in his ears.

Back in Nanluoguxiang, the spirit passed through the window. On the kang (heated brick bed), Xiaoyuzhu turned over, murmuring "meat bun." He Damin looked at his nephew's peaceful sleeping face, the golden light at his fingertips gradually fading. On the table, three talismans lay quietly in an oil paper package, the cinnabar runes gleaming faintly in the moonlight.

A night breeze swept through the old locust tree in the courtyard. He Damin sat up cross-legged, practicing breathing exercises. True essence flowed slowly within his dantian, refining the newly acquired soul-destroying power. The sound of the night watchman striking the gong came from outside the window; after three strikes, the eastern sky was already showing the first light of dawn.

He gazed at the dawn reflected on the window paper, clutching the talisman hidden in his sleeve. Foundation Establishment was just the beginning; the Tan family cuisine was merely a cover. Refining essence into qi, refining qi into spirit, refining spirit into emptiness, refining emptiness into the Dao… countless insurmountable barriers lay ahead.

But a resolute determination burned in He Damin's eyes. Having fought his way out of mountains of corpses and seas of blood in his past life, he now had a goal to protect, and he was determined to go even further. Today, he would go to Fengzeyuan to practice his knife skills; the cooking techniques for the Tan family cuisine still needed further refinement. And the nighttime hunts would not cease.