Courtyard House: Time Traveler Not Yet a Ghost

The silver-haired elder raised his hand to stop him, signaling him to be quiet. "The Easterners also attached a detailed list." He pressed a button on the table, and the large projection screen at the front of the conference room immediately displayed the detailed information, handed over by Ma Xiaoling, recording the crimes of the thirty-seven victims. "You can all take a look for yourselves. Each of these victims was deeply sinful, their hands stained with blood. According to the code of conduct and moral values ​​of Eastern cultivators, such people deserved to die."

All eyes were focused on the projection screen as they carefully read the shocking records. The buzzing in the meeting room gradually subsided, replaced by a heavy silence. These congressmen, all seasoned and ruthless individuals, were nonetheless taken aback by the crimes recorded on the list.

"So what do we do now?" After a long while, a councilor wearing gold-rimmed glasses, who looked refined, finally spoke up and asked, "Are we just going to let it go like this? That's thirty-seven lives, including some of our important agents in Hong Kong."

The silver-haired old man pondered for a moment, his fingers lightly tapping the table, making a soft "tap-tap" sound. "This matter occurred in Hong Kong. Hong Kong is still a colony of our British Empire, and the Governor's Office has a responsibility to maintain local security and order." He paused, then changed the subject, "Since those victims were driven to their deaths by greed, trying to covet others' property, then the Governor's Office should…"

He paused deliberately, whetting everyone's appetite.

"Apologize to that monk and compensate him for his losses."

"An apology?!" The bearded member of parliament stared wide-eyed again, almost unable to believe his ears. "Your Excellency, are you saying that the Governor of Hong Kong of our Great British Empire is to apologize to a... a Chinese person? This is an utter disgrace! Where will our Holy Shield Council put its face?"

The silver-haired old man gave him a cold look, a hint of displeasure in his eyes: "Then do you have a better idea, Mr. Councilor? Send our people to Hong Kong to arrest that monk, or... kill him? Can you guarantee success? Can you bear the consequences of failure?"

The bearded senator opened his mouth, wanting to refute, but ultimately lowered his head in dejection. He knew the speaker was telling the truth.

"Based on our previous analysis of energy fluctuations, that cultivator's energy level is at least level 9.2," the silver-haired elder said slowly, his tone heavy. "This means his cultivation is at least equivalent to an S-level ability user as assessed by our Holy Shield Council, and possibly even higher. How many S-level ability users are there in all of Europe? You can count them on your fingers. Moreover, each of them is a national treasure. Who would be willing to easily send them out on such a perilous mission? Who can guarantee that they can kill the opponent? If they fail and incur that cultivator's retaliation, can you bear the responsibility of plunging all of London into panic?"

The meeting room was deathly silent; you could hear a pin drop. All the councilors looked extremely grim, but no one dared to voice any further objections. Faced with absolute power, the concepts of "face" and "dignity" seemed utterly pale and powerless.

"It's settled then." The silver-haired elder made the final decision, his tone leaving no room for argument. "I will immediately inform London and have the Governor's Office handle this matter properly. Furthermore, issue an order that from now on, all members and affiliated institutions of the Holy Shield Council should stay away from that monk. As long as he doesn't actively threaten our European interests and security, we will... keep to ourselves."

A week later.

A black Rolls-Royce Phantom silently pulled up in front of the white villa on Victoria Peak. Its gleaming body reflected the sunlight, even the tires were spotless. It stood out conspicuously on the rugged mountain roads of Victoria Peak.

The car door opened, and the first person to step out was a driver in a black suit and white gloves. He respectfully walked around to the other side and opened the rear door. A middle-aged man in a sharp white suit, wearing gold-rimmed glasses, and with his hair neatly combed, slowly stepped out of the car. He appeared to be around fifty years old, with a professional, impeccable smile on his face, but a hint of barely perceptible tension and humility lurked deep in his eyes. He was the Chief Political Secretary of Government House, surnamed Chan, a senior Chinese official who had worked at Government House for twenty years, specializing in handling "special matters" requiring careful attention.

Secretary Chen held an exquisite box made of fine sandalwood, its surface carved with simple yet antique patterns. He stood in front of the villa, straightened his tie, took a deep breath, and forced a more gentle smile onto his face.

The villa's gate opened quickly, and He Damin appeared at the door. He was still dressed in comfortable casual clothes, his expression calm, as if he had known he would come all along.

"Mr. He, hello." Secretary Chen quickly stepped forward, bowed slightly, his posture very humble, and his tone respectful to the point of being almost obsequious. "His Excellency the Governor sent me to express his sincerest apologies. Because of some... uh, some unpleasant misunderstandings, we have caused trouble for you and your family. His Excellency the Governor is deeply sorry."

He carefully opened the sandalwood box in his hands, inside which lay a neatly folded document and a set of brass keys. "This is a formal apology statement from Government House, bearing His Excellency the Governor's signature and the seal of Government House." He first took out the document, handing it to Ho Damin with both hands, then picked up the keys. "In addition, this is a small compensation from His Excellency the Governor, on behalf of the British Hong Kong government, for the trouble and losses caused to you and your family—the title deed and keys to a six-story commercial building at 18 Queen's Road Central, Central. The building is currently valued at approximately HK$1.5 million. We hope to gain your understanding. Please accept this."

He Damin took the document and glanced at it casually. The document was written earnestly, shifting the blame to "a few people with ulterior motives" and "poor communication," and promising to strengthen the management of government officials and law enforcement agencies to prevent similar incidents from happening again. After reading it, he casually put it aside and then took the heavy bunch of keys.

"Please thank His Excellency the Governor for his 'sincerity' on my behalf," Ho Ta-min said calmly, his tone revealing neither joy nor anger.

When Secretary Chen saw that He Damin had accepted the documents and keys, he felt a great weight lifted from his shoulders. He didn't even bother to wipe the fine beads of sweat from his forehead, and kept nodding and bowing, "Of course, of course! It's wonderful that you can forgive me, Mr. He! His Excellency the Governor of Hong Kong will be very pleased to know this." He felt as if he had completed a difficult task, and his back was already soaked with cold sweat.

After seeing off Secretary Chen, who felt as if he had been granted a pardon, He Damin returned to the living room with the documents and keys.

Chen Xueru was sitting on the sofa reading a fashion magazine. Seeing him enter, she immediately put down the magazine and greeted him, curiously looking at the documents and keys in his hand. "Brother Damin, what's this? Did the Governor really apologize?"

"Hmm." He Damin handed her the documents and then shook the keys in his hand. "There's also a building, they say it's compensation."

Chen Xueru took the document and carefully read its contents, becoming increasingly moved with each reading. Just a week ago, those people were aggressively trying to seize their vault, steal their gold, and practically devour their entire family. A week later, the Governor's Office personally sent people to apologize and even presented a valuable commercial building as compensation. This transformation felt like a dream. And all of this was thanks to the seemingly ordinary yet unfathomable man beside her.

She looked up at her husband's calm profile, feeling a surge of security and a touch of pride. "Damin," she asked softly, her voice tinged with curiosity and worry, "Is...this really over? What will happen to those people...?"

He Damin turned around, gently stroking her hair with a tender touch. "It's over for now," he said earnestly, looking into her eyes. "I don't know if anyone will be so foolish as to try and take advantage of us again. But if they dare to lay a hand on us, I'll chop it off. If they dare to harm our family, I'll... make them pay the price."

He spoke calmly, but Chen Xueru saw an undeniable determination and strength in his eyes. This wasn't a threat, but a promise he made to her and to their family.

Outside the window, the afternoon sun streamed through the glass, illuminating the entire living room with warmth and brightness, and it seemed as if tiny golden dust particles were floating in the air.

Standing on the second-floor balcony, Ma Xiaoling witnessed everything that had just happened. She saw the humble demeanor of the Governor's Office secretary, the documents and keys in He Damin's hands, and heard the brief conversation between the two downstairs. A faint smile involuntarily crept onto her lips.

She took out the communication jade talisman again, infused it with her true energy, and sent a message to her father, Ma Tianxing—

"The matter is settled. The Governor's Office has formally apologized and provided compensation. Ho Ta-ming is a man of unfathomable strength. Although he acts domineeringly, he is not a man of indiscriminate killing. Judging from his words and deeds, he is loyal and righteous, and extremely protective of his own. This man is someone you can befriend but not someone you can fight."

On the other end of the jade talisman, Ma Tianxing received the message but remained silent for a long time. He sat in the study of the Ma family's old residence, his fingers lightly tapping the table, lost in thought. After a long while, he slowly used his true essence to carve a single character on the jade talisman:

"good."

As evening approached, the setting sun painted the sky a brilliant orange-red. Ma Xiaoling packed her simple belongings and prepared to leave.

He Damin and Chen Xueru escorted her to the door.

"Miss Ma, please forgive me for the poor hospitality this time," He Damin said with a smile. "If you come to Hong Kong again next time, please let me know in advance. I'll have Xue Ru cook a few more of your favorite dishes."

Ma Xiaoling looked at him, a genuine, relaxed smile spreading across her face. These past few days had given her a completely new understanding of He Damin. "Next time?"

A mountain breeze, carrying the dampness of grass and trees, swept through the courtyard. He Damin heard his own laughter mingling with the sound of the pine trees. Ma Xiaoling's blue cotton shirt was lifted at the corner by the wind, revealing her faded undergarment.

"Next time?" She bent down to tighten her shoelaces, her voice carried by the wind. "The mission is to investigate a case, not to visit relatives."

He Damin took out his pipe and tapped it on the stone steps; a spark gleamed in the twilight. "Then let fate decide."

As Ma Xiaoling turned around, the bamboo basket on her back creaked as it brushed against the doorframe. After taking seven steps, she suddenly stopped. The setting sun cast her long shadow, making it look like a withered reed.

"He Damin."

"Hmm?" The red light in the pipe flickered.

"What you said three years ago," her voice suddenly became clear, carrying the coolness of mountain spring water, "cultivating both body and spirit, internal and external aspects. Thank you."

He Damin's pipe hung suspended in mid-air. By the time he remembered to nod, Ma Xiaoling had already disappeared into the gray twilight. The pebbles on the mountain path crunched under her feet, the sound gradually fading into the distance.

Chen Xueru came out carrying an oil lamp, a spark flying from the wick. "What are you looking at?" Her hand rested on He Damin's arm, warm to the touch.

"That girl," he said, gazing at the empty mountain pass, "walked like a little leopard."

The lamplight flickered on the wall as the two stepped into the room, their shadows trailing behind them. The door creaked shut, shutting out the last vestiges of mountain breeze.