Courtyard House: Time Traveler Not Yet a Ghost

The Nascent Soul stage. That's a legendary realm. In the European superpower system, it corresponds to an S-class superpower user. In all of Europe, the number of superpower users who can reach S-class can be counted on one hand. And those people are either reclusive old monsters or the prized possessions of major organizations; none of them are willing to easily leave their territory, let alone venture into the distant and mysterious Far East. Hong Kong, to them, is practically an unknown dark forest.

"I suggest," the middle-aged woman with glasses slowly spoke, breaking the suffocating silence, "that we not move for now."

She adjusted her glasses, her eyes behind the lenses gleaming with wisdom: "Although that monk killed people, he only killed those who deserved to die. We investigated those British executives and gang leaders; their hands are stained with blood—smuggling, drug trafficking, human trafficking… their sins are indeed heinous. In a way, that monk helped us clear some trouble."

She paused, then continued, "Moreover, he did not indiscriminately kill innocent people, nor did he threaten European interests. His target seems very clear: those who have committed heinous crimes."

"Then why did he kill the Japanese?" asked a young man sitting on the other side. He looked like a scholar, wearing a plaid shirt and holding a tablet computer. "Those three Japanese monks, although they went to investigate, did not directly commit any evil deeds."

"That's a personal feud between the Japanese and him," the middle-aged woman said firmly. "It has nothing to do with us. If the Japanese want to test him, they have to bear the consequences. We don't need to get involved."

The silver-haired old man pondered for a moment, his fingers tapping lightly on the table, producing a rhythmic "tap-tap" sound. After a long while, he slowly nodded.

"That makes sense. We shouldn't act rashly before we figure out his true strength and intentions." His gaze swept over the crowd. "Let the Japanese handle it themselves. Let them solve the trouble they've caused."

He paused, his tone becoming unusually serious: "Also, immediately inform all our personnel in the Far East—stay away from Hong Kong. Tell them there's someone there we can't afford to mess with. Until we figure out who he is and what he wants, don't go near that area, don't try to contact him, and even... don't talk about him."

He spoke those last few words with unusual heaviness, carrying an undeniable warning.

Everyone in the conference room nodded in agreement. When faced with an unknown and powerful entity, caution was the best course of action.

Kunlun Mountain, Yuxu Peak.

Unlike the sweltering humidity of Tokyo and the modern chill of London, the Kunlun Mountains are covered in snow year-round, with thin and frigid air. The biting wind howls like a knife across the mountain peaks, whipping up snowflakes that sting the face.

The council hall on Yuxu Peak is built of huge bluish-white rocks, simple and majestic, seemingly integrated with the entire Kunlun Mountains. The roof is covered with thick snow, and long icicles hang from the eaves, sparkling in the sunlight like strings of natural crystals.

Inside the main hall, the light was also somewhat dim, with only the natural light filtering in from the doors and high windows illuminating the central area. The floor was polished stone, cold and hard. The hall was sparsely decorated, with only a large stone table in the very center, around which sat seven elderly men.

They were all dressed in simple gray Taoist robes, their hair and beards were all white, and their faces were covered with wrinkles, each one seemingly etched with the marks of time. They sat upright, their breathing long and deep. Although they looked like ordinary old men, the occasional glint of light in their eyes revealed their unfathomable cultivation.

Xuanyuan Che sat in the main seat. He was the youngest-looking of the seven elders, but he already had white hair and a youthful face. In front of him were two intelligence documents. One was a detailed report written in delicate handwriting on rice paper, the paper slightly yellowed and carrying a faint scent of ink. The other was a printed A4 sheet of paper with English text and a Chinese translation next to it. It was an inquiry letter from the European Holy Shield Council.

"You've all seen Xiaoling's report." Xuan Yuanche spoke slowly, his voice not loud, yet it clearly resonated throughout the entire hall, carrying a gentle yet profound power that seemed capable of calming the turmoil in people's hearts. "That cultivator from Hong Kong is named He Damin. His cultivation level... is the Nascent Soul Realm."

Transformation Realm.

These three words were like a boulder thrown into a calm pond, instantly creating ripples.

"Nascent Soul?!" Ma Tianxing, sitting to Xuan Yuanche's left, suddenly stood up. His movement was so abrupt that it stirred a gust of wind, ruffling his white beard. His face was filled with shock and disbelief, and his voice trembled slightly. "The message Xiaoling sent back said he was only at the peak of the Nascent Soul stage, how could he suddenly become a Nascent Soul cultivator? How is this possible!"

The other elders also changed their expressions and began whispering among themselves, creating a buzzing sound in the hall.

"Three years ago, he was at the peak of the Nascent Soul stage." Xuan Yuanche raised his hand, signaling everyone to be quiet. His gaze calmly swept over the crowd. "Three years later, he broke through."

The crowd exchanged bewildered glances, their expressions still showing no sign of shock.

The difference between Nascent Soul and Deity Transformation is like heaven and earth, a leap countless cultivators dream of but can never reach in their lifetime. It's not just an improvement in cultivation level, but a leap in the level of life itself. In the entire land of China, there are only twelve known Deity Transformation cultivators, each an ancestor who has lived for hundreds of years, a being whose mere presence shakes the entire cultivation world. And this He Damin, who only reached the Nascent Soul stage three years ago, has become a Deity Transformation cultivator three years later? This completely overturns their understanding.

"That's impossible." The elder from the Yan family of Xiangxi, sitting at the end of the table, shook his head. His voice carried a hint of stubbornness. "From Nascent Soul to Deity Transformation, it requires hundreds of years of accumulation, the ability to comprehend the laws of heaven and earth, the support of immense spiritual energy, and the experience of a near-death tribulation. How could he possibly break through in just three years? This defies common sense!"

Xuanyuan Che glanced at him, his eyes deep: "You've forgotten another thing Xiaoling mentioned three years ago—the heavenly tribulation atop Taihang Mountain."

Everyone was stunned. Their expressions changed from shock to confusion, and then slowly to understanding and even more disbelief.

"A heavenly tribulation?" someone murmured.

"Yes. Xiaoling witnessed He Damin triggering a heavenly tribulation on the summit of Taihang Mountain." Xuan Yuanche's tone was unusually certain. "And it happened twice."

He stood up and walked to the center of the hall. His figure appeared somewhat tall in the dim light, exuding an invisible pressure.

"The first time was the tribulation of breaking through from the Nascent Soul stage to the Deity Transformation stage." He held up a finger, his voice clear. "The second time was the tribulation of breaking through from the Deity Transformation stage... the Void Returning stage."

"boom!"

These words resounded like thunder in the hall.

Everyone gasped, their faces showing horror.

Surviving two tribulations in a row? And these are the terrifying tribulations of Nascent Soul Transformation and Deity Transformation Returning to Emptiness? This is simply unheard of! That is the ultimate realm that can only be achieved through the legendary "cultivation of both body and spirit"! And this kind of cultivation method was lost a thousand years ago.

"Therefore," Xuan Yuanche turned around, looking intently at them, "He Damin is no ordinary cultivator. He possesses a lineage we are unaware of, and experiences we cannot comprehend. His cultivation has already reached the pinnacle of this world."

He paused, a hint of emotion in his voice: "There are no more than twelve people in the entire world who have reached the Nascent Soul Realm. He is one of them. Moreover, he may have already touched the threshold of the Void Return Realm."

A long silence fell over the hall, broken only by the occasional howling wind outside, making the stillness seem even more eerily quiet. The seven elders, all hundreds of years old, wore complex expressions: shock, doubt, awe, and a hint of something else...excitement?

After a long silence, Ma Tianxing took a deep breath and slowly sat down, his voice still trembling slightly: "Then... what about the matter of him killing those people? Those British executives in Tokyo, and the cultivators sent by Japan... his direct intervention in mortal affairs, even killing other cultivators, has already violated the 1949 contract, hasn't it? Should we...?"

He didn't finish his sentence, but his meaning was clear.

The fragrance of sandalwood wafted through the ancient hall, creating a serene aroma. Fine dust motes floated in the air, dancing gently in the soft light filtering through the carved windows. Xuan Yuanche sat on the cool mahogany throne, his fingers lightly tapping the smooth armrests, producing a dull, resonant sound.

"The contract stipulates that those above the Golden Core stage are not allowed to interfere in mortal affairs." His voice was not loud, but it carried an undeniable authority that echoed in the empty hall. "However, the contract also stipulates that self-defense is not an exception." He paused, his gaze sweeping over the disciples standing below with their heads bowed. "Those people attacked first, so his retaliation is perfectly reasonable."

Having said that, he stood up. His long, dark robe trailed softly on the ground with his movement. He paced a few steps, his boots striking the cold, hard stone floor with each step, each one seeming to weigh on the hearts of everyone present. Then, he returned to the main seat, sat down again, his robes rustling against the chair.

"Notify Xiaoling," he began, a hint of weariness in his voice, "that she stay in Hong Kong for a while. Not for surveillance, but... to keep in touch."

"Contact?" The disciple below paused for a moment, then looked up with a puzzled expression, a hint of doubt flashing in his eyes.

"Yes." Xuan Yuanche picked up the teacup on the table, which had long since gone cold, his fingertips touching the icy porcelain. "If a Nascent Soul cultivator can become our friend, it won't do us any harm." He took a sip of the cold tea, the bitter taste spreading on his tongue. "Have Xiaoling keep in touch with him, but don't interfere in his affairs. Let him do what he wants. As long as he doesn't indiscriminately kill innocent people or break the contract, we'll pretend we don't know anything."

He set down his teacup, which clinked against the table with a crisp "ding." He paused, then looked out the window, his gaze seemingly piercing through the layers of palaces to the distant horizon. His gaze was deep, as if concealing endless calculations and considerations.

"After all," he said slowly, a hint of emotion in his voice, "there are only twelve pinnacles in this world. It's always better to have one more friend than one more enemy." Silence fell over the hall once more, with only the lingering scent of sandalwood incense.

Hong Kong, Victoria Peak.

He Damin stood before the enormous floor-to-ceiling window in his study, the cool glass reflecting his tall figure. Outside, the most vibrant view of Hong Kong unfolded—Victoria Harbour. Several large ships glided slowly across the azure waters, leaving white wakes in their wake. In the distance, skyscrapers rose in rows, sunlight dappling their densely packed buildings, reflecting a dazzling light, like a forest of steel and glass. A salty, damp sea breeze drifted in through the slightly ajar window, brushing against his cheek and bringing a touch of coolness.

His divine sense, like an invisible tentacle, had just withdrawn from distant Tokyo, foggy London, and the Kunlun Mountains in the Western Regions. The atmosphere of those places was different: the shrines in Tokyo were filled with old paper and a faint smell of blood; in the ancient castles of London, magical elements pulsed coldly and actively; deep in the Kunlun Mountains, there was the chill of millennia-old snow and the obscurity of ancient formations.

He heard every single word of their discussion.

The Japanese were terrified; they dared not send any more cultivators, fearing they might offend this suddenly appearing powerful figure. The Europeans, cautious as if walking on thin ice, ultimately decided to remain silent and observe the situation. Meanwhile, the old fogies on the Chinese mainland, calculating meticulously, chose the most pragmatic strategy—to befriend him.

Everything was within his expectations.

The cultivation level of the Nascent Soul Realm is like an insurmountable mountain, enough to make any force wary. As long as he doesn't indiscriminately kill innocent people or challenge the invisible bottom line of the contract, those behemoths entrenched in every corner of the world will choose to acquiesce to his existence.

This is exactly what he wanted—a relatively peaceful environment, a space where he could make arrangements at his leisure.

Soft footsteps sounded behind him, almost imperceptible on the soft carpet. Chen Xueru entered, carrying a white porcelain teacup, instantly filling the air with a faint aroma of Longjing tea. She gently placed the teacup on the mahogany tea table beside him, the bottom of the cup making a soft "tap" as it touched the surface.

"What are you thinking about again?" Her voice was gentle, like the sea breeze outside the window, carrying a soothing power.

He Damin turned around, and the sunlight fell perfectly on his face, giving him a soft golden edge. He took the warm teacup, feeling the comforting warmth on his fingertips. He took a sip; the tea was slightly hot, and the rich aroma filled his mouth, dispelling the slight fatigue from his spiritual journey.

"I'm thinking about what to do next," he said softly, looking at the tea leaves floating in his cup. The chessboard was already set up, and all the players had placed their pieces, but he, the most crucial piece, was only just beginning to move.

Chen Xueru didn't ask any more questions, but simply leaned silently on his shoulder. The faint scent of shampoo wafted from her hair, and the warmth of her body seeped through the thin fabric of her clothes, bringing a sense of security.

The sunlight outside the window was even brighter, streaming in through the huge French windows and casting long, long shadows of the two of them cuddling on the carpet.