Courtyard House: Time Traveler Not Yet a Ghost

Tokyo·Nagata Town

The fifth obata was aimed at the Nagatacho area of ​​Tokyo. This is the political center of Japan, where the Diet Building is located. The surrounding upscale residential areas are home to many members of parliament, including some right-wingers who are not quite right-minded, old guys who still cling to the militaristic past, and political leaders who secretly support visits to the Yasukuni Shrine.

At 2:45 a.m., the Netherworld Ghost Realm unfolded silently.

Ten chains, like ten venomous snakes, simultaneously reached into ten heavily guarded luxury residences and precisely located ten sleeping members of parliament.

One of them was a rising right-wing star who had only been around for a few years. Just a few days ago, he had been spouting nonsense in parliament about the necessity of "comfort women," drawing widespread condemnation both domestically and internationally. As the chains pierced his forehead and dragged out his soul, the young man even wore a smug smile—probably dreaming of becoming prime minister and receiving the adoration of the people.

Another was a secretary to a cabinet minister, who was specifically responsible for churning out textbooks that distorted history, turning black into white and describing aggression as "entry." When his soul was dragged out, he was still muttering incoherently, "The Nanjing Massacre...it's fabricated...it's all fake..."

The chains paid no heed to his words and mercilessly swept their souls into the banner.

The next day, Congress convened, and all ten members of Congress were absent "due to illness." Three of them never woke up again, becoming a short news item in the newspaper's social section: "Member of Congress Dies Suddenly at Home, Suspected to be Overwork."

Tokyo, Ichigaya

The sixth Kobata's target was the Ichigaya district of Tokyo. This was no ordinary place; it was formerly the headquarters of the Imperial Japanese Army Academy, which cultivated many militaristic henchmen. Now, it was the territory of the Japanese Ministry of Defense, and the core command center of the Self-Defense Forces was located here. Many high-ranking Self-Defense Force officers lived in the surrounding residential areas, along with some experts involved in secret military research—what they were researching was obvious.

At three in the morning, the Netherworld Ghost Realm suddenly unfolded with a "hum".

This time, Obata didn't intend to use such a "gentle" method as chains. It summoned directly—

A Night Parade of One Hundred Demons!

A flash of light appeared on the small banner, and with a whoosh, dozens of grotesque, blue-faced, fanged demonic phantoms burst forth from it! Some were missing arms or legs, some bled from their seven orifices, and some had their tongues dragging on the ground—they were truly terrifying to look at! They let out silent roars and pounced toward the residences of the officers and experts.

These illusory ghosts paid no attention to the walls, doors, and windows, and "whoosh," they passed right through them and pounced on the people who were fast asleep!

In their dream, the officers and experts suddenly saw countless hideous demons rushing towards them, their mouths gaping wide and claws outstretched. Terrified, they tried to struggle and scream, but found themselves nailed to their beds, unable to move or utter a sound. The demons pounced on them and began to tear—not at their flesh, but directly at their souls!

One bite, two bites, three bites...

The soul was forcibly torn into pieces, then swallowed whole by the evil spirits with a "whoosh whoosh." The fragments, through the connection between the evil spirits and Koban, traveled back to Koban, and then back to the original body.

That night, in the Ichigaya region, twenty-three high-ranking Self-Defense Force officers died in their sleep from "sudden heart attacks." Their families were devastated, and the Ministry of Defense was in a state of panic, yet no cause could be found.

Their souls thus became nourishment for the Soul Refining Banner.

Kyoto - Headquarters of a Right-Wing Group

The seventh kobata was aimed at a right-wing group in Kyoto called the "Japan Spiritual Promotion Association".

This group sounds legitimate with its name, claiming to be involved in "cultural exchange" and "revitalizing tradition," but in reality, it's a complete far-right stronghold. All they do all day is promote the glory of the "Greater Japanese Empire," organize group visits to Yasukuni Shrine every year, and print and distribute numerous distorted books that glorify the war of aggression, poisoning the minds of young people.

At 3:20 a.m., the Netherworld Ghost Realm unfolded.

The small banner hung above the building that looked like an ordinary office building, without the use of chains or the summoning of evil spirits. It simply floated there quietly, and then began to release a peculiar energy—the Lament of the Underworld.

The song was intangible and formless, yet it seemed to have hooks, piercing through walls, windows, and into the ears of everyone who was fast asleep. At first, it was just a faint sob, but gradually, the sound became clearer and clearer, like the wailing of countless wronged souls, or like someone scratching glass with their fingernails, sending chills down one's spine.

The members of the "Japan Spiritual Revitalization Association" began to experience hellish torment in their dreams. Some dreamed that they were dragged into a pot of boiling oil by countless hands, fried until their skin was torn open and they were in excruciating pain; some dreamed that they were barefoot and forced to climb a mountain of knives, each step leaving them bleeding and bone fragments exposed; others dreamed that they were carried by two blue-faced demons and thrown into a huge stone mill, where their bodies were crushed to pieces, even their bones were ground into powder.

Inside the room, screams and pleas for mercy rose and fell. Some people even rolled off the bed, convulsing and writhing on the floor in agony, but they just couldn't wake up, as if they were trapped in that endless nightmare of hell by an invisible force.

When the first rays of morning sunlight pierced through the gaps in the curtains and into the room, only eleven people remained alive in the building. But these eleven people had vacant eyes, drool at the corners of their mouths, and had completely gone mad, uttering only incomprehensible hoarse sounds or repeating terrifying murmurs in their sleep.

Their souls had long been shattered and harvested by the lament of the underworld, becoming part of the little banner.

Nagoya·A certain shrine

The target of the eighth koban (banner) was a shrine on the outskirts of Nagoya. This shrine was small and not particularly popular, but what it enshrined was unusual—the so-called "Seven Martyrs." In reality, they were seven Class A war criminals sentenced to death by hanging by the International Military Tribunal for the Far East after the war. This shrine, under some unknown influence, actually enshrined these blood-stained executioners as "heroic spirits," and every year a group of right-wing extremists with questionable judgment would secretly come to worship.

At four in the morning, the Netherworld silently unfolded.

With a gentle sway of the banner, a jet-black chain shot out with a "whoosh," piercing directly into the shrine's ground and probing deep underground. There lay seven stone tablets engraved with the names of war criminals. Each tablet was adorned with a wisp of remnant soul nourished by years of incense offerings and the power of faith. Though faint, it carried an inescapable aura of malevolence.

The dark chains crisscrossed the ground, precisely targeting each stone tablet. Reaching the tablet of Hideki Tojo, though the main soul at Yasukuni Shrine had been taken, this wisp of remnant soul here carried the same sins and possessed the same "value." Without hesitation, the chains coiled around it, pulling the remnant soul out, instantly igniting and purifying it with soul-corroding dark fire. Matsui Iwane, Doihara Kenji, Kimura Heitaro… one after another, the remnant souls of the seven war criminals were all dragged into the banner by the chains and utterly vanished.

The next day, several right-wing members of Iron Pole came to pay their respects again, only to find to their horror that the names on the stone tablets, which had been clearly visible, had become blurred and indistinct, as if they had been sanded down. Some, unwilling to accept this, went home to fetch red paint, intending to repaint them, but found that the paint, once applied, seemed to be absorbed by something, leaving no trace. It was as if an invisible force was resisting, preventing these names from ever appearing in the world again. They did not know that these were the eternal marks left after their souls had been completely harvested.

Hiroshima - A group of atomic bomb survivors

The ninth flag's target was somewhat unusual. Instead of flying towards those obviously repulsive right-wing strongholds, it landed in Hiroshima City, above the headquarters of a group called the "Atomic Bomb Victims Association".

This group, ostensibly advocating for the rights of survivors of the atomic bombings, sounds quite righteous. However, in reality, it has long received covert funding from certain right-wing forces, engaging in the distorted history of historical fact. They constantly proclaim that "Japan was a victim of war," portraying themselves as innocent victims, while remaining completely silent about the immense suffering inflicted on Asian peoples by Japan's war of aggression. They even secretly cooperate with right-wing forces, issuing numerous misleading statements to exonerate their war crimes. The group's leader is a complete and utter die-hard, repeatedly denying the existence of the Nanjing Massacre in public, calling it a "lie fabricated by China."

At 4:30 a.m., the Netherworld Ghost Realm quietly unfolded.

This time, Obata didn't directly harvest their souls, but instead did something even more "interesting"—

It vibrated slightly, releasing dozens of relatively weaker phantom images of evil spirits. These evil spirits did not bite or tear, but instead silently burrowed into the bodies of the core members of the group and attached themselves to them.

Starting tomorrow, these previously unyielding right-wing extremists will suddenly appear as if they've become completely different people. They will publicly and tearfully confess to Japan's past aggression, passionately condemn the lies of right-wing forces, and proactively demand that the government apologize and provide compensation to China and other victimized countries. They themselves won't know why they've suddenly "had a change of heart," only that a voice in their heads is constantly telling them the truth, making them "suddenly understand."

The chairman who vehemently denied the Nanjing Massacre would be completely controlled by the evil spirit possessing him during an important live television interview. In front of a national audience, he would clearly and logically recount the truth of the Nanjing Massacre, admitting his past lies. Then, under the watchful eyes of the nation, he would suddenly clutch his chest, his face contorted in extreme pain, before collapsing onto the live broadcast stage with a thud, suffering a heart attack and dying instantly.

His soul will be completely devoured by that evil spirit the moment he breathes his last, and dragged into the tatami.

Villa on Victoria Peak

In Hong Kong, on Victoria Peak, in that luxurious villa overlooking the entire Victoria Harbour.

He Damin sat cross-legged on the carpet in the study, his eyes slightly closed, his breathing long and steady.

His consciousness, like an invisible net, spanned thousands of miles, clearly perceiving that the nine Kobatas in Japan were methodically carrying out silent hunts within their respective target areas.

Each time the chains were extended, each time a soul was devoured and purified, a faint but pure soul force flowed into his body like a trickle, nourishing his primordial spirit, following the mysterious connection.

The soul power was very weak; a single wisp or two was almost negligible. But its sheer quantity made it all worthwhile; little by little, it accumulated, like grains of sand forming a tower.

In just one night, more than 300 souls were harvested. Among them, more than 100 were core members of gangs with blood on their hands, more than 50 were stubborn right-wing politicians and senior officers of the Self-Defense Forces, and more than 100 were ordinary right-wingers and remnants of militarism who spread hatred and glorified aggression.

They committed numerous evils and stirred up trouble in their lives, but after death, their souls became nourishment for He Damin's cultivation path. It can be said that they died a worthy death and made the most of their abilities.

He Damin slowly opened his eyes, and a flash of starlight seemed to pass through the depths of his dark pupils. He gently exhaled a breath of stale air, and the corners of his mouth involuntarily turned up slightly, carrying a cold smile.

"More than three hundred..." he muttered to himself, a hint of satisfaction in his voice, "More than the last time in Hong Kong."

He stood up, walked to the huge floor-to-ceiling window, and opened it.

Outside the window, the night was still deep, and the lights of Hong Kong below Victoria Peak were dazzling, like a sea of ​​light.

Meanwhile, in the far east, on the Japanese archipelago, the hunting of nine small banners is probably still ongoing.

This night was just the beginning.

Every night thereafter, whenever he wished, they would, like the most loyal hunters, continue their harvesting spree known as the "Nine Nether Night Hunt" on that land.

Three hundred a day, that's nine thousand a month, and a hundred thousand a year...

One hundred thousand right-wing extremists, gang leaders, and the remnants of militarism...

He Damin closed his eyes, as if he could already feel the massive torrent of soul power washing over his primordial spirit, making it stronger and more solid.

By then, how powerful will his primordial spirit be?

He looked eastward again; the sky was beginning to lighten, and a new day was about to begin.

He Damin's smile deepened, carrying an indescribable mix of expectation and coldness.

"You little devils..." he said softly, his voice low yet carrying an undeniable power, as if piercing through space and reaching the land that was experiencing the "Night Hunt," "Enjoy it... This is just the beginning."