Courtyard House: Time Traveler Not Yet a Ghost

Then, they enter Fengdu City and are judged by Yama, the King of Hell, in the majestic Yama Palace. Their sins and punishments are determined based on their deeds in life. Those who have committed heinous crimes are thrown into the eighteen levels of hell, never to be reborn; those who deserve punishment but do not deserve death are thrown into the lesser hells to receive their punishment for a corresponding period; and those who are innocent or whose sins have been absolved enter the Ghost Realm Fortress to await reincarnation.

During the waiting period, the soul can go to the offering pavilion to receive offerings burned by their living relatives to improve their "life"; they can also contact their living relatives through the Dream Interpreter to fulfill their wishes. If they have a connection with Buddhism, they can also ascend the lotus platform to listen to Buddhist teachings and seek salvation.

Ultimately, all souls awaiting reincarnation will cross the Bridge of Helplessness, drink a bowl of Meng Po soup from Meng Po, completely forget all their past lives, and then step into the Valley of Rebirth to be sent to the mortal world to begin a new life.

A complete road to the underworld, a true underworld, was finally completed in his hands.

He Damin slowly stood up. Although his true energy was depleted and his body was somewhat weak, he looked at the magnificent, eerie, yet orderly underworld city before him and felt an indescribable sense of accomplishment and satisfaction. It was as if he had created a world with his own hands.

"Soul Refining Banner," he said softly to the banner beside him, which had become somewhat illusory and dimmed, "You did very well."

The illusory image of the Soul Refining Banner trembled slightly beside him, as if responding happily, before transforming into specks of ghostly light that merged into his body to recuperate. This split had taken a heavy toll, and it needed time to recover.

He Damin turned around and looked deeper into the Yin-Yang Space. There, the enormous projection of the Six Paths of Reincarnation appeared and disappeared. The Heavenly Path, the Human Path, the Asura Path, the Animal Path, the Hungry Ghost Path, and the Hell Path—six enormous light holes rotated slowly like nebulae, emitting different lights and auras.

"Right now, only the three realms of beasts, hungry ghosts, and hell can barely function," he muttered to himself, his eyes deep. "The realms of heaven, humanity, and asuras... are still far from being fully developed."

But he wasn't in a hurry. One must eat one bite at a time, and walk one step at a time.

The underworld has been built, and the foundation for reincarnation has been laid. The next step is to slowly nurture and accumulate the soul, perfect the laws, and wait for the right opportunity.

One day, all six realms of reincarnation will be activated, truly achieving endless cycles and continuous life.

One day, all the souls in this world will pass through his underworld and be judged and reincarnated according to the rules he has set.

On Victoria Peak, at Ho Ta-min's villa.

He Damin's consciousness withdrew from the Yin-Yang space, and he slowly opened his eyes, returning to his study in the real world. Outside the window, the sunlight was perfect, and golden sunlight streamed in through the huge French windows, falling on the rosewood desk and illuminating the open world map in a golden glow, making the areas circled in red particularly eye-catching.

He stood up, walked to the map, and his gaze finally fell on the island nation that he had circled countless times with a red pen, its original outline almost indistinguishable.

Japan.

For the past two years, one of the nine clones he sent out has been lurking there, like a tireless harvester, reaping nearly ten thousand souls. Gangsters, corrupt politicians, fanatical right-wingers, Self-Defense Force officers with blood on their hands… each one a deeply sinful person. After their deaths, without exception, their souls were cast into his eighteen levels of hell, enduring endless punishment day after day, year after year.

But this is not enough.

Far from enough.

What about ordinary Japanese people? What about those ordinary people who, while not directly taking up arms to kill and burn, tacitly approved, condoned, or even supported these atrocities to some extent? What about those ordinary citizens who bowed devoutly before the Yasukuni Shrine, those housewives who cast their votes for right-wing politicians, those office workers who watched on television as the prime minister visited the graves of war criminals without any reaction, or even took it for granted...?

Are they innocent?

He Damin doesn't think so.

They may not have committed direct murder, but they committed the sins of condoning, forgetting, and allowing evil to continue! It is because of their silence and condoning that those evils have fertile ground to grow, that the spirits of those war criminals are worshipped, and that distorted view of history is passed down from generation to generation.

He Damin's finger lightly traced across the map, starting from Tokyo and heading south, passing through Yokohama, Nagoya, Osaka, Kobe, Hiroshima, Fukuoka... finally stopping at the small islands of the Ryukyu Islands.

"It's time to close the net," he said softly, his tone calm but carrying an undeniable determination.

He walked to the window and gazed at the shimmering Victoria Harbour in the distance. On the sea, enormous cargo ships came and went, like giant steel boxes, carrying goods and wealth. Many of these ships had the Japanese flag, which he utterly loathed, flying from their smokestacks. Those ships were laden with Japanese-made cars, electronics, and precision instruments, shipped to all corners of the world, exchanging them for a continuous stream of wealth and resources for that island nation.

"The things you've created are useful, I can use them." He Damin's lips curled into a cold smile. "But your souls must remain."

He turned around, returned to his desk, picked up a black pen, and carefully wrote two characters next to the Japanese archipelago on the map—

"experiment".

He wants to conduct an experiment.

An unprecedented, massive, and chilling experiment.

He wants to turn the entire Japanese archipelago into a massive, living harvesting ground for souls.

From this day forward, every Japanese person who dies on the Japanese archipelago, regardless of age, gender, or social status, will have their soul automatically drawn into the underworld within their negative dimension, as long as their life ends on this land.

Those who are guilty will naturally be thrown directly into the eighteen levels of hell or the lesser hells, where they will suffer corresponding punishments according to their deeds in life, in order to atone for their sins.

Those who are innocent, or whose sins are minor and who have been punished, will follow the normal procedure, walk the road to the underworld, drink the Meng Po soup, and enter the Valley of Rebirth to be reincarnated.

But there's one thing he needs to make a small adjustment—

They will definitely not be reincarnated in Japan.

He would personally adjust the coordinates at the exit of New Life Valley. All souls launched from New Life Valley would be randomly assigned to various parts of the world. Some would go to China, some to the United States, some to Europe, some to Africa, some to South America... Any country or region on Earth was possible, except Japan.

He wanted to see what a country would become when it only sends money out and never receives it, when every dead soul could not be reincarnated in its own land.

One generation later, as the birth rate begins to decline, Japan's demographic structure will start to change. Two generations later, Japan will inevitably become a super-aged nation, experiencing a loss of social vitality and economic decline. Three generations later—

He Damin put down his pen, gently shook his head, and stopped thinking about it.

"It's too far," he said softly. "Let's try it out and see how it goes."

He closed his eyes, and his consciousness once again sank into the Yin-Yang space, arriving at the newly built underworld.

In the underworld, everything was operating smoothly according to the rules he had set. At the Gates of Hell, a new batch of souls had just been sent in by the split entities, lining up, bewildered and preparing to enter. These were the dozen or so right-wing extremists harvested last night by the split entities lurking in Tokyo; they walked in terror along the road to the underworld, feeling the coldness of the stone slabs beneath their feet and the stinging pain from the runes.

He Damin's divine sense bypassed them and went directly to the very end of the underworld—the Valley of New Life.

The golden gate stood silently, radiating a warm and hopeful light. Beyond the gate lay the unknown path of reincarnation.

He Damin reached out and gently moved the "pointer" of the light gate with his divine sense.

The portal trembled slightly, then slowly began to rotate, changing its originally randomly pointing direction.

Previously, it could have pointed to any inhabited place in the world, including Japan.

But from now on, its location is permanently locked.

Anywhere except Japan.

After doing all this, He Damin withdrew his divine sense and opened his eyes.

Outside the window, the sun was still shining brightly, its warmth bathing me.

He picked up the teacup on the table and took a small sip.

The tea had gone completely cold.

But he drank very slowly and carefully, as if he were savoring some exquisite delicacy.

That night, at 3 a.m. Tokyo time.

All was silent; most Japanese people were asleep. Above the Yasukuni Shrine, a faint, almost imperceptible light rose silently—one of the nine fragments. It had been lurking there for two whole years, like a patient hunter, reaping the souls of countless right-wing extremists and descendants of war criminals who came to pay their respects.

But tonight, it received new instructions.

It hovers above the shrine like a ghost, waiting silently.

At 3:15 a.m., the first faint ripple of soul energy emanated from a corner inside the shrine. It belonged to an old man who had just died in his sleep, a key member of a notorious right-wing group who had dedicated his life to promoting militarism. His soul drifted aimlessly in the air, not yet understanding that he was dead, and unsure of where to go.

The split entity moved. An invisible chain, perceptible only to the soul, emerged from it and coiled around the soul with the precision of a venomous snake.

The soul let out a silent scream and struggled violently, only to find itself bound tighter and tighter by the chains, unable to break free from the powerful suction.

The chains snapped shut, and the soul was pulled into the split body as if sucked into a vortex, disappearing instantly.

Almost simultaneously, in another corner of Tokyo, a yakuza boss who had just died in the hospital from organ failure had his soul float out of his body and hadn't even had time to feel the fear of death when he was chained up by another lurking split entity nearby and dragged into the darkness.

In Osaka, a drunk driver crashed into a guardrail at an intersection late at night, killing himself in the wreckage. His soul, reeking of alcohol and filled with the terror of death, had just risen from the twisted wreckage when it was mercilessly taken away by a third, separate entity.

In an ordinary house in Nagoya, an elderly man lay peacefully in bed, his children gathered around him, sobbing softly. His soul gazed blankly at everything, at his own body, at his weeping children. Before he could even grieve, a sudden chain bound him, and he vanished from the room, leaving only a sigh that no one could hear.

This night was destined to be anything but peaceful. Throughout the Japanese archipelago, from Hokkaido to Okinawa, from bustling cities to remote villages, invisible chains danced in the darkness, silently reaping the souls of those who had just departed.

More than three hundred.

That night, the split groups harvested more than three hundred Japanese souls.

Previously, they only harvested those who were deeply sinful and were marked by He Damin as "must be eliminated".

But starting tonight, their mission has changed—to harvest everyone.

Regardless of good or evil, young or old, rich or poor, high or low status.

Every Japanese person who dies on this land, their soul will not escape.

Villa on Victoria Peak.

He Damin stood by the window, watching the eastern sky gradually turn a pale white, a new day about to begin.

His divine sense traversed thousands of mountains and rivers, clearly perceiving those souls from Japan, like trickling streams, collected by the split body, and then continuously transmitted back to the underworld in the Yin-Yang space through some mysterious connection.

In the underworld, a long queue formed for the first time before the Gates of Hell. The newly arrived souls were filled with bewilderment, fear, and confusion. The Road to the Underworld became incredibly crowded for the first time, with countless souls slowly traversing it, feeling the cold and stinging pain. On the Terrace of Longing for Home, each soul gazed at their last reflection in the mirror, filled with regret, sorrow, and reluctance, their wails echoing throughout. On the Ridge of Vicious Dogs, souls who had bullied the weak and committed numerous evil deeds in life were being frantically torn apart by countless vicious dogs, emitting mournful howls. On Golden Rooster Mountain, souls who had been fond of gossip and habitual liars in life were being pecked at by fiery golden roosters, suffering terribly. In the Village of Wild Ghosts, many new "villagers" arrived, wandering aimlessly through the dilapidated village, searching for companions. In the Hall of Bewilderment, souls entered, their eyes gradually becoming empty, forgetting their past lives. Before Fengdu City, the Gates of Hell opened wide, and countless souls poured in, awaiting judgment in the Hall of Yama, the King of Hell. Inside, the blurry phantom of Yama sat atop the Hall, unable to speak, yet an aura of judgment permeated the air, instilling awe and fear in every soul who entered. The guilty were escorted by lesser demons to the Lesser Hells or the Eighteen Levels of Hell; the innocent were guided to the Ghost Realm Fortress to await their fate. Then, they would cross the Bridge of Helplessness, drink the soup of oblivion from Meng Po, and finally step into the Valley of Rebirth—to be reincarnated. They would go to every corner of the world: America, China, France, Brazil, India, South Africa… but never back to Japan.

As He Damin watched all this, the smile on his lips deepened.

"The experiment begins," he said softly, his voice carrying a hint of coldness and a touch of anticipation.

The sunlight outside the window grew brighter and brighter, its golden rays filling the entire room and casting his long, long shadow on the floor.

In the distance, on the surface of Victoria Harbour, a cargo ship flying the Japanese flag slowly entered the port, its massive hull cutting through the water and leaving a long trail of ripples. The ship was laden with brand-new cars and various electronic devices, awaiting unloading and sale to earn foreign exchange for Japan.

He Damin looked at the ship, his smile widening even further.

"Keep building, keep building," he whispered, as if speaking to himself, or perhaps to that distant island nation, "Make more good things and sell them for a good price."

"Anyway... you can't take it with you."

He turned around, walked to his desk, picked up the satellite phone, and dialed a number.

"Hey, Lawrence," he said calmly as the call connected. "Book me a first-class ticket for the next flight to Tokyo."

After hanging up the phone, he walked back to the map, his eyes fixed intently on the island nation circled in red.

It's time to go there myself.

Go and see for yourself how his "experimental field" is growing.