Courtyard House: Time Traveler Not Yet a Ghost

Qinjiashan, late at night.

Hao Pingchuan, along with Zhao Tiezhu and three other of the most capable team members, followed Lao Chen like five nocturnal raccoons, stealthily making their way to the foot of Eagle Cliff. They traveled for two whole nights, hiding in rock crevices or caves during the day, chewing on cold, dry rations, and not even daring to light a campfire.

Old Chen stopped in front of a cliff face covered with moss and vines. He parted a patch of seemingly normal, dense ivy to reveal a narrow crevice behind it, just wide enough for one person to squeeze through sideways. "This is it," he said in a low voice, with an barely suppressed excitement.

Hao Pingchuan squinted, carefully examining the place in the dim moonlight. This place was indeed extremely well hidden. The cliff face itself was recessed inward, forming a natural concealment, and the vines that had grown for many years almost completely covered the entrance. If one did not know in advance, one might not have noticed it even if they were standing right in front of it.

"Tiezhu, be on guard. The rest of you, follow me in." Hao Pingchuan gave a brief order and squeezed into the gap first. Zhao Tiezhu immediately led the two men to disperse, disappearing into the surrounding shadows and rocks, their guns pointed warily in the direction of whoever might be coming.

The gap is not long, about four or five meters, and the view suddenly opens up at the end.

The moment Hao Pingchuan raised the tinderbox in his hand, and the faint light illuminated the scene inside the cave, this man, who had experienced countless life-and-death situations and prided himself on being as hard as iron, suddenly caught his breath, and the hand holding the tinderbox trembled uncontrollably.

Old Chen's description was not exaggerated in the slightest.

Where the firelight reached, supplies were piled up like mountains. Near the entrance were crates of Type 38 rifles, tightly wrapped in waterproof tarpaulins, neatly stacked like soldiers awaiting inspection. A cursory glance revealed a staggering number, far exceeding two or three thousand. Further in, wooden crates stacked taller than a person were painted with tung oil and Japanese markings; through the gaps in the planks, one could see rows of densely packed, gleaming yellow bullets. Deeper still, the barrels of Type 91 light machine guns gleamed coldly in the shadows, while the robust barrels of heavy machine guns crouched like silent behemoths. Beside them were rows of grenade launchers and mortar barrels wrapped in oiled paper.

Turning a natural rocky bend, on the other side were mountains of grain sacks piled up all the way to the cave ceiling. On the innermost side, rows of medicine boxes printed with Red Cross and Japanese characters were neatly arranged like shelves in a pharmacy.

The light from the flintlock flare was limited and couldn't reach the bottom of the cave, but what he could see was already beyond Hao Pingchuan's wildest imagination. He slowly walked to a bundle of rifles, squatted down, and untied the rope binding the oilcloth. Inside were ten brand-new Type 38 rifles, their bodies still coated with a thick layer of anti-rust grease, the blued bolts perfectly intact, reflecting a cold luster in the firelight. He then walked to an ammunition box, pried open a crack with his bayonet, and grabbed a handful of bullets. The copper cartridge cases were cool and smooth, the primers intact—high-quality military ammunition.

"My God..." a young team member who followed in muttered, his eyes wide open, almost popping out of their sockets.

Hao Pingchuan slowly stood up and looked around at the enormous natural warehouse. The interior of the cave was larger than he had imagined, irregularly shaped like a gourd, with what seemed like deeper spaces. There were natural cracks in the ceiling for ventilation, so the air wasn't stuffy. The ground was dry, with only a uniform layer of dust, clearly showing no signs of recent human activity.

A thought flashed into his mind like lightning, instantly becoming incredibly clear and unwavering.

I'm not moving.

At least we won't move everything, and we're not in a rush to move.

Why go through all that trouble and risk to carry these treasures back bit by bit to that drafty, dilapidated wooden hut in Qin Family Mountain? Is it safer there than here? Obviously not. Is it more secluded there than here? Absolutely not.

This place is a divinely ordained arsenal! It's an exceptionally well-hidden stronghold, probably unmatched anywhere else in the entire northern section of the Taihang Mountains!

Old Chen had said this place was extremely remote, rarely visited except by herb gatherers or the occasional hunter. And herb gatherers… Hao Pingchuan glanced at Old Chen beside him, who was rubbing his hands excitedly. Old Chen was reliable; having told the organization about this place, he would never leak it to a second party. So, who hid these supplies? Old Chen relayed Manager Luo's words, saying it was a "comrade who wished to remain anonymous." Hao Pingchuan didn't know who this comrade was, what kind of extraordinary abilities he possessed to acquire such a massive amount of weaponry, or why he chose to hide it here. But he had a hunch—since that comrade had chosen such a secretive method, he would never easily reveal this location. This place was ten times, a hundred times, safer than the Qin Family Mountain base!

"Captain, we...we've struck it rich!" Zhao Tiezhu also sneaked in, his voice trembling as he looked at the scene before him. "So many weapons! Enough to equip an entire division!"

Hao Pingchuan took a deep breath, suppressing the shock and elation in his heart, his eyes regaining their calm and sharpness. He walked to the center of the cave, raising his tinderbox to carefully examine the cave walls and floor. The cave walls were solid rock, posing no risk of collapse. The floor was flat, suitable for storing heavy objects. The cave entrance was concealed, easy to defend and difficult to attack.

"Tiezhu," he said in a deep voice, "take two men and start taking inventory immediately. Rifles, machine guns, bullets, shells, food, medicine—categorize them and give me a rough count. Be careful, but be quick."

"Yes!" Zhao Tiezhu immediately accepted the order and led his men to get to work.

Hao Pingchuan then called Lao Chen to his side: "Brother Lao Chen, this time we owe you a lot. Go back and tell Manager Luo that I saw the goods, and there are more than he said. Also, please thank that 'comrade who wishes to remain anonymous' for me. In addition, be extra careful on your way back, and absolutely do not let anyone know about this place."

Old Chen nodded emphatically: "Captain Hao, don't worry, I, Old Chen, know what's important. I'll keep this to myself."

"Also," Hao Pingchuan pondered for a moment, "please tell Manager Luo that I plan to make use of this place. The brothers from Qinjiashan will take turns guarding it. From now on, this will be our guerrilla team's 'Warehouse No. 1.' If other brother units in the organization urgently need supplies, they can also contact Manager Luo to obtain some from here."

He didn't intend to keep it all for himself. His guerrilla force couldn't possibly use all that supplies. But he had to take on the responsibility of managing and guarding them. Keeping them in these deep mountains and forests was a thousand times better than carrying them out piecemeal and living in constant fear on the road.

Watching Zhao Tiezhu and the others begin their inventory by the dim light, listening to their suppressed whispers of excitement and the soft clanging of metal, Hao Pingchuan walked to the cave entrance and peered through the gaps in the vines at the dark night sky. The waning moon had already set in the west, and the starlight was dim.

With this iron warehouse, the Qin Family Mountain guerrilla force would no longer be a small group of only a hundred or so men, relying on a few old guns and sheer grit and determination. They could expand rapidly, be armed to the teeth, fight major battles they had never dared to fight before, and more effectively protect the people of this mountainous region.

Who was that mysterious donor? Hao Pingchuan had no way of knowing. But facing the darkness, he silently made a vow in his heart: No matter who you are, this kindness, Hao Pingchuan and the brothers of Qinjiashan will remember it. Not a single bullet will be wasted. They will all be used for the righteous cause of killing the Japanese devils and protecting our homeland.

Under the same night sky, dozens of miles away in Beiping (Beijing), all was quiet.

He Damin sat cross-legged on the earthen kang (heated brick bed) in his room in the east courtyard, his eyes slightly closed, his breathing long and deep. But his consciousness had already sunk into the depths of his soul, closely connected with the Soul Refining Banner that floated in the center of his spiritual sea and slowly rotated.

On the banner, crimson patterns flowed like living things, faintly forming a pattern of howling ghosts. The dark red dragon scale patterns on the banner pole gleamed with an eerie light under the infusion of soul power. The crimson chain hanging from the end of the banner was more than twice as thick as before, and in addition to the original scarlet lightning snakes, there was a layer of constantly twisting and changing black mist on the surface of the chain, which was the manifestation of the newly unlocked "Soul Devouring" characteristic.

The changes brought about by the successful second advancement of the Soul Refining Banner gave He Damin a deeper understanding of the potential of this natal soul weapon. The Blood Soul Chains could not only imprison and tear apart spirits, but also devour fragments of the opponent's soul during attacks, replenishing itself and repairing damage to the banner—truly a weapon that grew stronger with each battle. The Soul Banner's domain expanded to thirty zhang (approximately one hundred meters), and the newly added "Soul-Capturing Maze" effect was a divine skill against ordinary soldiers and those with weak wills. As for the [Night Parade of a Hundred Ghosts] ability, although the summoned ghostly phantoms had limited strength and short duration, it was extremely effective for creating chaos, interfering with enemy forces, and creating a terrifying atmosphere in specific situations.

"The next upgrade will require a thousand souls..." He Damin thought to himself as he scanned the vague information transmitted by the Soul Refining Banner with his divine sense.

A thousand is no small number. Even with the previous piecemeal efforts and the major disturbance at the Japanese headquarters, we'd only managed to harvest four or five hundred in total. To gather a thousand, and relatively complete souls of considerable strength (the souls of ordinary civilians are too weak, yielding too little pure soul power), the best targets were naturally those blood-soaked Japanese troops.

Tonight, let's pull off a big one.

With a thought, the drop of condensed golden true essence within his dantian trembled slightly, and his vast soul power was mobilized. At his brow, the pale golden soul core shimmered with light.

"point!"

A silent decree resounded in the spiritual sea.

Swish!Swish!Swish!

Ten pale golden phantoms, like reflections in water, split off from He Damin's main soul and hovered around him. These soul clones were more solid than before, with clear features and complete limbs. Although slightly transparent, they already showed a seven or eight-tenths resemblance to the main body. Each clone carried about fifty percent of the main body's soul power, as well as complete combat awareness and some ability memories.

This is the power of the Soul Clone Technique after reaching the mid-Foundation Establishment stage and being enhanced by the Soul Refining Banner. While splitting into ten clones still places a significant burden on the original body and consumes a large amount of soul power, it is still within a manageable range. Moreover, the clones can be recovered; as long as they are not completely scattered, most of the consumed soul power can be recovered.

The ten clones floated silently, awaiting instructions.

He Damin's physical soul opened its eyes (in spirit form), its cold gaze piercing through the rooftop, looking southwest. That was Fengtai, the garrison of a mixed regiment under the Japanese North China Area Army. This regiment had only recently been transferred from Central China, and it was said to have been stained with blood during the previous sweeps, making it a perfect place for a memorial banner.

"Target: Japanese military barracks in Fengtai. Mission: Create maximum chaos and panic, and harvest souls in coordination with the main body."

The command was instantly transmitted to all clones via the soul link.

Ten pale golden streaks of light silently pierced through the roof, shooting skyward like ten shooting stars streaking across the night sky of Beiping, hurtling towards Fengtai. He Damin's physical soul also left his body, concealing its golden light and transforming into an almost invisible phantom, following closely behind.