Courtyard House: Time Traveler Not Yet a Ghost

"Impossible!" He was horrified. His assassination skills, which he was so proud of, had been so easily neutralized by the other party!

He wanted to change tactics, sheath his short blade, and unleash a more unpredictable ninjutsu. But He Damin's leg techniques were like maggots clinging to his bones, wrapping around his arm.

"Snap!"

A crisp cracking sound rang out. The ninja master felt a numbness in his right arm, followed by an immense force that twisted his arm at an unnatural angle. The excruciating pain made his vision blur, and before he could even scream, He Damin's spinning body had stopped, his right foot retracting like a steel whip, and with a swift flick!

"puff!"

The toe struck his throat with pinpoint accuracy. The sound of his throat bones shattering was clearly audible. The ninja master's eyes widened in shock, filled with resentment and fear. His body went limp and collapsed, twitching a few times before coming to a stop.

Two moves, and he's killed another ninja master!

All of this happened in the blink of an eye, so fast that no one could react. The others in the secret chamber had just finished the initial incantation of their spells when they witnessed the two top guards being instantly killed like paper, and their faces turned deathly pale.

The air in the sealed room seemed to freeze, every inch of space filled with the stench of blood, gunpowder smoke, and a kind of indescribable, nauseatingly sweet smell—the smell of filthy blood splattered from the shattered internal organs of the master of external martial arts mixed with broken bones, the smell of charred flesh from a ninja burned by high temperatures, and the stench of rotting flesh and rust emanating from the blood of the puppeteers of the Southern Seas sorcerers who soaked their dolls.

The ground was sticky and slippery, making a dull "plop" sound when stepped on. Black bloodstains, like eerie flowers, spread across the expensive carpet, gradually drying and turning black. The air was filled with a strong, almost solidified, pungent smell of blood, making one's nose itch and causing a metallic, sweet taste to rise in one's throat.

All of this happened in the blink of an eye. Only then did the two Yin-Yang Masters and the Southeast Asian sorcerer finish preparing their spells, and the lingering magical fluctuations in the air made the already cold and secluded room even more eerie and chilling.

"Summon the Shikigami, Aoandon!" The young Onmyoji's face flushed red with tension. He bit his right index finger hard, the sharp pain causing his body to tremble slightly. He then rapidly drew talismans in the air with his blood-soaked fingertip. The blood-red runes flashed through the air, emitting a low "hum."

A gigantic ghostly figure with a blue face and fangs, wielding a tin staff, appeared out of thin air. It emanated a chilling aura and, upon appearing, let out a deafening roar, accompanied by a piercing shriek that tore through the air, viciously lunging towards He Damin. The ghostly figure's eyes were two empty black holes, flashing with a bloodthirsty red light. Several tattered strips of cloth hung from its tin staff, fluttering in the air with its movements.

Almost simultaneously, "Curse of Vengeance - Blood Curse!" The withered fingers of the Nanyang sorcerer trembled as he pulled a small box, about the size of a palm, wrapped in an unknown animal hide, from his robes. He lifted the lid, revealing a small doll soaking in dark red blood. The doll's eyes and brows were twisted, and its features, stitched with black thread, exuded an indescribable eeriness.

The sorcerer chanted obscure and incomprehensible incantations, his voice sharp and hoarse, like fingernails scraping glass, sending chills down one's spine. With the incantation, the puppet in the blood suddenly opened its eyes—two pupils made of cinnabar, gleaming with an eerie red light. A sinister, indistinct yet clearly perceptible power of curse, like a maggot clinging to bone, silently coiled around He Damin, attempting to burrow into his seven orifices and erode his soul.

"Five Ghosts Moving - Binding!" The elderly Onmyoji appeared much calmer. His eyes were solemn, and with a flick of his wrist, five copper coins, their edges worn but engraved with golden runes, flew out of his hand. The coins spun in the air, instantly forming a miniature array. Five blurry ghostly figures could be seen weaving through the array, emanating heavy pressure, attempting to seal off the space around He Damin and restrict his movements. The coins collided, producing a crisp "clink," yet carrying a sense of confinement.

In the corner, the two Chinese sorcerers who had remained silent finally moved. Their faces were pale, their knuckles white from gripping the peach wood swords, and they chanted incantations in a low, rapid voice, tinged with fear. With their incantations, several yellow talismans spontaneously combusted, producing faint, will-o'-the-wisps of pale flame that flickered and drifted towards He Damin, the flames seemingly accompanied by whimpering sounds.

Faced with this overwhelming barrage of spells from different schools of thought, He Damin's pupils contracted slightly, but his face remained expressionless.

He knew these people were at their last gasp, but even a weakened camel is bigger than a horse; the combined power of these spells was not to be underestimated. He finally held back, and with a thought, a deep hum, seemingly emanating from the deepest hell, resounded. Behind He Damin, a massive, blood-red banner slowly unfurled.

The banner, made of some unknown material, was blood-red, as if soaked in the wails of countless living beings. It was decorated with intricate and eerie black patterns that vaguely formed grotesque faces of people struggling in agony.

A surge of crimson light erupted, instantly filling the entire secret chamber and transforming the already dim space into a scene of carnage. The intense stench of blood and resentment almost materialized, causing the already agitated spellcasters to catch their breath, and involuntarily diminishing the power of their spells.

"Roar—!" A roar that seemed to gather from thousands of evil spirits erupted from the phantom of the Soul Refining Banner, causing the walls of the secret chamber to tremble slightly. [Night Parade of a Hundred Demons] activated! More than thirty solid, lifelike phantoms of evil spirits, exuding extreme ferocity, rushed out of the banner with sharp cries.

These evil spirits came in various forms; some were headless and limbless, some had ruptured bellies and spilling intestines, and some had rotting faces, emitting a nauseating stench of decay. Each of them possessed power no less than that of an ordinary spirit. Now, driven by the Soul Refining Banner, they surged towards the Qingfangzhu shikigami and the pale will-o'-the-wisps like a burst dam! More importantly, these illusory evil spirits were surrounded by a faint layer of black flames that flickered like will-o'-the-wisps—[Soul-Eating Yin Flame]! This flame had an absolute restraining effect on spiritual beings!

"Sizzle! Sizzle! Sizzle!" A chilling sound instantly filled the secret chamber. The Aobozu shikigami had only pounced halfway when it was entangled by three of the most ferocious phantom demons. The Soul-Eating Yin Fire, like maggots clinging to bones, burned wildly the moment it touched the Aobozu's ghostly body.

The sizzling sound of burning was incessant. The Blue Monk let out a miserable howl that was so shrill it was inhuman. His originally solid form faded and became transparent at a visible speed under the burning of the Yin Fire, and the strips of cloth on the staff turned to ashes in an instant.

The pale ghost fire summoned by the Chinese sorcerers was utterly vulnerable, easily scattered by the phantom of the evil spirits like leaves swept away by a whirlwind, disappearing into the yin energy without even causing a ripple.

"Break!" He Damin uttered a cold "Break," his voice not loud, but carrying an overwhelming and unstoppable power. An extremely pure Foundation Establishment stage Daoist true essence erupted from his body, like the blazing sun in the sky, instantly melting the ice and snow. The evil curse power that had been binding him was like ice and snow meeting the scorching sun before this supremely yang and powerful true essence, instantly dispersed, purified, and vanished without a trace.

As for the "Five Ghosts Transporting Array," under the powerful suppression of the Soul Banner's [Soul Banner Domain], it fluctuated violently as soon as it took shape. The five copper coins emitted a mournful "buzzing" sound, and the light of the runes on them quickly dimmed. Then, with a crisp "crack," the array shattered like glass, and the copper coins fell limply to the ground, rolled a few times, and then remained still.

"How is this possible?!" The old Onmyoji's pupils shrank as he witnessed this scene, and he exclaimed in disbelief and fear. "He is not only a martial arts master, but also a cultivator?! This kind of soul banner... is a supreme treasure of the demonic path!" His face was drained of color, and his lips trembled. He was clearly terrified by the strength that He Damin had displayed.

The Nanyang sorcerer was also ashen-faced; the box in his hand fell to the ground with a clatter, the puppet rolling out, its cinnabar eyes losing their luster. He Damin gave his opponent no chance to breathe. The instant he shattered all the spells, his figure blurred, leaving a faint afterimage, and he pounced like a ghost through the chaotic aftershocks of the spells, heading straight for Kawashima Yoshiko, who stood at the back, her face equally pale! His target, from beginning to end, was only one!

"Stop him!" Kawashima Yoshiko's expression finally changed, a hint of panic flashing in her eyes. She shouted sharply, her voice shrill and piercing, having lost her previous composure. The two Chinese sorcerers exchanged a glance, both seeing despair in each other's eyes, but they gritted their teeth and steeled themselves, brandishing their peach wood swords and standing in front of Kawashima Yoshiko without regard for anything else.

They poured all their remaining magical power into the peach wood sword and the talisman. The peach wood sword emitted a faint light, while the talisman burst into flames, attempting a final struggle. But their cultivation was pitifully insignificant compared to He Damin, a Foundation Establishment cultivator and martial arts master, like fireflies vying for the moon's brilliance.

He Damin's eyes were icy cold. His hands moved with lightning speed, like butterflies flitting among flowers, leaving afterimages in his wake. Before the peach wood sword and talisman could even reach their bodies, his fingers, like iron clamps, easily gripped their wrists. The two men felt a sudden tightening of their wrists, followed by an immense force and excruciating pain that seemed to penetrate to the bone.

He Damin flicked his wrist slightly, releasing a burst of internal force. "Crack! Crack!" Two crystal-clear sounds of bones breaking rang out, like tree branches snapping in winter.

The two men's wrists shattered instantly, the excruciating pain causing their vision to blur. They could no longer hold onto their peach wood swords and talismans, which fell to the ground with a clatter and a thud. He Damin, who had been holding their wrists, pulled and shoved them, causing them to crash into each other like kites with broken strings.

"Thump!" A dull thud echoed as the two men collided violently, like broken sacks. The sounds of bones cracking filled the air again, accompanied by suppressed groans of pain. They collapsed limply to the ground, blood gushing from their mouths; it was clear they were beyond saving.