Courtyard House: Time Traveler Not Yet a Ghost

Deep within the Yanshan Mountains, the newly formed golden core floated silently in the center of He Damin's dantian, slowly rotating. Each rotation inhaled and exhaled pure spiritual energy of heaven and earth, along with a faint yet profound power of reincarnation, nourishing He Damin's transformed body and soul. The joy and enlightenment of the initial formation of the golden core gradually subsided, transforming into an even deeper and more tranquil lake. Beneath the surface of the lake, however, a cold, lingering killing intent, like a venomous dragon lurking in the water, slowly raised its head.

The Jia family.

In the front courtyard of No. 95 Nanluoguxiang, there was the east wing with its low-ceilinged doorway, always reeking of a mixture of cheap cosmetics and cooking fumes. There lived Jia Youcai and Zhang Cuihua. And there was Jia Gui, who had been hiding behind the scenes, handing over the knife, now a lonely ghost in the Western Hills.

"It's time."

He Damin, sitting cross-legged in the newly built treehouse, slowly opened his eyes. A fleeting glimpse of Tai Chi flashed in his eyes, leaving only a chill deeper than the night sky over Yanshan. Three months of secluded training in the deep mountains had allowed him to avoid the initial chaos and investigation that might have arisen from Jia Gui's death. Now, the storm had likely subsided, and the mysterious disappearance of Jia Gui and his teammate had probably been classified as an unsolved case of "absconding with funds," "encountering bandits," or "being dragged away by mountain spirits." As for his elder brother, He Daqing, since he had sent him back that night, he should have followed his instructions, closing himself off from visitors, diligently practicing Xingyi Quan, and living a low-key life, completely extricating himself from that incident.

The time is ripe. Whether an accident or tomorrow comes first is now up to He Damin.

Tonight, this sordid karmic entanglement that began at the foot of the courtyard wall will finally come to an end. Fragments of memories from my past life flashed through my mind—Jia Youcai seemed to have died in the steel mill, and he left behind a sum of money to support Jia Zhangshi (Zhang Cuihua) and his son Jia Dongxu, which became one of the reasons she dared to act recklessly and exploit the family in the courtyard.

"Compensation?" He Damin's lips curled into a cold smile. "This time, don't even think about it."

He wasn't a bloodthirsty man, but he was clear about his grudges and debts. The Jia family, for their own selfish gain, didn't hesitate to frame their neighbor, attempting to kill He Daqing. If he hadn't arrived in time, his elder brother would already be a withered skeleton in the Western Hills, and his sister-in-law and nephew would have suffered terribly. Such actions were no different from outright murder. Since they sowed the seeds of evil, they must bear the consequences. As for the potential compensation… it should be left to those who need it more, or perhaps it should simply disappear completely along with its owner.

As night deepened, all was quiet in the desolate valley except for the gurgling of the hot springs and the occasional cry of night birds. He Damin closed his eyes again, his mind calm.

At the Baihui acupoint, a faint light flashed, and a condensed, almost tangible soul, its entire body radiating a pale golden light, floated out—it was He Damin's main soul. The soul of a Golden Core cultivator is far stronger and more solid than that of a Foundation Establishment cultivator. After leaving the body, its senses are sharper, its movements more swift, and its connection to heaven and earth seems to have become slightly stronger. He could even vaguely sense some ancient and faint natural forces deep within the Yanshan Mountains.

The main soul hovered inside the treehouse, glancing at the physical body below, which sat motionless, its breath long and deep like a tortoise's. Then, a thought stirred within it.

"Whoosh—"

The soul transformed into a faint golden streak, barely perceptible to the naked eye, piercing through the treetops and rising into the sky above the desolate land. After briefly determining its direction, it shot off towards the southeast—the direction of Beiping City! Its speed far exceeded that of its physical body. The night wind parted on both sides of the soul, and the mountains, forests, and rivers below appeared as blurry, receding light and shadow.

At the Golden Core stage, it is common for the soul to leave the body and travel hundreds of miles in spirit.

In less than half an hour, the familiar outline of Beiping, sprawling across the North China Plain like a giant chessboard, came into view. The city lights seemed sparser than before, but the main streets and buildings were still discernible. Ignoring the city walls and patrols, the spirit, like a night owl returning to its nest, silently swept over the rooftops of thousands of houses, landing precisely above the courtyard house at No. 95 Nanluoguxiang.

In the stillness of the night, the courtyard house was enveloped in slumbering darkness. Only a faint light shone from the window of Yi Zhonghai's house, perhaps they were preparing for the future of their descendants. The middle and back courtyards were completely dark. In the east wing of the front courtyard, the Jia family's house was also dark, with only the faint sound of snoring coming through the thin paper windows.

He Damin's soul, like a weightless ghost, slowly descended into the courtyard. He first floated to the moon gate of the east courtyard, his spiritual consciousness seeping in gently like mercury spilling onto the ground.

Inside the room, the eldest brother, He Daqing, lay on the kang (a heated brick bed), his breathing steady and powerful. His blood and energy were abundant, and there were faint signs of internal strength flowing through him, clearly indicating that his Xingyi Quan (Form and Intention Boxing) practice had entered the right track, and his internal strength was steadily accumulating. Beside him, his sister-in-law, Lü Bingxin, was sleeping soundly, holding Xiao Yuzhu in her arms. The sorrow between her brows was gone, replaced by a sense of tranquility and peace. The power of Wing Chun within her body was also hidden, showing that she had not slacked off. Xiao Yuzhu's cheeks were rosy, and a little drool was still at the corner of his mouth; he was carefree.

Seeing this peaceful scene, the last ripple in He Damin's heart caused by the impending carnage completely subsided. Protecting this peace and removing the thorns around it was the most important thing he should do at this moment.

He withdrew his spiritual consciousness, turned around, and floated to the east wing of the front courtyard—the Jia family's residence.

The spirit passed directly through the tightly closed wooden door and entered the room. A murky stench, a mixture of sweat, cheap cigarette smoke, leftover food, and cheap cosmetics, hit the body, but it had no effect on the spirit. The room was simply furnished, with a large kang (heated brick bed) taking up most of the space. On the kang, Jia Youcai lay sprawled out, snoring loudly, drool dripping from his mouth. Zhang Cuihua was curled up on the other side, her back to Jia Youcai, also fast asleep, but her brows were furrowed, as if she were plotting something even in her dreams.

He Damin's soul hovered in front of the kang (a heated brick bed), coldly staring at Jia Youcai's face, which appeared even more lewd and greasy in his sleep. The vague memories of this character from his previous life—bullying the weak and fearing the strong, cunning and calculating, ultimately dying in the steel mill—overlapped with the real, breathing man before him, a man who had once harbored murderous intentions towards his own family.

"Let's start with you," He Damin thought to himself.

He didn't intend to get his hands dirty with blood himself. The soul of a Golden Core cultivator controlling an unsuspecting ordinary person was like manipulating a puppet.

With a slight thought, a soul clone, much dimmer than the main soul, only the size of a thumb, yet structurally stable, separated from the main soul. This clone contained a clear command from He Damin, as well as soul power sufficient to temporarily suppress and control Jia Youcai's consciousness.

The clone floated down lightly, like a firefly, disappearing into Jia Youcai's slightly open mouth, flowing down his throat, and reaching the depths of his consciousness.

Jia Youcai, lying on the kang (a heated brick bed), suddenly shuddered, his snoring abruptly ceasing. A flicker of pain and bewilderment crossed his face, his eyeballs darted around a few times before slowly returning to calm. But in that calm, the light of self-awareness had vanished, replaced by emptiness and submissiveness.

He Damin's main soul observed quietly from the side. The instructions he infused were simple: get up and go outside to use the toilet. No other unnecessary actions or emotions were added, ensuring the whole process looked like a normal nighttime urination.

Controlled by the split soul, "Jia Youcai" slowly sat up, his movements slightly stiff, but not noticeable in the dim light. He groped for the worn-out cotton shoes by the bed, put on a greasy old coat, then swayed off the kang (a heated brick bed), opened the door, and went out.

The courtyard was deathly silent, save for the faint sound of a dog barking in the distance. The moonlight was obscured by clouds, and only the faint starlight could barely illuminate the ground. "Jia Youcai" dragged his feet toward the public toilet located in the southwest corner between the front and middle courtyards.

He Damin's main soul followed "Jia Youcai" like an invisible shadow. His spiritual sense had already thoroughly explored the toilet inside and out.

It was a typical old-style public toilet in a hutong (traditional alleyway), a brick and wood structure, low and narrow, with separate stalls for men and women, separated only by a thin wall. The floor was uneven dirt, with piles of lime and brooms in the corners. The latrine pit, several feet deep, was located directly below the squatting stalls and was regularly cleaned by the latrine worker. Now, in early spring, the frozen ground was thawing, and everything was coming back to life. The filth in the latrine pit, after a winter of freezing and thawing, was in a semi-solid, semi-flowing, nauseatingly viscous state, with indescribable filth floating on the surface, emitting a stench even stronger and more pungent than usual.

"If it were the dead of winter, the latrine would be frozen solid, and it wouldn't be easy to 'arrange' him here," He Damin calmly assessed. "Now... it's perfect."

"Jia Youcai" was completely unaware of his surroundings. He simply followed his instincts and that simple instruction, and walked into the men's restroom in a daze. He unbuckled his belt and started to relieve himself in one of the squat toilets.

Just when his body relaxed and his consciousness was at its most hazy!

A fierce glint flashed in He Damin's eyes! The split soul that was controlling Jia Youcai suddenly released its last and strongest burst of soul power. It was not an attack, but rather it completely disrupted Jia Youcai's already weak balance system and forcibly severed the control signal between his brain and his body!

"Well……!"

Jia Youcai let out a short, muffled whimper, and his body suddenly lurched forward! It wasn't a simple slip; his entire upper body seemed to have had its bones removed, and he fell straight into the dark, foul-smelling cesspool in front of him!

"Thump!"

With a muffled thud, thick, sticky excrement splashed up. "Jia Youcai's" head, face, and upper body instantly submerged in the filthy abyss! His last remaining instincts caused his limbs to struggle and flail violently, trying to grab onto something, but the pit walls were slippery, offering no foothold. Excrement filled his mouth and nose; the panic from suffocation and extreme filth overwhelmed his remaining consciousness.

He Damin's main soul hovered indifferently outside the toilet, his spiritual awareness clearly "watching" the futile struggle within the pit. He didn't exert any additional power, merely ensuring that the split soul continued to interfere with his nerves, preventing him from effectively calling for help or saving himself. This process wasn't long. The depth of the latrine, the viscous filth, and the sudden suffocation quickly robbed this already frail and overweight man, whose body had been weakened by years of drinking and womanizing, of his life.

The splashing sounds gradually weakened until they disappeared completely.

Inside the toilet, deathly silence returned, broken only by the occasional bubble rising from the surface of the latrine, making a soft "pop" sound before bursting and releasing an even stronger stench.

He Damin's main soul sensed that Jia Youcai's life force had been completely extinguished. The divided soul that had carried out the mission, having completed its instructions and experienced this filthy end with its host, also became dim and thin, mixing with Jia Youcai's dissipating remnant soul, and began to slowly dissipate into the polluted air and earth.

"This fragment of soul... let it remain here, returning to the world along with this filth." He Damin remained unmoved. It wasn't that he was stingy with his soul power, but rather that he felt it was cleaner to let this fragment of soul, tainted with the aura of command and death, return to nature and completely sever its connection with him. After all, it had been soaked in a latrine.

He scanned the scene one last time with his spiritual sense. From any perspective, Jia Youcai's death seemed like an extremely undignified, yet "reasonable" accident—getting up in the middle of the night, the toilet was dark and the floor slippery (perhaps he was also careless), he slipped and fell into the latrine, suffocating to death. There were no external injuries, no signs of struggle, and no indication of intrusion. Even if some doubted, in these chaotic times when human life was cheap, how much of a commotion could the accidental death of a lowly traitor cause?

As for compensation? He died "accidentally" in the latrine, in such an dishonorable way. It's questionable whether the steel mill (if he really had a shift) and those traitorous agencies would even admit it was "in the line of duty," let alone offer compensation. Zhang Cuihua trying to extort money from this? Probably not so easy.

He Damin's main soul no longer lingered; it transformed into a stream of light, soared into the sky, and rapidly returned towards the direction of the Yanshan Desolate Land.

In the east wing of the front courtyard of the courtyard house, Zhang Cuihua frowned in her sleep, seemingly disturbed by a faint stench. She turned over, mumbled something in her sleep, and then fell into a deep sleep again. She had no idea that just a few dozen steps away in the toilet, her husband, the man she relied on, had ended his despicable life in an extremely vile way.

The night was still long. But Jia Youcai's night had already ended prematurely.