Courtyard House: Time Traveler Not Yet a Ghost

At two in the morning, in a dilapidated courtyard house near Zhengyangmen, He Damin—or rather, Ling Yun, inhabiting He Damin's body—slowly opened his eyes. The first thing he felt was an excruciating hunger. It felt like a ferocious beast tearing at his stomach, draining all the strength from his limbs. He instinctively raised his hand to press against his stomach, but his fingers touched only jagged ribs. In the dim moonlight, he looked down at his newly acquired body: beneath his tattered cotton-padded coat, his arms were as thin as hemp stalks, his skin clinging tightly to his bones, the outline of his joints almost visible.

"Is this... what it feels like to starve to death?" Ling Yun murmured, his voice hoarse like a broken bellows.

He struggled to sit up, only to find his body utterly weak. The mere act of getting up sent his vision blurring, cold sweat instantly soaking his tattered undershirt. Memories flooded back—the original owner of this body, the boy named He Damin, hadn't eaten a proper meal in three whole days. He'd survived on half a frozen cornbread he'd found by the roadside and the dirty snowmelt that had accumulated in the yard.

"My father was a cook, yet he gave all the lunchboxes to Widow Cai's family..." Ling Yun sorted through his memories, a cold smile curving his lips. "He Xi, you really are a good father."

Ironically, it was the coldest time of year in Beiping. Fine snow was falling outside the window, and the cold wind seeped in through the cracks in the broken doors and windows, cutting like knives against his face. Ling Yun looked down at the cotton-padded coat he was wearing—it was tattered beyond recognition, the cotton inside clumped together, offering no protection against the cold at all.

If he hadn't merged with this body in time, it probably wouldn't have been until dawn; the body would have frozen solid in the cold night, becoming just another nameless corpse on the streets of this chaotic world. And in the stories of those courtyard houses from his previous life, the name "He Damin" was never mentioned—it seems that this poor child died quietly in this winter.

"But now, you're alive," Ling Yun said softly. "No, we're alive."

He closed his eyes, his consciousness sinking into the depths of his soul. After merging with his physical body, he was pleasantly surprised to find that he could still freely control his spirit body as before. With a slight thought, a pale golden phantom slowly floated out from the Baihui acupoint on the top of his head—that was his soul body, which, after being tempered by the Soul Refining Banner and nourished by the Taiji Space, had now solidified like a real person, radiating a soft, faint golden light.

Meanwhile, the consciousness of the physical body quickly subsides as the soul leaves the body, entering a state of deep sleep.

The soul hovered in mid-air, looking down at the emaciated body below. Dressed only in thin, tattered clothes, it lay on the cold ground; it certainly wouldn't survive the night like this.

"I need to put my body away first." Ling Yun controlled his soul form and reached out to touch He Damin's physical body. The moment his fingertips touched, he had a thought—whoosh! The physical body disappeared into thin air and appeared on the yang side of the Taiji space the next moment.

The place remained warm as springtime, with a constant temperature of around 26 degrees Celsius. Hundreds of acres of black soil stretched out quietly, with three thatched huts standing in the center. Ling Yun carefully placed He Damin's body on the earthen kang (heated brick bed) in the bedroom.

After doing all this, he finally breathed a long sigh of relief. At least, his fragile body was safe for the time being.

But the problem of hunger still urgently needs to be solved. Even though the hunger that penetrated to the bone marrow was somewhat relieved after the soul left the body, as a consciousness closely connected to the physical body, Ling Yun could still clearly feel that thirst originating from the instinct for life.

"We must find food as soon as possible." His soul floated out of the Taiji space and reappeared in the dilapidated courtyard. Freed from the constraints of his physical body, he regained his freedom, able to pass through walls and fly at will. But this time, he had a clearer goal.

His soul ascended into the air, looking down upon the slumbering city of Beiping. The city was silent in the cold night, with only a few scattered lights. But Lingyun's gaze was directed towards a more distant place.

South of the city, at Yongdingmen Railway Station. It was the Japanese army's supply distribution center, stockpiling grain, cloth, medicine, weapons, and ammunition plundered from all over North China. A few days ago, when his soul left his body to investigate, he had "seen" that sprawling warehouse district and the tight security surrounding it. At the time, due to limited space and the lack of a physical body to sustain him, he hadn't considered taking it.

But things are different now. "A sensing range of 15220 meters... is enough."

The soul transformed into a pale golden streak, shooting rapidly towards the south of the city. The night wind whistled past its ears, and the streets, houses, and city walls below rushed past. Just a few minutes later, the brightly lit warehouse district came into view.

On the west side of Yongdingmen Railway Station, six large warehouses stood in a row. Each warehouse was about the size of a basketball court, with a brick and stone structure and heavy brass locks on its iron gates. Around the warehouses, beams of searchlight swept back and forth, and outside the barbed wire fence, there was a sentry every twenty meters, with sentries wrapped in yellow woolen overcoats pacing back and forth with Type 38 rifles at their feet.

Further away, there were two three-story watchtowers, each topped with machine guns. The defenses were tight.

But all of this was meaningless to Ling Yun in his soul form. He silently floated above Warehouse No. 1, his soul penetrating the thick brick walls and entering. The scene before him made him gasp for breath. The warehouse was piled high with sacks, stretching from the floor to the ceiling. Some sacks were torn, and golden corn kernels flowed out, glistening enticingly in the dim light. On the other side were mountains of sacks of white flour, printed with the words "North China Joint Strategic Reserve Flour." There were also bundles of cotton cloth, boxes of canned goods, barrels of soybean oil…

The supplies in just this one warehouse are enough to feed thousands of people for a whole month!

"Those little devils... they really do a thorough search." Ling Yun sneered, his soul floating to a pile of sacks.

He tentatively reached out—the moment his pale golden soul fingers touched the sacks, a slight thought flickered. Whoosh! The entire pile of sacks vanished into thin air, reappearing a moment later on the black earth of the Yang polarity side of the Taiji space.

It worked! A hint of excitement flashed in Ling Yun's eyes. He continued trying and found that with his current soul strength, he could collect up to about ten cubic meters of supplies at a time. Although it couldn't compare to the exaggerated ability in some novels to empty an entire warehouse with a wave of his hand, the efficiency was already quite considerable. More importantly, the whole process was silent, and even the Japanese soldiers guarding the warehouse were completely unaware—they might be able to see the supplies in the warehouse gradually "decreasing," but they couldn't see the pale golden soul entity frantically moving things around.

"Let's start with the grains." Ling Yun began his hauling work. Piles of corn, sorghum, and millet were stored into the Taiji Space. Stacks of flour sacks disappeared one by one. Bundles of cotton cloth, rolls of wool, and even several boxes of silk were all taken.

Next came the food section: boxes of canned beef, canned fish, and canned fruit; barrels of salt, sugar, and soy sauce; and dozens of boxes of compressed biscuits—clearly military supplies. "This should last a long time," Ling Yun thought as he collected the supplies, "but it's still not enough."

He floated to a corner of the warehouse, where several wooden crates were piled up. He pried open one (using his spirit form to penetrate and inspect it), and inside were neatly stacked gleaming yellow bullets—at least five thousand rounds of 6.5mm Arisaka rifle ammunition. Another crate contained ten brand-new Type 38 rifles, the smell of gun oil wafting out. There were also grenades, explosives, detonators…

"Take the weapons too." Ling Yun took all the weapons without any hesitation. Although he now had a physical body and couldn't kill indiscriminately like before, it was always good to be prepared.

His eyes lit up when he spotted several boxes of Nambu Type 14 pistols and their ammunition—these guns, though not particularly powerful, were small and easy to conceal, exactly what he needed. In less than half an hour, one-third of Warehouse No. 1 had been emptied.

Ling Yun stopped and sensed his soul consumption—continuously collecting resources was indeed putting a considerable burden on his soul power. Although his soul core was already formed, and it continuously provided a steady stream of pure soul power, the consumption was still too great.

"Next." The soul passed through the wall and entered Warehouse Number Two. The supplies here were even more abundant. In addition to food and cloth, there were large quantities of medicines: sulfa powder, aspirin, alcohol, bandages, and even several boxes of precious penicillin—in this era, this stuff was more valuable than gold.

"Xiao Yuzhu will have a younger sister in the future... These medicines might come in handy." Ling Yun recalled a plot he had read in his previous life: He Yushui's mother, Lü Bingxin, would die from postpartum hemorrhage. If they had these modern medicines, perhaps they could change that tragedy.

Without hesitation, he swept all the medicines away. Warehouse No. 3 was an armory. It was piled high with even more weapons and ammunition: light and heavy machine guns, grenade launchers, mortars, and even twelve Type 92 infantry guns and hundreds of shells. In a corner, there were also dozens of boxes of Japanese military uniforms, helmets, boots, and other equipment.

"Although we don't need these right now, we can keep them for later." Ling Yun took them all.

Warehouse No. 4 surprised Ling Yun. It was filled with a large number of antique paintings, calligraphy, porcelain, jade, and rare books. Many of the boxes still had seals on them, with the words "Palace Museum of Beiping" and "National Beiping Library" written on them.

"These bandits..." Ling Yun's eyes flashed with cold light. These were all treasures of Chinese civilization, yet they had been looted by the Japanese devils and were intended to be transported back to Japan.

He carefully stored all these artifacts in the Taiji Space—not on the black soil of the anode side, but in a specially cleared area on the cathode side. The constant temperature and dryness there made it more suitable for preserving these fragile historical witnesses.

Warehouse No. 5 was an oil depot. Barrels of gasoline, diesel, and kerosene were piled up like mountains. Ling Yun took them all without hesitation—these fuels might be useful in the future.

Warehouse No. 6, the last one. When Ling Yun passed through the wall and entered, he was stunned by the sight before him. It was piled high with gold and silver treasures! Boxes of silver dollars, gold bars, and jewelry gleamed under the lights. Some boxes were already open, revealing various kinds of jade, agate, and pearls—clearly priceless treasures. On the other side, dozens of large wooden crates were stacked; prying them open revealed ancient coins, gold and silver utensils, and even several bronze tripods.

"How many families must have been robbed..." Ling Yun's face darkened. He ruthlessly swept all the treasures away. These things originally belonged to the Chinese, and now they were being returned to their rightful owner—although that "rightful owner" was temporarily him.

Ling Yun stopped and sensed the gains within the Taiji Space. The black soil on the Yang side was now piled high with supplies: enough grain to feed several hundred people for a year, enough cloth to open a silk shop, enough medicine to equip a small hospital, and enough weapons and ammunition to arm a reinforced regiment. The Yin side, on the other hand, preserved a vast amount of cultural relics and treasures, their value immeasurable.

"Time to go." The soul floated out of the warehouse and rose into the air. Below, the train station was gradually waking up, with the early shift workers starting their work at three in the morning, and the sound of train whistles drifting in from afar.

He took one last look at the warehouse area—although all the supplies had been moved, from the outside, the six warehouses remained tightly shut, showing no signs of anything amiss. The Japanese soldiers were still patrolling methodically, completely unaware that the warehouses were now empty.

"When they find out..." Ling Yun's lips curled into a cold smile, "that scene will definitely be quite interesting."

A pale golden streak of light pierced through the black mist, shooting towards the dilapidated courtyard of Zhengyang Gate. Ten minutes later, the soul returned to the Taiji Space. In the kitchen on the Yang side, Ling Yun retrieved some supplies from the storage area: a five-pound bag of flour, a piece of salted meat weighing about one pound, several potatoes, a small packet of salt, an iron pot, a kettle, and several sets of bowls and chopsticks—all taken from the warehouse.

Although the kitchen was simple, it was fully equipped with a stove, water tank, and cooking utensils. Most remarkably, there was a continuous supply of clean water—the Tai Chi Space seemed to automatically generate its own drinking water.

Ling Yun (now known as He Damin) returned to his body. "Hmm..." He Damin slowly opened his eyes. Hunger surged back like a tide, but this time, he felt confident.

He struggled to his feet and began preparing his first meal in the Tai Chi space. He washed the iron pot clean with water, cut off a small piece of salted meat, and rendered the fat in it. As the aroma of melting fat filled the air, He Damin couldn't help but swallow. He peeled and chopped potatoes into chunks and stir-fried them until they turned slightly yellow. Then he added water, grabbed a handful of flour, kneaded it into dough balls, and slowly dropped them into the pot. Soon, a pot of thick noodle soup was ready.

As the aroma of food filled the kitchen, He Damin's hands trembled slightly as he held the bowl. He scooped up a spoonful, blew on it to cool it, and put it in his mouth. The savory meat, the soft potatoes, the chewy noodles... the simplest of foods seemed like the most delicious delicacies in the world at that moment.

A warm feeling spread from his stomach throughout his body. In this space with a constant temperature of 26 degrees Celsius, he didn't feel cold even wearing thin clothes. He Damin leaned against the earthen wall of the kitchen, eating bite by bite, feeling the energy from the food flowing through his body.

He ate three large bowls in one go, only putting them down reluctantly when he felt full. Leaning against the wall, He Damin slowly exhaled. "I'm alive again."

After eating and drinking his fill and taking a bath in the spatial pool, he didn't rush to leave the Tai Chi space. Instead, he carefully planned his next steps. First, he needed to restore this body to health. Long-term malnutrition required slow and gradual recuperation, but fortunately, he now had ample food.

Secondly, we need to find out the situation of this courtyard house. This dilapidated courtyard house, located near Zhengyangmen, seems to have been abandoned for a long time, but it is still relatively safe as a temporary place to stay.

Over the next few days, He Damin quietly focused on recovering his health. During the day, he spent most of his time in the Tai Chi Space, training his body and familiarizing himself with the language and traditional Chinese characters of this era—fortunately, he had some basic knowledge from the original owner's memories, so learning wasn't too difficult.