Courtyard House: Time Traveler Not Yet a Ghost

Chapter 70 Night Owl's Covert Maneuver

The tense atmosphere in Zhao Jia Yu and He Damin's inner plans were like two parallel lines that would never intersect, stretching out separately in the winter night of northwestern Shanxi. He Damin was completely unaware of the tense and chaotic preparations made by Li Yunlong's side, or rather, he hadn't even considered it. His mind was filled with the next steps for efficient "execution." In his view, the deal was already agreed upon, and the next step was to prove his "supply capacity" and "sincere willingness to cooperate" through action. As for the other party's possible doubts and wariness? In the straightforward mindset of an assassin, once the goods were received, one should start planning the next transaction, rather than wasting energy on pointless suspicion—although he himself was a very suspicious person, this only applied to enemies, not to "partners with whom he had just established initial trust" (in his opinion).

About twenty miles after the truck left Zhao Jia Yu, He Damin used his divine sense to locate an extremely well-hidden, semi-collapsed abandoned brick kiln. He carefully backed the truck into the depths of the kiln, thoroughly camouflaging it with pre-prepared dry branches, tattered mats, and the kiln's own shadow. The checkpoint operation required light and covert travel; this conspicuous military vehicle was temporarily unusable. Fortunately, he hadn't put the vehicle into his small-world space. Seeing He Damin leave, Wei Dayong sent a soldier to continue tracking him and also arranged for another soldier to check the location where the vehicle had been placed. After checking, they restored it to its original state and left.

Then, like a gray shadow blending into the night, he used his lightness skill to swiftly move towards the target he had already selected during the day using his divine sense and map—a Japanese checkpoint called "Wild Wolf's Pass" near the Zhengtai Railway branch line. This place was about forty miles from Zhao Jiayu, relatively isolated, garrisoned by about a small squad (reinforced detachment), with a sturdy brick and stone bunker and several earthen fortifications, controlling a mule track connecting the mountains and the plains. It was both a blockade node and a stockpile of supplies, making it an ideal target for "operations."

As midnight approached, the Wild Wolf's Pass checkpoint was shrouded in deathly darkness. The searchlight atop the bunker turned listlessly, its beam sweeping across the cold ground, barbed wire, and the dark shadows of the distant mountains. A howling wind drowned out many subtle sounds. Most of the Japanese soldiers were asleep in the barracks on the lower level of the bunker; only two sentries, clutching their rifles, huddled in the guard post beside the bunker entrance, stamping their feet incessantly and muttering complaints in Japanese about the damned weather and their job.

He Damin lay in ambush on the reverse slope of a dirt hill about 300 meters from the checkpoint, his presence almost completely concealed. He slowly closed his eyes, his mind sinking into his spiritual sea.

"point."

With a slight thought, three pale golden soul lights, dimmer than the main soul but with a solid structure, quietly separated from his Baihui acupoint on the top of his head. These were special split souls that had been separated to carry out this precise mission, each carrying clear instructions and the soul power reserves needed to complete the possession and assassination mission. The slight dizziness caused by the split was quickly suppressed.

The three fragments of the soul, like invisible owls, pierced through the cold air and silently drifted towards the checkpoint. They easily avoided the dull beams of the searchlights and slipped inside through the firing ports and ventilation openings of the bunker.

In the bunker's ground floor barracks, more than twenty Japanese soldiers huddled on communal bunks, snoring and grinding their teeth incessantly, the air thick with the stench of sweat, foot odor, and cheap tobacco. The soul's objective was clear: find the three soldiers closest to the door, relatively young (whose souls might be less resistant), and whose comrades were sleeping soundly beside them.

Like the smallest droplets of water, they slowly seeped into the brows of the three target soldiers, barely causing a ripple on their souls. The soldiers, in their sleep, merely furrowed their brows slightly, turned over, and then showed no further abnormalities. The split souls successfully attached themselves to their surface consciousness, establishing a preliminary control connection, but did not immediately take complete control. Instead, like parasites, they lay dormant, awaiting unified action commands.

Inside the guard post, two sentries yawned widely. One of them took out his pocket watch, glanced at it, and muttered that the changing of the guard time was approaching.

At that moment, something unexpected happened inside the bunker!

The three soldiers, possessed by the split souls, opened their eyes almost simultaneously! After a moment of confusion, their gazes were replaced by an empty and resolute coldness. They sat up silently, their movements slightly stiff but exceptionally decisive, each pulling out a sharp bayonet or a short dagger from under their pillow or beside them.

Without the slightest hesitation or communication, the three "soldiers," like pre-programmed killing machines, simultaneously pounced on the nearest sleeping individuals! One hand tightly covered the mouth and nose of the victim, while the other hand precisely and ruthlessly plunged a sharp blade into vital organs such as the heart and throat! The movements were clean and efficient, all techniques used in the military to kill with a single blow.

"Ugh...hah..." A faint, choked groan was almost inaudible amidst the snoring. Warm blood quickly soaked through the filthy bedding. The victim only had time to twitch a few times before losing all life.

The carnage spread like a plague in the darkness. The three controlled "tools" were expressionless, their movements mechanical yet efficient, eliminating their unsuspecting comrades one by one on their bunks. Occasionally, a soldier would sense something amiss in his sleep, groggily opening his eyes, only to find, before he could even see what was happening, a cold blade already slicing across his neck.

Within minutes, apart from the three standing "puppets," there was no one else alive in the barracks. A strong stench of blood began to permeate the enclosed space.

The sentries in the guard post seemed to hear a muffled, unusual sound coming from inside. One of them listened intently, then nudged his companion: "Hey, did you hear that?"

"It's probably a mouse, or someone talking in their sleep..." another person muttered, not paying much attention.

Just then, the bunker door was suddenly pulled open from the inside. A soldier (one of the ones controlled by the split soul) poked his head out, waved towards the guard post, and mumbled in Japanese, "Hey, come help me out, the stove seems to be having some problems, it's smoking."

The two sentries, unsuspecting, walked over, cursing and clutching their guns. Just as they reached the doorway, two hands suddenly emerged from the shadows behind it, swiftly covering their mouths, and sharp daggers plunged diagonally upwards from their ribs! The two sentries' eyes widened abruptly, gurgling sounds escaping their throats, their bodies going limp as they were quickly dragged into the bunker.

By this time, all the Japanese soldiers in the checkpoint had been cleaned up by their own "people" while they were asleep and dazed.

He Damin's main soul had been quietly sensing from behind the earthen mound. When he confirmed that the last resistance had disappeared, he had a thought.

Inside the bunker, the three split souls that had completed their killing mission immediately detached from their hosts. The three "puppet" soldiers, deprived of their soul power, instantly lost their gaze and collapsed to the ground like skinned corpses with their bones removed, already dead—the split souls, in the process of detaching, also destroyed their already fragile core consciousness.

Immediately afterward, the phantom of the Soul Refining Banner silently appeared inside the bunker, its invisible suction enveloping the entire blood-soaked barracks. More than twenty Japanese soldiers' souls, still in a dazed state after leaving their bodies, were like fallen leaves caught in a whirlpool, silently drawn into the banner, awaiting refining. The three fragmented souls that had carried out the mission also transformed into streams of light and returned to He Damin's main body, bringing back all the fragmented memories of the operation.

The entire cleanup process, from the infiltration of the split soul to its complete retrieval, took only about fifteen minutes. It was quiet, efficient, and thorough, without alerting any distant strongholds or leaving any physical traces of the attackers—all the wounds were caused by standard Japanese cold weapons.

He Damin then emerged from his hiding place, drifting like a ghost into the checkpoint. He first went to the top of the bunker and turned off the annoying searchlight. Then, his divine sense, like a sophisticated scanner, quickly covered the entire checkpoint.

First, there was the "money." He quickly found a small tin box under the platoon leader's bed on the second floor of the bunker. Inside were some Japanese yen, silver dollars, a few small yellow croakers, and a decent-quality pocket watch. In the drawer next to it were a few packs of cigarettes and a bottle of sake. He casually put these odds and ends into his Tai Chi space.

Next, the key point: weapons and ammunition. The checkpoint's warehouse was located in a reinforced adobe house next to the bunker. Opening the door, neatly stacked inside were spare rifles, machine gun ammunition, grenades, and some infantry mines and explosives. The quantity wasn't particularly large, but it was reasonable for "replenishment" after an attack. With a wave of his hand, He Damin stored all the ammunition and supplies in his small world, placing them in the corresponding reserve area.

Finally, he arrived at the corpses. The Soul Refining Banner trembled slightly again, drawing the souls that had just been partially absorbed and were not yet fully refined into its core space for tempering. These souls, filled with malevolence and fear, would become nourishment for the Soul Refining Banner and the [Soul Devouring Feedback]. As for the corpses themselves, he did not deal with them—in enemy-occupied territory, a checkpoint had been taken down by an unknown force, and leaving the corpses behind was more in line with the conventional understanding of an "armed attack," temporarily concealing any supernatural traces.

Having done all this, He Damin quickly left the checkpoint and returned to the abandoned brick kiln as fast as he could. At this point, less than two hours had passed since he left Zhao Jia Yu.

He started the disguised truck and drove back onto the dark road, this time heading to Zhao Jia Yu. The truck was empty, but he already had a complete transport plan in mind.

Over the next few nights, He Damin transformed into the most bizarre and efficient "arms courier" in northwestern Shanxi.

First transport: He drove the empty truck back to the vicinity of Zhao Jia Yu, stopping in a mountain hollow about five miles from the village. Then, from his Tai Chi spatial miniature world, he retrieved three hundred Type 38 rifles, twenty Type 91 light machine guns, ten Type 92 heavy machine guns (partially disassembled), along with the corresponding ammunition, twenty boxes of Japanese canned food, and five bags of rice, filling the truck bed to the brim. Leaving the vehicle behind, he quietly disappeared. The next morning, the Independent Regiment's scouts would naturally "discover" this "abandoned" fully loaded military vehicle.

The second transport: He changed direction and unloaded two Type 92 infantry guns, four mortars, ample ammunition, and thirty grenade launchers and matching grenades in another ditch west of Zhao Jia Yu. In addition, there was a batch of brand-new military overcoats and leather shoes.

The third shipment consisted of a large quantity of rifle bullets, grenades, infantry mines, and a valuable shipment of medicines (sulfonamides and a small amount of penicillin) and surgical instruments.

The fourth time, the fifth time… He Damin strictly followed the logic of a “powerful but discreet arms dealer,” changing the type and quantity of supplies he transported each time, and never repeating the unloading location, always circling around the outskirts of Zhao Jia Yu. He was nocturnal, moving like the wind, unloading and leaving immediately, never encountering the Independent Regiment. Trucks became his best tools; although each loading and unloading required him to personally use his spatial abilities, this physical exertion was negligible for a Golden Core cultivator.

He was completely immersed in the focus and efficiency of "execution plan," enjoying the rhythm of working alone and having everything under control. He didn't even think to use his divine sense to scan the area around the unloading site for ambushes or spies—in his view, once the goods were delivered to the designated area (outside Zhao Jia Yu), the other party would naturally come to pick them up; it was part of the transaction and there was no need to worry about it.

However, his "efficient" back-and-forth travel was a hardship for Wei Dayong and the soldiers who were ordered to follow him.

The first time, Wei Dayong and his team followed the truck with all their might, watching it unload a massive amount of munitions in the mountain valley and leave. They were stunned, but still remembered their orders and continued to follow. The truck meandered through the night at an astonishing speed, like a ghost, and they were breathless from chasing it. Finally, they lost sight of it at a fork in the road and had to return dejectedly to report.

The second time, they set up observation points in several possible directions in advance. They saw the truck appear and unload again, but the tracking process was still extremely difficult. The truck's adaptability to the terrain and speed far exceeded their foot strength, and the tracking team was almost exhausted to the point of vomiting blood.

The third time, when the truck roared back into the night, unloading even more artillery and crates of ammunition than before, two of Wei Dayong's weaker soldiers collapsed from exhaustion on the cold mountain road during their desperate pursuit. Their faces were deathly pale, and they were nearly collapsing. Wei Dayong himself felt as if his legs were made of lead, and his lungs burned. They watched helplessly as the truck's taillights disappeared into the night, barely having the strength to curse.

"Monk...this...this isn't human..." A soldier collapsed to the ground, panting heavily, and said intermittently, "What...what is this guy trying to do? Is he addicted to delivering things? Or is he just playing with us?"

Wei Dayong wiped the sweat from his face, staring in the direction the truck had disappeared, his eyes filled with shock, exhaustion, and deep confusion. He simply couldn't understand this "Mr. He's" behavior. If he really was a spy, why was he just sending weapons non-stop? And more and more, of increasingly better quality? The price was too high! If he wasn't a spy… then what was he after? Just those bottles and jars?

News kept getting back to Zhao Jia Yu. Faced with the ever-present, seemingly "automatic" appearances of mountains of sophisticated weapons and scarce supplies around the village, Li Yunlong and Zhao Gang went from initial wariness and shock to numbness, followed by deeper suspicion and unease. The soldiers lying in ambush at the village entrance waited for days without seeing a single Japanese soldier; instead, their own commander kept sending men to "collect" more and more equipment.

"Old Li... I'm getting more and more confused about this situation." Zhao Gang looked at the two infantry guns that had just been "picked up" in front of him, his face showing no joy, only solemnity. "What exactly is he up to?"

Li Yunlong squatted beside the cannon barrel, touching the cold steel with his hand, his brow furrowed in a frown. His previously unwavering belief in the "spy bait theory" began to waver. No spy would use enough weapons to arm an elite battalion, or even more, to act as a "bait" that never materialized. It didn't make sense, and it exceeded the reasonable cost of any "conspiracy."

"Damn it..." Li Yunlong spat fiercely, his eyes filled with complex emotions. "This guy surnamed He... is either a madman, or... a 'god' we can't even imagine! Send the word down, half of the ambush is temporarily lifted, strengthen the outer perimeter. Monk and the others shouldn't follow either; if they keep following, several of them will die of exhaustion! Let's wait and see how much more this kid is going to send!"

At this moment, He Damin was driving the newly emptied truck towards the next "unloading point." The smell of sawdust from the ammunition boxes still lingered in the truck bed. He remained calm, calculating how many transports this was, how many types of weapons were still available for "mixing" and sending out, and which supplies to leave in which direction next, in order to maximize the Independent Regiment's combat effectiveness without arousing suspicion.

The night wind seeped in through the cracks in the car window, carrying the unique chill and desolation of the wilderness of northwestern Shanxi. He was completely unaware that his series of efficient operations, intended to "fulfill the agreement" and "test the channel," had already left Li Yunlong and the entire Independent Regiment's command post bewildered and filled with suspicion. He was even less aware that the lives of those men he had unintentionally "led" to near exhaustion were cursing him, this "inhuman" arms dealer.