Nobita's Time Heist

He leaped lightly, his sharp toes touching the ground. From him, a layer of frost covered the surrounding land, as if draped in a pale white mourning cloth.

"As I have said, I am a spirit of the underworld, and my duty is primarily to guide the souls of the deceased."

Standing on the ground, slowly straightening his body, Nobita realized just how tall he was. Coupled with his unnaturally long, slender chicken feet at the bottom, his entire being exuded a trendy, non-human aura. Resembling a human yet not quite, perhaps only a creature with such a quintessential uncanny valley effect could be a messenger from the underworld.

"The village chief of this village is named Liu Ran, and he is ninety-six years old. He is a dead soul who should have passed away long ago, but he has been using magic to prolong his lifespan, which is a major taboo for cultivators."

Chicken Foot God looked toward the very center of the village—where the village chief lived—and murmured, “Death will catch up with him sooner or later.”

"So, what we saw... was all real?" Overwhelmed with astonishment, Nobita found it increasingly unbelievable. "Can something like lifespan be taken away?"

“What can be given can also be taken away.” Chicken Foot God nodded slightly, his sinister gaze sweeping over Nobita. “Even if we take away his lifespan, he can still live on, even though his body is already emitting a rotten smell. But as long as he is alive and breathing, we can’t do anything to him.”

"Unless?" Asur had already guessed what he meant and offered up the opportunity to speak.

“Unless someone is willing to go and destroy the array core he buried deep underground,” Chicken Foot God continued, “once the array core is destroyed, the lifespan bound to him will also dissipate in an instant.”

"I saw a lot underground..." Nobita still looked uncomfortable as he recalled the scene, forcibly suppressing the urge to vomit. "There were some strange plants growing inside their bodies. Are you talking about these things?"

“What you see is the Ghost Ginseng,” Chicken Foot God explained calmly. “Ordinary ginseng grows in the ground, absorbing soil, sunlight, and rainwater. The Ghost Ginseng is planted in a person’s throat cavity, nourished by human blood and flesh, and can grow to a weight of eight or nine pounds. When the corpse is completely turned into an empty shell, the true Ghost Ginseng is complete.”

"Some unorthodox martial arts practitioners raise ghost ginseng as tribute to the current emperor. Now... he probably eats it himself."

"Did you eat it?" Shizuka felt a chill run down her spine, goosebumps rising on her arms. She couldn't believe it. "He... he used human bodies as nourishment, and he... ate that kind of thing? What's the difference between this and eating people directly?!"

In the classic American TV series *Hannibal*, there was a similar psychopathic killer who buried diabetic patients in the ground, using their bodies as nutrients to cultivate a type of edible fungus. It's said that the fungus produced in this way has an extraordinary taste and flavor. Shizuka had only occasionally seen such grotesque clips online, and she almost vomited when she saw them. She thought to herself, "What kind of dark writer could come up with such a depraved plot?"

In retrospect, she underestimated the world's curiosity—this kind of thing was already being done 2000 years ago!

On second thought, the Chicken Foot God in front of him didn't seem so scary after all. He was just a bit frightening in appearance, but in essence, he was still a conscientious civil servant in the underworld system. What he wanted to take away were only the souls that violated the laws of nature and forcibly remained in the human world. At least he wouldn't grow things in human flesh and blood and then eat what grew out.

"Humans will do many terrible things in order to survive." At this moment, the half-rotten god bowed his head slightly and looked at Shizuka. His empty eye sockets seemed to have gained a deeper depth. "Although the ghost ginseng has the effect of prolonging life, it is a first-class evil substance. It nourishes yin and yang, but depletes the spirit and fire. It can only keep the physical body from disintegrating."

"Fortunately, his cultivation is quite profound, and he knows how to control it. If an ordinary person were to eat it... it would be another great disaster."

"Huh?" Asur suddenly realized the blind spot. "Wasn't this supposed to be tribute for the emperor?"

“The Emperor is a manifestation of the Mandate of Heaven, not an ordinary person,” Chicken Foot God explained. “Since we have already seen the Ghost Ginseng Grove, the array’s core should be nearby. Since this array is designed to steal people’s lifespan, if we can place the core in a natural area of ​​yin and evil spirits, we can achieve twice the result with half the effort.”

"That's it..."

Da Xiong forced himself to recall that eerie and terrifying underground tomb—the initial impact of that thing on him was so strong that all he could think about was how to escape, and he didn't have time to pay attention to any details. Now that he thought about it, the sudden movement of the tentacles of those ghost ginseng was likely a form of defense; they were trying to protect this important array core from being destroyed!

"Don't be impatient, Yiren. You will soon have the opportunity to face him in a real fight."

As if sensing something, the Chicken Foot God made a prophetic announcement, but its form slowly faded away into the air.

"Ring ring—"

The bells rang out, and people from every household pushed open their doors, emerging from their sleep, like a pilgrim heading towards the same place. Under the silent moonlight, this scene was enough to send chills down one's spine.

"It's started again?" Shizuka couldn't help but say, "It's only ten o'clock."

“Stopping him shouldn’t be difficult, what I’m worried about is…” Da Xiong sighed deeply, looked up at the hazy moonlight shrouded in white mist, “What will happen to the people of this village without him?”

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

However, even Nobita and his friends did not expect that things would develop so rapidly.

The following day, at noon, the entire village gathered together at the call to action. Under the thick, old locust tree in Tongxin Village, several corpses lay covered with white cloth, their bodies still damp. Despite it being the dead of winter, an unbearable stench of water permeated the air, and beneath the white cloth, maggots were likely crawling everywhere.

"Old Zheng from the east of the village accidentally fell into the river on his way home at noon today. His son and daughter-in-law tried to go into the water to save him, but they were entangled in the water plants and died."

As the suona horn sounded, the adults in the village burst into tears.

A tiny toddler, barely taller than a leg, stood next to the village chief, staring blankly at the white cloths, seemingly lost in thought.

He still seemed unable to comprehend what had happened to his family.

Chapter 174: Holmes of the Reiwa Era

Nobita still vaguely retains memories of his grandmother's funeral. His subconscious seems to strongly resist recalling this past event, so everything is blurry.

He could hardly remember people's faces anymore, nor could he recall what his last meeting with his grandmother was like. He only remembered a cold mourning hall, and everywhere he looked, there was only oppressive darkness.

However, beneath this old locust tree, the weeping was unusually loud. Most of the people here had no connection to the bodies covered in white sheets beneath the tree; they were merely nodding acquaintances. Yet, they wept with great emotion and intensity, as if the deceased were their own family members. Even Huang Amao and Huang Aru, the young siblings, were completely immersed in the atmosphere, perhaps moved by the scene and reminded of their parents who had been missing for eight years.

The Japanese are known for their ability to observe the atmosphere, and in such an atmosphere, not crying a couple of times would make you seem quite out of place. But even with their strong empathy, they wouldn't burst into tears over the departure of a complete stranger; instead, they simply pursed their lips and feigned sadness. Only Asur stood silently to the side, watching without uttering a word.

"Hey, Nobita," Shizuka whispered in his ear, "Do you think it's possible that..."

"Is it really necessary to go to that extent?" Da Xiong looked at Liu Ran with some suspicion. In this situation, it was a long-standing custom for a respected elder in the village to preside over the funeral. "After all, he did so many good things for the village in the past. Would he really kill someone for so-called 'fertilizer'?"

“What a pity,” Asur shook his head. “If Holmes were here, he would know.”

"Sherlock Holmes..."

After a thoughtful expression, Nobita smiled again.

"That's a good idea!"

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

For an entire day, the village was immersed in an inexplicably quiet atmosphere. All the usual daily activities were suspended, and the air felt particularly heavy.

Huang Amao did not go to the mountain to collect herbs. Instead, he joined the villagers and, under the leadership of Liu Ran, held a grand funeral for Old Zheng's family, who had almost been wiped out.

Every household displayed what they could contribute: some banged gongs, others beat drums, and those with nothing simply joined the crowd in calling out a few times, from one end of the village to the other. This custom is called "calling back the soul," and it is said to summon the spirit of the deceased so that they can witness their farewell to this world.

According to custom, the deceased's body should be kept at home for a few days, with a close blood relative keeping vigil. However, Liu Ran, citing his child's young age, refused to set up a mourning hall at home. To prevent the body from decomposing too much, he wrapped it in a white cloth and placed it under the old locust tree.

The locust tree is naturally yin in nature, and with its shade, once it gets light, the coffin he ordered from another village will be delivered. At that time, the important matter of burial will "entirely rest on my shoulders, Liu Ran alone."

The other villagers, who already held him in the highest esteem, naturally had no objections.

but……

……

"Shizuka, are you alright?" Noticing that the girl's legs were trembling, Nobita turned around and asked with concern, "If you really can't, you don't have to look at it."

"And what about you, Nobita?" Shizuka composed herself, a hint of boyish pride in her eyes, "Can you watch it?"

"I had no other choice..."

She crossed her arms over her heart and said in a tone that left no room for negotiation, "Then I want to see it too."

"Who are they sulking against...?"

Under the cover of night, after everyone had gone to bed, Da Xiong and his friends approached the locust tree, their steps still hesitant. After all, their elementary school experiences were relatively normal, unlike that of a certain elementary school student at the neighboring Mihua Film Studio, who encountered murders while eating a meal or riding a train. To lift the white sheet and look directly at the face of the deceased required immense courage.

"There's no need to make it so complicated," Asur said, puzzled. "Why not just use [Time Television] to watch it?"

"You think I haven't seen it?" Although he didn't sigh, Da Xiong's expression was full of helplessness. He shrugged and explained, "Judging from what we saw on TV, the family did indeed fall into the river and drown around noon, first the grandfather, then the boy's parents. The TV couldn't be adjusted in angle; it was an overhead view, so that was all the information we could get."

"Isn't that it?" Asur glanced at Shizuka and lowered his voice slightly. "If it really was a drowning, there's no need to go and take a look, right? There's nothing interesting about that."

"That's true, but... don't you find it strange?"

Da Xiong turned his head to look at the locust tree rustling in the wind. In the last rays of light sinking on the horizon, it stood there silently, like a giant who had witnessed too many secrets.

“During the memorial service just now, he did say something like, ‘Old Zheng fell in first, and his son and daughter-in-law went into the water to save him,’ right? We only confirmed that what we heard was true because we had God’s perspective.” Da Xiong raised a finger, his expression more serious than ever before. “This is two thousand years ago, you know. Criminal investigation and forensic medicine hadn’t been invented yet.”

"How can he determine the order in which these three people drowned without witnessing it firsthand?"

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

This seemingly insignificant little detail appears to make the evening breeze even more biting.

Nobita distributed nasal plugs to his companions. These were originally part of the Deep Sea Walking Set, which could extract oxygen from seawater to produce oxygen. Now, they were being used as regular nasal plugs. After mentally preparing himself several times, Nobita gritted his teeth and ripped off the white cloth wrapped around his body.

Well... perhaps because the old man was rather thin before his death, even though he drowned, he wasn't bloated as much as one might expect, except that his belly was noticeably protruding. The scene I had imagined—eyes bulging out, face contorted in a grimace, eyes wide open in death—didn't materialize; instead, his expression was rather peaceful.

“It seems the village chief has tidied their bodies before they died.” Asur seemed to know nothing of fear. He slowly walked over, directly lifted the corner of the white cloth covering the remaining two bodies, examined them, and concluded, “There are traces of repair on the corners of the mouth, the forehead, and some other delicate areas.”

Shizuka breathed a sigh of relief. "Looking at it this way, he still has some humanity after all."

……

"【Sherlock Holmes Set】—!!"

(The Holmes Set: A set of props used by children in the future when playing detective games. Like the [Fun Sunday Farming Set], it's a set of props consisting of a Holmes hat, cane, pipe, magnifying glass, and cloak. Only the cloak is purely decorative; the other props are all useful. The cane will fall towards the location of the culprit; the bubbles blown from the pipe will explode above the culprit's head; the magnifying glass will only show things related to clues; and flicking the hat will clear up any jumbled thoughts in one's mind.)

In the great adventure at the Secret Gadget Museum, Nobita also put on this incredible gadget, but in the end, he didn't rely on flicking the hat. Instead, he used his observation of the situation and his understanding of the secret gadget to uncover the true identity of Phantom Thief DX.

The moment you pick up a magnifying glass and put on a pipe, the feeling washes over you.

He examined it carefully, and the first thing that appeared in the magnifying glass was the body's hand.

Chapter 175: The Unbelievable Truth

His hands, calloused from a lifetime of hard work, were the only ones in this era entitled to such care. In winter, his hands were especially rough, with many cracks on the backs. Da Xiong pried his hands open, and when he saw this, his pupils instinctively contracted—he was completely unprepared for this.

The palms of the body were covered with numerous scratch marks, clearly made by fingernails. The blood had long since dried and turned cold, leaving only the deep scratches on the palms, a sight that made one's heart pound.

“If it were just ordinary drowning, there shouldn’t be these marks, right?” Asur also noticed something amiss. “When a person is in the water, all their movements are restricted by the water’s resistance, especially since he is an elderly man whose cardiopulmonary function is already declining. We saw that river when we went up the mountain to collect herbs. The river is very turbulent. If an elderly person falls in, they will at most just instinctively thrash around a few times.”

"But his hand was gripped like this..."

"At least it shows that these hands were directly exposed to the air at the time." Da Xiong walked around the body, his brow furrowed. "So, what kind of posture would allow his hands to be above the water, yet he still drowned?"

……

Most things in this world are best left unthought upon closer examination.

Upon closer examination, you'll find that the answer might be simpler than you imagine.

……

“His leg was grabbed,” Shizuka said softly, her eyes tightly closed, trying her best not to imagine the scene, but only narrating in the third person, without her knowledge, “His ankle… must have been stuck by something, and he was standing upright in the water. His hands were raised high above the water, but his head was just a little bit short, and he couldn’t breathe.”

"He flailed his arms frantically in the water but couldn't grab anything. In the end, he clenched his fists so tightly that his nails dug into his flesh, but he still drowned."

Da Xiong was stunned.

Just a tiny bit more, just a tiny fraction away, from breathing oxygen into his lungs and being reborn. When death's wings caught him, the intense despair and resentment made Nobita gasp. And to make matters worse, he had an exceptionally strong capacity for empathy; putting himself in Nobita's shoes, he felt as if a bucket of ice water had been poured over him, leaving him numb and disoriented.

At the same time, resentment towards the instigator has intensified.

"really."

Upon pulling up the trouser leg, a pair of dark blue handprints were clearly visible on the ankles of the deceased!

……

"you……"

Huang Amao stood not far away, looking surprised, showing a strong sense of defensiveness.

In this country, people's deep-rooted attachment to their homeland is ingrained. The belief that the dead are paramount and that burial brings peace is arguably the last line of defense people leave for one another. Faced with life and death, past grievances and humiliations seem insignificant. Conversely, any act of touching or disturbing a body about to be buried, regardless of its true purpose, is undoubtedly a sign of disrespect.

"what are you doing?"

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

"cough……"

Inside the room, Liu Ran, who was sitting cross-legged on the bed, suddenly felt an unbearable tightness in his chest. It was the feeling of something blocking his throat, yet he couldn't cough it up. He struggled to get out of bed, dragging his hunched figure, and finally managed to move to the cabinet. Opening the cabinet door, he saw a huge ginseng root, but when he touched it, it was as cold as frost, as if something had pierced his skin.

Liu Ran didn't care about manners; he skillfully twisted off the still-struggling rootlets and put them in his mouth. He had almost lost all his teeth, so he chewed with extra effort. Mixed with the ginseng's piercing screams, every single rootlet was ground into a primal juice in his mouth.

Even so, his tightly furrowed brows relaxed as he spat out black blood.

"They've come this far, and they're still fantasizing about getting a peaceful end. It's ridiculous."

A glint of ruthlessness flashed in his aged eyes as he looked up at the Daoist ancestor's portrait hanging on the wall. The flickering candlelight beneath the portrait seemed to remind him of something. Liu Ran gazed thoughtfully at the flame, his right hand outstretched, fingers curled, tapping lightly in his palm as if calculating something. After a long while, a somewhat mocking smile appeared on his wrinkled face.

"Only four days after arriving in the village, you've already discovered my secret? Ha... These foreigners are surprisingly perceptive."

He pinched two flints together, rubbed them together, and sparks flew, burning two wounds into his skin. Liu Ran, however, seemed completely unaware, even revealing a strange smile, as if he was pleased that he could only feel some pain.

"There's nothing we can do. That's just how the world is. Some things just have to be done by someone."

"It wasn't me, it was him!"

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

"What...what are you talking about..."

After listening to Da Xiong and the others' account, a hint of anger flashed across Huang Amao's face. "Even if it was a joke, isn't this going too far?! Everyone has seen how hard the old man has worked for Tongxin Village. Are you trying to say that all of this is fake?"

"Calm down, Amao, that's not what I meant."

A sense of powerlessness rose in Da Xiong's heart; the scene before him was not what he had anticipated. Who would have thought that this young man, who had been sleeping soundly for the past few days, would suddenly hear the commotion tonight and follow him out? Da Xiong hadn't expected to get any help from the locals in the first place; Liu Ran had cultivated this area for so many years and had long since won over everyone who needed to be won over.

For people living in information cocoons, telling them the truth will only make them think it's a fantasy.

“These two things don’t conflict,” Asur shrugged, speaking in a slightly flippant tone. “Because he needs to draw on your lifespan to improve your lives so you can live longer. The longer you live, the more lifespan he can continuously draw from you.”