The old things I repaired have become fine

Chapter 803: Learning Ancient Sword Techniques – The Threshold is Restoring Cultural Relics?
"The Hidden Lineage of Guigu?"

Professor Hu looked at Shen Le with suspicion. Shen Le, steeling herself, half in persistence and half in despair, tried to explain:
"That's right, I have an ability to see the memories of certain artifacts when I come into contact with them... This is what I saw! I saw it with my own eyes!"

Professor Hu's gaze grew even more suspicious. Not only suspicious, but his eyes drooped slightly; Shen Le could almost read his inner thoughts from his eyes:

How could you say such a thing?

what?
As a cultural relic restorer, and as a master's student who has received formal education and training, how dare you say something like "I have a certain ability..."?!

"I really can see it!" Now that things had come to this, Shen Le could only struggle to tell what he had seen and heard, word by word.

The names of those old men, their conversation, their clothing, their houses, the items inside, even their accents—

"These weren't made up by me, were they?!"

"...Wait a minute." Professor Hu frowned halfway through the conversation.

He raised his hand to interrupt Shen Le, and began rapidly typing on the keyboard and moving the mouse, bringing up document after document and diligently checking them:
“Go on… describe this in detail… what was the shape of the bed you saw? What was the material? —Their pronunciation, etc., I’ll start recording…”

Shen Le: "..."

No, do you really believe it?
Seriously, do you believe everything I say?!
"What you've described matches some of the details of our archaeological discoveries," Professor Hu explained calmly, seemingly reading his mind.
"There are some things you probably haven't learned, and you can't just make them up—don't get distracted, keep going, before you forget everything!"

Shen Le had nothing to say and could only rack her brains under the teacher's pressure.

As Professor Hu's eyes grew brighter and his breathing became more rapid, Shen Le gradually felt uneasy, even having the urge to run away.
What if my memory is a little fuzzy and gives me the wrong information? Wouldn't I be doomed?
"You're overthinking it." Professor Hu gave Shen Le a stern look:
"Don't get distracted! We archaeologists rely heavily on guesswork, cross-referencing various sources, and meticulous verification. The information you provided is only a part of that process—"

Besides, do you think I won't cite the sources for these materials?

"We have to indicate the source?!" Shen Le felt like he had been struck by lightning, and he was completely stunned.

In other words, my ability to "remember cultural relics" needs to be recorded in various materials and disseminated everywhere?
It will be seen by teachers in various schools, by students in various schools, and by students who come after, and will be seen by generation after generation...

No way! It's so embarrassing!
"These materials aren't for everyone, don't overthink it." Professor Hu waved his hand in front of him, pulling him back to reality.

"Hurry up, write down everything you know, then get back to the restoration! Oh, and I still have some bamboo slips..."

"Ah, teacher, I can't see the memories in just any cultural relic! First, they have to be restored by my own hands; second, they have to have enough spirituality; and finally, there has to be some kind of fate..."

With each condition he stated, the light in Professor Hu's eyes dimmed slightly. Finally, he waved goodbye helplessly.

"Alright, alright, keep writing. Hurry up and finish writing so you can get back to work. I remember, that box still has a ton of stuff to fix, right?"

Shen Le felt as if he had been granted a pardon. He quickly poured out everything he knew, rushed back to his laboratory, and closed the door.

Thank goodness, we finally escaped. If we hadn't, I feel like Professor Hu would have let me touch all the artifacts in the school that needed restoration.

He's in a hurry!
He was in a hurry to finish repairing the lacquered box and its contents so that he could master the power of that golden light and then help the Dragon Lord repair the magic boat!
He plunged into the laboratory and sat down in front of the bamboo slips. After experiencing a segment of the bamboo slips' memories, for some reason, he could easily sense their fluctuations and even vaguely see what they used to look like:
There was no need to wait for experts to study and analyze the text, categorize it according to its content, and arrange it into books. Shen Le simply reached out, and the bamboo slips floated up automatically.

His hands flew, his fingertips entwining silk ropes, wrapping them around the rope holes on the edge of the bamboo slips, stringing them together into one bundle, then another.

In what seemed like the blink of an eye, more than a thousand scattered bamboo slips were transformed into fifty volumes of documents, neatly arranged together.

Shen Le looked around, then closed her eyes to feel the gentle flow of spiritual energy within, and sighed contentedly.
"Ah, that's great... Could you do me a favor and take photos and videos of them for archiving, then send them to the teachers? This should be the correct order!"

Within the bamboo slips, the flowing spirituality remained perfectly undisturbed, without any conflict or reversal. It seems that their current state is exactly how they once were...

The women in flowing skirts had already floated over, two at a time, carrying the bamboo slips to take photos and send messages. Shen Le took a deep breath and turned towards the depths of the laboratory, to the heavily guarded lacquer box:
Now, can we touch the other things in the box, especially the golden light in the earthenware urn?

He reached out and pressed his hand against the glass of the safe, carefully infusing it with a wisp of his spiritual energy, slowly inching it towards the earthenware urn. Two feet, one foot, it entered the urn's mouth, drawing closer to the golden light—

"what!"

Shen Le's face turned pale, and she stumbled back two steps, only to be gently caught in a net woven from a large clump of black hair. The bad news was that her spiritual power still couldn't touch the golden light; she still felt as if she'd been slashed.

Good news! This time, the distance between their mental strengths was much closer than before. Moreover, Shen Le felt that he had found the direction to move forward:

When the golden light descended, it wasn't entirely merciless, cutting down anything that got close. Shen Le had a feeling that the falling golden light was more like a test, a judgment:
Those who pass the test, or are considered one of our own, will be let off the hook;

However, if you fail the test or the assessment, then I'm sorry, the golden light will strike without mercy!

【gentlemen……】

A low, worried voice. A cool touch came to her lips, and Shen Le drank two sips of the spiritual liquid from the cup offered to her by her flowing skirt.

Feeling the cool liquid soothing his mind, he breathed a slight sigh of relief, turned his head to look at the earthenware urn, and unconsciously traced lines in the air with his fingers:

I had a feeling that the golden slash just now had a lot of swordsmanship about it, if only his swordsmanship were a little better...

He sat cross-legged and silently circulated his internal energy several times. As the pain in his mind gradually subsided, Shen Le recalled his experience learning swordsmanship in the valley during the process of repairing Li Xingtang:
"...Should this be okay?"

To ensure his success, he even got up and practiced a sword routine, adjusting himself to the state of a swordsman who had risked his life to rush into the Tibetan royal palace on the snowy mountain years ago.

Then, he sat down in front of the safe again, extended his divine sense, and touched the few golden lights inside the pottery urn:

"...!!!"

This time, he truly felt it. A golden light condensed, startled, and he unleashed his inner energy, slashing down with his sword.

Shen Le condensed his spiritual power into a sword, twisting and turning in the air, desperately meeting and fighting against it. He dodged it, dodged it again, and avoided the third sword as well—wait!
"Ah!!!" Shen Le screamed again. The golden light flickered erratically, sometimes soaring thousands of miles away, sometimes leaping out from a place he could never have imagined—

In terms of swordsmanship, Shen Le was still somewhat confident in himself, but the way that golden light approached the swordsmanship was completely different from what he had learned.

Too tricky, too dangerous, as if aiming only for a fatal blow, completely disregarding their own safety...

"Let me think...this swordsmanship...let me think..."

Shen Le frowned in thought. After a long while, he suddenly stood up and rushed to another row of lockers:
In those shallow, narrow glass cabinets, box after box, were gold-plated slabs that he had once judged "not in a hurry to be repaired".

The so-called "golden mud board" is actually a mud board made of blue clay—that is, microcrystalline kaolin.

Some makers coat the clay tablets with gold powder to give them a glittering golden appearance, hence the name "gold-plated clay tablets."

"In fact, some of them that are not coated with gold powder are also called gold-plated plates."

Because these things, generally speaking, are either molds for making money or are claimed to be money. Placing them in the tomb is to ensure that the deceased will never lack money...

The teacher told them this. At the time, seeing the stunned faces of the audience, the teacher even smiled:
"What's so surprising? We burn paper money for the deceased, and the ancients placed clay coins or coin plates in the graves of the deceased. Aren't they all based on the same idea?"

Okay... alright. After the teacher showed them a bunch of gold-plated slabs, gold-plated cakes, and gold-plated coins, the students, whose worldviews had been shaken, finally accepted the fact:

The "magnified mud tablets" that sound so sophisticated are actually completely different from the clay tablet documents of ancient West Asia. They are simply money, money for the dead.

However, the gold-plated slab that Shen Le found in the lacquer box in Yunmeng Mountain was not a template for casting coins:

Its size far exceeds that of the currently discovered gold-plated slabs, which are typically square clay tablets with sides ranging from 4.5 to 6.5 centimeters; it almost fills the entire edge of the box.
The characters on the gold-plated tablets were not in a regular pattern. They were either simply written with words like "gold," "gold," or "a thousand taels of gold," or they were written with the name of the issuer, such as "Yingcheng."
It was either filled with large and small squares, or completely blank. On its surface, above the gold powder, many patterns were outlined with fine lines:
Most of the patterns are human figures, some standing, some leaping, some turning around, and some darting about. Some patterns also scatter outwards, extending lines, either curved or straight, from near the human figures.

Shen Le stared intently at each of the gold-plated plaques, his fingertips unconsciously tracing patterns in front of him. Soon, his brows furrowed.

wrong.

wrong.

Still not right.

He could basically tell that the patterns on these gold-plated tablets were a set of sword techniques or martial arts—but he couldn't deduce them.

Firstly, the approach to this martial art is very different from the style he is familiar with; it is almost completely contrary to it.

Furthermore, the artist's skill level is also questionable; these figures can only be described as "stick figures," and the drawing technique is utterly appalling.

Thirdly, these gold-plated slabs had been burned.

Everything has its advantages and disadvantages. It was precisely because they were fired that they were able to avoid being soaked and rot, and they stayed peacefully underground for thousands of years until they were discovered by Shen Le.
However, precisely because they had been fired, and the skill level of the person who fired them wasn't particularly high, these gold-painted slabs were somewhat twisted and deformed after firing...

This transformation inevitably altered the little figure's limbs and the direction of its moves...

"There was no order to begin with..."

Shen Le gestured and gestured, then sighed. He returned to his computer, organized the photos of the gold-plated plates, packed them up, and started making phone calls:

"Hello? Is this Gu Yulin? I've run into a problem and need your help—these pictures seem to depict a set of martial arts moves. Could you help me recreate them? Sure? Great!"

Gu Yulin himself is not good at martial arts, but of course, the Special Affairs Bureau is never short of martial arts masters, no matter what kind of talent it lacks. Let them try out these classical-style manuals slowly!
Oh, and also, a set of these photos was sent to Li Xingtang, so that the spirit who inherited the memories of the Tang Dynasty swordsman could slowly try to unravel the mystery...

As for Shen Le himself, he put aside the issue of the gold-plated plate and immersed himself in the silk painting. After he used his silk fibroin solution technique to repair the silk painting covering the top of the lacquer box, feedback began to arrive one after another:

"It's a bit troublesome."

"This is quite difficult to crack."

"This martial art seems to have a touch of magic involved; we need more time..."

More?

how long?

Are you guys reliable or not?

Shen Le sighed and decided to take matters into his own hands. He rolled up his sleeves, found some microcrystalline kaolin, and spread it around the outside of the storage box, making sure it was as close as possible to the gold plating.
"go--"

The invisible magical fluctuations drew in the earth elemental energy within the microcrystalline kaolin, which was most similar in nature to the gold-plated clay, and gradually seeped into the gold-plated clay.

Buried for two thousand years, silent for two thousand years, the subtle changes in the properties of the gold-plated tablet, those things that had dissipated in the water and been worn away by the power of the gold were quietly replenished by Shen Le.

Like a wisp of silk, like a drizzle, it nourishes silently, yet in the moment it finally completes its work, a subtle change occurs:

"Om..."

As if it had just woken up, as if it had stretched, the slightly deformed, slightly curled gold-plated slab straightened silently.

On the gilded plate, a faint wisp of gold gently rises:

In a daze, Shen Le felt as if he saw the little figure engraved on it, leaping and swinging his sword!
There is a door!

Once I've fixed them all, maybe I'll be able to learn this sword technique directly?
(End of this chapter)