Chapter 247: then translation of chapter title

When Chen Wuji learned that the Qiang People were about to invade Nan Jun, he had been urgently wanting to find a few military books to read; waging war cannot be taken for granted, nor can one rely on the conceptions in one's own mind to speculate and arrange the warfare of this era; study is inevitable.

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Truly useful books never appear on the market; to obtain them one must either attach oneself to the great clans or find a scholar to become his disciple, serving them for several years like a filial child, before perhaps learning anything genuine.

And the military tactics Chen Wuji wished to study were even harder to acquire, with stricter conditions.

Such books, aside from the Court, are found only in military families.

But no matter which kind, military treatises are to them like a lifeline.

It is far from being something one can learn merely by taking a master and serving him honestly for a few years.

A heavy blow of reality directly shattered Chen Wuji's eager heart for study.

Yet no matter how Chen Wuji imagined it, this sudden turn of events—finding what he had long yearned for—was truly both laughable and tearful, for the thing he had constantly dreamed of but never obtained lay buried all along beneath the floor of his sleeping quarters.

Under the sneaky guidance of Chen Luozi and Xiong Paozi, Chen Wuji pried open the floor tiles of the room.

Beneath the tiles lay only a thin layer of soil; after digging it away, more tiles appeared below.

After digging through about eight or nine layers of tiles, a chest finally came into view.

The chest lid was not fastened, merely placed on top like a pot lid.

Lifting the lid revealed layers of bamboo slips and silk manuscripts stacked inside.

The chest was not wide but deep, holding probably no fewer than several hundred volumes.

Chen Wuji casually picked up one volume and saw it was a military treatise annotated by an ancestor of the Chen clan.

After merely glancing at it twice, Chen Wuji felt his vision go dark.

This ancestor's commentary was as obscure and difficult to understand as the original text; it seemed he had translated a single line of classical Chinese into an entire essay of classical Chinese.

This one is unreadable—switch!

Chen Wuji casually grabbed another volume, and then…

His vision went dark again.

This one is even worse: not only is it pure classical Chinese, it lacks any punctuation.

It is likely even older.

After looking at seven or eight volumes in succession, Chen Wuji's desire to study began to die once more.

"Nothing you want to read?" Xiong Paozi asked.

Chen Wuji nodded, not admitting outright that he couldn't understand, and stubbornly said, "I think I should start simple and go deep, beginning with the easy and gradually moving to the profound; if I were to encounter overly abstruse military tactics at the outset, it would be disadvantageous for me."

Xiong Paozi nodded in deep agreement, "You are truly of the Family Head's lineage; the ancestors once said the same."

Chen Wuji's mouth twitched slightly; although this was his excuse to cover up his ignorance, it is actually common sense.

Xiong Paozi took a bamboo slip and a silk manuscript from the chest and handed them to Chen Wuji, saying, "Wuji, look at these two. The bamboo slip is the classic of military strategy, the essential text for soldiers, The Art of War; the silk manuscript is our ancestor's commentary on The Art of War."

"The Art of War?!" Chen Wuji stared in shock, quickly taking the bamboo slip.

This was the first time he had seen something familiar in this era.

A feeling of near‑hometown timidity surged into his chest, making his heart and spirit tremble uncontrollably.

Perhaps saying that is a bit sentimental.

Yet in this completely unfamiliar era, anything that connects to that familiar age is like an anchor, pulling his emotions toward a homeland whose very existence he does not know where.

When familiar phrases entered his sight, Chen Wuji's eyes suddenly grew moist.

It is The Art of War, truly The Art of War.

As a holy book that military strategists must read, Chen Wuji had not memorized it, but he had skimmed it before and knew many of its famous passages, such as "the highest form of warfare is to attack the enemy's plans; next is to attack their alliances; next is to attack their armies; the lowest is to attack fortified cities," and also "to subdue the enemy without fighting is the supreme excellence," and "knowing yourself and knowing the enemy ensures victory in a hundred battles," and so on.

"Who wrote this military treatise? I don't see a name on it," Chen Wuji said, quickly glancing over the bamboo slip in search of that familiar name, only to be disappointed.

There is simply no author's name written on it.

Chen Luozi shook his head. "I don't know; this is an ancient text said to have been unearthed from a tomb. Wuji, don't underestimate this book—though it contains only a few words, the learning within is profound."

"Throughout the Dayu Dynasty, only a handful of families possess this book; our Chen ancestors held it in the highest esteem, calling it the essential classic for military strategists, with a few words encompassing all matters of attack and conquest. If you can master this book, you will surely become a renowned great general under heaven."

Chen Wuji let out a soft sigh, thinking, "This is The Art of War; if even it cannot be called a classic, then no military treatise in the world would deserve that title."

But why has The Art of War become an ancient relic?

Chen Wuji's thoughts raced like lightning, and in an instant many ideas came to him.

He even unconsciously wondered whether he had traveled to the future rather than another time‑space.

But after mentally reviewing the approximate territory of the Dayu Dynasty, he dismissed that notion.

Perhaps time and space once intersected at a certain point.

"How ancient is this book?" Chen Wuji asked.

Chen Luozi nodded, "It should be several thousand years ago. Our country once endured a period of extremely brutal turmoil; during that three‑hundred‑year chaos, the population dwindled to a tenth, ancient texts were nearly burned to ashes, everything was on the verge of collapse, and thus we lost our former history."

"Several thousand years ago…" Chen Wuji murmured, his fingers lightly rubbing the bamboo slip in his hand.

A few years ago they used bamboo slips, and even now they still use bamboo slips and silk manuscripts.

This era seems rather lacking in ambition.

But no matter what, he had finally found something related to his homeland.

"I'll start by reading these two books," Chen Wuji said, having composed his complex emotions, to the two of them.

Perhaps, having this one book in his lifetime would be enough.

Seeing Chen Wuji make his choice, Chen Luozi quickly sealed the chest, restored the floor tiles to their original state, and then joked, "Wuji, from now on you mustn't doubt that we don't trust you; these matters… really aren't our fault—who would have thought you wouldn't even know your own family's affairs?"

Chen Wuji's face darkened a bit, and he simply said, "Just don't forget that I've been foolish before."

This matter probably can't be blamed on him either.

Chen Luozi chuckled, "As the Family Head, how can I keep bringing up my past scars? What needed to be said has pretty much been said; there shouldn't be anything left to cause misunderstanding."

"Getting back to the point, Wuji, we've bought the grain and weapons, but we lack a place to store them—where do you think would be most suitable?"

Chen Wuji pondered for a moment, then looked toward Chen Luozi, "Why don't you take the trouble, first move out from home?"