Chapter 565: Translation

The storage room is very large.

It is much larger than Li Er imagined.

Rows of wooden shelves are neatly arranged, extending into the dim depths, seemingly without end.

The shelves are piled with all kinds of classics—bamboo slips, wooden tablets, bone fragments, clay tablets, and even yellowed bark, stacked layer upon layer, densely packed, exuding the unique musty scent of age.

The Zhou dynasty's classics are the most numerous, mainly bamboo slips, stacked in rolls on the shelves, some already blackened, some with broken cords.

The Shang dynasty's are fewer, mostly bone fragments and turtle shells, inscribed with those ancient and mysterious oracle bone scripts.

The Xia dynasty's are the fewest and also the most mixed: there are clay tablets, bone fragments, and a few thin pieces of unknown material, the characters carved on them crude and simple, like the scribbles of a child just learning to write.

Each dynasty's writing is different.

The Shang dynasty's writing differs from the Zhou's, and the Xia dynasty's writing differs from the Shang's as well.

Those strokes, structures, and writing methods constantly evolve and develop over the long ages.

Unless one is truly erudite, facing this huge collection of classics would truly leave one helpless.

Never mind how much one can understand; just the question of whether one can understand at all is a major problem.

Li Er stood before a row of wooden shelves, picked up a bamboo slip, and unfolded it.

He glanced at it, then set it down.

He then picked up a turtle shell and examined it closely in the dim light.

After looking for a few breaths, he put it down.

He then picked up a clay tablet and lightly traced the inscriptions with his finger.

He set it down.

He picked it up again.

He set it down again.

His movements grew faster and faster—one volume after another, one piece after another, one book after another—almost without pause.

In the distance, the several archivists stood at the entrance, staring agape.

They exchanged glances, their eyes filled with the same question——

"This guy, is he really reading?"

"At this speed, what can he possibly see?"

"Or rather, can he actually understand all of it?"

"There are so many characters here that even we, who have worked in the storage room for over a decade, don't recognize them all!"

A young archivist couldn't help but lower his voice:

"Is he… flipping through the books, or actually reading them?"

An older archivist beside him shook his head, saying nothing.

Another middle-aged archivist frowned and said, "Could he be looking for something?"

"Looking for something wouldn't require flipping like this—at this speed he doesn't even see the characters clearly before turning them."

"Perhaps… he really can understand them?"

As soon as that was said, several people fell silent.

Can he understand?

Can he understand those oracle bone scripts? Can he understand those Xia dynasty clay tablet writings? Can he understand those ancient characters that even we don't fully recognize?

A fifteen- or sixteen-year-old boy?

Someone snorted, but quickly shut his mouth.

Because the boy then picked up a turtle shell, glanced at it a few times, and set it down.

His expression clearly showed he had understood.

Several people looked at each other.

"Well…" an older archivist spoke, lowering his voice, "Shall we test him?"

"How shall we test?"

"I have a turtle shell here."

Another archivist said, walking to his own desk, "I managed to obtain this with difficulty; it records events from the time of Da Yu."

"I can only understand half of it; I can infer the general meaning, but many characters I don't recognize."

He picked up that turtle shell, turned, and looked toward Li Er.

"I'll go ask him for advice."

The others' eyes lit up, and they all nodded.

"Go quickly, go quickly."

That archivist took a deep breath, cradled the turtle shell, and walked toward Li Er.

Upon reaching Li Er's side, he stopped, gave a light cough.

"Bo Yang."

Li Er lifted his head from a pile of bamboo slips and looked at him.

The archivist quickly showed a humble smile, presenting the turtle shell with both hands.

"Bo Yang, I have a request."

He said, "This turtle shell, I am shallow in learning and can only understand half of it. Having heard that Bo Yang is profoundly knowledgeable, I wish to ask Bo Yang to help examine it and see what exactly is recorded here."

Li Er glanced at the turtle shell in his hand and did not refuse.

"All right," he said, reaching out to take it.

That turtle shell is palm-sized, dark yellow in color, densely covered with characters.

Those characters were archaic, the strokes rough and bold, imbued with the unique primitive aura of the Xia dynasty.

Li Er lowered his head to look.

At first he merely glanced over it casually, but soon his gaze locked.

He looked at it with increasing seriousness.

His brows furrowed slightly.

His eyes gradually showed a look of surprise.

What was recorded on that piece of turtle shell was——

During the time of Da Yu, the ruler of Wu Xian Guo, after crossing mountains and rivers, went to seek a person named "Lin".

That "Lin" taught him a completely new method of witchcraft, requiring no spirit medium, no witch's familiar, only the recitation of a formula, and he could perform witchcraft.

From then on, witchcraft underwent great development and evolution.

The ruler of Wu Xian Guo spread this method throughout the world; the shamans revered him as their patriarch and honored him as——

Lin Ancestor.

Li Er's gaze stopped on that line of text, and he did not move away for a long time.

Lin.

A figure suddenly appeared in his mind—the one who had been by his side since birth, the one who always looked at him with a smiling squint as he caused trouble, the man who, before leaving, only said "Go".

Yu Lin.

Lin.

Could they be the same person?

Li Er raised his head, his gaze somewhat dazed.

Seeing his state, the historian's heart skipped a beat, and he asked cautiously:

"Bo Yang? But... but is there something wrong with this turtle shell?"

Li Er came back to himself and shook his head.

"Nothing." he said, "Just..."

He paused, then asked:

"Where did this piece of turtle shell come from?"

The historian was startled, then quickly replied: "It... it was collected from the folk, supposedly passed down from a shaman's family, handed down for many generations."

Li Er nodded and asked no further.

He lowered his head and glanced at that line of characters again.

"Lin Ancestor."

He softly recited it once, then returned the turtle shell to the historian.

"Thank you."

He then said, "I will write down what is recorded here onto a bamboo slip and give it to you later."

"Is there anything else?"

"No, thank you, Bo Yang." The historian took the turtle shell, full of doubts but daring not to ask more, so he withdrew awkwardly.

In the distance, the several historians, seeing his state, became even more curious.

"What's wrong with him?"

"I don't know... it seems he saw something extraordinary?"

"What exactly is written on that turtle shell?"

"We'll find out soon enough?"

Several people gathered together, whispering and discussing.

Li Er paid no attention to them, but raised his hand and picked up the next turtle shell.