Humans are creatures of habit, and cultivating the Sheepskin Scroll mental cultivation method had become Li Chonglou’s habit.
When the mind wasn't actively thinking, it could find peace.
And habit was the best way to provide that peace.
After a night of sound sleep, by the time everyone had gathered the next day, it was already past eight o'clock.
The pace of life in Rain City was remarkably slow. Before eight in the morning, only those doing breakfast business were visible on the streets; the rest was deserted.
Zhang Chen drove, taking the group twenty kilometers out of the city towards Red Bean Valley.
A light drizzle was falling. Though damp, it wasn't unpleasant.
This was Rain City’s elegant rain.
“We’re here!”
After driving for nearly half an hour on a narrow, winding cement road into Red Bean Valley, Zhao Zheng pointed towards a spot on the mountainside, marked with a red flag, and announced.
His expression was clearly excited.
For archaeologists like them, their work was the most beloved part of their lives.
Nothing was more thrilling than excavating and preserving an ancient tomb.
At the foot of the mountain stood a rustic guesthouse.
Its walls were made of bamboo and wood, with patterned stones, exuding an ancient and refined aura.
An old man with graying hair sat in front of the building, smoking a pipe.
Seeing them approach, he slowly rose to greet them.
“Uncle Zhong, we’re bothering you again.” Zhao Zheng and his wife were clearly old acquaintances, walking up with smiles.
The others looked around.
Li Chonglou and Lin Ying’s gazes simultaneously fell upon the stepping stones crossing a small ditch in front of the entrance.
It was a stone slab covered in intricate, small characters.
“Tangut script,” Li Chonglou recognized a few of the characters and looked at Lin Ying.
She nodded. “It should be an ideographic system, related to the Qiang language of the Sino-Tibetan family. I don’t research it extensively.”
“This language is lost. Unless one conducts highly specialized research, it remains a dead script.”
Dead script, also known as undecipherable script.
As the name suggested, no one could read it.
Before she could finish speaking, Professor Song had already pulled out a magnifying glass, his eyes shining, and squatted down to examine it closely.
“Lin Ying is correct,” Zhao Zheng’s voice carried over. “The reason this Western Xia tomb was discovered is closely related to this stone slab. We only started considering searching the foot of Mount Mengding after noticing the significant difference between the Qiang characters on it and the currently existing ones.”
Wang Lixia was chatting and laughing with the old man, but he returned to Professor Song’s side.
Li Chonglou felt a stir in his heart.
On the way, he had carefully observed the team’s role distribution.
Zhao Zheng and his wife, along with Professor Song, had official backgrounds: one was the local project leader, and the other a national authority.
Cheng Gong was Professor Song’s assistant, skilled in textbook-style excavation and preservation.
Zhang Chen was the funder, a second-generation rich kid, and also an archaeology major himself.
Senior sister Lin Ying, inheriting her father’s legacy, was very familiar with antiques and cultural relics.
With each person having their own role, adding him seemed rather superfluous.
Unless there were unfamiliar antiques that needed appraisal, perhaps his senior sister had considered this when insisting on his inclusion in the team.
But now, setting aside the relics for a moment, the script alone was enough.
His knowledge from his previous life was vast, encompassing too much for appraising antiques and relics; he was familiar with over a hundred types of knowledge, just in linguistics.
One of these was precisely this lost Tangut script.
It seemed fate had a hand in it.
If he hadn't come, it was hard to say how long it would have taken to decipher the text on this stone tablet.
“The Western Xia underwent a major purge, but that purge did not annihilate all its ethnic groups; most integrated into the Yuan Dynasty,” Li Chonglou stated slowly. “One branch migrated south from the Mongolian region into Shuzhou.”
“This branch is historically known as the Mùyǎ people, also called the Sherpa people.”
“They were initially distributed around Mount Gongga in Shuzhou and merged with the local indigenous Míyào people, calling themselves Boba people.”
“The central region is about one hundred kilometers from this location in a straight line.”
“This stone tablet records the life story of one of their royalty.”
Instantly, all eyes turned to Li Chonglou.
Even Professor Song looked up and stood, his eyes filled with shock. “Xiao Li, you recognize this script?”
“I know a little,” Li Chonglou replied with a nod.
“I think you’re just spouting nonsense. Western Xia script has been lost for ages. You’re just making things up and pretending to know it?” Cheng Gong scoffed.
Before coming, they had conducted extensive research.
The Mùyǎ people Li Chonglou mentioned were naturally included in their studies, but there were no documentary historical records explaining this script.
Not even a single expert in the entire Chinese Academy of Sciences had managed to decipher it.
Li Chonglou, a mere young man in his early twenties, dared to claim he recognized the script.
This was completely beyond Cheng Gong's comprehension.
To show off knowledge one didn't possess, without fear.
“My junior brother isn't someone who speaks without basis, Cheng Gong. It’s fine if you judge others by yourself, but don't embarrass yourself.” Lin Ying’s protective nature was evident.
She clearly trusted Li Chonglou unconditionally.
With that one sentence, Cheng Gong could only lower his head and sneer.
“Xiao Li, if you could explain the script on this stone tablet to us, it might be of great help to this expedition,” Professor Song’s eyes lit up, and he grabbed Li Chonglou, saying eagerly, “If you can solve the mystery of the Western Xia people’s southward migration, you will be a great hero!”
“This stone tablet is incomplete and is not a tombstone, but a commemorative stele,” Li Chonglou said frankly, without pretension. “The Mùyǎ people worshipped white and were not tolerated by the Tibetans after their migration south.”
“The name Mùyǎ itself originated from the Tibetans; they were originally called Mùyǎba.”
“They lived in seclusion around Mount Gongga, still adhering to Western Xia royal rituals.”
“But as the royal bloodline gradually thinned, these rituals also began to disintegrate. To prevent Tibetan plunder, they had to choose a tomb site in this location, a hundred li away.”
“This was Han territory at the time.”
“The entire inscription speaks of these matters, but because some characters are incomplete, I can only interpret them myself.”
Li Chonglou’s voice was unhurried, as if conjuring images from that long river of history, captivating the listeners.
“No wonder, no wonder!” Zhao Zheng exclaimed repeatedly. “No wonder this ancient tomb we discovered was built with royal rituals.”
“I’ve searched everywhere for the whereabouts of the Western Xia royalty, and none of them connect.”
“So there’s this kind of background story.”
“Xiao Li, you have cleared up so many doubts for me. Thank you!” Professor Song’s expression, mixed with joy and shock, gripped Li Chonglou’s hand tightly, his face filled with childlike sincerity.
Lin Ying’s gaze towards Li Chonglou now held a trace of astonishment.
From the moment she met her junior brother, she had observed him closely, even testing him, and had long acknowledged his capabilities.
But she never expected him to possess so much more.
Within his seemingly frail body, he hid knowledge that even Professor Song admired.
Even Zhang Chen’s gaze became very complex.
This cheap master actually knew the lost Western Xia script; it wasn’t surprising he had lost to him.
The sheer magnitude of his knowledge and the breadth of his expertise were truly hair-raising.
The only one who remained unconvinced was Cheng Gong: “Without evidence, who knows if you’re just guessing and making things up? Unless the facts in the tomb can prove your words, I will absolutely not believe it!”