Shen Le sighed, feeling as though a thousand-pound burden had landed on his back. But there was no helping it. These things still had to be repaired, and most likely, he would have to do it alone:
Even just standing inside the studio, the spiritual energy within those bronze lumps rushed toward him, pricking his face with a faint pain.
It told Shen Le that they were not ordinary cultural relics, but spiritual artifacts—perhaps even divine artifacts—powerful magic artifacts used to worship and communicate with gods.
If Shen Le dared hand these things over to the professors for repairs, they would dare cause trouble, including but not limited to creating illusions, damaging tools with spiritual energy, corroding human bodies with spiritual energy—
"Forget it. There'll be a way when we get there. I'll take it one step at a time." Shen Le sighed as he rolled up his sleeves, picked up the ultrasonic scaler, and plunged it into the sink again.
He would first dismantle all these bronze lumps, remove the rust, and conduct compositional analysis.
What if, once they had been cleaned and roughly pieced together, this batch of chime bells manifested something?
He did not expect the bells to greedily absorb metal-element spiritual power and repair themselves. Even if they showed the slightest bit of spirituality and told him how they had been cast back then, that would be enough!
Shen Le gritted his teeth and buried himself in work. Removing rust, dismantling lumps, removing more rust, dismantling more lumps.
After taking apart one lump, he cleaned off the rust, dried the pieces, photographed them again, scanned them, ran them through analytical instruments, attached labels, and sent them back into the cabinet;
then he took apart the next lump and repeated the entire process—
The good news was