The Ancestral Legacy Begins in the Wild West

Chapter 145 I'm in a hurry to get arrested, so I'll go get 50.

Mr. Zhou was referring to the official response after Zhang Chang'an handed over the letter to them.

This is a complete public relations operation.

First, they sent the letter directly to Japan without making it public. Official documents are almost impossible to forge, and it's highly unlikely they would make such a joke.

In addition, since the genealogy records went through customs, those cultural relics must have been documented when they left there. However, depending on the genealogy records' capabilities, they might not have been simultaneously given to the cultural relics bureau there.

But once they confirm it, they'll belatedly find out. Once they know, they'll naturally be too ashamed to continue speaking. Otherwise, if it gets publicized later, they'll be the ones slapping their own ancestors in the face.

The main point is that they simply cannot reclaim these two cultural relics through force or even a propaganda war.

Let alone actual combat effectiveness, just looking at the number and volume of voices from the public, it was a losing proposition from the very beginning.

In addition, another important step was to choose to publish this letter here only today, while simultaneously releasing the original, also redacted, letter online through the official account.

This way, the popularity of the exhibition day can be leveraged to complement each other, combining the buzz of the debunking of the rumor with the popularity of the exhibition itself, creating a double hit.

Ordinary debunking of rumors and ordinary exhibitions might not achieve the same effect as today, since one is an online debate and the other is an offline cultural relic event.

However, once these factors are considered together, not only today, but also in subsequent online discussions and offline exhibitions, there will be explosive progress.

Zhang Chang'an pondered for a moment, then continued exchanging pleasantries with the people present. Before long, he stood with the crowd and turned to survey them.

This brings us to the last function of this operation, which is a hidden effect.

Eagle-eye vision swept across the crowd, and several people dressed in plain clothes were seen moving silently through the crowd.

They are not obvious on their own, but when considered in conjunction with their goals, they become easier to understand from a God's-eye view.

Their target was clear: a few people who looked off from the moment they entered, glancing around and clutching their phones. These people hadn't even properly looked at any of the artifacts inside before they wanted to turn back or quickly end their visit.

For example, someone wearing a gray hoodie and a mask is frantically typing with their head down.

A man in a black T-shirt next to me stared at the letter for a long time with a wandering gaze, looking like he had swallowed a fly.

Many of them were quickly found by the plainclothes officers and even the guards in the crowd. Most of them were on the edge of the crowd and had no time to react, nor did they dare to react.

After all, they had little chance to escape, and exposing any abnormality would only make things worse.

Clearly, delaying the release of this letter also serves another purpose: to conduct entrapment operations.

Those weirdos online will most likely try to cause trouble at the event. And even if they do show up, they'll be the absolute idiots, and there will always be some.

That makes it easier to find them one by one.

Even if they don't come to the scene, they definitely can't escape it. Delaying it for a few days will allow those who don't come to the scene to follow up further, wanting to get more information, and more and more things will be exposed, giving the authorities more time to prepare.

Now is the time to reap the harvest.

Zhang Chang'an saw several people, their faces ashen, being taken away. The contrast between their expressions and state and the people on display nearby was stark, naturally making him feel exceptionally pleased.

But at that moment, a thought suddenly drifted into his mind.

"Oh no, oh no, let's go—who the hell is this Sheng Haizhou? A Japanese traitor? It looks like some people in the crowd have already been taken away, I have to run too—"

Zhang Chang'an raised an eyebrow and immediately noticed the anomaly.

"Well then, I'll go in and continue viewing the exhibition." He turned and greeted the bigwigs and leaders, then began to back away as he spoke.

Yu Guang quickly spotted a thin figure wearing a dark jacket, hunching his neck, and watched him sneakily move towards the door.

Zhang Chang'an continued walking forward, seemingly having greeted the person and preparing to turn around, but just as he turned his head and brushed past the person behind him...

He very carelessly bumped into it.

"Bang!" His physique was astonishing. Back in London, he could be knocked off balance by a 200-pound British marble, leaving even Teacher Ma in awe.

Now, the skinny guy was knocked over and fell to the ground, his phone flying out of his hand, tracing an arc in the air, and landing with a thud at the feet of a helpful bystander in front of him.

He himself, like the phone, was slammed hard onto the ground. Only after he fell did Zhang Chang'an react quickly, grabbing his shoulder and lifting him up: "Ouch, I'm so sorry! I wasn't paying attention! You didn't fall and die, did you?"

The sound of the man falling to the ground was so loud that several people nearby turned to look. The thin man was pale and tried to break free from the man's grip, but found that the hand was like an iron clamp, completely immobile.

Over there, a helpful bystander had already picked up the phone: "Whose phone is this? It fell on the ground!"

People glanced at it instinctively and saw that the screen was slightly cracked, but it was still lit up. It displayed a chat group.

The group is called the "Alliance of the Sober." Their latest posts are about planning how to cause trouble at the museum.

One of the messages tagging him stood out: "Historical Research Bureau, have you arrived yet? Let me know when you get there, and see what's going on inside."

The concerned bystanders were stunned for a moment, then looked up at the thin man. His face had turned completely pale.

He suddenly struggled, and this time, Zhang Chang'an let go. But before letting go, he quietly raised his hand and pressed hard on a certain acupoint on him.

He couldn't care less about that at that moment and turned to run. But for some reason, after only two steps, it was as if his blood supply suddenly stopped; his legs went weak, and he fell straight forward, crashing headfirst between two guards.

Before the two guards could react, the people around them erupted in chaos.

"Isn't this also an online blogger with cerebral palsy?"

"Wow, 50 million!"

"Holy crap! Don't let him get away!"

Before the shouts had even faded, the skinny guy was already surrounded by the crowd. Some reached out to grab him, some held up their phones to film him, and one man with a particularly loud voice shouted, "Get out of the way! I'm strong!"

The guard finally realized what was happening and, while squeezing out, shouted, "Don't move! Don't move! We're the police!"

The crowd parted to make way for the two guards, who grabbed the skinny man. But the man was even more anxious than they were, burying his face in his collar and not daring to look up.

Huddled between two guards, I didn't even want my phone anymore, just hoping they would arrest me quickly.

Looking at the fierce-looking burly men or enthusiastic young people around him, he felt that if he had been even a step later, he would have become the sole victim of the stampede.

Standing outside the crowd, Zhang Chang'an watched this scene and couldn't help but laugh: "The first real-world application of the psychic connection was actually used here."

That's right, he knew this guy. He was just like that Japanese observer. Not only did he love to go online, but he also loved to talk about history. He was a bit of a troublemaker and loved to tell historical anecdotes and talk about the glorious past.

As it turned out, the real person present was not only unaware of Lian Shenghaizhou's presence, but was also a weakling with a low level of consciousness, whose consciousness was directly invaded by him.

"The net of heaven is vast, and those who leave no descendants will be executed—"

Thousands of miles away, in a small third-tier city, Zhao Zhiqiang sat in front of his computer, staring at the screen, his fingers icy cold.

The noise at the door was no longer just the first one or two knocks, but he sat there, too afraid to move. His hands and feet were ice-cold, and he had no strength left to move.

"Who?" he asked weakly.

After asking the question, he realized it was a pointless question. Soon, the lock on his simple rented room door was forcefully pushed open.

Several men in hats filed in. The one in the lead spoke calmly: "Zhao Zhiqiang, is that right? You are being arrested in accordance with the law for allegedly accepting overseas remittances, making prohibited remarks, and inciting crowds."

Zhao Zhiqiang's hands were ice cold, but no matter how cold they were, they were still colder than the silver bracelets that were already handcuffed to his wrists.