The Ancestral Legacy Begins in the Wild West

Chapter 155 Let him go save people! Eastern Alchemist

Julian saw the Eastern man slowly rise from the ground. He blocked the moonlight, making his figure appear exceptionally tall in the darkness.

He wasn't particularly muscular, but he looked remarkably composed.

"I am an alchemist from the East. In your terms, I am a sorcerer. I can save that person."

Julian was stunned. He was still thinking about what Zhang Chang'an had just said.

He does have an uncle who injured his leg a year ago. But let alone his uncle's family, even his own family, where he serves as a guard in this place, can't be described as particularly wealthy.

This injury nearly brought his uncle's entire family to ruin. Later, his uncle pulled through and apparently started a small business as a vendor, while his uncle's son, his cousin, became a leatherworker's apprentice.

And it seems that what helped this family get through this ordeal was a person from the East.

"You are—Dongfang Xian—"

Before he could finish speaking, footsteps suddenly came from the other end of the corridor.

Another guard ran up, covered in blood and utterly disheveled. He saw Julian standing in front of the cell and paused for a moment.

J

What are you doing here? Where's the water?

Julian turned his head, his voice slightly unsteady yet quite firm: "This person—this person can save Pierre!"

The guard was also stunned. Not to mention him, who was only occasionally in charge of this floor, many people stationed in this tower knew this oriental prisoner who was often delivered things and letters.

It is said that he is a doctor or wizard from the East, but no one knows the specifics. Judging from his crimes and the reactions of those who sent him gifts, no one knows whether he actually possesses any powers.

Whether it exists or not.

"Don't be silly!" The guard quickly realized, "Not only are we not letting him out because he's a prisoner, but we also absolutely cannot let him touch Pierre's wound!"

He's right. What kind of experiments were being conducted in the prison was no secret to these guards, since they were assistants who could be called upon at any time and were considered part of the experimental consumables.

But that was only true for them. Pierre's injury was caused by alchemy. And alchemy was entirely controlled by the Society; even the established techniques weren't allowed to be learned or used casually, let alone experimental techniques like this.

Even if it's just a physical injury, you can't let outsiders touch it.

Julian remained silent. He knew there was truth to what he said, and he truly couldn't let go of Pierre.

Pierre's bloodied body lay in the nearby lounge, but at the same time, the prison rules and the possible punishments were a stark reality.

Not only him, but another guard beside him was also hesitant. It was at this moment that the Eastern man in the cell said, "So we have to act before your captain returns, before more people find out."

Julian and the guard were startled by what they heard and simultaneously turned to look into the depths of the corridor. Antoine and many of the guards, having indeed found themselves helpless, had gone downstairs, both angry and frustrated. They were already gone.

How did that Asian man know? He was sitting in his cell and couldn't see what was happening down the corridor.

But—even if they're not around, can this kind of thing really be kept secret?

Julian pondered, "He'll definitely do something to Pierre no matter what, and those effects can't be erased; they'll always be discovered."

Thinking this, he still placed his hand on the cell door, but did not open it for the time being.

The guard next to him simply acquiesced to his actions and did not continue to stop him.

But who knew that at that moment, the Easterner walked to the cell door, raised his hand, and gently knocked on the lock.

"Click—" The lock opened by itself instantly.

Julian and the guard stepped back simultaneously, placing their hands on their weapons. But the Easterner merely raised his hand and pressed it down, signaling them not to be nervous.

"Even if it was to save someone, you'll still be responsible for letting me out," he said. "But as long as I escaped on my own and you couldn't stop me, then everything will be fine."

After saying that, he walked past the two men and headed towards the lounge at the end of the corridor.

Julian stood there, watching the figure disappear into the dim light.

Several guards were standing guard at the entrance to the lounge. They were on high alert when they suddenly heard footsteps.

Turning around, they saw a man in prison clothes strolling leisurely toward them, and they were so frightened that they instinctively drew their swords.

The Asian man in front of them merely glanced at them, and they were suddenly frozen in place.

Julian couldn't quite describe the feeling. Just like everyone else here, when he met those eyes, he was inexplicably suppressed in his emotions and actions.

Zhang Chang'an walked right through them and prepared to continue forward.

This move doesn't rely on fighting spirit. Fighting spirit can only suppress the enemy, not calm them down.

This is the effect of a transformative psychic connection he achieved after studying Eastern philosophical thought and strengthening his mental fortitude. It allows him to briefly synchronize emotions, enabling others to calm down just like him.

However, these people had been under high pressure all along, and their psychic connection was ultimately not the same as their fighting spirit.

After he approached Pierre without knowing his intentions, one of the guards gritted his teeth, drew his sword, and charged at Zhang Chang'an with great force.

Julian, however, rushed up from behind him at that moment and blocked the attack with his sword.

"clang!"

"Get out of the way!" Julian roared. "Let him go save them!"

Zhang Chang'an glanced around and saw that the guards, clearly unaware of the situation, were all frozen in place and stopped moving.

He then bypassed them and finally arrived at Pierre's side.

Julian followed behind and was immediately surrounded by several guards who had come to their senses. A commotion arose, kept low as if afraid of disturbing something, but the anxiety and agitation were all contained in their words.

"Are you crazy? He's a prisoner!"

"He can save Pierre!"

"Save him? Does he know alchemy? Has he ever touched this stuff? If we release prisoners to save people, the warden will find out."

"Does the warden know Pierre is dying? Does he even care!?"

After that shout, the people finally quieted down a bit.

Zhang Chang'an finally reached the stretcher and squatted down.

Pierre lay there, his chest rising and falling slightly, very shallowly and quickly.

The dark red fragments were embedded in the flesh, densely packed, like iron filings sprinkled on raw meat. The surrounding skin had begun to turn black, not the black of burns, but a black that was rotting from the inside out.

Zhang Chang'an looked down and did not act immediately.

How much does he know about Parisian alchemy? He's been reading books on the basic theories for a few days and has a general idea of ​​what it's all about.

I'm familiar with the tropes of alchemy in literary works. But this is the first time I've seen real alchemy. And it's not alchemical props I've seen, but a person deeply wounded by alchemy.

Those fragments—he examined them closely. Embedded in flesh, with irregular edges and a dark color.

It's a bit like an expansion bolt; the more you move it, the deeper it sinks in. It's probably a crystallization product from some kind of alchemy experiment that failed to solidify and instead collapsed, with fragments exploding and embedding themselves in people.

If that's the case—

"Paper. Pen. Water basin," Zhang Chang'an said.

Julian was in a standoff with the guards when he heard the noise. He paused for a moment, then immediately turned around to rummage through his belongings. The guards exchanged glances, unsure whether to stop him or help him.