The Ancestral Legacy Begins in the Wild West

Chapter 162 Give this Easterner a good lesson!

The next afternoon, Zhang Chang'an returned from the laboratory after finishing another teaching session, looking utterly exhausted.

His mind felt heavy, as if it were filled with something, and his thinking was slightly sluggish.

Walking inside the prison, he carried nothing in his hands. Because the secrecy measures for alchemy were very strict, the Alchemy Codex could not be taken out when leaving the laboratory. If he wanted to review, he could only rely on what he had memorized.

Fortunately, after learning the basics, this stuff is similar to math problems; you can work through it in your head. So the pace doesn't fall behind.

Moreover, he already struggles to digest the material he learns each day. After returning to his cell and reviewing the material, he can completely drain his remaining energy and doesn't need to read any more books.

In addition to learning alchemy, he also had to devote some energy to other things.

After walking down the stairs and returning to his floor, Zhang Chang'an immediately saw a burly man with his arms crossed, who, judging from his posture, was waiting for him.

Zhang Chang'an stopped and glanced at him. Sure enough, René's expression was off. It was hard to tell if it was anxiety or something else, but there was an unusual hesitation on his fleshy face.

Zhang Chang'an thought for a moment, then said, "You look very tired. Has something happened outside again?"

René shook his head: "With your help, my brothers have all started to work hard."

Thanks to your persuasion, almost everyone among them has found a job. This includes even the one who initially disliked manual labor the most. Your words are truly magical.

His words still conveyed his deep respect for Zhang Chang'an: "Besides, compared to me, you have many people in Paris on your mind, and you must be more tired than any of us."

Zhang Chang'an did not respond.

René was silent for a moment, as if choosing his words carefully. Then he looked up into Zhang Chang'an's eyes: "Besides, you've never said it, but your execution should be imminent, right?"

His voice was deep, and the emotions in his tone were a complex mix of sadness and inexplicable resentment.

"You really don't need to do this," René said. "With your abilities, you could easily do a little something for any nobleman."

He didn't finish his sentence, but simply shook his head. "Or perhaps, our people would all be willing to do it for you—"

Before he could finish speaking, Zhang Chang'an already knew what René meant.

René Wipper was a man of few words, without a wife or family, but in the working-class neighborhood, he was a respected elder among the local young people.

Although it was limited to street youths with no background and didn't form any organization, it could still be considered the leader of a small gang.

His main reputation in prison stemmed from this.

Although he wasn't a proper criminal, more like a neighborhood gang leader, he often mediated between local thugs and criminals. The more he did it, the more famous he became. And being able to do this kind of thing, his skills were naturally beyond question.

And the meaning behind his words was quite simple. Zhang Chang'an had helped them there before, and they were willing to help Zhang Chang'an in return.

However, Zhang Chang'an's expression did not change.

"Working for nobles—if I wanted to," he said. "I wouldn't have come in in the first place. Don't try to persuade me; I know what I'm doing."

He paused for a moment.

"As for asking for your help, that's even more impossible. Don't even mention how you could possibly get me out of here on your own."

Your lives have only just gotten back on track. If I ask you to do something so risky for me now, all your previous efforts would be wasted.

René opened his mouth, as if to say something. But Zhang Chang'an didn't give him the chance.

"Compared to my situation," he said, "judging by the time, you should be heading out soon."

René was silenced. He paused for a moment, then nodded.

As mentioned earlier, although he had a good reputation and was skilled in martial arts, he didn't actually commit many crimes. Therefore, his sentence was not long.

Before he could speak, Zhang Chang'an said, "That's good. After you go out, do me a favor."

René nodded immediately without even asking what it was about. Then his expression darkened: "Of course, that's no problem. But I'm leaving now. Sage, you must be careful in prison."

Zhang Chang'an looked at him and smiled, a particularly sunny smile.

"That," he said, "I'm never worried about it."

Around dinnertime, Zhang Chang'an was still in his cell reviewing what he had learned that day. He hadn't yet fully digested the jumbled alchemical symbols and knowledge in his mind when Julian appeared outside the iron bars.

Although he did seem a little nervous, he stood at the door without saying a word, and turned his head slightly towards Zhang Chang'an.

This style is exactly the same as Antoine's.

Zhang Chang'an then naturally stood up and followed him out.

------

The two men walked through the corridor, down the stairs, and into the depths of the prison.

However, although it was still deep inside the prison, the path they were taking was different from the direction they were going to the laboratory. Instead of going deeper into the prison, they turned to the side, passed several closed doors, and then turned another corner.

Julian did not stop as he passed a doorway, but continued walking a few steps forward.

At his prompting, Zhang Chang'an pushed open the door and went inside.

The room wasn't big, but it was much warmer than a prison cell.

A fire was burning in the stove in the corner, with a pot sitting on it, steam rising from the cracks in the lid. In the center of the room stood a long wooden table, its surface wiped clean, on which several items were placed.

Zhang Chang'an sat down at the table. In front of him was a plate of bread spread with butter and hot eggs, huge oysters, and a small bottle of wine.

Water droplets condensed on the bottle, as if it had just been taken out of a cellar.

Yes, this is the prison kitchen. The food in front of Zhang Chang'an wasn't much, nor was it particularly luxurious. But for a prisoner, it was enough.

He took a bite of bread, chewed it twice, then picked up an oyster, tilted his head back, and popped it into his mouth.

"Hmm—although it's still not quite as good as what's available in Guangzhou, it's much better than what's in London."

Unbeknownst to him, at the same time, at the end of the corridor, Julian was not there, but several figures emerged from around the corner.

The one in the lead was burly, with a scar on his neck that stretched from his ear to his collar. He swayed from side to side as he walked, as if the entire corridor couldn't contain him.

This man's name is Vulban. He's known as "Shameless".

Robbery, assault, arson—the things he did in Lyon before coming to Paris were enough to land him on the guillotine ten times over.

Now that he's in Paris and inside the Bastille, he hasn't stopped causing trouble. With his ruthless, reckless nature and the few men under his command, he's managed to build up a force among the free prisoners.

Not counting the ruthless individuals held in solitary confinement, he was the most dangerous one in the area.

At this moment, he was followed by five men, all of whom were ruthless bandits who had come in with him.

"Boss," the skinny guy at the front turned around and lowered his voice, "the person's already gone. They were released at noon, I saw it with my own eyes."

Vorban's lips twitched upwards, revealing an unsettling smile on his face.

"Things will be easier now that René is gone," he said, his voice not loud but exceptionally clear in the empty corridor. "This Asian has been arrogant for so long, it's time for us to teach him a lesson."

1

>