The Ancestral Legacy Begins in the Wild West

Chapter 174 Mind's Eye Elixir Success

Of course, Zhang Chang'an had no interest in getting involved in these struggles. Everyone knew that Paris, France, was a revolutionary base.

The French Revolution, with its street battles and the storming of the Bastille, sounds like a well-known story of freedom and liberation. But a little research beyond that reveals that the revolution of this period was utterly chaotic.

These three revolutionary factions, though claiming to be revolutionaries, took turns ruling after beheading Louis XVI, and none of them met a good end.

Even the Jacobins, who seem to be closest to the general public and are mainly composed of workers and the lower classes, are no exception; in fact, it would be more accurate to say that they are the ones who cause the most trouble.

The people under Robespierre's rule, which was marked by white terror, were not necessarily any more comfortable than during the reign of Louis XVI. Their methods were even more ruthless than those of the anti-shogunate faction in Kyoto.

In short, Paris was in complete chaos, and there was no one who could be considered a good person. As a prisoner whose own safety was at stake, Zhang Chang'an naturally had no interest in getting involved.

However: "The chaos they've created is actually a good bargaining chip for my future escape. With three factions simultaneously vying for imperial power, society is under immense pressure and high temperature. This place, therefore, has the potential to be breached, following the historical trajectory—"

At this point, he had to think of another aspect.

Perenne's trip out to learn about the outside world was only one aspect; the key was his subsequent actions.

Establish a stable connection, begin to advance the plan, and guide the event that will ultimately allow him to escape.

Besides the revolutionary atmosphere outside, the alchemy equipment and laboratories in the prison were another major factor that allowed him to escape.

His alchemy skills are constantly improving, and the skill of inorganic ritual alchemy has already been generated in the family tree, at a good quality level.

This will come in handy when we escape later.

Neither the planning of this project nor the alchemy technology here can be communicated through normal correspondence. Therefore, the next step in the plan is to find a way to establish a stable and secretive connection with the outside world.

Actually, there's been some progress on this matter.

The boy had told him that the people René had found outside said that if they knew his situation in prison, they would have a chance to contact him.

But Zhang Chang'an couldn't come up with a solution even after thinking for a long time. What connections did he have in Paris? Apart from the ordinary people who delivered messages and supplies to him, he didn't know anyone at all.

Lan Gong's old acquaintances were either dirt poor from the lower classes or nobles who had fallen out with him.

However, he doesn't seem to need to rush.

The warden's experiment is still a long way from being fully perfected, but he has now eliminated the threat of the death penalty.

"Then let's wait and see what kind of tricks they can pull out of him outside," he thought, turning over and glancing at the family tree.

Among them lies a new skill, Inorganic Ritual Alchemy, of good quality.

This is naturally an ability he gained from practicing alchemy. He has made considerable progress in the past few days, but there is still much room for improvement.

That's why he got up now; looking at the sky outside, it was already time.

Zhang Chang'an reluctantly got up, smoothed out the wrinkles on the bed, picked up the kettle on the cabinet, and took a sip of water.

I need to go to the lab again today to further develop that skill.

He opened the door, and the fluorescent lights in the corridor had been adjusted to nighttime brightness, casting a blinding white light on the stone floor.

As for what's happening outside, let's wait a few more days.

Zhang Chang'an picked up the bottle of medicine and examined it. The pale blue liquid swayed slightly inside the glass bottle, with a few wisps floating on the surface—

The dark red patterns, like smoke, dispersed and gathered again.

This was the most satisfying batch he had produced in days. His alchemy and inorganic alchemy techniques had both stabilized at a good level; he not only had the knowledge in his mind, but he could also use them perfectly.

The thing in front of him was something he had created himself after he had thoroughly understood and mastered it.

If he hadn't fully mastered it, he certainly wouldn't have been able to come up with a new prescription from scratch.

He stared at the bottle of liquid for a long time, still feeling a bit uncertain. Although he had mastered the skill, independently developing a formula and successfully refining an elixir were two different things.

Even if the formula is correct, it doesn't guarantee that he will practice it correctly. If he makes a mistake at any step, what he drinks won't be a sudden enlightenment, but rather a disembowelment.

What should we use to test the medicine? He glanced at the cages containing white mice in the corner of the laboratory.

After thinking about it, I realized it wouldn't work.

"What alchemy techniques, medicine making, elixir refining—aren't there plenty of works that have resulted in illness from indiscriminate feeding? We can't repeat that mistake!"

So in the end, he simply kept the antidote pills on hand, uncorked the bottle, and gulped them down.

The medicine didn't taste particularly special the moment it entered my mouth; it was just a bit bitter, much more bitter than regular herbal decoctions, with an indescribable astringency in the aftertaste.

"Clang!" He put the bottle back on the table.

The sound of the bottle hitting the table was much louder than he had expected. It seemed as if his grip had suddenly tightened, and he had lost control of his strength.

His body swayed. He tried to take half a step back to steady himself, but the step he took was pitifully small; his heels moved less than a hand's width, and his upper body leaned backward.

His entire coordination seemed to have been disrupted; his hands were no longer hands, and his feet were no longer feet.

"Crack!" Zhang Chang'an grabbed the edge of the table. As his fingers tightened, the solid wood edge made a crisp sound under his hand, and a shallow crack appeared on the surface. He quickly loosened his grip, steadied himself, and stood still.

"The medicine is taking effect—"

A strange feeling seeped from the very marrow of his bones. It was as if something was expanding in his mind, slowly, layer by layer, smoothing out the thoughts and consciousness that had been crammed together.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to suppress the surging energy. The strange sensations in his body were also receding, but they didn't disappear; rather, they sank to a deeper place.

"Buzz!"

His senses changed as a result; sounds he usually wouldn't notice in the underground laboratory suddenly flooded his ears.

The gurgling sound of liquid flowing in the instrument in the next room, the hissing sound of gas passing through a pipe overhead, the slight trembling of the louvers in the corner vent as they are pushed by the airflow, and even the tiny footsteps of some insect crawling through the cracks in the stone bricks.

Everything was crammed together and poured in at once, making his head buzz.

He then suddenly opened his eyes.

Everything in his field of vision had changed. The light from the phlogiston lamp was no longer uniform; he could see the boundaries of the light and the tiny, dust-like particles floating within it.

The edges of the glassware on the table were so sharp they looked as if they had been carved with a knife; every scratch and every bubble was clearly visible. He could even see the air itself.

The faint white smoke escaping from the cracks in the stove drifted slowly under the light, each trail clearly visible.

Then came smell, touch, and even taste—his five senses were gradually becoming stronger.

But this is still not the limit.

Because after that, his sixth sense suddenly opened up to his surroundings.

It was as if a window had suddenly opened in his heart.

His consciousness seemed to extend tentacles, sensing everything around him. Even with his eyes closed, he could feel the position of the table, the position of the chair, and the outlines of the bottles and jars on the shelf.

It is not something you feel with your skin, nor something you hear with your ears.

It was as if his consciousness overflowed from his body, filling the entire room, and reflecting back to whatever it touched, telling him what was there.

This is telepathy. His psychic connection is undergoing a transformation. What used to be able to connect only with living things can now sense even inanimate objects.

Zhang Chang'an stood still, letting the senses come in and go on their own.

The effects of the medicine haven't fully settled yet. Naturally, the senses are also unstable.

He closed his eyes and tucked his nose, trying to minimize the impact of this strange sensation on him.

Feel the ever-changing sensations in your senses, in waves, like ocean waves.

When it rose, he seemed to be able to see and hear everything in the entire underground laboratory, even through various iron doors and alchemical barriers.

When it drops, it returns to normal levels, and then rises again after a while.

"Phew—" But as he was adjusting his breathing, he clearly knew that this time, he had indeed succeeded.