The Ancestral Legacy Begins in the Wild West

Chapter 184 The Tragic World of Charlemagne

As Charles himself previously stated, Charles Jacques, the Man in the Iron Mask, was just a young man from a small town on the outskirts of Lyon before he became who he is today.

The place was close to Paris, not remote, but in those days, not everyone had a chance to survive in Paris, let alone in a place like Lyon.

His family was poor, his parents were heavily in debt, and they passed away. But the creditors came after him. At that time, he was only seventeen years old and had nothing but a pair of hands that could carve.

In stark contrast to his current appalling situation, Charles was actually a sculptor before he came in.

This was only discovered later. At first, Zhang Chang'an only knew his experiment number and the crime, but he knew nothing about the specific experience and process. After all, the experiment records could not contain such things, only basic information.

He remembered the charge of counterfeiting goods; the warden had mentioned it when he introduced Zhang Chang'an to him on the first day. But he hadn't thought much of it at the time.

Later, when I talked to Charles, I learned that he was a sculptor by training. He was exceptionally talented even as an apprentice, and his carvings were praised by even the master craftsmen. However, he was poor and powerless, and couldn't even afford the materials.

His mentor had passed away early, and with no one to continue guiding him, he had virtually no job opportunities.

The family's debts weighed heavily on him, and the creditors were pressuring him harder every day.

After a while, someone actually approached him, took a liking to his craftsmanship, and asked him to help make molds.

Molds for silver coins.

Casting metal coins naturally requires molds, and the simplest method is to directly cast them. However, ordinary coins are not suitable for casting; instead, they are better made from other materials.

It was after that that Ciel, who had indeed been driven to the brink of despair, had his debts cleared.

But people like him have never been able to escape the oppression of criminals.

Not long after, the truth came out: the leader behind the criminal organization clearly had some connections with Lyon officials, and they shared the profits from the incident.

On the contrary, it was Charles, the victim, who was arrested and all the charges fell on his head. The case file stated that he, all by himself, completed the carving of the material, casting of the mold, acquisition of a large amount of raw materials, minting of coins, and even the circulation of them in the market in just half a month.

This is so abstract it couldn't be more so, but those who harmed him and those who judged him were all in cahoots, so what could he do?

Charles was sentenced to life imprisonment and sent to the Bastille. Later, the warden selected him and about ten other prisoners to be taken to the underground laboratory.

Then, a few months later, he was the only one left in that group. Besides that, during those days, Charles told him how cold the winters in Lyon were, so cold that the rivers froze over, so cold that poor families couldn't even afford firewood and had to spend the night wrapped in a single blanket.

But I also told him about how, when I was little, I would climb up the church bell tower and look at the houses below. The roof tiles were arranged one after another, like fish scales, and they reflected the sunlight so brightly it was dazzling. They were even more beautiful than the houses on the Champs-Élysées.

He told me that his first piece was a bird, a bird with its wings spread. After he finished carving it, he held it in his hand and looked at it for a long time, feeling as if it was about to fly away at any moment.

But now, his hands can no longer hold the carving knife.

Zhang Chang'an didn't mind hearing more of Charles's stories, but Charles had indeed helped him in a respectable way.

Because Ciel doesn't know alchemy, but he is a seasoned experimental subject who has personally experienced countless experiments. In the field of human transmutation, his experience is more profound than any alchemist.

He could describe the subtle differences between different transmutation arrays when applied to the human body, and he could describe what it was like for the body to be purified and transformed into crystals.

Of course, there are many details about the warden's various alchemical techniques. Much of this can be further transformed into experience in human transmutation or other alchemical techniques.

Of course, even though these things were indeed very useful, Zhang Chang'an would still remain silent for a long time after each listening session.

He has traversed so many instances and saved countless lives.

But only the person in front of him knew that even though he was far from reaching the bottleneck of those two techniques, in the end, he still might not be able to save Xia Er.

Because his condition was truly terrible. The crystals had spread to his spine, and the fact that they were embedded in the chair was just the surface; the unseen parts underneath—his organs, blood vessels, and nerves—had long been riddled with holes from erosion.

Let alone him, even alchemists of the caliber of the warden, Zhang Chang'an didn't know if he could restore Ciel.

The more he practiced alchemy, the clearer he became about the warden's skill level. Even with runes specifically designed to counter alchemy modifications, Zhang Chang'an's modified alchemical equipment might not be able to withstand the warden's sabotage.

But even for someone as strong as him, it would be extremely difficult to remove someone whose entire body had been purified and crystallized over so many years from that chair unharmed.

Lan Gong's alchemy skills are certainly more applicable to the human body than alchemy, but his level is too low and he lacks the advanced methods to follow, which Zhang Chang'an cannot achieve.

Therefore, he felt quite uncomfortable every time he faced Ciel.

The only chance now is the warden's experiment. This is also the main reason why Zhang Chang'an is staying here.

Even with alchemical equipment, Zhang Chang'an might not be able to kill the warden on his home turf. But with the bell-ringer lingering in the underground tomb, he could have gotten out much earlier.

There is only one reason why he is still here: the secret of this underground alchemy experiment.

Using Xia Er's body as a springboard, Zhang Chang'an had already roughly figured out the structure of the pseudo-philosopher's stone crystals on his body. However, knowing the structure is one thing, and mastering the technology or benefits behind it is another.

The warden has yet to allow him to directly participate in the specific purification process, and Zhang Chang'an hasn't even obtained the other high-level alchemy techniques here.

That's why he stayed here, waiting for the day when he could seize some opportunity to do something big and make Lan Gong's life more exciting.

"Don't breathe too fast." Zhang Chang'an stood up and gathered the containers on the tray together. "The first fifteen minutes after the medicine takes effect are the most uncomfortable, but it will pass."

Charles blinked, indicating that he had heard.

"The same time tomorrow." After saying that, Zhang Chang'an picked up the iron box and turned to walk towards the door.

He walked through the corridor with lamps lit in the niches on both sides, past the walls of alternating rammed earth and stone bricks, past the sealed pits and cracks, and up the stairs leading to the ground.

The guards here were already familiar with him and ignored him. The only sound in the entire underground space was the echo of his footsteps on the stone steps, one after another, in a very rhythmic way.

After exiting the underground entrance and passing through the heavy iron gate, two armored guards nodded to him. The lamps in the corridor had been adjusted to nighttime brightness, casting long, yellowish shadows.

He walked along the corridor toward his cell, his pace neither fast nor slow, the iron box swaying gently in his hands.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of a figure.