The Ancestral Legacy Begins in the Wild West

Chapter 189 Zhang Chang'an is not afraid of the brute; the warden has his own plans.

Amidst the smoke, Zhang Chang'an helplessly moved his left hand, which had been pinched earlier.

Louis, lying on the ground, was completely dizzy, even though he still had a lot of alchemical potions and equipment left to use.

But this doesn't mean that he is someone who can be instantly killed by Zhang Chang'an, as he previously demonstrated.

Zhang Chang'an's body is now many times tougher than that of an ordinary person; otherwise, it would be impossible for him to exchange punches with someone wearing iron armor and shatter their armor plates along with their bones.

However, after the alchemical equipment on Louis began to take effect, his physical abilities, which had been completely suppressed by Zhang Chang'an, were greatly enhanced.

Zhang Chang'an's arm had been gripped by him for a while, and now there were several bruises.

He was lying on the ground, but the patterns on his alchemical equipment were clearly only half lit up.

It was precisely because he discovered that these guards were so well-equipped that Zhang Chang'an was in no hurry to escape the Bastille before taking all the benefits from it.

"With the Alchemy Society president by my side," Zhang Chang'an pondered, then squatted down, took out a small cloth bag from his waist, and shook it open, revealing a few dried herbs inside.

He covered his mouth and nose with one hand, and with the other hand he pinched the herbs, rubbed his thumb and middle finger together, a flash of fire appeared at his fingertips, and the herbs immediately began to burn, emitting a thick, bitter smoke.

He waved the burning herbs in front of Louis a few times, letting the smoke fill his nostrils and throat, then casually flicked away the residue, spread his fingers, and placed his palm on Louis's forehead.

The psychic connection unfolded silently in the smoke. Unusual emotions surged from his consciousness like water released from a dam, flowing into Louis's mind through the hand.

Louis's body twitched on the ground, a short, choked scream escaped his throat, and then, with his eyes half-open, he lay completely still.

Just then, footsteps came from the other end of the corridor.

Zhang Chang'an withdrew his hand, stood up while holding onto the door frame, swayed slightly, and walked out of the smoke.

Two guards stationed in the underground laboratory ran over from the other end of the corridor, holding phlogiston guns with the muzzle pointing downwards, but their fingers were already on the trigger guard.

They just saw Zhang Chang'an emerge from the smoke, his steps unsteady, his face pale, his lips white, and a thin layer of sweat on his forehead. He leaned against the door frame, as if something had hollowed him out.

The two paused, exchanging a glance. They were stationed at the underground laboratory and didn't usually interact with Zhang Chang'an, but they didn't have a bad impression of him.

"Mr. Zhang?" one of them spoke first, his gaze passing over Zhang Chang'an's shoulder to the billowing white smoke inside the room. "What happened?"

Zhang Chang'an leaned against the doorframe, caught his breath, waved his hand inside, and said with a weary voice, as if he had just survived a disaster, "Don't worry about me. Go and rescue Captain Louis first."

Both guards frowned simultaneously.

"I don't know what happened to him. He suddenly came to me, warned me not to be arrogant, and while cursing my Asian and prisoner status, he raised his hand to hit me."

I didn't react much, but the alchemical protective gear I had put on to prevent the test subject from going berserk was triggered. I quickly took him to clean his mouth and nose, otherwise he might suffer cardiac arrest.

The two guards were startled and quickly fastened their gold-plated masks to their faces before ducking into the smoke. From inside came a series of coughs and the clanging of metal.

A moment later, Louis was dragged out of the cloud of white smoke. His hair was mostly disheveled, and the expression on his face was frozen in a state that was hard to describe as either fear or pain. His eyes were half-open and half-closed, his pupils unfocused, and he trembled silently.

Watching two guards grab him from either side and drag him away, Zhang Chang'an leaned against the wall and slowly slid down to the ground.

"Phew—I was ambushed and completely overwhelmed by the battle aura. The psychic connection really works."

This is the first time I've used this method, so I might not be able to quite get the balance right. If the fear I just instilled is too intense, it could damage my language and logical thinking abilities.

Even if it's not that serious, given Louis's current state, memory loss is inevitable. With his arrogant mindset, how could he possibly accept the fact that he was easily subdued by an ordinary prisoner?

He leaned against the wall and shook his head. Thanks to Lan Gong's abilities, his understanding of the psychic profession and the psychology of others had indeed become increasingly sophisticated.

As Quasimodo said, one can still grasp the whole picture of major events without leaving home.

Louis himself was only part of the problem; more importantly, de La Motte was probably too busy to deal with it right now. He was preoccupied with the Iris of Liberty and had no time for an ordinary captain who wasn't helpful to his experiments.

Based on his understanding of this person, although De La Motte was a nobleman and worked for nobles, he did not have much affection or ingratiation towards nobles and royalty.

Especially nowadays, Zhang Chang'an's role is becoming increasingly important.

With his help, the experiments on Ciel are nearing their final stage. The warden won't touch him now.

The smoke dissipated. The corridor fell silent again, with only the faint sound of footsteps in the distance.

This office in the Palais de Justice is located behind the columns at the highest point of Île de la Cité, with windows facing the Seine. The last rays of the setting sun have been swallowed by the clouds, leaving only a hazy reflection on the windowpane.

Marquis de La Motte sat behind his desk, holding a letter that had just been delivered from prison; it was from Louis.

He glanced at it, then casually tossed it aside.

What do you mean by "just disappearing like that"?

His voice wasn't loud; it echoed briefly in the empty office before being absorbed by the high vaulted ceiling.

Opposite the desk stood a slender figure, wearing a dark gray alchemist's robe with a mercury droplet badge pinned to the collar, which gleamed a dark silver under the light.

"I apologize, Marquis," the mercury alchemist spoke, his voice as somber and low as his appearance. "Everything went as you predicted. Charlotte Corday was slightly influenced by me and went on to carry out the assassination. The Jacobins and Girondins are now locked in a fierce battle."

Under my guidance, Rançois Jeunet did indeed begin hunting down that so-called Miss Iris.

He paused for a moment: "But neither Rançois nor we have indeed lost track of her."

De Lamothe's fingers stopped on the table. He withdrew his hand and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Rançois Jeunet, Mara's bodyguard, was also someone they wanted to exploit.

This man was a leather worker by trade, as strong as an ox and as temperamental as an ox. He spent two years with Mara, but all he developed was the ability to fight in the streets.

As is often the case in history, after Marat's death, he went mad with a desire for revenge, shouting in Parisian taverns that he would tear the woman who killed Marat to pieces.

These kinds of people are the easiest to manipulate. They are full of anger but have no direction; with a little guidance, they become very easy to control, like a mad dog.

That's what the Mercury Alchemist does. As a Mercury Alchemist, this is what he excels at. It's not about manipulating liquid metal or its purpose, but about disrupting other people's central nervous system like mercury, using others to do his dirty work.

It's true that it's much easier for lower-level people to investigate these kinds of things than for those of us sitting in offices flipping through files.

Because the counter-surveillance tactics of the Free Iris were mainly aimed at nobles and upper-class people like them.

On the contrary, the dark corners of the streets and alleys, and the black markets that close up before dawn, are full of advertisements claiming that they can help noble ladies get out of their predicaments.

After François pressed this lead to its conclusion, with the help of the Jacobin faction, he managed to catch up with Miss Iris within a few days and even hunted her down for several days.

But now, that lead has gone cold.

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