The Ancestral Legacy Begins in the Wild West

Chapter 196 Zhang Chang'an Walking Underground: The Deterioration of the Philosopher's Stone

The moment Isabella landed, the rapier in her hand was still vibrating slowly. The hollow metal tube at the center of the rapier's blade was never just for releasing venom.

At this moment, the phlogiston refining mechanism was driven at high speed, and the sword blade was also vibrating at high speed.

As he landed, the flagpole of the tricolor flag had already broken into several pieces, and the cloth had been cut into irregular small fragments, which, along with the shattered badge, floated into the air.

She settled herself down in front of Queen Mary's bed, and only then did the sound of the flagpole and metal badge shatter reach her ears.

De La Motte's pupils contracted.

The explosion has only occurred in a few seconds, and even he couldn't make any special reaction in those few seconds.

He simply looked at the back of the figure in front of him and thought, "Although you were focused on the experimental field, why didn't I notice you?"

He frowned, watching the figure in front of him who had landed and quickly turned halfway around, holding a rapier, hiding there, also wary of him.

Isabella kept her body low to the ground, one hand supporting her on the ground, the other hand holding a sword with the tip pointing forward, directly at the warden in front of her.

Her breathing was rapid, her chest heaving violently. The figure in front of her, casting a large shadow against the moonlight, was simply too terrifying.

"No wonder, Iris?" The warden's gaze shifted from her rapier to her cloak. "You're quite a fine alchemist."

The inside of Isabella's cloak and other equipment were almost entirely covered with fine transmutation runes.

It was with this equipment that she was able to sneak past the warden, who wasn't paying attention to his surroundings, and arrive here so quickly at the moment the explosion occurred.

"It's all because of people like you that we've come to this—" Isabella said through gritted teeth.

Right now, this is not the time for her to fight to the death. She believes that even if she chooses to escape from here, even if the original plan fails completely, Zhang Chang'an will always have other ways to help himself and her.

But just now, she had no choice. Although the explosion was a release of alchemical decomposition effects rather than flames and shockwaves, it still affected the area outside the room.

Isabella is not Zhang Chang'an; the only option for her is to enter the center of the explosion and take cover just one second before the alchemy effect completely covers the surrounding area.

And now, with a "click!!"

Crimson lightning-like alchemical tearing patterns, resembling towering flames, completely covered the exterior of the house.

This corner of the Petit Trianon finally gave way.

The remaining half of the bed, along with the shattered and damaged floorboards, collapsed slightly downwards due to the tear in the building structure.

At the same time, a large number of broken beams, piles of rubble and tiles, and countless fragments of windows and furniture fell like a torrential rain, accompanied by a great deal of dust.

Queen Mary's swollen, twisted, pale, and bloodshot body, along with the warden and Isabella at the epicenter of the explosion, were all covered in thick smoke and dust.

"Whoosh!" Amidst the gray smoke and countless building ruins, Isabella's body suddenly appeared.

She was about to fall as the floor collapsed, but fortunately she had turned around and gathered her strength beforehand, allowing her to turn around in mid-air and instantly slip into the corridor on the second floor.

"Huff—huff—" she gasped for breath, squatting on the floor of the corridor. The thick smoke in front of her had not yet dissipated, making her throat tight.

Before my eyes, the door of the room I had just left had been blown off by the explosion, with only half of it still attached to the hinges, hanging crookedly on the door frame.

The scene inside the door remained hazy and indistinct, with a large amount of rubble and wood debris completely covering the room, seemingly including the warden and Queen Mary.

-

Directly below the bedroom, the room was in complete disarray. A large section of the ceiling had collapsed, with broken beams leaning precariously amidst the rubble. The walls were crooked, with cracks extending from the floor to the roof.

De La Motte stood here on a relatively flat pile of rubble. Several servants' corpses lay scattered around him.

Some had their chests crushed by beams, others were half-buried in rubble, and some were even completely buried in the ruins. Only blood seeped from the cracks in the rubble, forming small, dark red puddles at their feet. Yet, they remained almost unharmed, not even covered in much dust. They stood as calmly as a sculpture standing amidst the ruins.

Before him, the remaining half of the bed was wedged in a huge hole in the ceiling, one end resting on a broken beam, the other dangling precariously in mid-air.

Queen Mary's body dangled from the edge of the bed, a pale and swollen hand hanging in mid-air, fingers slightly curled.

Her body was no longer contorted, and the scarlet veins were slowly calming down.

His face returned to calm, though his expression was one of pain, and he was also emaciated and distorted, bearing the scars of the explosion. Without looking up, De La Motte knew that Isabella must still be alive, right above him in the corridor.

But what he should do now is leave the scene immediately and distance himself from the situation.

Therefore, he only did one last thing.

He pulled a stone from his pocket. The stone was less than the size of a palm, and it was dark red all over, quite clean, but the color was not bright.

The biggest problem is its irregular shape, half square and half round, with various other geometric shapes pieced together. Naturally, this is an impure Philosopher's Stone.

De La Motte raised his hand and gently touched the stone to the tip of Queen Mary's fingers, which were hanging down below.

The moment her fingers touched the red stone, Queen Mary's body suddenly changed.

The red veins that were slowly fading suddenly swelled up from that fingertip, as if they had been re-injected with life, turning back into that dazzling bright red, surging wildly beneath her skin.

Those closed eyes opened.

One of them was a cloudy, grayish-white eye, the color of the iris had completely faded, leaving only a translucent, fish-eye-like membrane.

The pupils were gone, replaced by a large number of scarlet blood vessels radiating from the corners of the eyes, a sight that sent chills down one's spine.

Zhang Chang'an was walking slowly through a dark underground passage.

-

The rammed earth walls on both sides of the passage reflected a faint airflow at the boundary between touch and hearing. His fingers nervously tapped the side of his leg, again and again, the rhythm getting faster and faster.

As if to confirm his unease, the terrible noises coming from the direction of Versailles in the distance did not reach him at all, but the noises from the street reflected by the walls of the surrounding passageway had already told him something.

He couldn't make out what they were saying or talking about, but there were clearly chaotic footsteps and conversations intertwining, colliding, and dispersing above the street. He could vaguely hear a few words like "Versailles Palace".

Zhang Chang'an was carrying a lot of things, but he still quickened his pace decisively.

With every two steps, the soles of his shoes suddenly made a muffled thud on the rammed earth, and he shot out like an arrow, propelled by the airflow, rushing deep into the dark passage.

Behind him, Quasimodo stood at the crossroads, leaning on his long wooden cane with the bell attached. In the blink of an eye, Zhang Chang'an had completely disappeared from his sight.

The bell jingled briefly in the darkness before falling silent again.