The Ancestral Legacy Begins in the Wild West

Zhang Chang'an suddenly flipped the hand that was pressing on the foreigner's shoulder. The man was in excruciating pain and his whole body went limp. He immediately bent over and fell backward.

"Hmph!" Zhang Chang'an exhaled and exerted force, his hand that was originally gripping the man's wrist immediately clenching into a claw. He slammed the man's throat, which was exposed as he leaned back.

This is the second half of the move: a hair-grabbing, throat-sealing technique.

"Bang!" The man immediately collapsed to the ground, coughing violently as if he were about to die.

Zhang Chang'an had no time to catch his breath. He immediately gripped his knuckle duster tightly to gather his strength, and then charged towards the slightly paused crowd.

The foreigners in front of me looked visibly serious. In Britain between World War I and World War II, Chinese people were seen as mysterious figures, people who knew kung fu or martial arts.

Zhang Chang'an not only has an Eastern face, but he also knocked down three people and severely injured another in the blink of an eye, which will surely intimidate them.

Zhang Chang'an had only taken a few steps when he immediately changed direction, turned around, and used his forearm to intercept one of the men's arms with a metal brass knuckles.

"Crack!" The sleeve of the man's suit tore open, but what was clearly revealed was a metallic structure.

Therefore, he was completely unharmed; on the contrary, Zhang Chang'an, who was only wearing a metal knuckle duster, felt a sharp pain in his arm.

In that brief moment of opening, two or three sticks were immediately swung over from the side.

Zhang Chang'an immediately slid back a considerable distance, barely dodging the stick. Then, with the hand that wasn't wearing brass knuckles, he brought his five fingers together in a crane-beak shape and struck at a person's face.

Tiger and crane, the satiated crane is resurrected.

The man cried out in pain, covered his eyes, and backed away, but he only managed to stop the person at the very front of the charge.

"It's still quite troublesome." As Zhang Chang'an stepped back, he kicked up a stick next to a fallen foreigner and handed it to him.

He then immediately swept the stick left and right. Although he had no idea how to use the stick, he managed to hold off the men who were about to pounce on him.

With his current fighting skills, plus the brass knuckles in his hand, he could easily take on ten or twenty ordinary people.

But the group he was facing now wasn't just numerous; their equipment was far more intimidating than ordinary street machetes. Zhang Chang'an genuinely didn't dare to take a single blow. The situation would be completely different then.

"We still need to think of a way..." Zhang Chang'an took a slight step back, his eyes had just swept over the deck and the people in front of him when his heel suddenly touched the cargo container behind him.

Then, his eyes narrowed, and as he swung the stick in his hand, hitting one person, he grabbed the box behind him.

In front of him, countless sticks and fists came at the opportune moment, but Zhang Chang'an flipped over and jumped onto a stack of boxes that were two or three layers high and taller than a person.

The contents of the box were unknown, but being on a ship, it was bound to sway. Zhang Chang'an's lower body was different from that of ordinary people; he easily stepped firmly on top of the box and then lunged forward without stopping.

The people in front were startled, but there was no way to dodge it. Zhang Chang'an grabbed the head of the foreigner who even had metal on his arm and slammed his knee into him.

The tiger and crane are in pairs, striking each other with their knees and heads.

"Crack!" A clear sound of bones breaking rang out. Zhang Chang'an pressed the man to the ground and then rolled over and landed on his own, tumbling away from the group of people.

Taking a step back is a basic skill in martial arts. This height of less than one floor is something that anyone who has practiced a little parkour can easily deflect, so it is of course no problem for him.

So Zhang Chang'an broke away from the crowd, got up, and rushed towards the vicinity of the ship's tower.

Zheng Kui was still entangled with Vito, but considering that he seemed to have no equipment, it seemed to indicate that his fighting skills were exceptional.

To their surprise, the foreigners discovered that Zhang Chang'an's target was not their side at all. He strode across most of the deck in a few steps, then slid across the deck and grabbed something.

"Click-clack..."

"Bang!" Zhang Chang'an's body didn't stop before he raised his hand and swung the hammer. A conspicuous tongue of fire instantly burst into flames on the ship.

"Whoosh!" In the distance, the hat that one of the foreigners had put on his head was blown off.

The soft, round cap had two large holes in it, emitting a burnt smell, and slowly drifted out of the boat. On the man's head, there was a bloody abrasion mark.

The others were startled, but the one in the lead, only a few steps away, was still getting closer.

"Click, click..." Zhang Chang'an pulled the trigger with his backhand. A foreigner who was about to rush to his side had his baton fly out of his hand, and his entire palm became covered in blood.

"Ah!" Another person cried out and knelt down, and finally no one dared to make a move.

"Hoo..." Zhang Chang'an let out a long breath, while simultaneously turning his hand in another direction: "Crack crack..."

He snapped the hammer off again, and the dark muzzle of the gun was aimed directly at Vito, who was about to punch Zheng Kui in the face.

The two of them, of course, had already been drawn over by the gunshots.

Vito's chest heaved violently, and the changes in his pupils were even greater than those in his heart.

Turning his head to look at the other side of the deck, he saw that most of his men had fallen completely, and the remaining few were also somewhat injured.

Zhang Chang'an, the mastermind behind all of this, kept his arm perfectly steady and precisely locked the gun barrel on his head.

While Vito was grabbing his collar, Zheng Kui, who hadn't suffered a single injury despite the long fight, spread his hands out in a rather mocking manner.

Vito finally uttered a curse word from his hometown, then angrily released his grip and shoved Zheng Kui away.

………………

"Squeak—" The wooden door to the office was pushed open, and Zheng Kui and his men walked in, exhausted. They reached out and threw the foreigner in the brown vest into the room.

The brothers inside reacted immediately, caught the man, and took him away.

All the people who went with them returned safely, except for the tough-skinned mute Xiong who suffered some minor abrasions, they were basically unharmed.

Once they arrived at the third floor, which resembled a reception room, they opened the cabinets with practiced ease, and before long, they brought out glass after glass of wine.

Zheng Kui sat down on the very formal-looking high-end sofa with an air of nonchalance, started drinking, and then called out to Zhang Chang'an, "Want some?"

Zhang Chang'an was indeed exhausted from this trip, so I sat down opposite him for now.

Zheng Kui handed him a glass and said, "Drink up. You're not new here. Most of the time, the water isn't as clean as the wine."

Zhang Chang'an was taken aback, then suddenly remembered this. In this era, London, and even the surrounding areas of Manchester and Birmingham, were all developing their industries on a grand scale.

The most obvious cost is severe pollution, not just in the air, but also in the water.

So these days, excessive drinking isn't necessarily a bad habit; sometimes it's just a last resort. Drinking water doesn't necessarily make you live longer than drinking alcohol.

Zhang Chang'an took a sip from the glass. It was a mediocre whiskey, bitter and spicy with a strong taste.

Fortunately, the alcohol content isn't very high, so it can indeed be drunk like water.

After a few drinks, they got down to business. Zheng Kui called over one of his men and honestly recounted the events of the day, preparing to report to Boss Chen.

Listening to this, Zhang Chang'an asked, "Will offending Jean-Glaucon this time cause trouble?"

Zheng Kui shook his head helplessly: "In our line of work, it's inevitable. Foreigners who dare to owe money are usually connected to gangs or something. It's not like this hasn't happened before."

Anyway, there's no need to worry about them calling the police. Their own business is shady anyway, and Sicilians have some kind of sense about... what was it again?

By the way, the rule of silence: never let the police get involved; let the gangs handle their own affairs. The remaining bosses can manage; after all, we're in the right this time.

"There probably aren't many cases of people directly boarding smuggling boats," Zhang Chang'an said, still quite curious. "Speaking of which, what kind of stuff are they transporting?"

Upon hearing this, Zheng Kui paused for a moment, and the other brothers who were drinking in the room also fell silent for a while.

Zheng Kui then slapped his forehead and said, "No wonder, that explains why you dared to use a gun back then."