The Ancestral Legacy Begins in the Wild West

White and green striped tiles lead into the interior, where a complex network of corridors intertwines.

Walking inside the building, Zhang Chang'an never imagined that this building, which looked more like a mansion or a villa, would actually be a hospital.

He followed Zheng Kui, walking briskly, brushing past one nurse after another whose attire was actually more akin to that of nuns. Similar to the nurses' clothing, the interior of the building bore many traces of classical medicine.

For example, the ostentatious decor that Zhang Chang'an could see as soon as he looked up. And in the center of the building, there was a ring of glass windows with rows and rows of tiered seats, resembling a theater operating room for people to watch surgical procedures.

However, they weren't there for medical treatment, so they went straight to their goal.

"Wow... What a rare guest." A middle-aged man with a braid hanging down, dressed in a silk Qing Dynasty-style long robe, stroked his beard and turned to look at the two of them.

He was holding a tray in his hand, on which were several cans of medicine.

Most importantly, on the medical bed behind him lay a well-dressed, bearded middle-aged British man.

Zhang Chang'an didn't know much about Western clothing, but this person's attire was so unique that he could tell it was clearly an old-fashioned British military uniform from before World War I and II.

"Alright, my patient needs to rest. Let's go somewhere else to talk," the middle-aged Chinese man said, leading the two of them toward the dispensing room next door.

"To be honest, I thought it would be Mike," he said as he opened the door. "After all, your boss has explicitly forbidden you from entering my store."

"We guessed he would be interested in this, which is why we came." Zheng Kui didn't seem to want to talk to this person much.

Zhang Chang'an took this opportunity to ask his question.

His gaze had just shifted from the ward next to him when he saw the Englishman, who seemed to be of unusual status, still lying in bed, motionless and not even blinking.

In this state, he couldn't help but think about the details: "Could it be that this person is holding...?"

Zheng Kui nodded: "His name is Charlie Lin. He's ostensibly a doctor, but all he knows how to prescribe is tincture of opium. Besides that, every single opium den in London's Chinatown belongs to him."

Upon hearing this, Zhang Chang'an frowned and said, "Oh my god..."

He finally understood why Zheng Kui had remained silent after hearing only a little about the mission, and then hurriedly dragged him all the way here.

As expected, it was a big order, and it seemed to be in a hurry.

"Oh, don't put it so harshly. Opioids are a professional drug that England has restricted since twenty years ago with the Pharmacy Act. I am a licensed and legitimate doctor, and I only prescribe them to patients who really need them."

The man you just saw was an outstanding hero who received praise from the Queen after the Crimean War. However, the war left him with more than just honors; it also left him with trauma.

I helped him, allowing him to sleep peacefully every night. Many patients, including him, are very grateful to me.

Listening to Charlie Lin, who clearly had a Chinese face, Zhang Chang'an felt somewhat bewildered: "This man... sells opium to the British in London?"

He had heard stories of Chinese gangs controlling the British illicit drug market after World War I, but he never expected that someone would do this so early.

Of course, he didn't necessarily agree with this person's actions.

Zheng Kui has already said that all the opium dens in Chinatown belong to him. Those places definitely don't prey on wealthy foreigners who actually need them.

Perhaps because he understood this, Zheng Kui didn't bother arguing with him at all, and simply said, "Give me the task, and I'll get it done for you as soon as possible."

Zhang Chang'an rarely saw Zheng Kui so serious; he was talking much less nonsense.

Charlie Lin, who was opposite him, had placed a tray on the medicine counter and was fiddling with the bottles and jars. He didn't beat around the bush either, stating his request directly:

"You know I have some business in Chinatown. It's Chinese territory, and there's usually very little trouble there. But London has too many people, and there's always one or two troublemakers who will show up."

Charlie Lynn said, leaning against the medicine table, taking out a match and silently lighting a cigarette: "There's a guy named Thomas, his last name is Howard, which is an old English noble's surname."

This person has been a regular customer of one of my shops, and he should indeed be a nobleman. But you know how it is with these kinds of descendants; they might not carry their own money when they go out, and they're too embarrassed to bring servants into the Whitechapel district.

Because this man would occasionally introduce some reputable and respectable noble guests, I would sometimes let him pay on credit. He was always quick to pay back his debts.

"Until a week ago, this man, along with some of his new friends, owed me three weeks' worth of money." Charlie Lin said, slowly exhaling a puff of smoke. "The total is three hundred and sixty pounds."

Upon hearing this number, Zhang Chang'an's eyes widened involuntarily: "That's... a seven-figure sum in banknotes!"

He knew this thing was wasteful, and he also knew it was a big order, but he never imagined the number would be so frightening.

Zheng Kui seemed calmer than him, and simply continued to ask, "So, what clues did you have about him afterward?"

Charlie Lin calmly flicked his cigarette ash and then said, "Of course, I've always been popular, and besides, this guy has introduced too many old friends to me."

I've inquired about it; he's been hanging out with his new friends lately, and it seems he's developed a new hobby.

Charlie Lynn turned his head and looked towards the outskirts of Westminster: "Horse racing."

………………

Zhang Chang'an and Zheng Kui sat calmly in the carriage slowly leaving London, planning their next move.

"There are definitely other gangs involved in this place," Zheng Kui stated unequivocally.

Zhang Chang'an was not surprised, after all, it was precisely because he had already guessed this situation that Zheng Kui was so concerned about this mission: "So we have to act quickly, otherwise that guy Charlie will definitely go to Mike instead."

Charlie Lynn had mentioned this name before.

While looking at the map in front of him, Zhang Chang'an asked, "Mike... is he the deputy team leader?"

He vaguely remembered the name; after all, it was a competitor.

Zheng Kui nodded: "Everyone calls him Silver Tooth. Like Charlie Lin, he's not a proper Chinese. He has some other bloodlines and grew up in London. He's never been to the East."

Charlie Lin's ancestors went back two generations and he had a wealthy British grandmother, which is why he's doing so well here.

Mike, on the other hand, had a jerk Irish father, so he grew up on the streets and had a set of silver teeth that he had to replace after fighting.

As Zheng Kui spoke, he made some marks on the map of the horse farm.