The Ancestral Legacy Begins in the Wild West

"Clang!" The heavy iron gate was rudely pushed open, and two police officers looked at Zhang Chang'an, whose hands were tightly handcuffed, who remained silent but calm. Their eyes under the brim of their police hats were unusually cold.

"We need you to give some additional information, Chinese."

Perhaps it was Zhang Chang'an's previous display of fighting prowess that made them feel that even with handcuffs on, Zhang Chang'an wasn't entirely safe, so their choice of words was relatively normal.

Zhang Chang'an calmly walked out of the detention cell, which was slightly smaller than a toilet stall, and was led by the two men to the interrogation room outside the detention cell.

"Click!" His handcuffs were fastened to the interrogation chair, and two police officers sat down opposite him with very serious expressions.

"On November 10, 1888, you raided the illegal underground boxing ring located beneath the Riverside Quality Inspection Factory, injuring more than thirty people and killing twenty, including the mastermind Jacob..."

The two officers tried their best to maintain a serious expression as they read these words. But it was clear that the horrific statistics were terrifying to them.

Looking back now, Zhang Chang'an took care of so many people all by himself. If he had resisted, killing the two of them and escaping wouldn't have been a problem at all.

"Do you have any other accomplices?" they finally asked the real question.

Zhang Chang'an simply sat there, calmly watching them.

His gaze was particularly conspicuous in the dimly lit interrogation room, making the two officers feel a chill run down their spines.

"This guy..." They felt as if Zhang Chang'an had looked them over from head to toe and seen right through them.

The young man in front of them, who wasn't particularly tall and wasn't carrying any weapons, seemed to completely disregard them.

"Who is your boss! Which gang are you backing!" One of the officers couldn't hold back any longer; he was the one who had warned Zhang Chang'an before.

He is not a racist, but he also dislikes Chinese people.

In his eyes, the Chinese may not be a particularly lowly group, but at least they should be like ordinary British working-class people, fearing them and not daring to resist.

Therefore, someone like Zhang Chang'an, who not only showed no respect for him but also seemed to look down on him, could easily enrage him.

"Are you out of your mind from beating people? Do you really think London is a place where you can get by with your fists? Malicious assault, murder, and the factory you destroyed that might have to shut down for days."

All these crimes will fall on your head, dozens of times heavier than those against the serial killer you killed.

Police officers who had swaggered around Whitechapel and other parts of London for years, relying on their authority and laws, couldn’t stand having those things looked down upon, because if those things failed, it meant they lost their power and the foundation upon which they stood.

"Do you really think you'll get away with this? The gang behind you can't protect you. Once we start filing lawsuits, you won't even have a chance to be thrown back to your backward and ugly hometown..."

The officer muttered to himself as he flipped through the documents in front of him, preparing to start writing.

Because Zhang Chang'an's gaze never wavered from beginning to end.

"Sigh..." Zhang Chang'an sighed helplessly before the police officer could continue speaking.

Seeing him waver, the two men's thoughts suddenly changed, and a faint hope rose in their hearts. They felt that everything they had trusted in the past was indeed correct.

It wasn't until Zhang Chang'an slowly spoke that he said, "I'm sorry to interrupt you, but as an Easterner who grew up practicing martial arts, I think I should uphold traditional virtues and repay evil with kindness. I'm telling you what will happen next so you can prepare in advance."

As the two men listened to Zhang Chang'an's increasingly fluent English, an ominous premonition arose within them. The words they wanted to say were stuck in their throats, and they couldn't even utter a curse.

Zhang Chang'an's aura wasn't overt, but it was very unique, leaving them speechless.

"Soon, someone will come knocking on the door, but that's because the person knocking doesn't want to bother me anymore."

Given the typical English style, that man's actions were probably even more rude than I described.

He will not acknowledge your achievements; on the contrary, he will refute them, warn you, or even punish you.

You might object, or perhaps that person's rank is so high that you wouldn't dare to refute him. In any case, I will be released on the very charges you've mentioned.

If the higher-ups need it, then perhaps it can be called an achievement…

………………

These two officers had almost forgotten how they were dragged out of the interrogation room.

All they remembered was that several police officers of equal or even higher rank than them immediately untied Zhang Chang'an from his restraints.

A coat that cost as much as several weeks' wages was draped over Zhang Chang'an's ragged clothes by their superior.

Afterwards, the police officers carried his handbag containing all his personal belongings and helped him into the police car that was waiting at the door.

All they faced were the reprimands of their middle-aged superior with a mustache and the darkness above the cold courtyard of Scotland Yard.

"Whose bribes or orders did you accept? How dare you arrest our collaborators with police equipment outside of working hours?"

Do you know how much donation companies like theirs provide to us every year? Half of your regular benefits come from these people.

Misuse of equipment, illegal detention, and almost false accusations.

"If they want, you'll be sentenced to be thrown into a tiny fishing village on the edge of Britain, like Portsmouth, to spend your lives facing the muddy swamps and the ugliest village girls conceived through inbreeding with the locals..."

Zhang Chang'an, of course, couldn't hear these words, nor some even more vulgar ones. Because of his suspension, he wouldn't even be able to see the two officers for a while.

He simply stepped out of the police car under the dim glow of the whale oil streetlights, carrying a handbag and wearing a coat, and walked into the company gate under the escort of the police officer.

"You're back?" Zheng Kui sat on the second floor, which was mostly empty at night, quietly waiting for him.

"Have you found it?" Zhang Chang'an asked bluntly.

He knew that this matter was of utmost importance. Although the operation was not complicated, the person behind it would not act without reason. There must be a reason why he was arrested; it could not simply be a matter of revenge.

"It's starting to look promising; the boss himself has taken over," Zheng Kui said, getting up and leading him upstairs.

"Did the boss call to get me released?" Zhang Chang'an wasn't quite sure what was going on behind the scenes. He only knew that he would most likely be released, and he really hadn't expected such a scene.

"Yes, but it still depends on yourself. The boss is mainly using Chamberlain's name to his advantage, saying that what you have is a custom-made prototype from them."

Zhang Chang'an: "?"

Upon hearing this, he suddenly understood: "Afraid of blocking others from making money? Capitalism is still too authoritative in this regard..."