The Ancestral Legacy Begins in the Wild West

Chapter 206 Please Help Me Freedom

Zhang Chang'an strode quickly through the last section of the underground tomb passage. The rammed earth walls on either side swept past rapidly in the darkness. "Pass on my words," his voice echoed in the narrow passage. "Before the revolution begins, those words were probably the last I wanted to say."

In the darkness, Quasimodo, his deformed body shrouded in a tattered cloak, silently bowed to Zhang Chang'an, expressing his understanding and paying his respects.

So Zhang Chang'an turned around and passed through the gilded disguise wall. The wall behind him automatically closed, returning to the solid rammed earth wall without even a crack.

The underground laboratory remained silent.

He crossed the area between Versailles and Paris at top speed. Detailed news of what happened at Versailles Palace might not have reached the city yet, and the warden had naturally not returned either.

At least, it hasn't entered the laboratory yet.

So Zhang Chang'an naturally returned to his laboratory, pushed open the door, walked to the lab table, and began his usual preparations for alchemy.

However, as he picked up the herbs and pestle, his gaze fell on the family genealogy at the edge of his field of vision.

Current head of the family: Zhang Chang'an.

Rank: New Burning Rank [Heavenly Might Night Defender] [Psionicist] [High Alchemist] [Alchemist] (35.35%).

Spacetime Fragments: 2700.

Skills: [Southern Military Martial Arts] (Rare) [Shenji Battalion Practical Steam Technology] (Fine) Death's Eye (

(Premium) Japanese Martial Arts (Swallow Return, No-Sword Takedown, Three-Stage Thrust) (Premium) Advanced Alchemy (Premium)

[Improved Danfu Technique] (Good) [Spirit Connection] (Good) [Battle Momentum] (Good)

Items: "Mechanical Modification Famous Sword - Bingzi Pepper Forest" (Fine Quality) "Mechanical Modification Famous Gun - Dragonfly Cutter" (Fine Quality)

[Unnamed Steam-Forged Inscribed Armor] (Good) M1889 Revolver (Common)

[Degraded Philosopher's Stone] (Fine).

After all, it was a new area, and after practicing for a while, his panel had become much richer.

However, compared to his gradually improving skills and items, what he needs to focus on most now is the large amount of spacetime fragments he has accumulated.

Most of what they brought in when they entered the rift has been used up. After all, they acquired the alchemist profession, and later bought a lot of whale oil and other precious materials that even the Beggar King and his ilk had trouble getting.

I've been active here for so long now, and that's how I've accumulated all this.

Looking at the reassuring numbers, Zhang Chang'an pondered, "Combined with the materials we still have, it should be enough to create some powerful gadgets to help those outside change the situation."

However, given the current situation, perhaps I don't need to make much effort. The other revolutionary factions, which will likely also become active, should be able to handle many problems on their own.

However, he was indeed exhausted tonight. And the warden could return at any moment. So he didn't actually do anything else, but simply took the medicine he had just prepared and, as usual, headed deeper into the underground space.

In the laboratories he passed along the way, not a single groan could be heard, but Zhang Chang'an had already entered most of these laboratories.

So he knew that those people lying on the ground and huddled in the corners weren't unwilling to shout; they were just tired of shouting. And even if they did shout, no one would hear them or care to listen.

The soldiers who came to garrison here were always dutiful, and the alchemists never treated the test subjects as human beings.

Just like how nobles outside never truly associate with ordinary people.

Thinking about this, Zhang Chang'an inexplicably thought of Lan Gong's current predicament.

He stood at this crucial turning point in history, simultaneously imprisoned and subjected to the voices of the outside world. These voices were certainly not only audible to him, but it seemed that only he was willing to listen.

Thinking about it this way, he was indeed a choice of history, and at the same time, a person who chose to walk into history himself.

He pondered for a moment, then pushed open the last door. The familiar laboratory was just as it had always been, except there were many more experimental papers now.

With the warden absent, the only thing that could attract Zhang Chang'an's attention in this laboratory was the person in the restraint chair.

However, looking at the people sitting there, Zhang Chang'an's mood was never good.

The man in the iron mask was on the verge of collapse. Not a single patch of his skin was intact; his tattered clothes bulged, revealing the bizarre shape of his body beneath.

In some places, the skin is sharp, showing the outline of crystals; in other places, it is round and bulging, as if something is expanding under the skin. Underneath the various charred or thin, pale skin, dark red liquid is slowly flowing.

The iron mask was hidden under the hood, the shadow covering most of his face, but some red crystals could be clearly seen peeking out from the mouth of the iron mask.

Charles had completely fused with that chair. His arms and armrests were fused together, his thighs, calves, and even his back, which had already fused earlier, were like weld points, firmly fixing him to the chair. He had become a semi-crystalline existence.

Therefore, he suffered immense mental anguish. Ironically, he wasn't entirely free of physical pain, but due to nerve damage, he experienced some relief.

What truly tormented him was his consciousness. This half-human, half-crystalline body was no longer human, but the soul named Charles Jacques remained imprisoned within it.

This state naturally means that the warden's experiment has reached its final stage.

Zhang Chang'an was ultimately isolated from the outside world, and the warden still hadn't allowed him to participate in any specific experiments. However, judging from Xia Er's condition, it was crystal clear whether the final time was approaching.

"Click—" Zhang Chang'an opened the medicine bottle cap, sat down on the stool next to the instrument, and gave Xia Er the injection as usual.

It's just that because of his current condition, the needles are already stuck in his neck.

He didn't say a word during the whole process. This was because, several days prior, the Man in the Iron Mask had already begun to lose his hearing.

"Is this Mr. Zhang?" His vocal organs were still functioning, but they were hoarse and murky, making him even harder to understand and more unpleasant to hear than before.

Zhang Chang'an sat down next to him and nodded. He knew that although the man in the iron mask could no longer hear, he still had some sight.

He understood how the Man in the Iron Mask felt, and that's why, even though there would be a way to leave soon, he would still feel helpless about Charles's situation.

At that moment, the masked man's mouth moved slightly behind the mask: "Judging from Mr. Zhang's appearance, your preparations should be almost complete..."

Upon hearing this, Zhang Chang'an's pupils immediately contracted.

The man in the iron mask blinked slowly behind the mask, like a door with rusty hinges being slowly pushed open and closed.

"Don't worry, I can tell it's because of your expression, Mr. Zhang. You've relaxed—"

Zhang Chang'an didn't speak. He sat on the stool, his hands resting on his knees, his fingers slightly curled.

He himself may not have paid much attention, but the Man in the Iron Mask was right. Knowing that things had progressed to this point, he may have indeed relaxed a lot.

Of course, he could never have imagined that even in this state, the Man in the Iron Mask would still be able to see through such things.

The Man in the Iron Mask responded calmly: "Forgive me, I don't have anything else to do here. I have a deep impression of your face."

I can tell you don't belong here. Even if you've always been good at disguising yourself, you must have come here to take everyone else with you.

Zhang Chang'an had indeed breathed a sigh of relief long ago because he was about to leave this place.

But hearing these words made him unable to feel happy, because he knew that he had no way of taking the person in front of him away.

On the contrary, his ultimate goal was actually related to Charles the Iron Mask.

"De Lamothe should be starting his experiments soon," Charles continued. "You're still staying here, is..."

It was probably to guide those outside, and also because of what he was holding.

He was right. Besides directing operations from here, Zhang Chang'an was also aiming for the highest-level alchemy techniques that didn't exist in the books.

His current profession is a high alchemist. As the name suggests, through contact with top alchemists like de la Motte and the nourishment from the numerous important scriptures here, he can handle any complex alchemy.

For example, he can now inscribe alchemical runes on incredibly complex mechanical swords from the future.

Give the longsword a high-temperature heating function, and give the Dragonfly Cutter the explosive skill of generating gunpowder and then firing at close range.

He might even be considered one of the best in the Royal Alchemy Society.

However, the highest levels of alchemy, such as the complete alchemy of the Philosopher's Stone, remain in the hands of de la Motte.

Furthermore, even if the man in the iron mask has a magic circle on his body that monitors sound frequencies and automatically triggers to prevent him from revealing related secrets.

Zhang Chang'an gradually realized that the most important alchemy techniques were likely related to something in De Lamot's possession.

Even he, using that kind of alchemy, could not cast spells directly; he had to rely on something else.

Charles brought this up now not for any other reason.

"Soon, you will be participating in the Philosopher's Stone experiment for the first time."

There was no fear or resentment in the man in the iron mask's eyes, but he knew his end was near: "Please, at that time—help me find release."