The Ancestral Legacy Begins in the Wild West

Zhang Chang'an had just walked near the company when he heard the man's hurried footsteps.

The company and even the apartment complex are located in the Whitechapel district, London's own Gotham City. So it's not surprising at all that someone would be fleeing in broad daylight, given the generally peaceful and honest nature of the area.

The problem is that this person fled from the vicinity of the company, which completely changes the situation.

"Hey, I'm almost at the company, and I saw someone running over from that direction, so of course I took a second look," Zhang Chang'an explained to Uncle Li.

"He has a bad complexion, red eyes, and looks like he often stays up late. He also has a red nose, but no beer belly. He's either a womanizer or a gambler, and he might even have some tobacco."

If someone runs away in such a hurry and there are no police chasing them, they're most likely in debt. Even if they don't owe us anything, they're probably not clean either, so it's okay to beat them up.

I just glanced at my hand, and the callus there most likely belongs to a hopeless gambler. Since you're here again, there's no doubt about it.

Based on Zhang Chang'an's past abilities, he could have easily sensed that something was wrong with this person. And given his personality, he could have easily taken down this person based on a few guesses.

But it was precisely because of his hunting senses that he was able to fully confirm these points and articulate them so clearly.

When Li Bo, who was walking beside him, heard these words, his expression did not change much, but his look showed a lot more approval.

"Both Boss Chen and Zheng Kui said you were a promising talent, and they were right," Uncle Li said as he walked, leaning on his cane.

Zhang Chang'an calmly waved his hand: "Hey, that's what we do, running errands outside. It's our job. Even though you're not on the front lines, your contributions are no less than ours."

Zhang Chang'an's words were not flattery. Li Bo was nominally just an accountant, but in this kind of company, he was responsible for managing a large amount of weapons and equipment, as well as various businesses behind the scenes.

The most important part was attracting debt. Li Bo handled most of the company's largest loan business.

This is a true pragmatist, managing both logistics and business.

Uncle Li walked him around the corner, and when they arrived at the company building, he calmly waved his hand:

"An old gentleman from the East, kind and unarmed. People here in London are willing to borrow money from someone like me, but they are more willing to repay the loan if they meet someone like you."

Li Bo spoke lightly, but in reality, the rejection and contempt for Chinese people in Europe and America at that time were very serious.

Especially for an elderly person like him who is unwilling to cut off his queue and insists on wearing traditional Chinese clothing, the obstacles and troubles he encounters when trying to promote those large-scale shady businesses here are definitely a thousand times more complicated than ordinary people imagine.

However, he has definitely come out of the shadows now. Even if he is not called the Chinese godfather of Whitechapel, his status and resources are definitely not low.

"I heard you can use a gun?" Uncle Li asked.

Zhang Chang'an nodded immediately: "We have hunting rifles back home, both long ones and sawed-off ones. Last night was the first time I used a proper foreign gun, but it felt quite handy."

As Uncle Li called for people to come down from upstairs and carry the foreigner up, he turned to say:

"If you have the ability, you should use it. Call a carriage and go to Westminster, Scotland Yard, to get a gun license."

This is much easier to get than those controlled weapons. I'll just make a phone call and tell them, and I'll take you to buy a gun when I get back.”

Upon hearing this, Zhang Chang'an raised an eyebrow: "The boss is generous!"

........................

Westminster, home to important buildings such as Parliament, the Supreme Court, and Buckingham Palace, was undoubtedly the political center of London in that era.

The Thames River flows through the south of London before turning south again. Westminster is located to the west of this north-south section of the river.

Compared to the East End, where the City of London and Whitechapel are located, the West End, centered around this area, can be described as an absolute wealthy neighborhood.

The townhouse where Zhang Chang'an lives, in terms of total land area, is probably only the size of one of many detached houses belonging to a single household.

The roads are wide, the greenery is excellent, and there are even large parks and estates. The facilities are extremely comprehensive, and the reputation is far-reaching.

Even someone like Zhang Chang'an, whose identity is entirely rooted in the East, has definitely heard of this place, because the Big Ben from elementary school textbooks is located here, right next to the Parliament House.

Even the seemingly low-class and boring Scotland Yard officers operating in the Whitechapel district finally began to appear serious within their police headquarters.

In the spacious office lobby, the police officer in front of him hung the receiver back up next to the phone.

It had only been about 10 years since Bell invented the telephone, so even in London, telephones were not widely distributed, and the actual equipment was by no means modern.

To use it, you need to put a wired earpiece over your ear and then speak into a machine that is not small.

Whether it was due to faulty equipment or some other reason, the police officer in front of him certainly didn't look too good.

However, when he turned to face Zhang Chang'an seriously, he completely suppressed his temper: "Have you filled out your personal information?"

He took the form back, then grabbed the pen and asked, "What's it for?"

Zhang Chang'an thought for a moment and said, "It's necessary for our work. Our debt collection work often involves gang members, so we need to protect ourselves."

After hearing this, the officer interrupted him: "You can't speak so formally. The people who record and review files have never been to the Whitechapel district. They think everyone there is savage and vulgar."

You should say, "There will always be some clueless bastards who owe money, so you need to carry a gun with you to make them hand over their money obediently, and then slip a few swear words into it."

As the officer explained, he immediately started writing: "Never mind, I'll fill in the rest for you."

Zhang Chang'an found it quite outrageous. How could they even offer a one-stop service for filling out forms? It really is true that money can make the devil turn the millstone.

Not long after, the police officer pulled out an ID card, stamped it, and then handed it directly to Zhang Chang'an.

Zhang Chang'an walked out of Scotland Yard while looking at the license descriptions that included most handguns and even many rifles.

Having a powerful backer makes things easier. Although London at that time allowed people to legally own guns, he was, after all, an outsider. Most other Chinese people, let alone legally owning guns, had to hide and live in hiding. This company is really capable.

Of course, the era and location were factors. The police officer Zhang Chang'an had just dealt with answered the phone and was quite friendly to him, but most of the police officers near Scotland Yard still had unfriendly expressions towards a Chinese man who had inexplicably walked in.

However, Zhang Chang'an showed absolutely no intention of yielding or showing weakness. He calmly put away his gun permit, left Scotland Yard, and quickly boarded a carriage back to Whitechapel.