The Ancestral Legacy Begins in the Wild West

"Today, I have good news and bad news."

Whitechapel is known as the land of demons, with countless illegal factories, brothels, and gambling dens mixed in with the old, slum-like streets.

This area is a typical factory area, with countless steel structures rising into the sky, and the air is filled with the smell of rust and the pungent odors from various industrial production processes.

A bearded foreman stood at the factory gate, loudly announcing to the countless slovenly, poor, and malnourished workers who looked like walking corpses.

Someone in the crowd, in a classic voice severely damaged by smoking and drinking, shouted, "First, the bad news!"

The foreman immediately announced loudly, "Yesterday, three workers in the asbestos factory collapsed, resulting in a loss of half a day's output. Today, everyone will have to work extra hard."

Surprisingly, the crowd didn't react much; it seemed that working overtime was already commonplace for them.

However, someone quickly asked the same question: "What's the good news?"

Upon hearing this, the foreman immediately turned around and raised the document he had been holding:

"The good news is that I have three more asbestos processing worker positions available, with wages seven shillings higher than regular workers!"

Upon hearing the news, not a single person in the crowd smiled, but they all slowly gathered around.

Zhang Chang'an squeezed into the crowd and entered the work area.

The condition of factories during the Industrial Revolution era is beyond doubt.

This was an era when tools were not yet fully developed, women did the work of men, and men were treated like animals. Children were used to unclog chimneys. Poor treatment and dangerous environment were all too normal.

This situation is what led to Zhang Chang'an's deal today.

Sparks flew everywhere in the factory as the machines were being processed.

Many workers didn't have goggles, let alone Zhang Chang'an, whose eyesight was so strong, he was somewhat uncomfortable from the glare.

But it's good, the pollution around the factory is too severe, the dark clouds are as thick as night, without these firelights, he really isn't sure if he could lock onto the target so quickly.

Zhang Chang'an quickly circled around to the side of a red brick factory building and hurried up the iron stairs on the outer wall of the factory.

Many people in the factory saw him, but unsurprisingly, he wasn't a policeman checking for illegal workers, nor did he seem to be there to discuss business, so no one paid him any attention. Everyone was focused on the machines in front of them.

So, under the cover of the machine noise, Zhang Chang'an strode up the creaking metal staircase and arrived at the upper floor of the factory.

Inside the factory, there are concentric corridors and platforms, piled with countless machines, goods, and workers coming and going.

Thick black smoke billowed and flames shot out, and even the huge central courtyard couldn't dispel the pungent smell and astonishingly high temperature.

Zhang Chang'an bypassed the crowd and quickly arrived at the door of an office.

He stood quietly by the door, listening to the cacophony of sounds from the factory. In this way, he formed a mental image of the various parts of the factory.

"Clang..." He reached the top of the outer staircase once again, leaned out, and looked at the outer wall next to him.

He then grabbed the rope hook hanging from the outer wall, which was used to suspend the cargo boxes.

"Sizzle..." The steel cable swung, making a screeching sound of metal rubbing together, and Zhang Chang'an swung out along the outer wall.

Perhaps for ventilation and cooling, the factory windows were not only made very large, but also left wide open.

Zhang Chang'an swung a few meters before flipping himself into the house.

"Bang..." Zhang Chang'an rolled to the ground, finally raising his hand to face the person in front of him: "Kevin Borchardt!"

The soundproofing in this house is obviously very good; while it's extremely noisy outside, it sounds just like an ordinary house on a nearby street.

After Zhang Chang'an jumped in, all the noise suddenly stopped, and only one exclamation could be heard: "Ah!"

The bearded foreman who was recruiting workers outside earlier is standing in front of his desk, acting suspiciously.

Upon hearing the noise, he nervously pulled his gaze back from the doorway, staring at Zhang Chang'an in astonishment.

"Who...who are you?"

As he spoke, he turned around and pressed himself against the desk.

"Don't move." Zhang Chang'an calmly raised his hand a little closer, making what he held in his hand even more conspicuous.

It was a silver revolver with the hammer already cocked: "Chamberlain Arms Workshop hired me to collect a debt from you."

Upon hearing this, the bearded Kevin waved his hand awkwardly and said:

"Our factory has a lot of orders, and we have indeed been behind on some deliveries and incurred some debt recently, but the goods we produce should have nothing to do with the weapons workshop, right..."

After hearing this, Zhang Chang'an calmly tossed out a receipt: "Don't pretend to be stupid next time you go out. You don't look like one at all."

You bought a Volcano pistol from the store a week ago, along with twelve bullets, for a total of five pounds and three shillings. You only paid half upfront.

Upon hearing this, Kevin frowned, just as he had when Zhang Chang'an rushed in. He was extremely nervous: "No way... someone must have the same name as me."

I'm a legitimate factory manager, especially in business. Aside from undocumented workers and domestic helpers, I don't have much work that requires dealing with Chinese people.

As he spoke, his expression gradually shifted from astonishment to arrogance.

Zhang Chang'an raised an eyebrow: "This time you've put on quite a convincing performance, like a xenophobic old Londoner. Are you trying to provoke me into shooting so the factory security will arrest me? But before using such tactics, remember to thoroughly investigate your background."

As he spoke, he rubbed his fingers together, revealing the following document:

"Kevin Borchardt, an illegal immigrant from Germany, you were an undocumented dockworker just two weeks ago."

The foreman of this factory was the factory manager's nephew, who was found dead near the dock a week ago...

"Stop talking!" Kevin shouted angrily, and just then, a loud clanging sound of metal colliding with wood came from his desk.

With his other hand, which he had been hiding behind his back, he pulled an old-fashioned four-barreled pistol from under a few books, his eyes flashing with malice, and fired directly at Zhang Chang'an.

Zhang Chang'an, unsurprisingly, pulled his right hand to his waist in the blink of an eye and held his breath.

"Bang! Bang!" Zhang Chang'an gripped the trigger with his right hand, then used his left hand, which was holding the documents, to sharply pull the hammer. The revolver in his hand immediately fired two bullets.

"Pfft!" Kevin's hand was shot open by a huge bullet hole.

The pistol in his hand was blasted away by another bullet.

"Bang!" The pistol, which pulled the trigger first, was still a step too late for Zhang Chang'an. It fired a bullet, but it only went off in mid-air and ended up hitting the wall.

Zhang Chang'an twirled the pistol in his hand before putting it back into the armpit holster in his coat.

"Splash..."

"Ah!" Zhang Chang'an pressed Kevin's head down, forcing him to sweep away many things on the table with his head.

The cold tabletop pressed against Kevin's face, and the excruciating pain finally made him stop resisting.