The Ancestral Legacy Begins in the Wild West

"Zhang Qinghe's ancestors' abilities: [crude and practical English] (vulgar) (10)"

[Seafood and seafood cooking] (Common dish) (50)

[Seafood Slaughtering Technology] (Good Quality) (100)...”

Note: (Consuming some fragments grants temporary access to the skill.)

Clearly, spacetime fragments are the currency of the genealogy system, and can currently be used to exchange for the abilities of ancestors.

Looking at the explanation of the shifting world lines, the purpose of the family tree bringing him to this world finally became clearer.

"So, you're saying I can change the past, and the greater the impact, the greater the reward?"

However, looking at the lackluster abilities listed behind him, Zhang Chang'an shook his head helplessly: "Rough and practical English? Can this really be better than my modern test-oriented English?"

There's also seafood cooking and seafood slaughtering. Although there's a "good" grade, it shouldn't be bad, but if I exchange it, will I just go back to RT-Mart to have the fish slaughtered?

The point in time he traveled to was the early part of Qinghe Gong's life. Liu Bei had sold straw sandals, and the King of Guanzhong had been a rogue. Naturally, his ancestor had also had a relatively mediocre period, which is now.

It is precisely because the Duke of Qinghe is still rather powerless that he changed the past so quickly.

Besides, these skills are really not that great, but he still can't afford them.

His ancestors had a hard time, and he was completely bewildered when he first transmigrated: "Well, it's alright, at least I have a way out. No one dares to kill or bury me."

Zhang Chang'an pondered, recalling his mission: "But how exactly do I gain a foothold?"

Zhang Chang'an was still thinking, while Jiang Sheng beside him was still pondering his earlier words: "Is your hand more steady...?"

"Then don't let your hands shake later, we're going to be dealing with a big fish this time..."

Upon hearing this, Zhang Chang'an shut his mouth and his expression became much more serious.

Dark clouds swirled in the sky: "You have come into contact with the root of the fissure."

"At that time, San Francisco was a melting pot of people. In addition to the Chinese who occupied the nine Chinatowns, a large number of Irish immigrants who had come here due to the potato famine also settled there."

"They are hardworking, low-cost laborers who can work in the mines, usually only needing two dollars a day, but Chinese workers can earn several times less. They are good value for money."

"Whether in newspapers or on the streets, the conflict between Chinese laborers and their families has never ceased."

"In 1880, the influx of Chinese into the Springs coal mines near San Francisco led to an Irish riot."

Among the future leaders of the Huaqing Gang, some were also from Guangdong and were affected. The losses suffered by other Chinese were countless…”

"Qinghe Gong decided to go with Jiang Sheng to stand up for their fellow villagers. Just as everyone said, they should direct their energy at the foreigners."

Jiang Sheng leaned against the wall of the tavern and muttered, "When you're out in the world, loyalty comes first. If this succeeds, we'll become famous. Joining the Zhigongtang might not be impossible."

The Hongmen's anti-Qing and restoration efforts in their hometown were a troublesome business, but here, they were the bosses of Chinatown.

Back in his hometown, Qinghe Gong was indeed just a fishmonger, but once he came to the west, it would be difficult for him to make a fortune if he remained kind and honest. Without taking illegal jobs like waiting tables, his only option was to pick up a knife and take to the streets.

But with so many benefits to standing up for everyone this time, it's naturally not a simple matter. The dark clouds shifted, and the words in the sky changed again:

"Spacetime rifts are anomalies in the past. Entering a rift gives you the ability to make the past better, but every rift is a crisis that could erase your ancestors."

"You can return by repairing the rift, but if you fail, due to the butterfly effect, your existence will simply disappear..."

"The butterfly effect..."

Zhang Chang'an understood the meaning of the genealogy: the rift was the deviation of a major historical event from its original course. His ancestors might have died because of this, and if his ancestors were gone, he would naturally cease to exist.

His purpose in traveling through time was to resolve the crisis while making the past better.

…………

San Francisco, Castro District.

Compared to Chinatown, which still has many Chinese elements, this place is completely foreign, with Western-style buildings all over the street, but they are equally rough and simple.

This place will become a world-renowned gay community in the future, but at least for now, it is a newly established community and a major residence for Irish immigrants.

At this critical juncture, it's no different for Chinese people to be active in such places as Kowloon Walled City than for members of rival gangs to swagger in.

However, fortune favors the bold, and they were merely waiting in the alleys on the edge of the neighborhood for someone to arrive.

Zhang Chang'an held a short knife no longer than his forearm in his hand, while Jiang Sheng opposite him was holding a burlap sack the size of his head, eager to try his luck.

The West was certainly in a state of extreme chaos at the time, but the two of them couldn't afford guns, and besides, it might not be a good decision to use guns when fighting on the side of someone's street.

"Clang!" A sound came from the other end of the alley, startling the two somewhat nervous people.

A burly man with a stubble beard, whose shoulders almost reached both ends of the alley, and whose large, fan-like hands held two bottles of liquor, passed by a corner of the alley.

The noise just now was from him throwing away an empty wine bottle.

He was wearing a heavy, rough cotton-linen coat and a beret-like hat that didn't completely cover his hair.

With his fierce appearance and rude behavior, he was practically the quintessential gangster.

"He's too strong. No wonder he's the boss, and no wonder he could possibly kill the Duke of Qinghe," Zhang Chang'an thought to himself.

This was precisely their target: Conner O'Brien, the leader of a small Irish gang. He was the "big fish" Jiang Sheng had mentioned.

Zhang Chang'an turned and exchanged a glance with Jiang Sheng, confirming their target, before decisively following them.

The man reeked of alcohol, and although he wasn't swaying, he was probably not very sober. He didn't even realize he was being followed, and just kept muttering something as he walked on.

Ahead was an alleyway between a factory and residential buildings, both of which had few windows.

The machines in the illegal factory were still humming, and no one would be out in the alleyway piled with junk before closing time, making it the perfect place to get to work.

Jiang Sheng decisively rushed forward, opened the sack, and quickly slipped it over Kona's neck.

"Whoosh!" The huge bag quickly shoved the head inside, and Jiang Sheng swiftly tightened the drawstring at the top of the bag, his muscles bulging as he exerted force decisively.

At the same time, Zhang Chang'an sprang up with both legs, inhaled and gathered his strength, and flashed to Kona's side, landing in a horse stance. He grabbed the short knife with both hands and thrust it directly into Kona's side ribs.

"Pfft!" A drop of crimson blood flowed down the blade. Zhang Chang'an exerted force with both hands, and the blade immediately began to move horizontally.

The strange sensation of flesh being torn apart, or touching bones, made him frown, even though he had prepared himself mentally.

"Crack!" The bottle in Kona's hand fell to the ground and shattered, but it didn't seem to be because his hand had lost its strength.

Zhang Chang'an, who was holding the short knife, stared wide-eyed because Kona, whose neck was tightly bound by Jiang Sheng, turned around unharmed like a small mountain.

Kona's massive wound stretched from his side all the way to his abdomen. His head, hidden beneath the sack, was expressionless, and no breathing could be heard from within.

But he was clearly still active and seemed completely unaffected.

Zhang Chang'an's gaze swept over his tattered front, and he saw the blood-red patches on the side of his chest, where his cheeks were contracting and expanding.

There were also dark blue scales that slowly emerged on his shoulders and neck.

"Crack!" He was still using force with the knife in his hand, but the next moment, it broke off inside Kona's body.

Zhang Chang'an's pupils dilated:

"Holy crap! That's a really big fish!"