The Ancestral Legacy Begins in the Wild West

Seeing this, Zhang Chang'an calmly walked in.

Chamberlain's Arms Shop wasn't in Westminster. Even though Mr. Joseph Chamberlain was quite famous and a former Liberal Party leader, it would have been difficult for him to open an arms shop in the West End, where aristocrats and the wealthy congregate.

However, without stepping into this room, it's hard to imagine that houses in the East District could be so bright and cheerful.

Mr. Chamberlain's reception room was twice the size of Zhang Chang'an's apartment. The oversized balcony brought in excellent natural light, and on the luxurious and extravagant carved white and gold table, there was a carefully prepared coffee and breakfast.

"As you Easterners say, seeing is believing. You must be Zhang Chang'an. Would you like some breakfast?"

As he spoke, he raised his hand in a gesture.

Uncle Li sat opposite him, with a bacon and egg dish and a small cup of coffee in front of him—a standard English breakfast. However, he clearly didn't have much of an appetite and only ate half of it.

For some reason, Li Bo's expression softened considerably after seeing Zhang Chang'an enter.

"No need, I just came back from Chinatown and ate there." Zhang Chang'an walked to Uncle Li's side, and the old gentleman had already pulled out a chair for him: "Thank you, Mr. Chamberlain."

Joseph Chamberlain remained noncommittal, grabbed a napkin to wipe his mouth, and then said, "Well, since we don't even have time for a coffee, let's get serious."

Li, you've been an old friend of mine, a long-term customer here, generous and with an excellent reputation. You're still very sincere today.

You said you've encountered a problem and need my help, and you've even prepared to retrieve the goods from the warehouse outside the city yourself. That's good, but unfortunately, you haven't convinced me yet.

Chamberlain said this, then turned to Zhang Chang'an: "And what about you?"

Zhang Chang'an was not surprised by his words.

As Old Chen's old buddy and the company's CFO, Uncle Li was naturally not among those who rebelled. However, being completely unskilled in martial arts, all he could do in the face of his current predicament was try to use his connections.

Harold is a formidable opponent. He is a shrewd businessman and a newly elected senator, whose position may not be secure yet. However, with these two identities combined, he is a formidable force with undeniable and astonishing influence.

This is probably why Li Bo had very few truly useful connections, and only a big shot like Chamberlain, who had immense influence in both politics and business, could remain completely unaffected.

That's true, it coincides with Zhang Chang'an's opinion.

Mr. Chamberlain said: "Like your boss, I started from scratch. When I started this workshop, there were not many people in London who dared to put whale oil into a boiler and pressurize it."

At that time, my main business was manufacturing screws, and the products I produced did not have any more complex variations than one.

But I've seen more of things since then, whether it's products, businesses, or people.

What kind of person are you? Zhang.

I've heard people mention Yongren's name in Whitechapel and Southwark. Some say you're the gang's knife, others say you're the newly risen wolf. More often, I hear about you from Amin. He calls you a brilliant mechanical genius.

Tell me yourself, what are you?

Zhang Chang sat quietly in his seat, and then he did something Chamberlain hadn't expected.

He cleanly and efficiently removed his leather gloves, exoskeleton, and even the pistol under his arm.

As he dismantled the package, he said, "I'm a debt collector, it's my job. I've helped defrauded porcelain merchants get their money back, and I've helped you find a gun."

I'm a thug too; it's part of my job. I've killed vicious dogs injected with whale oil stimulants at dog farms, and I've broken debtors' ribs in alleyways.

But once I take off the gear, I'm just a businessman.

He spread his open sleeves, revealing his hands, which were empty.

Upon seeing this, Chamberlain's thick, bushy beard twitched suddenly: "Ha...hahaha..."

He laughed out loud, a genuine laugh: "Businessman, then tell me, what kind of business do you want to do with me?"

Upon hearing this, Zhang Chang'an calmly reached out and grabbed the sugar jar, knife, and fork on the table.

Gradually, these things formed an abstract situation.

Only Uncle Li saw through the specifics of the situation.

This is the area surrounding the Whitechapel Corporation headquarters, encompassing every alleyway, every fence, and every back door that can be opened from the inside across three blocks.

"Tonight, someone will come to kill me and everyone else in our company. They outnumber us three to one, including Blood Sand's elite and traitors from within the company."

He paused.

"I don't intend to let them succeed."

Chamberlain remained noncommittal until Zhang Chang'an continued speaking:

"Their leader is Harold Kane. You're a former Liberal Party bigwig, so I don't need to say more; you know his background. Riverside Senator, and perhaps, he's even planning to expand into other businesses. Ambitious."

Chamberlain pondered, and indeed felt that Zhang Chang'an was somewhat beyond his expectations.

This young man's idea of ​​using engineering equipment to circumvent weapons regulations was quite unique, and his words were quite inflammatory, but up to this point, his words had not yet moved me: "It's still borrowing equipment after all."

Zhang Chang'an's words shifted as he pondered: "But what I'm thinking is that twenty years from now, perhaps no one in London will remember Harold, but your weapons workshop will still stand here."

I'm used to fighting in the streets, so I know that in this shootout, we have at most a 30% advantage.

However, if our numbers and formations remain the same, but we simply have more equipment, our win rate increases significantly.

Then the entire underworld of East London and the South Bank will know that your equipment allows a minority to defeat a majority, and that a debt collector who crawled out of a coachman's knife can sit firmly in a significant position in Whitechapel.

At that time, your weapons workshop might not just be a workshop, but could also become the largest supplier to the British Empire.

And it all started when you, in a trivial street brawl, placed your bet on a then-insignificant Chinese debt collector.

As he spoke, he raised his head and looked directly at Chamberlain:

"This GG is something you can't buy no matter how much money you spend. And its cost is just a few prototypes that Amin researched based on my suggestions in your warehouse, some products that aren't new and hard to sell, and a few boxes of insignificant ammunition."

I can pay even more than the market price for this, as long as you slightly violate the regulations regarding weapons possession.

As Zhang Chang'an spoke, he placed his hand on the bag he had brought in, which contained the porcelain merchant's payment.

Chamberlain's expression gradually changed as he listened.

The sunlight streaming into the room cast a shadow over his face. He, who had been sitting quietly in place, suddenly raised his hand and picked up his glasses from the table.

The lens reflected a warm yellow light in the sunlight.

He put on his glasses and looked carefully at the young man in front of him.

Beside him, the extremely intelligent elderly Chinese gentleman with whom he had collaborated for many years had already revealed a relieved and contented smile.

"Mr. Zhang, you may indeed be a genius."

"In terms of sales."

Chamberlain smiled at him and said, "You're very clever; you've found the only direction that might convince me."

"Let Li go get my gear," he said. "Then come back alive to pay. I don't give credit to anyone."

At that moment, Zhang Chang'an once again surprised Chamberlain: "There's no need for that. I have a better route for transporting goods. Send someone to wait by the railway."