The Ancestral Legacy Begins in the Wild West

"Hoo... Hmph!" Zhang Chang'an suddenly let out a long breath, then tensed his muscles, held his breath and exerted force to sit up on the spot.

But as soon as he moved, he was suddenly held back by the soreness all over his body.

"Damn it..." Zhang Chang'an forced himself not to lie back down on the bed, but endured it for a moment, then relaxed his muscles and slowly straightened his back.

"What's going on..." Turning her head, she saw a large window and sunlight streaming in, as well as exquisite wooden floors and a white iron-framed bed.

Just by looking at this environment, you can tell it's not Westminster but also in the West End.

"Sir, you shouldn't sit up. Your body needs a long time to recover." A nurse who looked somewhat nervous but spoke with great certainty suddenly came to his side.

Before Zhang Chang'an could react, he was about to be pushed back onto the bed without any explanation.

"Let him go; this gentleman's body should be able to hold on."

A somewhat familiar voice came over, and Charlie Lin, leaning on his cane, came to Zhang Chang'an's bedside.

"I don't quite remember?" Charlie said, straightening the sleeves of his Tang suit.

"You returned to the company last night, went straight to the higher-ups without saying a word, and saw Mike and the boss lying on the ground with Zheng Kui and the others. You then relaxed, but ended up basically losing consciousness."

He calmly pointed around: "It just so happens that you have quite a few wounded. The men I lent you brought you directly here, Riverside Street, King's College Hospital."

The nurses here were all personally trained by Florence Nightingale, and the doctors are all old friends of mine. And don't worry, you're just fatigued and mentally exhausted; you're in the best condition among the wounded."

Zhang Chang'an looked around and indeed saw more rows of beds, many nurses, and many wounded brothers.

Upon closer reflection, I do seem to be able to recall the events that followed last night.

He slightly overestimated his endurance, spent a whole day preparing for the final battle, and then used the exoskeleton and firearms for an extended period of time.

Most importantly, he was in a state of heightened mental focus, using Eagle Vision.

"I don't react much when I'm doing serious business, but I get energetic as soon as I relax..." Zhang Chang'an rubbed his throbbing head, lifted the blanket and slowly got up.

"Thank you..." Charlie, this guy, has a mediocre reputation and is quite shrewd, but the resources he controls are truly astonishing.

He deserves credit for successfully transporting the equipment back yesterday, not to mention he also lent them some manpower.

The hospital in front of us is no ordinary place either.

Although they were clearly not staying in proper hospital rooms, they were at least clean and spacious, which was quite rare in 19th-century London.

"King's College Hospital..." Zhang Chang'an didn't know the name very well, but he could guess the details after thinking for a moment.

King's College London, the most prestigious university in Britain at that time, not to mention doctors, nurses were not a very common profession.

As Charlie said, their teacher was Florence Nightingale, the angel with the lamp, who rose to prominence more than 20 years ago during the Crimean War and later founded modern nursing.

In other words, these nurses were among the first officially certified nurses in the world.

Of course, Zhang Chang'an didn't need their care. He got up and moved around a bit, and then he noticed something was wrong with his body.

"The body-nourishing exercise is working? I was sore all over when I woke up, but the lingering pain from last night has subsided, and now I just feel a little weak."

As Zhang Chang'an slowly stretched his body, he suddenly remembered something and asked, "By the way, where's my boss?"

Upon hearing this, Charlie didn't say anything more, but led him out of the ward.

Soon, the two moved to the outside of an observation ward with large windows in the spacious, manor-like hospital.

Just then, a somewhat aged doctor emerged from inside. He looked exhausted, but inexplicably, he still possessed a remarkable passion.

"Lin, the bodies of you Easterners are truly amazing. What's that called, martial arts? Practicing those things can actually make your bodies this strong."

In the ward, Mr. Chen lay quietly on the hospital bed with his eyes closed. There were many instruments, a large wooden tub, a hot water basin, and several nurses were busy around him, as if they had just finished a surgery.

However, the entire venue was inexplicably clean.

Charlie Lynn didn't exchange many pleasantries, simply asking, "Joseph, how is my friend here?"

Looking at the ward and hearing the name, Zhang Chang'an seemed to suddenly remember something and turned to look at the middle-aged doctor with a slight beard and curly hair.

"His external injuries are completely treatable. This man is practically an Eastern superhuman. He has more than twenty wounds on his body, but none of them are vital..." the doctor said excitedly.

Zhang Chang'an finally couldn't help but speak up: "Hello, I'm an employee of the gentleman inside. May I ask who you are...?"

The doctor turned his head and immediately extended his hand to shake his: "Oh, hello, my name is Lister, Joseph Lister, professor at King's College."

Zhang Chang'an held his hand, unable to contain his surprise: "Holy crap... he really is another big shot."

Liszt, a surname as common as the first name Joseph, is not related to Joseph Chamberlain or the pianist Liszt.

As he stated, he is a professor of medicine at King's College.

He was also the founder of modern surgical sterilization methods, Queen Victoria's personal physician, and the future president of the Royal Society.

"I know you... thank you." Zhang Chang'an unconsciously shifted his gaze back to Boss Chen.

All over his body, there were countless wounds intertwined with old ones, all of which were disinfected and stitched up.

In this era, only he could have done it.

In the 19th century, the British medical community was still quite crude. People used saws to amputate legs and set up operating rooms like theaters, with everyone watching closely without any barriers.

Doctors in this era were no different from butchers; the amputation mortality rate was extremely high, and many patients succumbed to postoperative infections.

And Liszt was the one who gradually brought it all to an end.

He tried to use anesthesia in surgery, and he used methods such as boiling water and carbolic acid to sterilize surgical instruments.

Perhaps because we live in this era, our methods are still limited. For example, his surgeries are often watched by a large crowd.

However, his contributions to medicine are almost as great as Nightingale's.

"It's nothing... I just did what I was supposed to do." Lister felt that the young man in front of him seemed inexplicably agitated, but considering that he had just saved his boss, it didn't seem strange.

"Moreover, as a surgeon, I treated all his external injuries, but I was helpless with his lung disease, I'm sorry."

As he spoke, he released Zhang Chang'an's hand and turned to leave.

Zhang Chang'an remained silent, simply turning his gaze back to the ward.

"Are you heartbroken?" Charlie stood beside him, also looking into the ward. "Don't worry, he still has a long life ahead of him. Besides, at least you succeeded."

Zhang Chang'an looked down and saw Charlie handing him a newspaper that he had been holding.

On the ground below, the twisted wood grain had already told him some of what had happened later: "The timeline has changed. Like Lord Yongren, you have resolved this rebellion. Some things are developing for the better, while others remain the same..."

Therefore, he was not surprised by Boss Chen's matter. He simply took the newspaper slowly and looked at the front page.