The Ancestral Legacy Begins in the Wild West

"Crack...crack!" Harold felt as if all his bones were rusted, extremely tight.

His body had long since entered rigor mortis, so it would take a very long time, and possibly even some external assistance, for him to slowly recover and regain blood flow.

"I never imagined that I would actually use such dirty esoteric methods one day."

Dagonist ritual magic, whale fall and the rest of life.

Harold had tried to recruit Jacob, who possessed evil magic, and as a high-ranking member of the Blood Killing Company, Harold naturally had the same abilities, and even more thorough ones.

He had a large amount of special whale bone marrow injected into his bones.

These things will have no effect while he is alive, but once he dies, they will gradually release their life force, allowing his cells to regain life.

He wasn't the only one who knew about this spell, but the other leaders had always dismissed it.

They are never in trouble, but if something does happen to them, there's no chance their corpses will be resurrected.

Harold was like them, but his ambitions were different. He dared to gamble that his body might not be disposed of after his death, and that he might even live to die of natural causes, thus prolonging his life through this scheme.

This, of course, comes at a price, because it is essentially an extension of life after death, not a true resurrection.

From now on, he will forever be accompanied by those extremely expensive whale bone marrows.

And for him...

"Just you wait!" Harold clenched his jaw and jaw muscles, his jaw clenching fiercely. "Zhang Yongren? Chen Luyi? I've been lying low in London for almost 10 years, building up my business and getting into politics. I don't mind waiting another 10 years!"

In the morgue, which was freezing cold and surrounded by countless corpses, Harold pondered the dark future that held the potential for revenge.

however……

As he pondered, the world suddenly began to spin before his eyes.

"What's going on?" His mind didn't quite process it for a moment.

Of course, that's not entirely true, because he quickly realized that the reason the surrounding scene began to spin was because his head was spinning as it landed.

"Thump!" His head was cleanly severed.

This important figure, in his last moment of consciousness, was between his own legs.

He saw the person who made the move; he was an extremely elegant English gentleman wearing a finely tailored suit and a pocket watch chain.

However, in his white-gloved hand, he held a scalpel, and even after killing this monster who had come back from the dead, his face remained completely expressionless.

………………

Zhang Chang'an slowly arrived at the apartment door.

Although he has succeeded as vice president, he should have no shortage of money now, whether it's renting a house or buying equipment.

But he had been sleeping here for more than half a month, and even if he wasn't used to it, he still had to come back to get something.

However, because the rift has not yet disappeared, his mood this time was completely different from before, even though he used to be relatively relaxed when he returned to his apartment.

The information page for the copy of the family genealogy is currently obscured, making it difficult for him to determine the specifics.

"Could it be that he acted too well, and was allowed to stay on as Yongren's substitute?"

Thinking this, Zhang Chang'an placed his hand on the doorknob of the apartment.

Besides cracking jokes, he was also considering other possibilities: "The last time I learned about Mike's conspiracy, the information page seemed to blur briefly when the mission changed."

Could it be that... up until now, all we've been doing is ensuring the historical process keeps pace with the past, and the real goal hasn't been...?

Zhang Chang'an's hand suddenly stopped.

His palms suddenly began to sweat. His pupils dilated simultaneously, and before he could even push open the door, he reached down to grab the bottom of his coat.

"grass!"

"Click, bang!" Almost at the same time the hammer was pulled down, the sound of a revolver rang out in the narrow corridor.

"Crack!" A large hole was punched through the old wooden door of the apartment.

However, as Zhang Chang'an decisively fired, he unconsciously twisted his body, so the shot did not hit the target, but flew diagonally towards the window in the room.

"Bang!" The glass shattered from the bullet, and a gust of wind immediately rushed into the room.

The rush of air into the room blew the simple wooden door, which had already been half-open, open wide.

A strong wind rushed in through the broken windows, making the gas lamps inside the house sway precariously.

Amidst the interplay of light and shadow, Zhang Chang'an thus came to see the scene inside the house.

The rest of the room was furnished as usual, except that there were men wearing long dark coats near the windows.

A top hat, a sharp dark gray three-piece suit, an elegant bow tie at the collar, and the hem of a long black coat fluttering slightly in the wind.

His face was covered with a meticulously trimmed beard, and beneath his hat were long, narrow eyes with a gentle gaze.

In stark contrast, his slender, white-gloved hand was gripping a long, thin scalpel, the tip pressed against a child.

The boy, Oliver, was pinned down in front of him, along with the bed, completely blocking all of Zhang Chang'an's shooting routes.

Zhang Chang'an's earlier shot missed precisely because of this.

Facing Zhang Chang'an, who stood menacingly at the door, with the dark muzzle of his gun in his hand.

The man stood with an elegant and composed posture, not like a hostage-taker, but more like a host waiting for guests in his own study.

"Oliver!" Zhang Chang'an didn't lower his gun, his gaze fixed on Oliver, and decisively asked, "Is something wrong?"

Oliver's face was taut, but his eyes, which had made him the king of intelligence on the streets of London when he was just over 10 years old, remained frighteningly calm.

"It's alright, Mr. Zhang." His voice was extremely calm, only tinged with apology: "I'm sorry, I was investigating the follow-up for you, and then I ran into him... I didn't even notice him before."

His meaning was quite clear. As he said, having helped Zhang Chang'an complete the pre-battle investigation, he was also responsible for some cleanup work after the battle.

This is a major event after all, and there are too many possible changes.

Over at Scotland Yard, those bodies were part of that group. Oliver was investigating there when this happened.

Zhang Chang'an frowned deeply, the key point being that he gleaned more from Oliver's words than just that: "Before? This guy... was already among us!?"

Looking at that extremely strange figure, Oliver, no longer consumed by self-reproach, quickly raised his head and looked directly at Zhang Chang'an: "He's that dangerous person in the newspapers recently, that..."

"Jack the Ripper..." Zhang Chang'an spoke first, his tone instantly turning serious, the muzzle of his gun steadily pointed at the back of Oliver's head, between the man's eyebrows: "Right?"