The Ancestral Legacy Begins in the Wild West

"Clang! Thud!" Zhang Chang'an raised his knife and brought it down, sending the samurai's sword flying.

The next moment, a flash of light appeared, blood gushed from the man's chest, and he fell straight down.

"Back off!"

"Stop them!"

Zhang Ansheng flicked the blood off the knife and clearly heard the commotion outside.

"Is there a commotion at the main gate?"

Samurai outside surged into the house; it seemed the Zunyan faction had indeed broken in.

That's alright; in this chaotic era, where martial spirit is quite abundant, conflicts of this scale are quite common.

However, the factory was only so big, and the samurai knew what these people's goal was. So, not long after the commotion outside started, a number of samurai suddenly burst into the warehouse where Zhang Chang'an was located.

"Splash!"

These people were still in shock when they entered, and then a huge wooden frame collapsed towards them, its parts cascading down. The two people at the front were instantly crushed and rolled into a heap.

"How can this be repaired!"

"What's going on? Someone's here!?" The guards saw a strange man wearing a hideous mask and surrounded by steam standing in the room.

Before him, beside the collapsed wooden frame, lay the chest of a warrior who had just been slashed, dripping with blood.

The man holding the long sword, standing next to the other unconscious warriors, looked like a demon devouring mortals.

"Yaru..."

These men cursed under their breath, gritted their teeth, and prepared to charge forward with their long knives in hand.

Zhang Ansheng merely narrowed his eyes, instantly activating the Eye of Death.

"Clang!" A flash of light, and the sword in the hand of the man at the front was knocked away. Then, a kick like an iron hammer slammed into his chest.

"Bang!" The man's waist bent like a shrimp in an instant, and he flew backward, knocking another person away.

The last man had just drawn his knife and hadn't even seen what was happening when Zhang Chang'an swept his foot, sending a katana flying towards him.

"puff!"

The knife grazed the man's thigh, leaving a bloody gash.

The man screamed and knelt on one knee. Before he could even raise his head, an iron fist reached down and swung violently toward his face.

"Bang!" As a group of people collapsed in the room, Zhang Chang'an decisively turned back and stuffed a few more parts into his arms.

However, things outside had clearly become more chaotic, and the sound of footsteps was getting closer and closer.

Having taken almost everything, he decisively turned and walked deeper into the warehouse, suddenly reaching out towards the narrow ventilation window.

But at that moment, a night breeze blew in, and Zhang Chang'an suddenly smelled the fishy odor of whale oil and saw the torchlight shining into the room.

In the instant he turned his head, he saw several more guards rush into the warehouse. They were carrying torches and early breech-loading muskets.

These people were indeed startled by the scene. Before they could react, they saw him prying at the window and raised his gun while cursing angrily.

The scene in Zhang Chang'an's eyes flowed slowly, and when he sensed the killing intent, the Eye of Death was automatically activated.

Zhang Chang'an decisively drew the revolver from his waist and pulled the trigger with a backhand.

"Bang bang bang!"

The sound of the M1889 gunshot exploded in the closed warehouse, deafeningly loud. The bullet grazed the ear of the first guard and hit the hand of the man behind him.

After a few bullets, everyone collapsed to the ground, clutching their gunshot wounds. The excruciating pain made it impossible for them to even stand, let alone pursue.

In a flash, Zhang Chang'an jumped out of the house and into the intricate alleyway.

"Whoosh..." The hem of the kimono was lifted by the night wind, and the hydraulic system of the exoskeleton emitted a very slight hissing sound.

Zhang Chang'an put the revolver back in, then pressed the parts he had tucked into his clothes to make sure they hadn't fallen out.

Before him, on both sides, were high earthen walls that blocked the moonlight and also concealed his moving figure.

But as soon as he took a step, a chill suddenly rose up his spine.

"What's going on?" Zhang Chang'an suddenly stopped in his tracks, and the long sword in his hand instantly moved in front of him.

His quadrichromatic vision allowed him to ignore the darkness of the night, so he could clearly see in the dark alley that a figure with an indistinct face was standing in front of him, gripping the hilt of a knife, looking menacing.

"Snap!"

Without hesitation, Zhang Chang'an activated his exoskeleton to its full potential, employing Jack the Ripper's sliding step to propel himself away as if floating.

The long sword drew an arc in the darkness, heading straight for the man's face.

His Death Eyes could detect this person's emotions; although there was no clear intent to kill, it was not friendly either.

But that person's reaction was surprisingly fast.

The moment the blade flashed, he stepped to the side, his sword instantly slanting to parry, and a kasaya-slash came down.

"Clang..." The two knives clashed, sparks flying in the darkness, instantly illuminating the man's face.

He was much younger than the other man, with softer facial features, and looked less menacing than Okita Souji, but the sword in his hand was clearly quite powerful.

"Clang! Whoosh!" Zhang Chang'an deflected his knife with his backhand, and the tip of the knife turned and went straight for his brow.

But the person in front of him remained calm and unhurried, slightly turning his body and unleashing a small hand slash, heading straight for Zhang Chang'an's palm.

The extremely sharp blade gleamed slightly in the darkness. Although Zhang Chang'an's hands were encased in iron armor, he could still feel a distinct killing intent.

So he decisively turned his knife and pushed to the side, then swept out with an elbow.

But then the man moved his feet and immediately took a step back, while simultaneously raising his hands high.

"Whoosh!" He flicked the long sleeves of his kimono, and instantly raised the katana above his head, his elbows outstretched.

As the sword tip pointed directly upwards, Zhang Chang'an saw him suddenly loosen his grip. The katana, adorned with earth-burnt patterns, instantly slashed down like lightning.

"Drink!" Zhang Chang'an decisively channeled his inner energy and swept the steel hilt upwards, then forcefully slammed the end of the hilt onto the cutting blade.

"Clang!" It bounced away instantly.

Zhang Chang'an held the knife diagonally and swept it horizontally with a backhand motion. The man shrank his neck and forehead, and the blade swept directly over his head, shaving off a few strands of hair.

"call!"

The two separated instantly, three steps apart, with only the whistling wind echoing in the alley.

The firelight from the factory buildings on the side grew brighter, casting a faint glow on the alley walls.

Zhang Chang'an finally saw the other person clearly.

He wore a simple, dark-colored kimono, with a black haori over it, and his hair was tied up with a dark rope. He was around thirty years old, with a handsome face, and the fine sword in his hand was still sharp, but the fighting spirit in his body had completely faded.

"So obsessed with cutting off hands, and this New Year's greeting sword technique... Hokushin Itto-ryu?" Zhang Chang'an didn't know much about Japanese swordsmanship, but he had played "Rise of the Ronin," which is a wheelchair-bound style.

"Excellent swordsmanship." The man opposite spoke slowly, his voice extremely calm, without a trace of panting.

"Don't worry, I'm not here to arrest you."

Zhang Chang'an remained vigilant: "Then what are you doing here?"

The man tilted his head slightly, his gaze falling on the man's chest, where the M1889 gun, which had just been fired, was still embedded.

"I just heard the gunshots and came to check it out," he said with interest. "I really like revolvers."