The Ancestral Legacy Begins in the Wild West

"[Martial artist] defeats an opponent whose close-combat skills are no less than his own, and successfully achieves a breakthrough in any aspect of martial arts during the battle."

The night was as thick as ink.

The mountain road outside Kyoto winds through mixed forests, the moonlight blocked by the dense canopy, with only a few pale rays occasionally leaking through the gaps.

Insects chirped in the roadside grass, and Zhang Chang'an lay prone on the grass, on the branch of an old locust tree.

On the mountain road below, a caravan was slowly approaching from afar. Four carriages, each guarded by more than ten warriors. The torchlight illuminated the tense faces of the drivers.

It also illuminated the unrecognizable crest of a famous family on the carriage.

Even in the future, London did not have a large-scale supply of steam vehicles, and Kyoto at that time certainly could not either, not even the Shogunate's motorcade.

These carriages only had a few steam-powered range extenders; they were primarily powered by horses.

As the convoy slowly approached, Zhang Chang'an lifted his foot and gently stomped on the locust tree he was standing on.

The branches swayed, making a rustling sound. A samurai turned his head alertly, let go of the hanging cart, jumped down, left the ranks, and cautiously approached the edge of the forest, sword in hand.

Zhang Chang'an watched as he approached, his hand on the hilt of his sword, his eyes searching in the darkness.

Suddenly, he saw the shadow at his feet move slightly and immediately realized what was happening.

"Nani!"

"Swoosh!" As he drew his sword, he looked up and the moonlight shone through the gaps in the branches and leaves, illuminating the motionless black shadow on the tree.

"Whoosh!" Zhang Chang'an's kimono fluttered as he raised the knife in his hand and brought it down decisively.

He flashed forward, and the warrior looked up to examine his exposed neck, where a line of blood immediately appeared.

Before he could even swing the drawn katana, the samurai struggled for a moment before slowly collapsing, only able to utter muffled "ooh" sounds that could not be heard more than three meters away in the silent forest.

"A bit weak..." Zhang Chang'an moved his neck, the exoskeleton on his back made a very slight hissing sound, and the mask on his face felt cold to the touch.

"Who's in the woods!" A commotion erupted from the mountain path outside the forest: "I am the Chief of Operations of the Steam Bureau of the Shogunate..."

"Bang!" Zhang Chang'an's bullet grazed the man's mouth.

"Baka!" The man was startled; most of his chin had been slashed. He raised his hand to touch it, only to find his face covered in blood. He immediately cursed, "Find it for me!..."

"Bang!" Zhang Chang'an fired another shot with his backhand, and the commander in the car fell to the ground. The bullet went through his mouth and came out from the back of his head.

"Bang...bang bang bang..." Sparse gunshots came from the mountain road. The reason Zhang Chang'an decisively raised his gun was that when the person in the car shouted, the people around him had already raised their guns.

Although it was still early in history, he was, after all, a member of the shogunate and was already using breech-loading guns, so he had to strike first.

In addition, this was of course also for his mission.

Cultivation is the refinement of skills, and the abilities they possess gradually elevate them to extraordinary levels. His cultivation has now reached a critical juncture; although he has accumulated many different abilities, they do not conflict with each other.

However, to break through this barrier, he must undergo a qualitative change in one of his paths. This is the only way for his state to undergo a qualitative transformation.

In addition, the dogs of these daimyo in front of him were mostly respectable samurai lords who could bully the common people, so he felt particularly unburdened when he took action.

"Bang...bang..." Zhang Chang'an climbed to the top of the tree canopy and aimed precisely.

One of the gunmen flung his gun away and fell off the carriage.

The gunshots greatly unsettled the horses, but the coachmen had not yet reacted.

Zhang Chang'an took a deep breath, jumped down from the tree, and landed on one of the carriages.

"Bang!"

He hid most of his body in the driver's seat at the front of the carriage.

Under the moonlight, the dark background of the Nuo mask made his eyes stand out, and the killing intent within them was also very obvious!

"Bang!" As he landed, he delivered a powerful punch that knocked the driver unconscious.

"There!" The surrounding samurai had just reacted when they saw the coachman being thrown back by him, crashing into the people on the roof of the carriage.

Zhang Chang'an did not stop, but strode forward decisively. Before the samurai next to the carriage could react, his sword was only half drawn when Zhang Chang'an slashed it across the shoulder with the back of the blade.

"Bang!" Putting aside his swordsmanship, with the support of the steam exoskeleton, his sheer strength was enough to knock the man down.

"He's all alone!"

"Damn it—" The surrounding warriors all abandoned their spears and switched to swords, but he turned around, glanced at them, and then simply dodged the sword to the side.

He turned around and swung his leg, sweeping the man's foot across the chest.

"Whoosh!" The man flew backward and crashed into the carriage behind him, causing the entire carriage to shake.

Zhang Chang'an decisively climbed onto the carriage, simultaneously striking one of the men on board with an elbow, stunning him. Once he was fully on top, he flicked the hilt of his knife, knocking the man to the ground.

Chaos erupted between the carriages. In no time, the scene was thrown into chaos by his arrogance, and all the warriors dismounted, surrounding him, eager to attack.

"Steam ghost?"

Surprisingly, someone nearby called out that name.

Quiet whispers began to break out among the crowd, but he paid no attention: "Too weak..."

Zhang Chang'an's eyes swept around, and one piece of personal information after another popped up in his eyes.

He had studied the position detection function quite thoroughly. He could usually see the information directly from those whose level was much lower than his and whose cultivation style he was familiar with.

Looking around, although they were all legitimate samurai under the shogunate, very few of them had a training level of more than 30%.

Even though many of them carried some steam-powered equipment, it still couldn't meet his requirements.

"Whoosh... Bang!" Holding a long sword and keeping watch around, relying on the senses of the Death God's Eye, he turned around and kicked a samurai who was about to rush up.

The coachmen around him were pulling hard on the reins, because Ma Pi was already frightened and if he went off now, it would be difficult to stop him. The guards were shouting at each other, some running backwards and some rushing forwards, and it was already chaos.

Just then, a figure slowly walked out from the back of the convoy.

The man appeared older and more robust, with two knives at his waist. His steps were steady and unhurried. He was around forty years old, with a slightly protruding belly, but he didn't look clumsy at all.

He stopped three zhang away from Zhang Chang'an, drew out one of his swords, held it with both hands, and pointed the tip of the sword diagonally at the ground.

Zhang Chang'an looked at him and immediately widened his eyes slightly.

Because this person's panel wasn't displayed.

The man facing him narrowed his eyes, a cold smile playing on his lips: "No words? Fine. I am the General of the Imperial Guard, a disciple of Yagyu Muneyoshi, and a master of the Shinkage-ryu school of martial arts..."

Before he could finish speaking, Zhang Chang'an had already moved. His movements were large; he took a few steps forward on the carriage, leaped up, and slashed down with his knife.

A hint of surprise flashed in the man's eyes, and then a flash of light appeared in front of the two men.

"clang!"

The two swords clashed, sparks flying.

Zhang Chang'an's arm was slightly numb from the shock, but he was overjoyed because the man had actually withstood his attack with only a slight tremor in his hand: "This guy... he's got something."