The mage in the late Qing Dynasty

After finishing his meal, Zhao Chuanxin wiped the corners of his mouth and nodded to Fritz Heinze in a very gentlemanly manner.

He stood up, took out the elf carving knife, drew the thread, and pointed it towards his cousin from a distance.

My cousin's expression was frozen in astonishment.

Zhao Chuanxin turned around and went out.

Through the glass of the door, they saw him getting on the carriage and walking away. Only then did everyone dare to speak, and discussions broke out.

John Rockefeller Jr. turned around and saw that his cousin still had the same stunned expression, his mouth slightly open and motionless.

He frowned and pushed his cousin: "Everyone has left, you still..."

As a result, my cousin looked up and fell down.

There was a slight commotion in the crowd, but "Jade and Jade First" and the strange way of death of my cousin could no longer cause a sensation.

John Rockefeller Jr. was stunned. Zhao Chuanxin just clicked from a distance. The elf carving knife made the drawing thinner than a hair. He didn't see what happened at all.

The blade, which is thinner than a hair, pierces the brain and stirs it up at will, but even blood may not flow out.

John Rockefeller Jr. was feeling cold.

Fritz Heinze shook his head slightly when he saw it. He remembered Zhao Chuanxin's words - if you don't seek death, you won't die.

As a human being, no matter how much money you earn, you still need to know how to be in awe of the unknown.

He left behind the meal money and tips, including the money from Zhao Chuanxin's table, and Shi Shiran left.

Fritz Heinze was also a smart man, otherwise he would not have made the copper industry bigger and stronger.

However, after becoming the "Bronze King", he drifted away.

Now, he's back down to earth.

After returning, Fritz Heinze contacted many friends and planned to have a gathering tomorrow.

At the same time, he contacted the printing house and printed a batch of leaflets.

…

Zhao Chuanxin did not go home and went to the intersection of 5th Avenue and 55th Street.

He has too many gifts to buy, and it is inevitable that he will not think thoroughly and needs to constantly make up for them.

The first thing he thought of was a group of snot-nosed children, and he and Miao Cuihua bought them gifts.

Then I remembered that the gifts from my ancestors, Liu Baogui and Shuangxi, had not yet arrived.

Night had fallen by this time.

Zhao Chuanxin saw a Fifth Avenue boutique.

It looked familiar to him, and he immediately remembered that this store should be the predecessor of the later Saks Fifth Avenue boutique.

Zhao Chuanxin saw that the door was still open and walked in.

This time, no one stopped him.

But not enthusiastic either.

Zhao Chuanxin came to the fashion area, looked at the colorful clothes, and couldn't help scratching his head.

If Sister Hua were here, she would definitely be able to tell at a glance what size suits whom.

Sister Hua has this talent.

He scratched his head and waved to the clerk not far away.

The clerk looked at him and turned his head away.

Zhao Chuanxin is the kind of person who has to work hard when going uphill and be happy when going downhill.

Usually, he doesn't care much about other people's big eyelids.

But these days, the purpose is to clean up the atmosphere in New York.

He pointed at the clerk: "Don't say I won't give you a chance. I'll count to three silently. If you don't come over to serve me, don't say I'll cut off your legs just by wrapping my head around your head!"

The clerk rolled his eyes, lifted up the hem of his clothes, and revealed his gun holster: "Sir, New York is not peaceful. I suggest you be careful what you say. I'm not a human being if I go crazy."

Zhao Chuanxin smiled: "Then who do you want to compare your scores with?"

Shop assistant: "..."

Not to be outdone, the clerk said: "Sir, although you are very tall, I have one more head than the nine-headed body mentioned by the ancient Greek sculptor Lysippus, with ten heads and fourteen feet. I am not afraid of you in a fight."

Zhao Chuanxin looked at the stick: "10 heads and body? 14 yards of feet? OK, you can guard James next season."

"Sir, if you want to shop, then shop. If you don't shop, we will close soon."

Zhao Chuanxin walked towards him.

The clerk became nervous and lifted up the hem of his clothes again.

However, he found that this was not able to suppress Zhao Chuanxin at all, so he flatly threatened: "Don't come over, or I will draw my gun."

"Take it. Ten steps away, the gun is faster. Within ten steps, my gun is faster than yours."

You're not at a disadvantage either way, right?

"..." The clerk just exposed his holster, but refused to take out his gun.

When Zhao Chuanxin got closer, he remained like this.

Zhao Chuanxin was so happy that he went over and took off his clothes, only to find an empty holster.

The clerk blushed and said, "I, my gun was left in the changing room. Don't be ungrateful."

"Why are you pretending to be like me with a green onion stuck in your fucking pig's nose?" Zhao Chuanxin didn't know whether to laugh or cry. He grabbed the back of his neck and dragged him away: "Come here right now, don't force me to do it."

How dare this tall and lanky guy fight back.

Zhao Chuanxin took him to the fashion area: "I said, you choose for me."

The clerk looked very angry and wanted to fight with others, and his breathing was snorting, as if he was breathing out fire. He gritted his teeth and opened his mouth: "Then tell me."

Zhao Chuanxin was so angry at the staff that he felt like laughing instead.

How funny.

"Five feet, a little over nine inches, 165 pounds, pick me the right one."

The clerk rolled his eyes and asked, "What's his figure?"

"Strong, but not fat, with broad shoulders and narrow waist."

The clerk had a sharp eye and took one casually like a girl.

Zhao Chuanxin took a look and saw that the fabric was in line with the rough and dark colors of this era, but the style was very different from the current Edwardian suits and the popular country suits in the United States. It seemed to be influenced by military uniforms. The upper body had wider shoulders and a narrow waist, which was a little bit different. Draped suit meaning. The pants are loosely cut and the waistline is raised. Wearing them will really make you feel beautiful.

Every era has a unique aesthetic, but the mainstream aesthetic does not mean that there are no other styles.

Mainly recognition.

Zhao Chuanxin must give this clerk a thumbs up: "Awesome."

Nothing could be more fitting for his great ancestor than this piece of clothing.

He added: "5 feet under 7 inches, 132 pounds."

The clerk continued to roll his eyes and asked: "Age and body condition."

"Skinny, not strong, but strong-boned, over 30." Zhao Chuanxin thought for a while, and then added: "I like to show off."

The clerk touched it casually: "This suit suits him. It needs to be a three-piece outfit. It is 1960s style and modern style. It is a must-have for nostalgic pretenders."

This was a set of casual clothes made of heavy fabrics, and Zhao Chuanxin's eyes lit up again.

Talent.

Isn’t the other ancestor just like this?

Next, Zhao Chuanxian went into more detail, telling everyone's appearance, characteristics, and personality preferences.

This guy can pick out corresponding clothes one by one.

Zhao Chuanxin couldn't help but said: "How much money do you make in a month now?"

The clerk hesitated this time: "The weekly salary is $3.50."

Zhao Chuanxin asked again: "How do you know the size? You seem to know the styles of every era well?"

"Sir, I have no obligation to tell you this."

Zhao Chuanxin pinched the back of his neck and said, "Say."

The clerk's face was full of anger, but he was pouring beans out of the bamboo tube: "My father is a tailor and I am an apprentice. Our money has been cheated. My father is very angry. I have no capital to open a store, so I have to work."

Zhao Chuanxin let go: "Damn it, you have to force me to do something to this dog that won't let you go. Let me ask you, how are your tailoring skills?"

The clerk raised his chest, raised his head, and pointed his nostrils into the sky: "You have ambitions but not years. Listen carefully, my skills are second in New York, and no one dares to be first."

Look how awesome you are.

Zhao Chuanxin said: "Why don't you follow me to the East and open a tailor shop for you, with a basic monthly salary of 30 US dollars and a certain number of shares."

"Just you?" The clerk said with a crooked look.

"You are so fucking worthless!" Zhao Chuanxin raised his hand and slapped him on the back of the head. "I'll give you six days to think about it. If you want to go, pack your things and go to 165 Grand Street to find Abraham Cohen. He will make arrangements. We won't wait until the expiration date."

After saying that, Zhao Chuanxian took the large and small packages to the counter to settle the accounts.

The clerk was left thoughtful.

After settling the account, Zhao Chuanxin took out another sum of money: "Send it to Ethan Manor in North Tarrytown and leave the rest as a tip."

At the intersection of 5th Avenue and 55th Street, the St. Regis Hotel.

Zhao Chuanxin walked in, and the doorman looked at him curiously: "Sir, do you want to stay in the hotel?"

"I want a high-rise apartment with a top-notch suite."

"Sorry, sir, the top suite is not open to the public."

Zhao Chuanxin twisted his neck: "Is it not open to non-white people, or is it closed to the public and only accepts reservations?"

The doorman said, "Please wait a moment, I'll ask the manager."

Zhao Chuanxin went in with him.

The lobby manager came and said: "Sir, the top suites are only open to white people."

Zhao Chuanxin raised his hand and struck an axe.

"ah……"

Zhao Chuanxin came to the front desk: "I want a top-level suite, high-rise."

The front desk trembled and took out a key: "Sir, it's on the 9th floor."

Zhao Chuanxin took the key and didn't even look at the disabled lobby manager.

As he walked, he muttered: "In this colorful world of New York, you can enjoy everything. It just costs the lobby manager a little bit."

front desk:"……"

Manhattan Police Department First Precinct.

There was a knock on the chief's office.

"Come in." Francis Collins' majestic voice sounded.

A police detective came in a hurry: "Chief, there was a vicious wounding incident at the St. Regis Hotel. The suspect is Asian. I suspect..."

Francis Collins pinched his eyebrows and said helplessly: "If you haven't left after hurting someone, then there is no need to doubt that it was Zhao Chuanxin who did it."

"what should we do?"

"Record, report, don't care about anything else."

After the detective left, Francis Collins picked up the phone and dialed the city council: "Mr. McClellan, it's me, Francis. Zhao Chuanxin hurt someone again at the St. Regis Hotel. He just left Del. Monico's Restaurant, the bodyguard who killed John Rockefeller Jr...."

New York City Mayor George Bruce McClellan put his hand on his forehead and said, "I know, I'm going to call the White House right away. It's time for someone to take charge."

So, Zhao Chuanxin, who was in the hotel, had just finished taking a shower and walked out of the bathroom wearing a bathrobe when the landline phone rang.

Only top-tier suites have telephones installed.

Zhao Chuanxin picked up the call and heard a familiar voice, it was Da Luo.

Da Luo said: "Zhao Chuanxin, what are you doing?"

Zhao Chuanxin could tell that Da Luo's tone was a bit harsh.

Zhao Chuanxin yawned: "I did a lot of things last night, which made me very sleepy today and I want to sleep."

"What?" Da Luo paused: "You are making such a fuss, do you think I will send the army to besiege you? The United States does not lack the courage to fight to the death. In the War of Independence, the Civil War, and the Spanish-American War, we have experienced blood and fire. It's a test. I think that although a large army is used to deal with you alone, no one in the world will laugh at the United States."

Zhao Chuanxin guessed that Da Luo was trying to scare him, or was he serious about it?

Zhao Chuanxin does not think he is smarter than Da Luo. It is often difficult to tell the truth from falsehoods when politicians say something.

The deeper the understanding of the war, the less energetic Zhao Chuanxin was as a newborn calf who was not afraid of tigers.

Even though he has endless methods, there are too many factors that can kill him on the battlefield.

If the army were deployed at all costs and under siege regardless of the cost, the chance of Zhao Chuanxin's death should be more than 90%.

The resolute armor made of the core material of war damage cannot stop artillery shells, and even under heavy machine gun fire, he may not survive without a bunker.

Seeing that he was silent, Da Luo pressed forward: "I don't hope there will be a next time."

Zhao Chuanxin immediately responded: "I will dare next time."

"you……"

Thank you all for your monthly votes. It will explode in a few days, so I can save some ammunition.