Steam Old Days: The Extraordinary Begins with a Corpse Collector

Chapter 115 The Three-Man Alliance, The Convoy Transporting Avalon Flowers

Lyndon emphasized the word "revenge."

His eyes seemed to be burning with fire.

Lyndon suffered a lot during his trip to Dark Oak Forest. How could he wash away such a frustrating experience without the blood of those bastards?

Therefore, Lyndon will undoubtedly avenge the ambush he suffered along the way.

However, Viscount William seemed quite angry about what had already happened; he was still leaning against the wall, coughing with his mouth covered.

But Mike Milley, standing to the side, showed an appreciative expression after hearing Lyndon's reasoning.

He bypassed William and pulled Lyndon directly into the study.

While pulling Lyndon along, he said, "In that case, let's go inside and talk! Don't stand outside anymore! Mr. William, now that you've recovered, come in quickly too."

After saying that, Mike Millian left William alone in the hallway.

Viscount William leaned weakly against the wall, his face pale, and took out a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe the sweat from his forehead.

"Barkley, Barkley. Barkley!"

Viscount William called the old butler's name impatiently over and over again.

A short while later, the old butler, having heard his master's voice, hurriedly came up.

Upon reaching the upper floor, Barkley saw the mess on the corridor floor and Viscount William leaning weakly against the wall.

"teacher!"

Barkley strode forward and took Viscount William's arm, checking his master's condition with great concern.

William waved his hand and said to him, "I'm fine, I'm just a little anxious. Help me inside and get me a glass of water."

"Yes, sir. Please slow down and watch your step."

Barkley helped Viscount William slowly into the study. He pulled out the high-backed chair behind the desk with one hand and carefully helped Viscount William sit down.

"Sir, please have some water and rest for a while. I'll go and get someone to clean up the area outside."

After pouring Viscount William a glass of water, Barkley said this to him.

Viscount William took a sip of water and nodded in agreement.

With the master's permission, Barkley left the room and closed the study door for the three of them.

So the three of them sat facing each other in a triangular formation.

"How are you?"

Lyndon sat in another chair, looking at the dejected Viscount William, and offered his concern from a humanitarian perspective.

Viscount William leaned back in his chair, glancing sideways at Lyndon sitting to his right, and said irritably, "I might be much better off if you hadn't shown up in front of me today."

After speaking, Viscount William cast a strange glance at Lyndon, who was leaning on the armrest with his left arm and shifting his weight to the left, towards Macmillan.

He said sarcastically, "Why didn't you come back tomorrow? I've already suffered enough today!"

"Alright, alright!" At this moment, MacMillan, who had been watching the show from the sidelines, saw that William was about to turn his anger on him. He quickly stopped the two of them, then turned to Lyndon sitting next to him and asked, "Since you've been to Dark Oak Forest, tell me, what exactly did you experience?"

After listening, Lyndon recalled and recounted his experiences in Dark Oak Forest.

"They set traps in the forest, many traps, and you could easily fall into one if you weren't careful. Then, when we reached a riverbank, a large group of steel-toothed hyenas charged down from the opposite mountain."

"Steel-Toothed Wild Hyena?" Viscount William exclaimed.

"Yes." Lyndon nodded, and then recounted to them how he beheaded the White-haired Wild Hyena King.

After hearing this, MacMillan applauded and exclaimed, "That was thrilling!"

Upon hearing this, Viscount William also began to have a different opinion of Lyndon in front of him.

The two then exchanged a glance, conveying their thoughts with their eyes.

This Lyndon does have some skills.

Then they heard Lyndon recount his encounter with Hemophiliacs, and how Ryder's team had been defeated there from the very beginning.

Otherwise, Lyndon wouldn't have had anything to do with it.

"At first, we wanted to leave that place using the Soul Soothing Technique, but the Dream Weaver Society interfered, which is why we fell into their trap again."

"However, we later discovered that the flowers of the Hemophiliac could be used as an antidote, so the team did not suffer many losses in this stage."

But then Lyndon changed the subject, telling the two that even if they broke through the Bloodfriend Vine barrier, enemies hidden in the forest would attack them under the cover of a purple smoke.

"Because I didn't know what the purple smoke would do, I took Cecilia and fled the area."

"After that, Cecilia and I were knocked off a cliff by vines thrown out of the fog. Fortunately, there was a river below the cliff. We fell into the river and were rescued by a hunter. That hunter used to be a member of the Dream Weavers, but he has severed ties with the Dream Weavers."

Lyndon then recounted the hunter's past and the information he had given him about the "Sleeping Kiss."

"Anyway, that's how we escaped from there."

After Lyndon finished recounting this dramatic story, MacMillan looked at Viscount William and said, "It seems those heretics have gained some influence now, the Dreamweavers—humph! What a resounding name!"

Viscount William, his face grim, propped his head up and retorted, "You can't blame it all on me. Didn't you hear him say that besides the Dream Moth, other ingredients are needed? These heretics must have other powerful backers."

Thinking about this, Viscount William suddenly realized, covering his mouth and muttering softly, "No wonder those bastards stopped contacting the family much after I started suppressing them; it turns out they had the support of others."

"Lord Milan, we must arrest all those who collude with the heretics!"

Viscount William said with great pride.

“Of course, Mr. William.” After a moment’s thought, MacMillan turned his gaze to Lyndon, who was standing to the side. He suddenly smiled and said to Lyndon, “Mr. Lyndon, I think we can have a talk.”

"What do you want to talk about?" Lyndon seemed to have a certain aversion to the word "talk," and he clearly showed resistance to it, but due to the pressure from the two powerful men beside him, he could only listen to Mike's thoughts first.

"First of all, I think you're a talented person. Secondly, I'd like to know what your purpose is in infiltrating the team under the guise of Philip?"

McMillan stared intently at Lyndon, his gaze like two flames, as if he would burn Lyndon to ashes if he uttered a single lie.

Lyndon felt a chill run down his spine under those two venomous gazes, but he forced a calm expression and said, "I did it for the Dream Moth."

"Oh? What are you looking for about the Dream Moth?" Mike Millan pressed on.

Lyndon gripped his pants so tightly he almost tore them apart.

"I'm sorry, sir. That's all I can tell you. Please forgive me for not being able to tell you anything else, but all I can tell you is that I will not use the Dream Moth to do anything bad."

Mike stared intently at Lyndon's tense face for a long time, but suddenly, Mike Milan smiled and shrugged.

"Fine, if you don't want to talk about it, then don't. I don't care anyway."

Hearing McMillan say that, Lyndon immediately breathed a sigh of relief.

McMillan leaned back in his chair, tapped a few times on the armrest with his fingertips, and then showed Lyndon his sincerity.

"After this is all over, I'll give you the Dream-Cleansing Moth. You can do whatever you want with it. And I'll let bygones be bygones for your impersonation, offending nobles, and all those other crimes. How about it?"

Linden's expression darkened upon hearing this.

He knew perfectly well that since McMillan was willing to offer such a high price, he must want him to handle some tricky matters for him.

So Lyndon asked directly, "What do you need me to do, sir?"

McMillan chuckled softly upon hearing this, and a hint of appreciation appeared in his eyes as he looked at Lyndon.

"This guy is smart; I don't need to waste my breath."

That's what Mike Milan was thinking.

He said slowly, "It's very simple. You see, Mr. William, as a viscount, cannot show his face in public so easily, while I have come all this way representing His Majesty the King and the laws of the United Kingdom, so—"

"So, you need someone to do the dirty work, and that person is me." Lyndon spoke for Mike, getting ahead of him.

"You're a smart man, Mr. Lyndon, and I like smart men." MacMillan crossed his legs and said haughtily, "So, what's your opinion?"

"Opinion?" Lyndon scoffed, letting out a long sigh as if a heavy burden had been lifted. "If I said I was unwilling..."

"Does this mean I can possibly walk out of here alive?"

McMillan smiled without saying a word.

But his true meaning was already evident in his eyes.

If Lyndon doesn't agree, then knowing so much, there's absolutely no way he'll leave here alive.

Lyndon was well aware of his situation, so he said in a defiant tone, "Tell me, what do you want me to do?"

"It's very simple. I'll use the resources to investigate who's been supplying the infidels with the raw materials. Then you just need to tell them your plan," McMillan said in a low voice, leaning towards Lyndon.

After listening to McMillan's idea, Lyndon agreed without hesitation.

"Very well, it seems we've reached an agreement. Now it's time for me to leave." Macmillan stood up, buttoned his shirt, and pointed to the congealed blood on Lyndon's back. "Mr. William, get a doctor to treat him. He can't be left out of the rest of the business."

After saying that, McMillan curtsied to the two men and said, "Well then, goodbye and best of luck."

Three days later, one night, the night was as dark as ink.

The East Logging Trail winds through the sparse woodland.

The road surface was bumpy, and there were only shadowy, withered trees on both sides.

On the road, two horse-drawn carts covered with tarpaulins were traveling on the bumpy road.

"Damn it, hauling this load is torture! My back is about to break!"

Several burly men with guns sat inside the cargo platform at the back of the carriage, which was covered by a tarpaulin.

One of the men, with a tumor on his neck, looked at the wooden box at his feet and cursed.

"Alright, stop complaining. This shipment is valuable, after all. If you're afraid of hardship, you can let someone else have it."

"That's what the guy sitting next to the man, who was smoking a pipe, said."

"Damn it, Cole! Why are you giving my money to someone else!" the man yelled.

Cole, puffing on his pipe, glanced at the man with his squinted glasses, blew smoke into the man's face, and said, "Then shut up! You can make money but can't control your mouth. Say one more word and I'll throw you off!"

Upon hearing this, the man could only lower his head.

But he still seemed unconvinced, his lips still twitching.

But the cargo compartment finally fell silent.

Just when the group thought the rest of the journey would be as boring as before, their carriage suddenly jolted violently twice.

"Ouch!"

"OMG!"

The cargo compartment was immediately jolted and filled with groans.

The carriage stopped very quickly.

Its stop forced the car behind it to stop as well.

The man with the tumor on his neck was the first to climb out of the car. He lay on the ground cursing, "Damn it, what kind of car is this! It nearly shook me to death!"

At this moment, the coachman jumped off the carriage and lay down to look at the axle of the carriage.

"Oh no! The axle broke!"

"What?"

The men transporting the goods were now in a panic. They all crowded around and looked down at the axle that had broken in two.

"Can it really be fixed?"

The man with a tumor on his neck kicked the wheel with the tip of his boot and said irritably.

"We need to find a suitable piece of wood to replace it, but where can we find one in this desolate wilderness?"

The driver squatted down and muttered something.

"It might take some effort."

"No matter what, we need to hurry. If we don't get back before dawn, we'll all be punished," Cole warned.

"I will try my best, I will try my best—"

After saying that, the driver crawled under the cart to make repairs.

"Damn it! What bad luck!"

The man spat and walked to the side of the road.

"Hey! Where are you going?" Cole called out, watching the man's retreating figure.

"Take a piss! What? You want to see?"

The man muttered curses.

"Go and come back quickly." Cole was now very dissatisfied with him.

In the woods, the man unbuckled his belt and relieved himself against a tree.

Just as he was relieving himself, a dark figure quietly approached from behind.

After the man finished ejaculating, he shuddered twice, pulled up his pants, and was about to go back when someone grabbed him by the throat.

"Well!"

Before the man could utter a sound, the shadowy figure snapped his neck.

Linden released his grip, and the man collapsed to the ground like a lump of mud.

Looking back, seeing that no one on the road had heard anything, Lyndon disappeared into the darkness again.

"How much longer?" Cole asked.

"Almost there, almost there! Don't rush, I'll re-nail the axle first, then we can drive slowly later," the coachman offered his solution.

"Okay! Hurry up!"

Cole then realized that the man still hadn't returned.

"Is that guy still not done?"

Feeling agitated, Cole instructed the people around him to keep watch before entering the woods.

He walked into the woods, searching for the man's figure in his surroundings.

Suddenly, Cole seemed to kick something.

He looked down and saw a person lying on the ground.

It was the man who had just come in to urinate.

Cole was startled. He was about to shout when, in the next instant, a cold sword emerged from the darkness and was pressed against his neck.

He suddenly seemed to lose his voice, unable to utter a single sound.

Lyndon emerged from the darkness, sword in hand, and stared coldly at Cole.

"Don't be afraid, sir. May I ask you to go that way?"

Lyndon pointed in the direction of the carriage and said.

Cole felt the coldness on his neck and couldn't say a word; he could only nod frantically.

"very good."

Lyndon took the pistol from Cole's waist, put down his sword, pressed the gun against Cole's back, and ordered him to walk forward.

Cole had no choice but to comply.

"Cole, you're back."

The guards beside the two carriages greeted Cole when they saw him return.

Because it was very dark in the woods, they did not notice that the person behind Cole was not their companion.

As the two emerged from the woods, moonlight bathed Lyndon, and the guards realized something was amiss.

But it was too late.

Lyndon pushed Cole aside and raised his gun.

Bang bang bang bang!

Five gunshots rang out, five bullets, and five guards were killed.

With one or two guards remaining, Lyndon drew his sword and beheaded them.

Blood stained the road.

The coachman hid under the carriage, covering his mouth and nose, not daring to make a sound.

But he was still discovered by Lyndon.

Lyndon pulled him out from under the car.

He made the coachman and Cole squat together, then he removed the horse's bit and tied the two of them together.

"Don't even think about it, because I can kill you all very easily, understand?"

The two people who were tied up nodded quickly to show their cooperation.

Lyndon strode over to the carriage, jumped into the tarpaulin awning, and looked at the neatly stacked wooden crates inside.

He pried open a box, and the moment the box was opened, a strong, strange fragrance wafted out.

The box was filled with a large amount of dried plant roots and stems.

Lyndon picked up one of the bunches, muttering to himself, "This is the Avalon grass Macmillan talked about, the scarlet stem—"