Steam Old Days: The Extraordinary Begins with a Corpse Collector

In the dark sewers, two men, one old and one young, were carrying something and running frantically through the narrow passage.

The roars behind them grew increasingly fierce, seemingly getting closer and closer.

"ladder!"

Old John pointed to the iron ladder hanging down from the wellhead, his voice cracking with fear.

"Hurry! Hurry!"

He was the first to run to the bottom of the well, grabbed the iron ladder, and stepped onto it with his rubber boots. The oil lamp was hanging from his waist.

As for the iron barrel full of shards, Old John had to discard it; it would only slow him down.

Old John huffed and puffed as he climbed up the manhole cover above his head.

As he climbed, Old John looked down at the iron barrel, a hint of reluctance in his eyes.

"Damn it... my money..."

Old John cursed, but he dared not stop.

Money can be earned back, but once a person is gone, everything is gone.

Lyndon followed behind old John, his breathing rapid. The effects of [Overclocked Senses] allowed him to hear his own heartbeat, feel his blood rushing through his body, and hear the increasingly clear vibrations between the walls.

Just as Lyndon finally reached the iron ladder and stepped onto it, a long, thin, dark figure suddenly darted out from behind him.

A cold hand grabbed Lyndon's ankle and pulled hard, dragging him down the ladder.

"Well!"

With a muffled groan, Lyndon's entire body slammed heavily onto the concrete floor.

He forced himself to turn around despite the pain, and a pale face appeared before him.

It was a hideous face, extremely thin, as if there were only bones under the skin.

His eye sockets were deep-set, and a pair of dark green pupils swirled within them.

The ghoul's mouth was half-open, revealing a mouthful of fangs, and disgusting saliva dripped from between its teeth.

It grabbed Lyndon's ankle, trying to pull its prey toward itself.

The ghoul let out a low growl, opened its bloody maw wide, and bit down on Lyndon's lower body.

"what!"

Lyndon yelled and, with lightning speed, drew his dagger from his waist and stabbed it into the ghoul's mouth!

quack!

A crisp sound.

The blade got stuck between the ghoul's teeth, and the two of them wrestled in this strange position on the damp ground.

The ghoul, like a wild beast, clung tightly to the blade.

Despite being skin and bones, he possessed an absurdly strong physique, as if he were wrestling with a strongman.

Fortunately, through his hard work, Lyndon gained the ability of "strong physique".

Therefore, that seemingly malnourished body actually contained the same strength as an ox.

While Lyndon was fighting the ghoul, Old John had already used the ladder to pry open the manhole cover and successfully climbed to the surface.

"Whew! I survived..."

Old John collapsed to the ground, looking up at the dark sky, where the first rays of sunlight had not yet appeared.

Before he could recover from the fear he had just experienced, the roar of the ghoul in the well sent another chill down Old John's spine.

"That kid hasn't come out yet."

Old John realized something was wrong. He quickly got up, climbed to the wellhead, and looked into the sewer.

Then they saw Lyndon pinned down by a ghoul, unable to break free for a while.

Ghouls don't usually appear alone; the presence of one suggests that there are likely more ghouls nearby.

"I have to help him," old John thought.

He touched his clothes, and when he touched the holster on his waist, old John remembered that he was still carrying a gun.

Old John drew his gun and pulled the trigger at the ghoul.

However, his marksmanship was absolutely terrible.

The bullet was aimed at the head, but it grazed the wall beside him, sending out a few sparks.

Although the shot missed, the sound of the gunshot did indeed intimidate the ghoul.

The monster became distracted, and its strength weakened.

Lyndon seized the opportunity, loosened his grip on the knife hilt, and then kicked the monster in the abdomen.

The ghoul screamed and was kicked several meters away by Lyndon, falling into the sewage next to it.

But just as Lyndon got up from the ground, before he could even climb the ladder, the monster rose from the sewage again, spat out the knife from its mouth, and stared intently at Lyndon with its pair of dark green eyes.

"Kid, use your gun! Here you go!"

Old John shouted, then slammed the hammer back down and threw the gun down.

Before his consciousness could react, Lyndon's body reacted first.

He pushed off the slippery ground with both feet and stretched out his hands, reaching for the revolver that was falling into the air.

"Snapped!"

The cold, metallic texture instantly enveloped Lyndon's palm.

The ghouls then rushed out of the water toward Linden.

It's moving even faster than before.

Lyndon landed on his feet, and with his gun still in hand, he rolled away to dodge the ghoul's attack and create distance between them.

Once Lyndon had regained his balance, he didn't hesitate for a moment. He gripped the gun with both hands, lowered the hammer, and aimed the muzzle at the ghoul.

boom!

Lyndon pulled the trigger.

At this distance, aiming is useless.

Flames erupted as the bullet shot from the barrel, exploding in the dimly lit sewer.

The bullet sliced ​​through the air, precisely piercing the ghoul's skull, with bone fragments and blood splattering from the other side of the monster's head.

"Aww!"

After letting out a final scream, the ghoul swayed its body and then collapsed to the ground like a pile of rotten flesh.

The sewers fell silent once more.

Lyndon stared at the ghoul's corpse before him, as if the sound of that gunshot still echoed in the empty sewers.

"Hey kid! Forget about the stuff! Get up here now! Hurry!!!"

Above, old John was lying on the wellhead, shouting.

Lyndon straightened up, supporting himself on his knees, and wiped the sweat from his face.

He looked around, finally fixing his gaze on the ghoul's corpse.

"What are you waiting for! Hurry up and climb!"

Old John on the ground was very anxious.

He didn't understand what Lyndon was still hesitating about.

There were only five bullets left in the gun, and two had already been fired.

If we attract a horde of ghouls, then we really won't be able to escape.

But then, Lyndon did something that Old John couldn't understand. Instead of climbing the ladder, he picked up the dagger, walked over to the ghoul, and squatted down.

"Processing a ghoul corpse, proficiency +2"

"Processing a ghoul corpse, proficiency +2"

"Acquired a pair of ghoul fangs, proficiency +5"

With a few crisp cracking sounds, Lyndon pulled two pairs of yellowed fangs from the ghoul's mouth.

Its fangs were incredibly sharp, each as long as a little finger.

After getting the item, Lyndon didn't linger and hurriedly climbed up the well.

Old John lay on the edge of the well, stretched out his hand, and his withered wrist unleashed astonishing strength, pulling Lyndon back to the ground.

Then, the two closed the heavy manhole cover.

"That was pretty close, wasn't it?"

Lyndon slumped onto the manhole cover, supporting himself with his hands on the ground, and casually said something.

Old John remained silent. He wiped the blood from his arm, grabbed Lyndon by the collar, and pointed at his nose, demanding an explanation.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Why didn't you come up here just now! I taught you during training that safety comes first!"

"If there's another ghoul, you're dead! I can completely ignore you!"

Old John became increasingly agitated; he stiffened his neck, his face flushed, and raised his hand as if to throw a punch.

Lyndon did not refute, but simply let old John vent his emotions.

After all, he was right. He could have simply closed the manhole cover after he got up and run away.

When asked, just say he was attacked by ghouls, and he won't get into any trouble.

But he didn't.

Once old John had vented his emotions, Lyndon opened his palms, revealing the two pairs of fangs.

Old John's expression froze instantly. He stared at the fangs in Lyndon's hand, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed.

"Ghoul teeth, if sold on the black market to potion dealers, can fetch at least ten shillings a pair."

In this world, the various organs of the alien species can be made into different magical potions or weapons, and they also have considerable research value.

Therefore, these kinds of items are always in short supply on the black market.

Even the most ordinary xenotransplant organs are highly sought after.

The silver shilling is one of the country's main currencies, along with the gold pound and the copper penny.

Ten pennies could be exchanged for one silver shilling, and ten shillings could be exchanged for one gold pound.

In addition to the gold pound being a paper banknote, the shilling and penny were both coins and banknotes.

Even the most skilled worker in the factory only earns fifteen shillings a week, which is one gold pound and five shillings.

A pair of fangs is worth a week's salary!

Lyndon smiled and put the fang back in his pocket.

He twirled the gun and said:

"If I sell those fangs, I think I can make up for today's losses."

Regardless, today's mission was a failure, and we even lost our equipment.

When I go back to see the boss, I'll inevitably have to pay compensation.

If I could really sell those fangs...

Do you have connections?

Old John's voice trembled.

"I know someone I can give it a try."

After hearing Lyndon's affirmative answer, old John hesitated slightly, then shouted at Lyndon, "Kid, remember this! I saved you today! So..."

Old John licked his slightly chapped lips, and his voice rose a few decibels.

"So I want half of the money I exchange!"

Upon hearing this, Lyndon revealed a sly smile.

He stood up and wiped his chest with his dirty right hand.

"It seems we're all in the same boat now."

"I'll contact the buyer as soon as possible, but first we need to fool that heartless boss. We were attacked by aliens today, but luckily, we managed to repel them with our guns. As for those fangs, to hell with them!"

As Lyndon spoke, he walked away into the distance.

Old John was still sitting on the manhole cover, repeating the same old story.

"They were just shot back... It's a bit far-fetched, but there's nothing wrong with that."

Watching Lyndon's departing figure, he suddenly remembered something.

Old John's shouts echoed through the deserted streets.

"Gun! Give me back my gun! I'll have to pay for it if I lose it!"