Steam Old Days: The Extraordinary Begins with a Corpse Collector

"Ugh... my head hurts so much..."

The man gradually regained consciousness.

He found himself surrounded by darkness, as if he were in a closed room without windows.

The man tried to raise his hand to scratch his face, only to find that he was actually tied to a chair.

Thick ropes tightly bound the man's hands and feet, rendering him unable to move.

Just as the man was at a loss, a light suddenly appeared in the corner.

A person dressed in black robes emerged from the corner carrying a candlestick.

"Who are you? What do you want?"

The man said in terror.

The man in the black robe wore a large hood, which covered half of his face in shadow.

He kept getting closer to the man, who desperately twisted his body, trying to get away from the man in black robes, and moved the chair he was sitting on so that it creaked.

The man in black robes walked to the man's side and reached out to pull the chair back.

The man, seeing the black-robed figure so close to him, was too frightened to speak. He could only open his mouth wide and make "ah ah" sounds.

The man in black patted the man's face, then pulled down the hood that covered most of his face, revealing his true appearance.

"I don't think we've met before, let alone had any enmity with each other."

Lyndon, draped in a black robe, stood before the man, his eyes flashing with a chilling light.

"Yes, it's you..."

The man's body trembled violently, and cold sweat soaked through his cheap shirt.

"It seems you recognize me."

Lyndon's voice was low and suppressed.

He pulled a sharp boning knife from under his robe; the candlelight reflected off the blade, radiating a chilling killing intent.

"Tell me, how did you come to know me, and why did you bribe that acrobat to kill me on stage?"

The tip of the boning knife pressed against the man's cheek, the cold blade stimulating his fragile nerves.

He couldn't speak, only tears kept flowing from his eyes.

"explain!"

Lyndon suddenly flew into a rage, gripping the knife tightly, the tip piercing the man's skin, a drop of bright red blood oozing from the blade.

The man's voice was hoarse and choked with sobs; his words were incoherent, but the overall meaning was the same.

I don't know you.

"Then why did you let someone harm me!"

"Yes, it's a bounty! The black market! Someone has issued a bounty on the black market! Fifty gold pounds! For your life!"

The man's psychological defenses were completely broken down, and he yelled at the top of his lungs, begging Lyndon to spare his life.

Who put the bounty on it?

Lyndon's voice grew even colder.

"I don't know! I really don't know!"

The man stared in horror, his eyes almost popping out of their sockets.

Snot and tears covered his face.

"The bounty is public, but anonymous! I only found out this morning. I felt you looked like the person on the bounty, so I got involved. That celebrity is a gambling addict; he owes my boss a huge sum of money. I wanted him to fake an accident, kill you, and then carry the corpse to collect the reward. Even if he confessed, it wouldn't be a big deal!"

The man told everything he knew.

He also said he had a bounty poster in his pocket, and if Lyndon didn't believe him, he could take a look.

Lyndon was silent for a moment, then took out a piece of paper from under his robe.

He unfolded the paper and showed it to the man.

"You mean this?"

The man looked at the paper in Lyndon's hand and nodded quickly, saying, "Yes! Yes! That's it!"

The bounty poster was very simple, consisting of a description of Lyndon's appearance, a line indicating a reward of fifty gold pounds, and a final sentence: dead or alive.

Lyndon silently put the bounty poster back into his pocket.

He sheathed his knife, turned his back to the man, and remained silent.

The man, fearing Lyndon wouldn't believe him, kept defending himself:

"I'm a poor man too. I must have been out of my mind to think of hurting you. Please, let me go. I have a family to support. My mother is over eighty years old, and she can't live without me!"

As the man spoke, two more tears streamed down his face.

"It's so noisy," Lyndon complained.

Then, he snapped his fingers crisply.

"Snapped!"

The originally dark room instantly began to distort.

The man, who had been talking non-stop, suddenly felt dizzy, his head drooped, and he fainted again.

The room disappeared.

The man was no longer tied to a chair, but instead collapsed in the dirty alley.

The black robe on Lyndon's body gradually began to break apart and dissipate.

Even the knife and candlestick in his hand turned into a blur.

It turns out, it was all a lie.

Everything was a dream that Lyndon wove for the man using "Dream Weaving".

In this dream, Lyndon is omnipotent.

Lyndon was still wearing the same clothes he wore to the play.

He kicked the man's thigh with his toe.

But he did not intend to kill him.

Because there is absolutely no need for it.

Lyndon didn't want to get too much blood on his hands.

As for the guy who put a bounty on his head on the black market...

Lyndon already had someone in mind.

That was his boss—Hornby.

Hornby has always wanted me dead, so it's not impossible that he's now paying someone to harm me.

However, he only learned this morning that Lyndon was not dead, and the bounty was posted at noon today. The time between these events was far too short.

Although Hornby is the prime suspect, other suspects cannot be ruled out.

Lyndon even suspected Alastor.

Perhaps he wanted to kill himself and then take the nightmare for himself?

Lyndon suddenly had a thought: to eliminate all the suspects.

"No, no..."

Lyndon looked at the man on the ground and shook his head.

He turned and walked out of the alley, leaving the man lying there unattended.

……

"Clang clang".

The copper bell on the door rang, breaking the silence inside.

"Welcome! Is there anything you'd like to pawn?"

Alastor kept his head down, his mind completely absorbed in the ledger, and didn't notice who had come in.

Seeing that the newcomer hadn't spoken, Alastor sensed something was wrong and finally looked up.

"Linden?"

When Alastor saw that it was Lyndon, his smile became even brighter.

He hurriedly beckoned Lyndon to come into the counter through a small door to the side.

Then Alastor poured Lyndon a cup of tea and excitedly told him that he had news from his side.

"We've made contact with 'Iron Anvil,' and we can go see him tomorrow. He's notorious in the black market; with him there, they'll definitely be able to extract the Nightmare's consciousness from your body!"

As Alastor spoke, he became more and more excited, completely oblivious to the scars on Lyndon's face and his suppressed expression.

Suddenly, Lyndon interrupted Alastor, looking him into the eyes and asking, "I need a gun."

"A gun? What do you need a gun for?"

"Alastor asked, puzzled."

Suddenly, as if he knew something, he raised his index finger.

"I know, you must know something about these alien species again! You just wait!"

Alastor went back into the inner room, then came out again carrying a box.

He opened the box, and inside was a silver revolver.

The pistol was engraved with ancient Hess script.

There were also six silver bullets lying next to it.

"I bought this from a craftsman. Although it's last year's model, it has a large caliber! It's incredibly powerful!"

Alastor picked up a bullet and placed it in front of Lyndon, explaining, "This is a .45 caliber silver bullet. Unless it's a high-level mutant, it'll take them down with one shot. If one shot isn't enough, then two!"

Lyndon nodded, picked up the revolver from the box, and swung it around in his hand.

"If you like this gun, I'll give you a discount for Nightmare's sake. It'll be six gold pounds, bullets are extra."

Lyndon did not comment on the price of the gun; he simply said one thing to Alastor.

"I have a fifty-pound bounty on the black market."

The moment these words were spoken, the atmosphere between the two instantly soured.

Alastor was taken aback at first, then he realized something was wrong. He tried to grab the bullets from the box, but Lyndon had already taken one of the bullets at some point.

Lyndon loaded the bullet into the magazine and aimed the gun at Alastor.

"You doubt me."

With the gun pressed against Alastor's forehead, even his voice trembled slightly.

I can't say for sure.

"What good does this do me!" Alastor's voice rose a little.

"The spirit of a nightmare can be exchanged for a large sum of money. Even if I die, you can still extract the spirit from my corpse and keep it all for yourself."

Lyndon's reasons are not without merit.

Alastor was speechless.

He slumped into the chair and said in despair, "Then go ahead and shoot! Without me, you can spend the rest of your life with that nightmare, until you're lying in your grave."

Looking at the resolute glint in Alastor's eyes, Lyndon's doubts began to waver.

Could it really not be him?

Lyndon grabbed Alastor's wrist, then asked with a serious expression, "You really don't want to hurt me?"

Alastor looked directly into Lyndon's eyes and said, slowly and deliberately, "I didn't."

His pulse was steady, which meant he wasn't lying.

Lyndon let out a heavy sigh, put down the gun in his hand, and slung it behind his back.

"Feel sorry."

"screw you."

"Even though I just pointed a gun at you, I still hope you can help me find out who put a bounty on me."

Fuck you!

Alastor slammed his hand on the table, his back to Lyndon.

"The money from the nightmares, you get six and I get four," Lyndon said calmly.

"You bastard! You tried to kill me just now! Now you think you can get my help by giving me a little profit?!"

Alastor turned around, grabbed Lyndon by the collar, and spat in Lyndon's face.

His chest heaved with rage, and he said bitterly, "I want seven!"

"make a deal."

Alastor released his grip, and the two sat back down in their seats.

"Any clues?"

"Alastor said sullenly."

"No, when I went to Cambeth Concert Hall today, I met someone who told me it was an anonymous bounty."

Lyndon, holding the gun, briefly recounted what had happened in the concert hall.

"I initially thought of two people: you and my boss, Hornby."

"Ha!" Alastor sneered. "So I really do hold a lot of weight in your heart!"

"Is this difficult to investigate?"

Lyndon picked up his teacup and took a sip.

"It's not difficult, just a bit troublesome; you have to look it up little by little."

Alastor frowned, his fingers tapping unconsciously on the counter.

"But you're in danger now. A fifty-gold-pound bounty is enough to tempt many outlaws and black-gloves in Fog City."

He stroked his chin and told Lyndon about his current situation.

"I know," Lyndon's voice was calm, but a fire burned deep in his eyes. "That's why I need your help."

Alastor glanced at the gun in Lyndon's hand and twitched his lips.

"Ten gold pounds, and take the gun."

"Wasn't it six gold pounds just now?"

Alastor rolled his eyes, pointed to his forehead, and said casually, "The price has gone up."

Lyndon sighed: "I'll owe you for now."

"Three percent interest per month?"

"it is good."

Lyndon pondered for a moment, then nodded vigorously.

"Alright! Leave this to me. Tomorrow I'll take you to see 'The Anvil' to resolve the nightmare issue within you; that's the most urgent matter."

"As for the bounty, I will investigate. A bounty of fifty gold pounds cannot be kept completely secret."

A glint of light flashed in Alastor's eyes.

He sized Lyndon up and down, then smiled maliciously. "I didn't expect you to be so valuable, fifty gold pounds!"

"Then you'd better be alive to earn it."

Lyndon loaded all the bullets into the magazine and tucked the gun behind his waist.

"Thanks, Alastor," Lyndon said sincerely.

Although things had been a bit unpleasant just now, Alastor had still helped me a lot.

Alastor waved his hand: "Alright, you can go now. I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow morning."

Lyndon nodded, which put his mind at ease for the time being.

He turned and left the pawnshop, stepping once again into the damp, cold fog of the city.

There weren't many pedestrians on the road.

Lyndon pulled up his collar, covering half of his face, and walked quickly.

Just as he turned a corner, a strong hand suddenly reached out from his side and slapped Lyndon hard on his right shoulder.

Lyndon tensed up at the sudden fright, and he instinctively reached for the revolver at his waist, but was held down firmly by another hand.

"I'm a little nervous."

A familiar voice rang out, and Hughes walked out from behind Lyndon with a playful expression.

Lyndon looked surprised when he saw it was Hughes.

Hughes was still wearing that dark gray overcoat, with a bowler hat covering his silver hair.

Those sapphire-blue eyes quietly admired Lyndon's expression.

"Butler, what a coincidence."

Lyndon tried to get close to Hughes.

But Xiu Yis wasn't having any of it; he gripped Lyndon's hand even tighter.

"Mr. Lyndon, this is no coincidence; I've been looking for you."

"What do you want from me?"

"I want to talk to you about what happened in Phoenix that day."

Upon hearing this, Lyndon's pupils contracted slightly, but his expression remained unchanged.

"That day...that day, after I woke up, I took Mr. Wendell's body away and sent it to the cemetery. You can check!"

Hughes smiled slightly, as if mocking Lyndon's petty cleverness.

"Of course I know all that, but what I want to know is about your theft of the potion and the movement of the potion bottle that caused the containment failure."

These words exploded in Lyndon's mind like a thunderclap!

Hughes actually knew that he had stolen the potion and interfered with the ritual!

Why?

Lyndon panicked at this moment, and his usual composure was gone.

"Why didn't you arrest me before? Were you afraid I'd run away?"

Hughes shook his head quite frankly, his tone surprisingly calm.

"Because I didn't report your matter to the church, I covered it up for you."

With that, Hughes released his grip on Lyndon.

"This is not the place to talk."

He took off his hat, and his silver hair fell loose.

Hughes dusted himself off and looked at Lyndon.

"Are there any good coffee shops around here? I like to chat while drinking coffee."