Steam Old Days: The Extraordinary Begins with a Corpse Collector

With Emily's financial support, Lyndon returned to his apartment by carriage.

Pushing open the creaking apartment door, the landlord, Mr. Michel, suddenly appeared out of nowhere.

He grabbed Lyndon's sleeve and quickly approached him.

Lyndon was startled by this action, broke free from Michael's hand, and quickly took a half step back to create a safe distance between them.

It's no wonder Lyndon reacted so strongly, because Mr. Mihir was holding a sharp triangular shovel.

The blade was less than 30 centimeters from Lyndon's stomach.

"My God! Mr. Michel, I've already paid this month's rent! You can't force me to pay next month's in advance!"

Lyndon grabbed Michael's hand holding the triangular shovel and shouted loudly.

Mihir looked puzzled upon hearing this.

He steadied himself and released his grip on Lyndon's hand.

"What are you talking about? I just tripped over something."

"What about this one?"

Lyndon pointed to the triangular shovel in Michael's hand.

Michel brushed the dirt off his hands and said dismissively, "I just went to the garden to weed. What are you thinking about!"

At this point, Lyndon noticed that Michel was wearing a leather apron and gloves, which were covered in dirt.

After hearing Mr. Mishiel's explanation, Lyndon breathed a sigh of relief.

"You scared me to death! I thought you'd do anything for money these days..."

"What did you say?"

Michelle glared at Lyndon.

Lyndon realized he had let something slip, so he began to play dumb.

"Huh? What? I didn't know? If there's nothing else, I'll go upstairs now."

Just as Lyndon was about to run upstairs, Mr. Michael stopped him again.

"Wait a minute, don't you want to be with me that much?"

A hint of disappointment crept into Michel's eyes.

Lyndon looked troubled and said that he really didn't have much spare money.

Mihir spat on the ground and said angrily, "Who asked for your money! There's just one of your packages here, delivered by someone else, which I didn't open."

He went into his room, took off his gloves, and carried out a corrugated cardboard box with both hands.

Apart from the ribbons that tied the box together, the box had no other decorations.

Lyndon looked curiously at the cardboard box in Michael's hand: "Who sent this?"

"I don't know." Although Mihir's tone became somewhat impatient, he was telling the truth.

He was getting impatient simply because the box was so heavy that he could barely lift it.

"If you want to know, just take it and see for yourself! Hurry up!"

Michel urged Lyndon to take the box quickly.

Lyndon noticed the beads of sweat on Michel's forehead and realized what was happening. He took the box, thanked Michel, and then carried the box up the stairs.

Watch your step.

Mihir stood downstairs with his hands on his hips, panting heavily.

"Young people are so energetic!"

Lyndon carried the cardboard box back to his room.

He pushed open the door, casually placed the box on the bed, then turned on the light and, by the light, took out a small knife from the drawer.

Lyndon used a knife to cut the ribbon and opened the box.

There was a brand new set of clothes inside.

There was also a letter on the clothes.

The letter had no postmark and no seal.

Lyndon pulled out the letter inside.

He then realized that it was Hughes who had sent it.

The letter read:

"Mr. Lyndon, I am very pleased to be able to cooperate with you. Believe me, many years from now, you will think that you have made the best decision in history. To show my sincerity, please accept this gift."

The letter ended with the name Hughes Kent.

Lyndon read the contents of the letter in a low voice, then crumpled the letter into a ball and threw it into the corner of the room.

He then picked up the clothes from the box. It was a dark gray suit with a waistcoat, well-tailored, and made of thick, crisp fabric. It was clear that it was expensive.

There was also a matching blue tie underneath the clothes.

Comparing this outfit to the clothes in my closet, the difference is like night and day.

To give such a gift on the very first occasion, Hughes is indeed very wealthy.

Looking further down, there were three more books at the very bottom of the box.

These are "An Introduction to the Concepts of Potions", "An Atlas of Alien Anatomy", and "An Introduction to the Fundamentals of Mental Mysticism".

Lyndon's gaze lingered on the three books, and suddenly he smiled.

Compared to those expensive suits, the three books that Hughes prepared for himself were more to his liking.

After all, if you want to achieve something extraordinary, you have to seriously understand and study it.

Lyndon carefully placed the three books that Hughes had given him on the table.

The way she was being so gentle was as if she were treating some precious treasure.

As for the suit, Lyndon stuffed it into the closet, then took the bucket, went downstairs, and went to the water room in the backyard to fetch some water.

Nothing happened that night.

……

The next day, as the first rays of sunlight pierced through the thick clouds, dispelling the sticky smog, and spreading warmth throughout the foggy city.

For the residents of Chongqing who live in foggy cities year-round, this means that today will be a rare good day!

Lyndon was also amazed by the beautiful weather today.

It's worth noting that fog usually occurs either when it's raining or when it's foggy, or even when it's raining.

The air here is always damp and has a strange, fishy smell.

The sky is mostly a somber gray.

Blue skies seem to be a luxury on this land.

Lyndon walked along the road and bought a ham sandwich as his first meal of the day.

He turned into the dark alley again, and walked along the wall to the place where three copper beads were inlaid.

Lyndon pushed open the door of the pawnshop.

The copper bell then rang out with a clear sound, alerting the owner that someone had arrived.

The pawnshop owner, Alastor, was also changing clothes at the same time, and he walked out confidently from a small door to the side.

"Good morning, Mr. Lyndon! What a lovely day!"

Alastor was wearing a dark olive green wool blend suit with a single-breasted design, a white shirt underneath, and a burgundy silk scarf tied at the collar.

Even the cufflinks were chosen to be a pair of black gemstone buttons.

He doesn't look like a businessman, but rather a playboy who has spent years in the world of romance.

Lyndon couldn't help but tease, "What beauty did you meet today? You're dressed so... alluringly."

Instead of being annoyed by Lyndon's teasing, Alastor proudly fiddled with his cufflinks.

"Charm? My dear friend, that's called decorum!"

His movements were slightly exaggerated.

"The 'anvil' is actually an old friend of mine. After so many years, I must dress up nicely to see it again."

Alastor walked up to Lyndon, ran two fingers over Lyndon's clothes, and looked at him with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"I said, you should also make yourself a nicer outfit."

Lyndon glanced down at his clothes and said nonchalantly, "If I could make money, I would definitely get a new outfit."

"So! Now!" Alastor nodded in agreement, pulling a small pocket watch from his pocket. "It's about time; we should go!"

Alastor put away his pocket watch and led Lyndon into the innermost part of the pawnshop.

"What? Aren't we going to take a carriage?"

Lyndon saw Alastor lead him into a room and asked in confusion.

"The plans have changed, we'll change our mode of transportation."

Alastor winked at Lyndon.

Then I saw him tap rhythmically on one of the floorboards.

Immediately afterwards, a noise suddenly came from the room.

Lyndon searched for the source of the noise and was surprised to find that it was coming from the floor beneath his feet.

Click, click!

Then came a dull creak of gears turning, and the floorboards that Alastor had just struck, along with several surrounding panels, slowly rose and slid apart to the sides.

The mechanism was activated, revealing a dark, downward-pointing circular opening, from which a cold wind carrying the smell of earth and rust rushed out.

"This is?"

Lyndon crouched down and looked at the hole.

Below the cave entrance is a steep staircase, and the depths are pitch black.

"A magical passage."

Alastor walked in front and went down the passage.

Seeing this, Lyndon followed him down.

As you descend the steep steps, a damp, rusty smell hits you.

The sound of rushing water could be heard in the distance.

"arrive."

Alastor suddenly spoke up. He walked to the wall and turned a knob.

call!

The gas lamp by the wall suddenly turned on.

The light illuminated their surroundings, and a dark underground river suddenly appeared before their eyes.

Along the riverbank, a rusty steamboat floats quietly on the water.

This steamboat is about six meters long. The hull is assembled by riveting steel plates, and a steam power unit is installed at the stern.

Alastor skillfully jumped onto the steamboat, pulled down the control lever, and turned the valve.

The steam boiler roared, and thick white smoke billowed from the brass pipes.

The piston drives the propeller to rotate at high speed, stirring up white water droplets.

"Mr. Lyndon, welcome aboard the Mole! Please come aboard!"

Lyndon leaped onto the gunwale and sat down behind Alastor.

"Hold on tight!"

Alastor shouted.

The steamship let out a loud whistle.

The small boat shot forward like an arrow along the dark underground river.

On the way, Lyndon asked Alastor, "How did you discover this underground river?"

Alastor said he discovered it while studying the city's sewer network.

After his modifications, it became the underground passage we see today.

"You know, as a black market dealer, I always need to have a backup plan!" Alastor said.

Lyndon then asked about the gas lamp.

"I connected it secretly," Alastor said proudly. "I removed the gas pipe above and connected a new one below."

"Wow! That's impressive," Linden said, looking down at the flowing water beneath him.

Speechless all the way.

The steamboat traveled through the dark underground waterway for nearly half an hour.

Finally, a faint glimmer of light appeared ahead.

The river channel suddenly opened up, the space became much larger, and a huge platform appeared in front of us.

After mooring the boat, the two disembarked and went up to the platform.

"This is the 'Anvil's' territory. Let's go up."

Alastor led the way, with Lyndon close behind.

Climb the ladder and push open the trapdoor above.

A massive machine appeared before Lyndon's eyes.

Steam pipes extending from the machinery led to the towering roof overhead, emitting a low hum.

The two seemed to be inside a huge factory.

But the real highlight is the factory's employees!

Lyndon could hardly believe his eyes.

Several nearly two-meter-tall mechanical giants were carrying a pile of materials, moving slowly like a mobile fortress.

With each step, the ground trembled slightly.

The backs of these metal creations are their power source.

They tirelessly carried out their respective instructions.

The gears gleamed under the oil stains, the piston rod stretched and contracted like strong muscles, and the bearings hummed deeply as they rotated at high speed.

There is no communication, no complaints, only operation.

The entire workshop was filled with thick white fog.

"By the gods..."

Lyndon unconsciously uttered a catchphrase that only missionaries would use.

His voice was drowned out by the noise of the factory.

Alastor stood beside him, his face showing a mixture of pride and awe.

This was clearly not his first time here.

Alastor leaned close to Lyndon's ear and whispered, "Welcome to the kingdom of the Anvil! See that? This is true power! It's steam! It's gears! It's pure mechanical power! These steam-powered robots are the future!"

Lyndon snapped out of his reverie, looked at Alastor, and shook his head.

"What? You don't believe me?" Alastor asked, slightly surprised.

"Yes, what I'm trying to say is that there are forces in this world more terrifying than steam," Lyndon said calmly.

"You're talking about a secret technique, right? This power is indeed terrifying, but it's not uncontrollable."

Alastor put his arm around Lyndon's shoulder and pointed to a robot, saying, "See that device on its back? There's actually the power of secret arts inside."

Lyndon simply said "oh" and then asked Alastor to take him to see the so-called "anvil" master.

Alastor pouted and reluctantly led Lyndon out of the workshop, heading deeper into the factory.

Passing through the roaring workshop, Alastor stopped in front of an inconspicuous iron gate.

He knocked on the door and called out, "Anvil! Old friend! I'm here!"

There was a few seconds of silence inside the door.

Then, a crisp click was heard.

The door was opened a crack inwards.

Through the gap, a hunched figure appeared.

"Alastor, it's been a long time. Come in."

The speaker's voice was very weak, as if it were drifting in from the wind.

The two walked through the door, which led to a completely different space.

There are no machines inside, only a pile of glass containers filled with biological tissues.

Twisted whiskers, deformed eyeballs, and a mouth full of sharp teeth...

These emitted an eerie green glow under the dim yellow light.

Stacks of drafts and research materials were scattered on the ground.

There was a worktable against the wall, on which many biological samples were placed.

Meanwhile, the "anvil" master that Alastor mentioned strolled back to his workbench and sat down.

However, his image was quite different from the master in Lyndon's mind.

The name or nickname "Anvil" immediately conjures up images of a burly, imposing man.

But the person in front of me was short and even somewhat hunched over.

She was wearing a brown leather apron stained with oil.

Only a few sparse white hairs clung to his scalp, and he wore a pair of goggles made of multiple layers of lenses.

Behind the glasses, his eye sockets were sunken, and he looked listless.

More importantly, his right hand is a mechanical arm!