Steam Old Days: The Extraordinary Begins with a Corpse Collector

Before Lyndon could react, Alastor stepped forward and gave Anvil a big hug.

Although the anvil remained expressionless, Alastor's smile was radiant.

"My old friend, I've forgotten when we last met. You look much older."

Alastor reminisced, his arm around the anvil's neck.

The anvil, head bowed, stared at a draft on the ground and said coldly:

"I am indeed getting old, I'm almost seventy, but you're still so young. The last time we met was probably..."

Before Iron Anvil could finish speaking, Alastor interrupted him.

"Alright, old friend, let's put the memories aside for now. Come on! Let me introduce you. Lyndon, the one I told you about."

Alastor then looked at Lyndon and pointed to the anvil, introducing him: "This is the Anvil Master, an old friend of mine. He used to be a famous craftsman, and now he is a renowned expert in mental health research."

Alastor released the anvil, leaned close to Lyndon, and whispered, "Underground, without official certification."

After hearing this, Lyndon bowed to the anvil.

"Greetings, Master."

The anvil master seemed somewhat dazed; it took him a while to slowly utter a few words.

"Hello, you can call me Anvil."

Seeing how slow-witted the old man was, Lyndon couldn't help but wonder if Alastor was trying to trick him.

But since they were already there, they couldn't leave empty-handed, so Lyndon took the initiative to ask:

"Master Anvil, do you know what to do in my situation? What harm will the nightmare cause to my body? Can you help me extract the nightmare's consciousness?"

Perhaps Lyndon asked too many questions, or perhaps he didn't express himself clearly.

In short, the anvil master kept his head down, muttering words that only he could hear.

"The nightmare is devastating; the victim feels utterly weak, then becomes extremely drowsy, and their body becomes emaciated... A normal person would be bedridden on the first day..."

"Could you explain this more clearly, Master?"

Lyndon frowned and took a step forward, trying to hear more clearly.

But then Alastor grabbed Lyndon.

"Don't get too close, he's just a little stressed."

"Stress?" Lyndon asked, puzzled.

For some reason, Lyndon subconsciously looked at the mechanical arm on the anvil.

The heavy mechanical arm was attached to the emaciated body, held in place by a few screws embedded in the flesh, looking so incongruous.

"Is it because of his arm?"

Lyndon pointed to the mechanical arm of the anvil and said cautiously.

Alastor nodded solemnly, expressing his regret.

"Tiezhen was just an ordinary craftsman who dealt with machinery and coal every day."

"Tiezhen wasn't particularly clever, but he was incredibly diligent. He didn't pursue excessive knowledge, but rather strived for perfection. Later, fate rewarded him, and he became a renowned craftsman."

"Especially in the field of steam-powered robots, Anvil was an expert. Robots that passed through his hands seemed to be given life. He also optimized the traditional linkage structure, making the robots more flexible. At that time, he was incredibly successful."

Alastor paused, seemingly recalling the anvil's former glory.

"And then what happened? Why did his hand become like that?"

After hearing about the master anvil's glorious past, Linden's doubts deepened.

He couldn't help but wonder what such a master craftsman had gone through to become the ghastly figure he was in today.

"Because of the rich." Alastor's tone was tinged with disgust. "The powerful and wealthy have their eyes on the technology of the anvil. They want the anvil to help them forge brand new robots, of course, for the war."

"But Anvil didn't like that. He believed that he built those robots to replace people in doing the most difficult work. Robots should be used to free up workers' time and improve productivity, not for personal gain."

As Alastor spoke, he let out a heavy sigh.

"The powerful and wealthy saw that people were unwilling to work for them and were unwilling to hand over their technology. So they accused the anvil of stealing the empire's secret technology and imprisoned him."

Alastor said no more.

Soon, only the anvil's murmurs remained in the studio.

As Lyndon gazed at the hunched back of the anvil, a complex mix of emotions welled up within him.

His gaze toward the anvil held a mixture of sympathy and admiration.

"So, that's when he lost his hand?"

"Yes."

"Then why did he turn to spiritual doctrines?"

"For his daughter."

Alastor crouched down and rummaged through the drafts on the ground, finding a drawing with small flowers on it.

The little flower was drawn in the bottom left corner of the paper.

There was also a faint smile beside him.

Lyndon could even picture a thin, white-haired old man, his fingers trembling as he drew a flower and a smiley face on a drawing.

"Because of Tiezhen's imprisonment, his assets were confiscated by the powerful and wealthy, and his daughter lost her source of income. In the face of poverty and hardship, she chose to end her own life."

"After receiving this news, Tiezhen went insane. He began to study psychiatry, believing that his daughter's soul must still be in this world and that he would definitely be able to see his daughter again."

I see……

Lyndon didn't even know what to say at that moment.

He and Alastor could only stand there in silence, without uttering a word.

Suddenly, the anvil, which had been talking to itself, stood up from its chair and then lay down on the floor searching for its research materials.

The anvil found a piece of paper, and he held it in his hand, letting out a chilling laugh.

The next moment, he grabbed Lyndon's hand and pressed him back into the chair he had just been sitting in.

Lyndon was puzzled by the anvil's sudden action.

Alastor said not to worry, that's just how he is, and you'll get used to it.

After settling Linden down at the anvil, Tiezhen took out a bottle of dark liquid from behind the biological specimens in the workshop.

He shoved the bottle of liquid into Lyndon's hand.

"I drank it!"

The anvil commanded Linden Road.

Lyndon looked at the liquid in the bottle, hesitant, but the anvil forced him to drink it.

"It's alright, drink up!"

Alastor also offered his advice.

Linden had no choice but to grit his teeth and drink the black liquid down his throat.

As soon as the liquid entered his throat, Lyndon felt a burning sensation in his abdomen.

It felt like a ball of fire had been stuffed inside my body.

At that moment, all Lyndon wanted to do was spit out the black liquid.

But at that moment, the anvil itself drank a bottle of the exact same black water.

The anvil cupped Lyndon's face, forcing him to look into its eyes.

The moment their eyes met, the burning sensation in Lyndon's body vanished instantly, and he felt a dizzying sensation.

Then Lyndon's consciousness fell into a mysterious space.

It was pitch black here, so dark you couldn't see your hand in front of your face, as if you were trapped in an abyss.

Lyndon was trying to figure out where he was.

Suddenly, a low breathing sound came from behind.

Linden was surprised. He turned around and saw a huge, indistinct creature firmly bound in place by thick chains.

The monster was over three meters tall and its body emitted a silvery-white light.

The monster's head resembled that of a deer, but its mouth was filled with strange fangs.

At first glance, it looks like a shark's tooth, but it also feels like a crocodile's tooth.

"What kind of monster is this?"

As soon as Lyndon uttered those words, a burly-looking man emerged from the darkness and shouted, "That's the nightmare inside you."