Steam Old Days: The Extraordinary Begins with a Corpse Collector

Alastor interrupted their conversation.

He stood between Lyndon and the anvil, staring at Lyndon with bloodshot eyes.

At this moment, he still held a sliver of hope for Lyndon.

Alastor put his hands on Lyndon's shoulders, trying to soften his tone, even though he was furious inside, he still managed a smile.

He asked Lyndon, "Tell me, Mr. Lyndon Copperfield, what exactly do you intend to do about the nightmare within you?"

As he spoke, Alastor poked Lyndon's chest hard with his finger.

Lyndon told him his thoughts honestly.

"I will not sell Nightmare; I will control it."

Upon hearing Lyndon's final answer, Alastor's smile froze, and gradually, it began to crumble.

This was the first time Lyndon had ever seen an expression other than a smile on Alastor's face.

Now, Alastor's lips curled down, and the hand on Lyndon's shoulder began to slowly tighten.

The force was so great that it seemed to be aimed at crushing his shoulder blades.

"Listen to me, I did this because..."

Lyndon noticed Alastor's change and tried to persuade him to calm down, but Alastor suddenly pushed Lyndon back hard.

Boom!

With a dull thud, Lyndon's back was slammed hard against the edge of the worktable.

The organ specimens in the glassware swayed gently with the vibration.

Iron Anvil steadied his things, then stood up from his chair and stepped aside, silently watching the two argue.

"The second time!" Alastor forced the words out. "You tricked me a second time!"

Alastor was furious. His once elegant gentlemanly expression vanished. He gritted his teeth, bared his teeth, and stared wide-eyed.

The monocle that was clipped into his eye socket fell out because of the ferocity in his expression.

"Calm down!"

Lyndon felt the pressure on his shoulders, and reached behind his back to touch the gun on his back.

Out of concern for his own safety, Lyndon drew his gun and pointed it at the enraged Alastor.

Feeling the cold touch on his chin, Alastor, who had been out of control, immediately calmed down.

His body stiffened, and the strength in his hand also faltered.

Alastor instinctively released his grip on Lyndon's shoulder, and his body slowly leaned back, following the force from the muzzle of the gun.

Lyndon also took the opportunity to distance himself from Alastor and kept his gun pointed at Alastor.

Alastor looked at the silver revolver in Lyndon's hand and couldn't help but reveal a mocking smile.

He tore off the silk scarf tied around his neck and casually threw it on the ground.

At this moment, any exquisite decorations seem irrelevant.

Alastor reluctantly applauded Lyndon.

"Clap clap clap!"

"You're something else, Lyndon Copperfield! Look! You're pointing a gun at me! With the gun I gave you!"

Alastor's face was ashen as he vehemently accused Lyndon of betrayal.

"Do you remember the first time we met? You came to me with a ghoul's fang, saying you had a bunch of stuff you wanted to sell. I took it, and then you said you sold it to someone else. Of course, the highest bidder wins, no problem. But what happened next? I told you about the value of Nightmare. Without me, you wouldn't know how to deal with it! You said you had a bounty on your head, and I helped you track it down. Now I've brought you to the Anvil, I've shown you my underground tunnels, I believe in you! I thought you would bring me wealth, but now you're telling me you don't want that anymore!"

Alastor's chest heaved violently. He took a sudden step forward, his expensive leather shoes landing on the priceless silk scarf. He grabbed the muzzle of the gun and pressed it against his forehead.

"I gave you a gun, I wanted to get rich with you, but now you want to kill me..."

His eyes burned with the fury of betrayal.

"Fine! Then shoot! Use my gun and my bullets to kill me!"

Listening to Alastor's roar, Lyndon's fingertips tightened and loosened on the trigger, loosened and tightened again.

In the end, he slowly lowered the muzzle of his gun.

"Alastor, let me explain..."

Before Lyndon could finish speaking, a whooshing sound was heard.

Alastor's fist was already raised and slammed solidly into Lyndon's cheek.

boom!

The heavy impact echoed through the studio.

Lyndon stumbled and fell to the ground, feeling a burning pain in the corner of his mouth, and a metallic taste spreading between his teeth.

"Pooh!"

Lyndon spat out a mouthful of blood onto the ground and turned to look at Alastor beside him.

Alastor clenched his fists, coldly staring at Lyndon lying on the ground, his expression unchanged.

"So, are you satisfied now?"

Lyndon twitched the corners of his mouth, trying to put on a reasonably amiable smile.

"No," Alastor said coldly.

He crouched down, pointed at Lyndon's nose, and yelled, "The deal's off, you bastard! But this isn't over between us. Remember, you owe me!"

After saying that, Alastor stood up, slammed the door shut, and stormed out.

Seeing Alastor's resolute expression, Lyndon realized something, got up from the ground, and chased after him.

They chased after them all the way to where they had just arrived.

At this moment, Alastor had already jumped onto the steamboat.

He started the engine.

With a roar, Alastor sailed away alone in his steamboat.

Seeing Lyndon chasing after him, Alastor leaned out halfway and gave Lyndon the middle finger.

"Lydon, fuck you!"

Lyndon stood on the metal platform, listening to Alastor's curses, his gaze fixed on the thick smoke billowing from the Mole, watching it gradually disappear into the dark depths of the river.

The platform was spacious and quiet.

The sound of the underground river flowing in my ears.

Lyndon stood there, motionless, his gaze fixed on the direction Alastor had gone.

Suddenly, a strange sound came from behind him.

Listening to the clattering sound, Lyndon couldn't help but think of the tractors he had seen in his previous life.

Looking in the direction of the sound, one could see the master anvil driving out in a uniquely designed steam four-wheeled vehicle.

This vehicle is half the size of a horse-drawn carriage on the market. Its main body is made of steel, and a small steam boiler is installed at the rear of the vehicle to drive the rear wheels.

The front wheels are connected to the steering wheel for controlling direction.

Iron Anvil's withered body sat in the driver's seat, controlling the steering wheel with one hand.

The four-wheeled vehicle came to a steady stop beside Linden, and the steam valve hissed.

"He's gone." Anvil sat in the car, his cloudy eyes looking at Lyndon through his thick glasses.

The wrinkled face showed no emotion, only the lips remained pursed.

"Actually, aside from being greedy, Alastor is a good person and a good friend..."

Iron Anvil intended to offer Lyndon a few words of comfort and, incidentally, say a few kind words to Alastor.

But Lyndon's next question silenced him again.

"Will Alastor retaliate against me?"

The anvil seemed unwilling to answer the question from the bottom of its heart.

His hands rubbed the steering wheel, and his tongue licked the corner of his mouth.

"master?"

Lyndon called out "Anvil".

"Maybe," the anvil paused, "maybe not."

"I shouldn't have let him know," Lyndon said regretfully.

He'll find out sooner or later, it's just a matter of time.

"But I need him now."

Anvil glanced at Lyndon, his voice hoarse but firm.

"Then I suggest you go and ask for his forgiveness."

"He's not a petty person, and offending him is not a wise choice. Alastor has considerable influence in the underground black market, but he just doesn't want to use it usually."

After hearing this, Linden showed no surprise on his face, only a bitter smile appeared on his lips.

He had considered this possibility long ago, but it was confirmed by the anvil.

But there was nothing that could be done; Alastor was a businessman, and businessmen are inherently profit-driven.

Lyndon didn't offer him enough benefits, so his departure was inevitable.

However, Lyndon does need the underground forces behind Alastor right now.

"I should ask for his forgiveness," Lyndon murmured to himself.

"master."

"What?"

"How many more times can I use this ability?"

Lyndon's question was rather abrupt.

The anvil thought for a moment, then fiddled with its fingers.

"If we don't use potions to control it, five times? Or six times?"

Lyndon nodded and said nothing more.

Iron Anvil restarted the four-wheeled vehicle, adjusted its direction, and drove it into the factory.

"Come on, go up from here, and you can go straight to the outskirts of Fog City, and then walk back."