Steam Old Days: The Extraordinary Begins with a Corpse Collector

The old city's eastern district.

After parting ways with old John, Lyndon walked alone on the deserted streets.

He was figuring out how to get rid of the fangs.

The best way is to find a black market dealer, and Linden happens to know one.

The old city of Chongqing was filled with slums and rampant gangs.

When Lyndon first came into this world, he suffered a lot because he didn't understand those so-called "underground rules".

And that's how I met the black market dealer.

Although he has only been in this world for a month, he is already quite familiar with some of the rumors circulating about him.

He knew very well that brokers who operated in the black market were no saints.

Those who can make a living in the black market either have a background, power, or are ruthless and heartless.

What they excel at is bullying and exploiting individual customers.

Individual buyers who are unaware of market prices may sell their valuable items on the black market for fear of being discovered.

Black market dealers took advantage of their eagerness to sell.

They often try to drive down prices and force buyers to sell.

Some even disregard the rules and resort to robbery. If a customer dares to stop them, they will have someone beat them up and then falsely accuse them of smuggling, extorting a "hush money" fee. Otherwise, they will hand the person over to the sheriff.

Now, he has to do business with black market dealers alone, and his biggest fear is being led by the nose by them.

"Therefore, you must never show weakness when negotiating prices; you must be confident and bold."

Linden pondered for a moment, then straightened his chest.

In his past life, he had to deal with quite a few brainless clients in order to secure a good contract.

Even the most difficult business deals have been closed by me, so why would I be afraid of a black market dealer?

Lyndon patted his bulging pockets and smiled slightly.

He did not return the gun to old John, because it was a safeguard he had kept for himself.

This way, the other party will not dare to act rashly.

It rained for several days in Chongqing, and the rain only stopped today.

Walking on the dark, shiny street, the surface looked as if it had been coated with a layer of oil.

When the shoes stepped into the puddles, the splashes were more like mud than water.

Lyndon turned left and right, and walked for about ten minutes before finally turning into a dark alley.

Go further in, and there's a door at the very back.

The door was half-open, leaving only a small space, as if it was waiting for someone to walk in, but at the same time, it made you feel that something might be thrown out from inside at any moment.

There was no house number on it, nor any sign or writing on the wall; there were only three copper balls embedded in the wall.

This is the iconic symbol of a pawnshop.

Lyndon stood in the doorway and took out Old John's gun.

The gun gripped my hand, and a cool sensation ran through my skin.

The sights on the brass barrel were almost worn smooth.

I have no idea where they got this gun as a secondhand item.

Lyndon thought to himself.

He turned on the reel, and three gleaming yellow bullets came into view.

Linden turned the cylinder back and put the gun back in his pocket, deliberately exposing the handle.

He adjusted his mindset and walked confidently into the store.

As soon as you enter, a pleasant fragrance wafts over you.

The aroma is not strong, but very refreshing, with a hint of sweetness.

After smelling the fragrance, Lyndon, who had been suffering from smog, showed a pleasant expression.

The shop is not very big. There is a door on the left and right, four windows on the counter, and four spaces are separated by wooden boards. Each space is only about two steps wide, making it seem even smaller.

There was a gas lamp on the wall, with the pipe fixed straight to the wall.

"Hello, is anyone there?"

Linden looked at the empty counter, called out a few times, and then tugged on the bell under the counter.

Seeing that no one responded, he was about to leave when he suddenly heard a rustling sound behind him.

Turning my head, I saw a man carrying an oil lamp walking over.

The man looked very young, wore a monocle, and had a languid expression.

He was wearing silk pajamas and a nightcap.

The pawnshop owner rubbed his eyes, sat down in front of the counter, and his expression was stiff.

He looked up and sized up the person in front of him, and his brows furrowed instantly when he saw the black waterproof suit Linden was wearing.

"A corpse collector?"

"Um."

Seeing Lyndon nod, the boss's eyes immediately revealed a hint of contempt.

He pinched his nose and waved his hand in the air, as if trying to shoo away some unseen flying insect.

He said dismissively, "I could tell just by the stench of death on you. You don't even bother to clean yourself up."

The sarcasm in his words was palpable, which made Lyndon very uncomfortable.

"You think you're so arrogant just because you're a black market dealer? Wearing a silk nightgown makes you think you're high society? Don't you know the customer is always right? What a show-off!"

Although Lyndon showed no outward expression, he was already cursing the person opposite him in his heart.

The pawnshop owner leaned back lazily in his chair, tapping his fingers idly on the table.

He deliberately drew out his words, asking with disdain, "Corpse collector... tell me, what valuable thing did you steal this time? A necklace? Or a ring?"

Some unscrupulous body collectors will take valuables from the deceased during the process.

It was obvious that the pawnshop owner thought Lyndon was one of those dishonest guys.

Lyndon didn't refute this, nor did he even give him a glance. He simply placed a pair of fangs from his pocket on the counter.

The pawnshop owner had expected Lyndon to pull out some jewelry, but when the pair of fangs were placed in front of him, the owner was stunned.

His mouth opened slightly, his pupils contracted, and the fingers that were tapping the counter suddenly stopped.

Upon seeing this, Lyndon raised an eyebrow, his words carrying a hint of mockery.

"Take a look, name your price."

The pawnshop owner quickly composed himself and took out a pair of tweezers and a magnifying glass from his drawer.

He then used tweezers to pick up the fangs and examined them closely under a magnifying glass.

"Those are ghoul fangs, six centimeters long, from a creature that's probably six or seven years old, just reaching adulthood..."

The pawnshop owner's voice was low and tinged with surprise.

"So, make an offer."

Seeing that his boss remained silent for a long time, Linden asked again.

The boss glanced at Lyndon, then at the fangs, before putting down his tools and asking, "How did you get this?"

Lyndon placed his hand on the gun handle and said, "Pulled from the ghoul's mouth."

At this moment, the pawnshop owner also noticed the gun in Lyndon's pocket.

His tone was noticeably softer and more cautious than at the beginning.

"How did you know I would accept this? Do you know me? Or was someone introduced you?"

Lyndon shook his head: "No one introduced me. I heard some rumors and came on my own."

Upon hearing this, the boss pondered for a moment, his shrewd eyes scanning Lyndon back and forth.

Only then did he begin to take the young man in front of him seriously.

He had curly black hair, brown eyes, thin lips, and an unhealthy white complexion.

He was filthy and smelled foul.

But there was a certain determination in Lyndon's eyes, and his tone was neither humble nor arrogant, as if he did this kind of thing often.

"Who is this kid? He's young, but he doesn't seem like someone to be trifled with..."

The pawnshop owner knocked on the counter again, then twitched the corners of his mouth and forced a smile.

"How should I address you, sir?"

"Lydon. Lyndon Copperfield," Lyndon introduced himself.

"Okay, Mr. Copperfield. You can call me Alastor."

After a moment's thought, pawnbroker Alastor quoted a price to test Lyndon's interest.

"I'm willing to buy those tusks. I'm offering eight shillings. What do you say?"

Eight shillings?

Lyndon couldn't help but chuckle inwardly.

"They really think I'm a sucker."

As Lyndon thought about it, one of his eyebrows furrowed and the corners of his mouth curled up slightly.

Alastor saw Lyndon's reaction and was uneasy about the enigmatic smile on his face.

Then Lyndon let out a heavy sigh.

"I thought you knew your stuff."

After saying that, Lyndon pretended to regretfully ask to take back the pair of fangs.

Seeing this, Alastor quickly stopped him: "Aren't you going to bargain?"

"Anyone who quotes this price clearly doesn't know anything about goods. There's no need to haggle. I'll go ask somewhere else."

At the same time, Lyndon deliberately revealed another pair of fangs and continued, "If it's this price, I'd rather not sell that batch of goods."

He has two pairs!

Another batch of goods!

Alastor's heart pounded; he could smell the money.

He quickly called out to Linden.

"Wait a minute, sir. The price you just quoted was just a joke. We can discuss it and get a price that satisfies both of us."

Lyndon was secretly delighted; he had taken the bait.

Alastor then asked Lyndon for the tusks.

Lyndon did not refuse and placed both pairs of fangs on the table.

"They really are all ghouls." Alastor picked up a magnifying glass and examined them carefully.

He feigned composure and looked up at Lyndon.

"You just said you had a shipment?"

"That's right, I have about twenty pairs of fangs."

Lyndon can boast without batting an eye.

"More than twenty pairs! That's at least wiped out a horde of ghouls!"

Alastor was deeply shocked and began to doubt the true identity of the person before him.

If it's just a pair of fangs, then it might have been stolen, robbed, cheated, or found.

But if there are two pairs, or even more than twenty pairs of fangs, then this must be the spoils of war obtained by killing an entire ghoul horde!

This is definitely not something an ordinary corpse collector could do.

Who exactly is he...?

Alastor quickly considered the matter in his mind, when suddenly a conjecture flashed through his mind like lightning, clearing away the clouds of doubt.

"Could he be a witcher?"

Witchers are superhumans who are not under official control. They usually hide their identities using various professions, and when they are short of money, they hunt alien species and sell them on the black market.

This also explains why a complete stranger would approach him.

"Wait, he couldn't possibly kill an entire ghoul horde by himself, could he?"

A new question arose in Alastor's mind.

Imagination is like a boulder on a high mountain; once it starts rolling, it can't stop.

Alastor took a deep breath.

"Yes, he must have a team, probably from another city. They're not familiar with the black market in Chongqing, so they're testing the waters and trying to find a channel for long-term cooperation."

However, Lyndon was unaware of these thoughts in Alastor's mind. If he had known, he would have said that Alastor was a drama queen, with his mind full of nothing but drama.

In short, Alastor's impression of Lyndon underwent a complete 180-degree change.

"Mr. Copperfield, you've given me a wonderful surprise! I'd be very willing to buy all of your goods. What price would you like?"

Lyndon's voice was flat and monotone.

"One pair, one gold pound and five shillings."

shrewd!

Definitely a veteran!

In today's market, this price is very precise, and almost no buyer can refuse it.

This made Alastor even more certain of his conjecture.

However, from a professional standpoint, he still pretended to negotiate the price with Lyndon.

"That's all. Not a penny less, I won't sell it."

Lyndon's attitude was very tough.

"Well, Mr. Copperfield, may God bless me, I'm glad to have made this deal with you."

Alastor clapped his hands and accepted the two pairs of fangs.

"I'll bring the rest of the goods in a few days," Lyndon said.

Alastor was taken aback at first, then gave me a knowing look.

"They must have found other buyers, and it was the highest bidder who won. That's exactly it."

Therefore, Alastor gave Linden an extra five shillings, or three gold pounds and five shillings, to secure this deal.

"Mr. Copperfield, I have been operating here for many years and you can rest assured of my reputation. If you need anything in the future, I can solve all your needs here. I look forward to cooperating with you again."

With the money in hand, Lyndon finally smiled with joy.

He shook hands with Alastor, exchanged some polite words, and then slowly walked out of the pawnshop.