Steam Old Days: The Extraordinary Begins with a Corpse Collector

When Lyndon peeked out and looked deeper around the corner, his eyes lit up.

Inside the pitch-black pipe, seven or eight pairs of eerie green lights flickered, like will-o'-the-wisps.

They were a group of ghouls huddled together.

Some were soaking in sewage, bubbling and spewing water; some were huddled together in twos or threes, hanging upside down on the steam pipes of the sewer; and others were happily gnawing on the corpses of rats.

Lyndon was overjoyed; this was exactly the scale he needed.

He gripped the knife handle tightly, his muscles taut with excitement.

With a whoosh!

Lyndon charged out of the corner, brandishing his blade and charging straight at the nearest ghoul!

The blade gleamed with a chilling light, and its sharp edge sliced ​​through the air with a piercing sound.

"Pfft!"

The blade easily sliced ​​into the ghoul's neck, as easily as killing a chicken or fish in the kitchen; instantly, foul blood splattered.

The poor ghoul hadn't even swallowed the dead rat in its mouth before letting out a short whimper and collapsing limply to the ground.

Blood dripped from the blade onto the passageway.

Lyndon was taken aback. He stared blankly at the knife in his hand, then at the ghoul lying on the ground.

He frowned, inwardly screaming that something was wrong.

Logically speaking, the group of ghouls in front of us numbered seven or eight, so their combat strength should not be underestimated.

And now?

Lyndon glanced at the few remaining ghouls in front of him.

Even though his own kind were dead, even though Lyndon was standing in front of them with a gun and a knife.

But the ghouls remained unmoved, simply regrouping without putting up a proper counterattack. They even took a few steps back, looking utterly dejected.

They moved slowly, brandishing their sharp claws, thinking that this would scare Lyndon away and save their lives.

"So incredibly weak!"

Lyndon muttered to himself, his doubts growing even stronger.

He had intended to use this opportunity to test his strength in the spiritual world, but now it seemed completely unnecessary.

These guys are like spineless bastards.

To experiment with them would be a complete waste of one's precious spiritual energy.

Linden sighed, and without hesitation, he charged straight into the horde of ghosts.

Like a tiger among sheep, Lyndon wielded his sharp blade with almost no resistance.

This was a one-sided massacre!

puff!puff!

The sounds of blades slicing through flesh and severing bones rang out one after another, accompanied by the ghoul's short and mournful wail before death.

The filthy blood quickly stained the murky water red, and the strong, fishy stench was almost suffocating.

The battle ended even faster than Lyndon had anticipated. He didn't even need to use his gun; in just a few moments, all the ghouls were wiped out by Lyndon, leaving only their corpses lying scattered on the ground.

Lyndon wiped the blood from his face, squatted down, and began to examine the ghoul corpse in front of him.

He suddenly realized that all the ghouls in front of him were incredibly thin.

Lyndon straightened one of the corpses and discovered that it was only about 1.7 meters tall!

This is already considered very short for a ghoul.

"Why is this happening? Did the sheriff handle it? Did he kill all the powerful ghouls?"

Lyndon was puzzled.

But he still drew his knife, ready to pull out all the ghouls' fangs.

These fangs were the same—short, rough, and of even lower quality than the original three.

But what can you do when there are so many of them?

[Undertaker, you have successfully obtained two pairs of fangs from ghouls, proficiency +20]

[Undertaker, you have successfully obtained two pairs of fangs from ghouls, proficiency +20]

[Undertaker, you have successfully obtained two pairs of fangs from ghouls, proficiency +20]

……

The deep voice echoed in his mind one after another. Seeing that his proficiency had increased significantly, Linden's disappointment and frustration dissipated considerably.

"Well, although I didn't have a chance to test it out, my proficiency has definitely improved a lot, so it was worth the trip!"

As Lyndon thought this, after he had pulled all the fangs out of the ghoul's mouth, a murmur echoed in his mind once again.

【Earthbearer! Do not forget your duty! The filthy remains still exist, death has never left, perhaps you should let them rest in peace…】

Lyndon paused, looking down at the pile of ghoul corpses, feeling a sense of helplessness.

"Why does this voice always spout such strange and nonsensical things? How can I let them rest in peace? Can you at least give me a heads-up?"

"Alright, let's leave it at that. I'll look into it again later, definitely next time."

After thinking about it, Lyndon decided to leave for now.

He deftly took off his coat and spread it on the ground, then put all the fangs he had cut off into the coat. Finally, he rolled the coat into a heavy bundle and carried it on his shoulder.

Name: Lyndon Copperfield

[Current Occupation: The Burialer of the Past LV.3 (260/300)]

[Existing Secret Techniques: Mad Body (Passive), Corpse Collection Technique (Active), Chaotic Perception (Passive), Dream Weaving (Active)]

Before leaving, Lyndon summoned the Book of Fate to check his attributes.

"Why are we still forty short?"

Linden looked at the 260 and felt a pang of resentment.

"Hopefully I'll run into two more on the road."

Lyndon walked down the corridor, silently praying that God would send him two stronger ghouls with fangs at least five centimeters long.

Along the wall, Lyndon, carrying his pack, looked around, searching for the well that would allow him to return to the surface.

Suddenly, a strange sound faintly came from the winding pipe.

That wasn't the growl of a ghoul, nor the sound of garbage colliding in sewage.

It was the sound of footsteps, the sound of several people's footsteps.

Lyndon paused, his eyes narrowing.

"How could someone be in the sewers? Are they a corpse collector?"

Lyndon quickly dismissed his own opinion.

"No, it wasn't the body collectors. Judging from the sound, it was at least five people's footsteps. A body collector wouldn't have that many people."

After a moment's hesitation, Lyndon pushed [Chaos Perception] to its limit.

He determined the approximate direction of the footsteps, and then, like a ghost, chased after the sound.

Lyndon followed for quite some distance, running through the intricate network of sewer pipes.

The sound of his footsteps became clearer as he moved.

"It's just ahead!"

Lyndon suddenly stopped and, hugging the wall, cautiously approached.

Finally, he found the source of the footsteps, which turned out to be a well-equipped squad!

There are five members in the team.

They wore uniform waterproof leather armor, with short swords, daggers, and revolvers hanging from their waists, crossbows on their wrists, and one of them also carried a large-caliber shotgun.

And without exception, all of these weapons were made of silver.

"The Witcher".

Lyndon recognized the team members at a glance.