Steam Old Days: The Extraordinary Begins with a Corpse Collector

"That's enough, stop pouring!"

The customer frowned, his fingers curling as he banged them on the bar counter.

Lost in thought, Lyndon then noticed that the whiskey in his glass was about to overflow.

"Sorry, this drink is on me."

As he spoke, Lyndon poured the guest another glass of wine.

The guest left with a smile, holding his wine.

Lyndon, however, kept glancing at the staircase leading to the second floor.

He mechanically wiped the bar counter with a rag, but in his mind he was thinking about how to approach Arthur.

It's definitely not going to be possible to go upstairs and knock on Arthur's door to make him hand over the money he owes Alastor.

If Arthur were to obediently repay the money, Alastor wouldn't ask him to collect the debt for him.

But if a dispute breaks out, the people at the bar will definitely intervene.

Linden wasn't confident he could handle four or five superhumans by himself.

There were already two superhumans in the bar.

With Cyril's arrival, along with his two bodyguards, the bar now had three more superhumans.

"The pressure is immense!"

Lyndon felt a pang of emotion.

Even so, Lyndon had to take action.

I originally joined the Old Sailors' Bar to better stake out Arthur.

The goal is right in front of me now. If I miss this excellent opportunity, I don't know how long I'll have to wait in the old sailor's bar.

We may leave this place today.

Suddenly, just as Lyndon was pondering a solution, old Bob's sharp and sarcastic voice pierced through the entire front hall and reached Lyndon's ears clearly.

"Evan! Quickly order a carriage! Mr. Arthur needs it when he leaves tonight!"

"knew!"

As soon as his colleagues dropped what they were doing and hurriedly left the bar, a plan suddenly formed in Lyndon's mind.

"It's a bit unethical, but..."

Lyndon turned his head toward the kitchen, clenched his fist, and slammed it heavily on the bar.

"That's what we'll do!"

Opportunities are fleeting.

Once you've made up your mind, you have to do it!

Lyndon threw down the rag, turned around, and hurried towards the kitchen.

Giselle was the only one chopping vegetables in the kitchen.

The head chef was sleeping in the next room because all the employees on the night shift would get a simple late-night snack when the bar closed.

Generally, it's just minced meat stew with beans or offal pie, rotating between the two.

Giselle.

Lyndon went into the kitchen and called out to Giselle in a low voice.

The girl looked up abruptly and saw Lyndon suddenly appear; her eyes were full of confusion.

"Yes, it's you?"

Giselle wanted to say something more, but Lyndon covered her mouth first.

Lyndon put a finger to his lips, signaling Gisele to be quiet.

Although Gisele didn't understand Lyndon's purpose, she obediently kept her mouth shut.

"Giselle, I'm asking you, are you from Veltlin?"

Gisele felt a jolt when the name of her hometown was spoken by someone else.

She looked incredulously into Lyndon's brown eyes and nodded vigorously.

"Is your home in Baihuapo?"

Giselle nodded even more vigorously.

Her eyes were already red, and tears were swirling in them.

Giselle gripped Lyndon's strong wrist, her emotions becoming extremely agitated.

Lyndon didn't ask any more questions. He took out the brightly colored woven bracelet with small bells that Wesley had given him from his pocket.

Upon seeing that incredibly familiar bracelet, Giselle's entire rationality crumbled instantly.

She seemed to lose all her strength at that moment; her legs went limp, and she collapsed to the ground.

Giselle's fingertips trembled as she reached for the bracelet.

The moment she touched the silk thread, the sorrow in her heart could no longer be contained, and a torrent of tears gushed from her eyes.

Giselle gripped the bracelet tightly, and because Lyndon was still covering her mouth, she could only let out low whimpers.

Lyndon kept a watchful eye on the outside, not daring to let his guard down for fear that Giselle's crying would wake the head chef next door.

"Listen, Gisele. I know you're very emotional right now, but please calm down. Listen to me, this bracelet was given to me by your father, and I promised him I would take you out and reunite you with him. But now you have to listen to me, understand?"

She nodded, holding Lyndon's arm.

"Then please stop crying, okay?" Lyndon tried to put his hand down.

Giselle's chest heaved violently, tears blurring her vision, but thankfully she remained silent.

"Where is my father?"

Giselle spoke haltingly.

"I told him to wait outside the bar, and that he could rest assured about that."

After Lyndon finished speaking, he looked at the chopped pieces of meat on the cutting board.

"Lamb offal?"

"Yes, we're making meat pies today," Giselle said, wiping away her tears.

Lyndon walked to the cutting board, picked up a piece of meat, and smelled it.

Instantly, a foul, fishy odor mixed with a stench rushed into Lyndon's nostrils, attacking his nasal cavity relentlessly.

"My God, this stinks!"

Lyndon pinched his nose and shook his head.

"The meat that came in last night, Ms. Violet said it was edible. It's mixed with fresh meat and has lots of spices, so you can't taste the difference."

As Giselle spoke, she pulled a wooden bucket from the corner.

The moment the wooden lid was lifted, an even more rotten smell assaulted Lyndon's skull.

"These are completely inedible; Violet hasn't even asked for them to be added yet."

"Holy crap! That's so dark!"

Lyndon couldn't help but complain.

He pointed to the rotten lamb offal in the bucket and said to Giselle, "Please add some of this to my meal today."

"Add this? Isn't that like putting someone ingesting poison?"

"Add just a little, a tiny bit, just enough to give someone diarrhea." Lyndon gestured with his finger. "Do as I say, I have a use for it."

Giselle had no choice but to agree.

"Oh! By the way, could you make one separately for me first?"

……

The bar was open until midnight, and the customers' enthusiasm hadn't waned, but the staff were already feeling exhausted.

"I'm going to rest in the back for a bit. Can you keep an eye on things for me?"

"The pockmarked waiter said in a low voice."

"Okay, wait a minute, I'll switch with you."

After conspiring with his colleagues, the pockmarked waiter followed closely to the back.

"Oh my god! I'm starving! This job is inhuman."

The pockmarked waiter rubbed his lower back and sighed.

Suddenly, he smelled a very fragrant aroma.

"It smells so good! What's that smell?"

The waiter with pockmarks followed the smell and found Lyndon sitting alone on the floor, wiping the soup off his plate with bread and then swallowing it in one gulp.

"Lynn? Where did you come from?"

The pockmarked waiter stared at Pie next to Lyndon, his eyes gleaming.

"Yes, Jack! I had the little girl in the kitchen make this just for me. There's another piece here, do you want it?"

Without any hesitation, Jack eagerly took the meat pie, picked up the fork Lyndon had used, and began to eat heartily.

"It smells so good! It smells amazing! The meat pie smells so good today!"

Perhaps he was too hungry, because Jack didn't even care that the meat pie was hot and just grabbed it with his hands.

Lyndon felt conflicted watching Jack wolf down his food.

In order to lure an unlucky guy into the trap, Lyndon had Giselle add extra seasoning to mask the stench of the minced meat.

"Eat slowly, no rush, I'm going to work."

Lyndon patted Jack on the back, got up and left.

"Okay! I'll eat and rest for a bit before I come help you."

Jack mumbled something.

No, you won't.

Lyndon didn't say this aloud.

Just like Jack didn't know that tonight would be the most unforgettable night of his life.

Sure enough, just an hour later...

Jack clutched his stomach and groaned to himself.

His face began to turn pale, cold sweat beaded on his forehead, and the commotion in his stomach grew stronger.

"Ouch... Ouch... I can't take it... It's happening again!"

Jack clutched his stomach and bent over in pain.

He leaned against the wall and walked towards the front hall, where he ran into Lyndon, who was also clutching his stomach.

"Lynn, you...you're suffering too..."

Lyndon didn't speak, he just nodded.

"Has that stuff gone bad again? Damn it, that fat bastard must have taken kickbacks again, how many times has it been now!"

Jack immediately turned his attention to Ms. Violet.

"I can't take this anymore, Lynn! I need to take a leave of absence! I can't do this job anymore, I have to leave!"

Jack was deathly pale, sweating profusely, and his voice was weak.

The two supported each other and made their way to old Bob, who was dozing off.

"Mr. Bob, we have food poisoning, we really can't take it anymore."

Lyndon joined in with humming and groaning.

Old Bob looked annoyed that the two of them had been woken up.

Seeing their miserable expressions, he waved his hand dismissively, "Get out! You're such bad luck! Half your wages are off today! Get lost and don't disturb my sleep!"

With old Bob's permission, the two were granted a pardon and practically scrambled out of the bar.

Because there were guests in the front hall, the two of them left through the back door.

Stepping out of the store, the night breeze made Jack feel even worse. He huddled his legs together, saying, "Lynn, I can't take it anymore..."

"No, we can't hold on any longer!"

"No, you can go now. I'll handle it myself."

After saying that, Jack shook off Lyndon's hand, as if he had made up his mind, and resolutely rushed into the deepest part of the alley.

"No!"

Watching Jack's resolute back, Lyndon, who had been hunched over, slowly straightened his back.

His gaze was sharp and unstoppable.

I'm sorry.

Lyndon murmured to himself as he removed his waiter's vest, then turned and walked in the opposite direction into the thick of the night.

……

The old town is quiet at night, with only the occasional bark of a dog and the ramblings of a drunkard in the distance.

It was a little after 3 a.m.

All the customers in the store have left.

Only the carriage that had called for Arthur was still parked by the roadside; the coachman was a taciturn man wearing a hood.

At that moment, Arthur, hiccuping from drinking, staggered down the stairs with Lucy's help.

"Oh, Mr. Arthur, why don't you take a nap before you go?"

Violet said with concern.

But Arthur waved his hand: "No, the gang will gossip. I have to go."

Arthur then ruffled Lucy's cheeks and said with a lewd grin, "Let's go, little darling!"

"Alright, Lucy, help Mr. Arthur into the car," Violet said.

So, with Lucy's help, Arthur got into the carriage.

"Back, back to East Street..."

A drunk Arthur gave an address.

The coachman then cracked his whip and slowly drove the carriage away from the bar.

The wheels rolled over the stone pavement, making a jarring sound that seemed particularly harsh in the thick fog and darkness of the old town at night.

Arthur, inside the carriage, had no idea where the carriage was headed. He simply lay on the soft cushions, humming the off-key tune.

As the carriage rounded a bend, suddenly! The driver abruptly pulled on the reins.

The horse reared up, causing the carriages behind it to shake violently.

"Ah! How do you drive?!"

Arthur, who was being jostled around in the carriage, leaned out and started cursing at the coachman.

But before he could finish speaking, a cold gun barrel was pressed directly against his forehead.

The cold touch instantly snapped Arthur back to reality.

The alcohol he had drunk turned into sweat and was expelled in shock.

The coachman removed his hood, revealing his true face.

It was Lyndon!

Lyndon's face flickered in and out of the light under the streetlights.

Arthur trembled, and he quickly got out of the car, raising his hands.

"Hey friend, what are you doing? Don't pull out your gun so easily! Let's talk this out, hahaha..."

Arthur glanced at the caliber of the pistol.

.45 caliber bullets.

One shot would probably shave half his head off.

"Mr. Arthur."

Lyndon's expression remained calm.

He smiled slightly at Arthur.

"I don't want to hurt you, but someone sent me to ask you for something."

"What is it? Anything I can give you, I'll offer it to you with both hands!"

Arthur adopted a very humble posture, showing that he valued his life very much.

But this action puzzled Lyndon.

Would someone so afraid of death really dare to owe Alastor money?

"You owe Mr. Alastor a debt," Lyndon said. "Twelve gold pounds, pay it now."

To Lyndon's surprise, Arthur looked completely bewildered.

"What? I owe Alastor a debt? I've never done business with him before!"

Upon hearing this, Lyndon couldn't hold back any longer. He put down his gun and reached out to grab Arthur by the neck.

"What did you say?!"

"Really!" Arthur cried out, his neck gripped by Lyndon. "I haven't done business with him in ages! I don't owe him anything!"

"What's going on with that pocket watch!" Lyndon roared.

"A pocket watch?"

Arthur's eyes flickered, and upon hearing the word "pocket watch," his emotions suddenly became agitated.

"No! You're not from Alastor, you're from the Black Sails!"

Arthur began to resist fiercely, even trying to snatch Lyndon's gun.

Just as the two were arguing,

A sudden change has occurred!

Whoosh!Whoosh!

Two silver arrows shot down from the rooftop on one side like lightning.

Lyndon's ears twitched; he heard the sound of an arrow slicing through the air.

"Get out of the way!"

Lyndon tightened his grip, grabbed Arthur by the neck, and threw him aside.

Arthur was thrown against the wall by Lyndon and then fell to the ground. He struggled for a while and then fell silent.

Lyndon had no time to worry about Arthur's condition. He shifted his position between the carriage and the horses, using them to conceal himself as he searched for the attacker's trail.

Whoosh!Whoosh!

Two more silver arrows flew in from all directions.

An arrow was driven into the carriage with a dull thud.

Another silver arrow grazed Lyndon's scalp.

However, it was this very arrow that allowed Lyndon to pinpoint the attacker's location.

He raised his gun, pointed it at a rooftop in front of him, and pulled the trigger without hesitation.

boom!boom!

The gunshots were particularly jarring in the quiet alley.

Did you get it?

Lyndon hid at the back of the carriage to observe.

Suddenly, he felt a chill down his spine.

Linden felt a sudden pang of panic.

Just as he turned his head to look behind him, a long, gleaming blade was already aimed at him.

"what!"

Lyndon yelled and quickly ducked to avoid the attack.

The long sword slashed at the carriage with such force that it shattered the carriage into pieces.

Lyndon scrambled and crawled, barely managing to create some distance between himself and the attacker.

In the blink of an eye, a crescent-shaped arc of light struck Lyndon once more.

Linden was unable to dodge in time, and his right arm was injured by the crescent-shaped arc of light.

Instantly, a crescent-shaped scar the size of a bowl appeared on Lyndon's right arm.

Fresh blood gushed from the wound.

It quickly stained half of Lyndon's arm red.

Seeing that Lyndon was injured, the assassins emerged from the shadows.

One of them leaped down from the roof, holding a hard bow in his hand.

One of them emerged from the alley, another crescent-shaped arc of light swirling in her hand.

Together with the man who had just taken the knife, the three of them huddled together and slowly approached Linden.

"I only wanted to capture that traitor Arthur, but I didn't expect to catch a little rat as well."

The man with the knife pulled out a bounty notice from his pocket and grinned.

"Moran, take Arthur away first. Leave this guy to me and Mary."

Moran, holding the bow, said "okay," and turned to walk towards the fallen Arthur.

"Friend, we have no grudge against each other. Otherwise, you can take the person away, but let me live."

Lyndon clutched his wound and tried to stall for time.

But the person on the other end shook their head.

"I have no grudge against you, but I have even less grudge against money!"

Upon hearing this, a fierce glint flashed in Linden's eyes.

"So there's no way to resolve this peacefully today?"

"Don't worry, we'll be gentle, it won't hurt."

The woman holding the crescent-shaped arc of light mocked.

Suddenly, Moran, who had gone to check on Arthur, rushed back anxiously, shouting as he ran, "Arthur is dead!"

"What?!"

"What?"

The other two were dumbfounded. What did they mean Arthur was dead?

Just then, Lyndon, who had been half-crouching on the ground, suddenly made his move. The blood in his hand had somehow transformed into an extremely sharp spear.

[The Spear of Frenzy]!

Lyndon charged at the three men with his spear.