Steam Old Days: The Extraordinary Begins with a Corpse Collector

The night was thick.

Only the moonlight shone into the back alley, dividing Lyndon's face into two halves of light and shadow.

Rodney stood with his feet straddling his chest, his arms crossed, his eyes gleaming faintly in the darkness.

Behind Lyndon, Mary leaned against the wall, her long hair fluttering in the night wind, a crescent moon arc of light already forming in her hand.

Moran, who was furthest away, gripped his bow, nocked an arrow, and blocked Lyndon's retreat.

Lyndon couldn't help but chuckle upon seeing this.

He turned to the side, opened one palm, and faced Mary and Moran.

"Judging from your posture, it doesn't seem like you're asking for help; it looks more like you're about to fight."

Rodney said casually, "It's just as a precaution. After all, we have some conflicts, and if..."

"If I take action, you'll be in trouble, won't you?"

Before Rodney could finish speaking, Lyndon spoke first.

Lyndon shook his head and said calmly, "Actually, there's no need. What I mean is, even if you surround me now, I'm perfectly confident."

"Although I don't have much skill, I do have the ability to exchange my worthless life for the lives of several people."

Upon hearing this, Rodney's expression turned wary.

If Lyndon really doesn't care about his life, then it's not impossible that he would not only exchange several lives, but also perish together with the three of them.

"So, who wants to die?"

Lyndon opened his arms, gripped the iron in his pocket, and squeezed it hard.

Instantly, the iron pierced Lyndon's palm, and blood flowed from the wound.

Mary and Moran were taken aback and immediately assumed an attack stance.

Moran had already drawn the bowstring to its fullest extent.

The battle was over in an instant.

"Put the bow down!"

Rodney snapped, his face serious. "I told you, we're just here to talk to you, nothing more."

Only after hearing Rodney's order did Moran reluctantly put down his bow and arrow.

Mary also put away the crescent moon arc in her hand.

Rodney stepped forward and said to Lyndon, "We just want to talk to you."

Seeing this, Lyndon knew the three had no intention of killing him, so he lowered his hand and said, "What do you want to talk about?"

Rodney looked at the two people behind Lyndon and then asked, "We want to know what Arthur said to you that night?"

Lyndon found Rodney's question rather strange. Did these three come all this way just to hear Arthur's last words?

Just then, Lyndon suddenly remembered the words Arthur had written before he died, and the key in his pocket watch.

Did they actually want the key in the pocket watch?

More precisely, was it for something hidden in ZHH Bank?

Thinking of this, Lyndon said to Rodney, "He mentioned a watch to me."

"A watch? What watch?"

Rodney's eyes lit up immediately.

Seeing this, Lyndon continued, referring to the watch, "It's a pocket watch, about this big."

"Is that watch with you?"

Rodney pressed for an answer, but Lyndon refused to respond, saying it wasn't fair that he answered all the questions Rodney asked.

Lyndon also had a question.

Seeing this, Rodney had no choice but to agree.

"My question is, what exactly did Arthur do? Why did you hunt him down? Why did you continue to pursue him even after his death?"

Rodney paused for a moment, then deliberately avoided the question.

"This issue concerns the Black Sails, and I cannot simply tell you."

"Then let's have a fight first," Lyndon shrugged, retorting nonchalantly. "After the fight, I reckon you'll have everything you want to say."

Faced with Lyndon's nonchalant attitude, the three of them were at a loss.

Lyndon paced back and forth between the three men, talking animatedly.

"The fact that you care so much about Arthur and what he did shows that what Arthur did was a very serious matter."

"The fact that you still dare to come to me, and even say you want to talk, shows that you are now at your wits' end. You have no other way but to find a breakthrough through me."

"So, I can't help but wonder, if killing me leads to all the clues ending with me, what will the Black Sails Society think? What will your fate be? Will you die a more gruesome death than I did?"

Every word Lyndon uttered struck the hearts of the three like a heavy hammer.

From Lyndon's words, they could already imagine the agony of their flesh being devoured by fish and shrimp.

Rodney took a deep breath and beckoned Mary and Moran over.

The three of them formed a circle, put their hands on each other's shoulders, bent down, and began to talk in hushed tones.

Finally, the three of them reached an agreement.

Rodney strode up to Lyndon: "We can only tell you the general outline of the situation; we have no comment on the specific details."

Lyndon laughed out loud upon hearing this: "Hahaha, alright, let me hear your approximate price first."

Rodney then told Lyndon that Arthur was a traitor to the Black Sails.

He was being chased by the three men because he stole important items from the Black Sails and attempted to sell them at a high price to Cyril, an enemy of the Black Sails and the Brotherhood.

Rodney declined to comment on other details.

"This is indeed quite serious, but why don't you suspect that Arthur has already given the item to Cyril, instead of suspecting that I know the whereabouts of that item?"

Lyndon countered with a question.

Rodney replied, "Of course we've thought about that, but if Arthur has already sold the goods to Cyril, then he should have had Cyril send him away that very day to lay low or provide him with shelter."

"But Cyril didn't, which means that Arthur at that time didn't dare to openly betray Black Sails."

"Therefore, we naturally suspected you."

"And while we're suspecting you, we've also been keeping a close eye on the bar's movements. Given Cyril's current erratic behavior, doesn't that further prove he hasn't gotten it yet?"

Rodney's analysis was so logical and insightful that Lyndon couldn't help but applaud and praise him, saying, "Impressive!"

"You're welcome," Rodney said modestly. "Could you tell me where the watch Arthur mentioned is?"

But Lyndon waved his hand.

"What do you mean by this?" Rodney frowned, taking one foot back, a position that allowed him to both attack and defend.

Lyndon calmly explained, "Don't be nervous. What I mean is, what do I get in return for telling you where the watch is? I can be quite worried that you'll discard me after you've gotten the clue, since my bounty is still up."

"So what do you want?" Rodney asked bluntly.

"First, I want to know who wants to kill me?"

Rodney thought for a moment, then simply said in a low voice, "The Church."

Lyndon nodded; that was enough.

"Then, can you tell me where the watch is?"

"Of course, but not now."

Suddenly, Mary rushed in front of Rodney, pointed her finger at Lyndon, and yelled, "You bastard! Are you kidding us?!"

"Mary!" Rodney quickly reached out and shielded her behind him.

"That's right, I'll be leaving the Fog City soon. In the meantime, I need to ensure my own safety," Lyndon explained.

"But why should we believe you?" Rodney sized up Lyndon coldly.

"You don't have to believe me, then let's all die together. If I die, you probably won't live for more than a few days either, if you can't find the things."

The three of them fell silent.

They looked at each other, seemingly having exhausted all other options.

Finally, Rodney gave in.

"Okay, we agree to your request. We'll let you go and we won't lay a hand on you."

Seeing Rodney agree, Lyndon's face beamed with triumphant joy. He clapped his hands and lifted the cart again.

"Okay, it's a deal. Now get out of my way, I need to get to work."

As he spoke, Lyndon lifted the cart and pulled it along the alley, huffing and puffing.

His figure grew farther and farther away in the eyes of Rodney and the other two.

……

After Lyndon disposed of the body, he pulled his light cart, humming a tune, and headed towards the bar.

When I passed by that alley again, the three of them were no longer there.

Lyndon snorted and prepared to leave.

Suddenly, he noticed something glittering at the base of the alley wall.

Lyndon put down the cart he was carrying, walked to the base of the wall, and reached out to pick it up.

By the moonlight, it appeared to be a flat metal box about the size of a cigarette pack.

Upon opening the box, there was another note inside.

Linden first examined the metal box, inside which was a monochrome display screen and a complete mechanical keyboard.

There is a small glass crystal tube on top of the keyboard.

Looking through the glass, you can see colorful ether particles floating inside the crystal tube.

Lyndon opened the note in his hand again; it contained information left for him by Rodney.

Rodney told Lyndon that it was an Ethercomer.

They had to stay in touch, and tracking secrets were attached to the etheric communications.

"All my cunning is used on me."

Lyndon smiled and put the metal box into his pocket.

Then they continued pulling the cart towards the bar.

Meanwhile, in the Old Sailor's Bar.

"Hurry up and dispose of this body again."

Walter said to old Bob with a stern face.

Old Bob stared blankly at the corpse lying on the ground, feeling only the coldness in his hands and feet.

He felt like he couldn't breathe, as if there was a wad of cotton stuffed in his throat.

"Is he... dead too...?"

Old Bob's tongue was tied in knots, simply because the corpse in front of him was someone who had once taken a bullet for Cyril.

At that time, Cyril pointed to the gunshot wound on the man's body and said that he was his savior and that he would definitely take him to enjoy wealth and luxury in the future.

But now he has died at the hands of the very person he once risked his life to protect.

"After the boss returned from the police station, his mental state started to become abnormal."

Walter angrily downed the liquor in his glass, then smashed the glass on the floor.

The glass shattered, and shards flew everywhere.

"I suggest you think about yourself first. Cyril is showing no mercy to those who have been deceived by him."

Walter patted old Bob's shoulder twice with his iron hand.

He was reminding old Bob.

Remind him to leave quickly, or he might be the next one to die.

After all, they had fought side by side, and in terms of seniority, Walter should address old Bob as a senior.

Old Bob understood Walter's unspoken meaning, and he couldn't help but shudder.

Seeing old Bob's terrified expression, Walter didn't say anything more and turned to leave.

Suddenly, old Bob asked Walter, "Why has the Cyril of yesteryear become such a wreck?"

Walter paused, remained silent for a long while, and then slowly said, "Because he was too successful before, too successful, so much so that he can't accept failure now."

After saying that, Walter walked out of the storage room.

Old Bob, sitting in the storage room, looked at the body covered with a white sheet on the floor and felt a wave of dizziness.

Old Bob stumbled and fell to the ground, bracing himself with his hands and shifting his position, trying to hide himself in the shadows.

run!

The idea suddenly popped into old Bob's mind.

Cyril has gone mad; he's like a tyrant from ancient times.

He has completely abandoned these old comrades who fought alongside him to build his empire; now he is nothing but a bloodthirsty beast.

As one of the earliest people to help him establish his territory, old Bob had seen too many of Cyril's secrets and knew too many of his dirty deeds.

The most dangerous person is the one who starts to doubt everyone, like old Bob who knows too much.

"I need to run, run fast, yes, run out of the foggy city, run far away, and never come back."

Old Bob got up, looked at the corpse on the ground, and spat out a mouthful of saliva.

"Fuck your corpse, I quit! I'm leaving!"

Back in his room, old Bob began packing his things.

He stuffed all the gold pounds he had saved over the years into his bag, and then casually stuffed in a few pieces of clothing.

Looking at the shop he had served for so many years, his heart was bleeding.

But he couldn't stay in order to survive.

He has to leave.

When old Bob slipped out of the bar through the back door, the night wind hit him in the face, and he almost cried.

Six years.

He followed Cyril for six years!

Old Bob watched as Cyril gradually built his territory, joined the Brotherhood, and began to settle down and develop.

Logically speaking, he deserves credit for his hard work, even if he didn't achieve anything significant.

But in the end, he was forced to leave like an old dog.

Old Bob wiped away the tears from the corners of his eyes, picked up his bag, and ran down the alley.

But old Bob was old after all; his legs weren't what they used to be, and coupled with his injuries, he was already panting heavily after running only a short distance.

His heart was pounding so hard, it felt like it was going to jump out of his chest.

But he dared not stop; he continued running through the alley.

Suddenly, old Bob bumped into Lyndon, who was returning from dealing with the body.

"Mr. Bob, what's going on?"

Lyndon spotted old Bob running at a glance, and deliberately lowered the cart at an angle, blocking old Bob's path.

"Hey! What are you doing! Get out of my way!"

Old Bob was sweating profusely when he saw that his way was blocked. He was afraid that if he wasted any more time, Cyril would find out if he tried to escape.

When the thugs catch up, I'll be dead for sure!

When Lyndon saw the bag in old Bob's hand, he knew that Bob was trying to run away.

"Looks like something big has happened at the bar again, enough to make old Bob want to run away."

Lyndon was thinking to himself, but he said aloud, "Mr. Bob, where are you going? Does Mr. Cyril know? Would you like me to give you a ride?"

As he spoke, Lyndon turned and pointed to the cart carrying the corpse.

Old Bob felt nothing but bad luck when he looked at the cart.

In his haste, old Bob actually reached out and pushed Lyndon.

Lyndon also took the opportunity to slip the ether communicator into old Bob's pocket.

Old Bob was completely unaware of this; he was only concerned with running away.

After tumbling over the cart, old Bob, his hands covered in blood, ran off into the distance.

"Wow, that was fast!"

Lyndon's lips curled into a smile as he muttered to himself, "Now it's up to you guys. Hopefully, you won't be slow."

After saying that, Lyndon pulled the car back towards the bar.