Steam Old Days: The Extraordinary Begins with a Corpse Collector

"It hurts, my head hurts so much..."

Walter, who had been thrown from the carriage, got up on the dusty road.

He suddenly felt that he couldn't open his right eye, as if something was blocking it.

Walter reached up and touched his face, only to find his fingers covered in blood.

It turned out that his head had been hit and broken, and fresh blood was gushing out of the wound on his head.

Walter cursed inwardly and tore a piece of cloth from his clothes.

Then it was rolled into a ball and pressed onto the wound on the top of the head.

After quickly treating his wounds, Walter struggled to his feet and saw the overturned carriage not far away.

As he walked over, he saw the groom and the horse lying in pools of blood.

They all died in the same way: their throats were slit by something sharp.

There was a hideous crescent-shaped scar on his throat.

Walter was confused. He remembered drinking in a bar, probably too much, and only remembered sleeping on the bar for a while.

He didn't know what happened after that, and when he opened his eyes again, he found himself here.

Walter looked at the overturned carriage, leaned over the side, and craned his neck to look through the glass.

Suddenly, Walter noticed a box lying quietly on the window of the carriage.

The cushion next to it was lifted up, revealing a hole.

The box must have fallen out from there.

Walter climbed onto the carriage, opened the door, and jumped inside.

Walter picked up the box and opened it immediately.

There was a piece of paper inside the box.

Walter took out the paper, his bloodied hands leaving bloody fingerprints on the pristine white paper.

There were a few lines of text written on the paper.

Brother, by the time you see this, you should have already left Chongqing. I'm sorry I can't leave with you; I have things I must do. I lost my family when I was young, so I've always considered you my closest family. Remember, brother, don't come back alone; wait for me. Once I've settled everything, I'll personally bring you back. Then we'll rent a boat and go fishing at sea.

And at the very bottom of the paper, it was written in a crooked and messy manner.

Bro, you really need to control your emotions in the future!

This is Tommy's handwriting, which Walter recognizes very well.

Because he hadn't read many books, the words he could write were taught to him one by one by Walter.

Tommy's handwriting is terrible, especially when he writes the letters g and y. The hook at the bottom is always written in an exaggerated way, looking like a fishhook.

As Walter looked at the words on the paper, he suddenly felt a tightness in his chest.

It felt like a huge boulder was pressing on my heart.

From the words on the paper, Walter could sense how somber and repressed Tommy's emotions were when he wrote those words.

Walter suddenly felt that he was about to lose something important.

He should go back. Although Tommy wrote on the paper that he didn't want him to go back, he had to go back, he absolutely had to go back!

Walter folded the paper back up and put it back in his pocket. He then gripped the door frame with both hands and climbed out of the carriage.

He covered the wound on his head with his hand, determined his location, and then ran towards the Old Sailor's Bar.

Because Walter was injured, he ran with a limp, so he wasn't very fast.

At the street corner not far away, a woman emerged from behind a house. Watching Walter's departing figure, she turned and asked, "I clearly killed him outright, why did you let him go?"

Lyndon leaned against the wall, looking up at the sky, and said in a cryptic tone, "I originally thought he would be a shield, so I wanted to break him, but now I think he can become a knife, so I want to hone him."

After listening to Lyndon's nonsensical words, Mary couldn't figure out what he was trying to do.

"What should we do next?"

"Judging by the timeline, the battle should be over by now. We should head back to the Old Sailor's Bar."

Lyndon straightened up and smiled at Mary.

……

As soon as Walter ran to the bar entrance, a strong smell of blood filled the air inside.

Walter stopped in his tracks, slowly walked to the bar entrance, and pushed the door open.

The doorbell fell to the ground, splattered with blood.

The front hall was in a mess, with mutilated corpses everywhere.

Severed limbs are everywhere.

A fierce battle must have taken place here.

Blood stained every floorboard, leaving Walter nowhere to step.

Suddenly, one of the corpses on the ground moved.

A man crawled out of the pile of corpses; one of his arms had been severed, and the gruesome white bone was exposed.

He still gripped the knife, staring intently at Walter.

"Kill..." the man gasped for breath, his chest heaving violently. "Kill!"

He raised his knife and charged at Walter like a madman; he was blinded by rage.

Everywhere I looked, there were enemies.

Walter watched the madman rushing towards him, and instinctively raised his mechanical fist, swinging it towards the man's chin.

boom!

The man's jaw was smashed by Walter's punch.

Walter then delivered another punch, finally ending his opponent's pain.

Walter looked bewildered as he watched the other person collapse to the ground like a rag doll.

Suddenly, applause rang out from the stairwell leading to the second floor.

"Okay! Okay! I can always trust you, Walter."

A hoarse voice came down from upstairs.

Walter recognized Cyril's voice.

Just then, Cyril came down from upstairs.

He was shirtless, revealing a muscular physique, each muscle resembling a metal block embedded in his body.

At the same time, Cyril was also dragging someone along.

Upon seeing the man's face, Walter's pupils contracted in shock.

He couldn't help but take a step forward.

"Don't move!" Cyril shouted, stopping Walter. "Just stand there."

Cyril went down to the front hall and threw Tommy in his hand in front of Walter.

Tommy was on his last breath at that moment.

He couldn't help but groan as Cyril threw him like that.

"Tommy!"

Walter called out Tommy's name anxiously.

Tommy heard Walter's call, and he struggled to turn his head to look at Walter, who had appeared in the store.

He gave a wry smile and complained in the softest voice, "Why...did you come back again...?"

Tommy was breathing weakly, and even uttering the simplest sentence required a great deal of his strength.

Cyril walked up to Tommy and stomped hard on Tommy's face with his leather shoes.

He vented his anger by rubbing the sole of his shoe against Tommy's face.

Then, pointing at Tommy, he said to Walter, "He betrayed me, bringing a bunch of men thinking they could kill me, but how could I die so easily? I am Cyril!"

Looking at Tommy being trampled under Cyril's feet, Walter felt as if a thousand knives were stabbing his heart.

Cyril, his foot pressed against Tommy's face, continued his taunts: "Did you see that? Your former brother Walter is still on my side. He killed your men, yet he still fights for me!"

Clearly, Cyril mistook Tommy's wounds and blood for those from the battle.

At this moment, Cyril's remaining thugs also came down from upstairs.

One of them walked up to Cyril and whispered, "Boss, all the traitors are dead. Not a single one is left alive."

Cyril nodded in satisfaction.

He looked down at Tommy, whom he was trampling under his feet, and muttered to himself, "There's still one survivor."

"Walter!"

Cyril called out to Walter.

He picked up a broken knife from the ground and threw it to Walter.

He then moved his foot and took a step back.

Cyril pointed at Tommy on the ground and commanded, "Walter, my good brother. Kill him. Show him, and show me, your loyalty."

Faced with this cruel order, Walter instinctively refused.

"No, he's my brother..."

Walter took a step back, attempting to flee once again.

Seeing that Walter refused to carry out his orders, Cyril took a gun from one of the henchmen.

He pointed the gun at Walter and shouted, "Walter, I don't like the way you are now, so weak. Tommy is a traitor, and traitors don't deserve pity. Execute my orders!"

The dark muzzle of the gun was pointed at Walter, but under Cyril's intimidation, he still walked towards Tommy with the knife in hand.

Walter knelt down beside Tommy with a thud.

Looking at Tommy's blood-covered face, Walter's hand holding the knife trembled violently.

He kept repeating in a low voice, "I can't, I can't..."

Suddenly, Tommy reached out and gently grasped Walter's hand holding the knife, then pointed the blade at his own chest.

Tommy looked at him, his eyes calm.

"Kill me."

Tommy's lips moved, and he weakly uttered those words.

"Hurry up!" Cyril urged Walter, gun in hand.

Under double pressure, Walter roared and plunged the broken knife into Tommy's chest.

The blade pierced through.

Tommy's eyes widened suddenly, his mouth opened, and he let out a short, sharp sound.

He did not struggle.

There wasn't even a trace of fear in his final expression.

With his last bit of strength, Tommy reached out and hugged Walter, whispering in his ear in a voice only the two of them could hear, "I know about you and Arthur."

Walter's breath hitched.

"But it's alright now. I'm dead, so you can pin everything on me. Remember, you're not safe yet. Someone filmed you. You need to find him, kill him, kill him."

The more Tommy talked, the more blood he coughed up, and the more slurred his voice became.

He was still thinking about his brother until his death.

After giving his final instructions, Tommy was finally about to give up.

His pupils gradually dilated.

"It feels so good to die in my brother's arms..."

"I've just never gone deep-sea fishing before..."

Tommy murmured, his gaze dimming completely.

My body also began to gradually become cold.

Walter still held Tommy tightly, refusing to let go.

A tear of blood rolled down his cheek.

Seeing that Tommy was dead, Cyril put down his gun expressionlessly.

He felt no emotion at Tommy's death.

"Dispose of the body, and clean the shop as well."

After giving his instructions, Cyril turned to leave.

"Boss!"

Walter suddenly called out to Cyril.

Cyril turned around and looked coldly at Walter, who was kneeling on the ground.

"Tommy's been with you for so many years, give him a grave!"

Walter seemed to have lost his soul, staring blankly at Cyril.

Cyril turned around and said, "Whatever."

After saying that, he went back upstairs.

Walter was left alone among the corpses, clutching Tommy's body.

……

"Sir, rest assured, we will definitely choose the best burial plot for your friend."

The mortician then began to push Tommy's body back into the freezer.

"Wait, let me see him one last time."

Walter stopped the mortician's hand.

He stared silently at Tommy's lifeless face.

Walter couldn't help but recall that night many years ago.

At that time, he offended a rich man.

The rich man hired a group of people to ambush him and kill Walter.

Tommy happened to be passing by, rescued him, and took him back to his house, paying for his medical treatment.

After treatment, Walter survived, but lost an arm.

Tommy then paid for a robotic arm for him.

Walter later learned that Tommy had bought it with his own savings.

The two became brothers as a result.

Tommy loves fishing, but he can never catch anything.

He was very dissatisfied with this, always believing that the water in Chongqing was bad, which resulted in there being few fish in the river.

If we could rent a big boat and go fishing in the sea, we'd definitely catch some fish!

Tommy often joked with Walter, "When I have money, I'm going to buy a whaling boat! Fishing is boring, whale fishing is much more interesting! They're such huge animals! You have to use a big vessel for them!"

But now Tommy is dead.

He can no longer go fishing at sea.

Walter walked out into the street, the warm sunlight shining on him, but he couldn't feel any warmth at all.

He closed his eyes and stood there like a stone.

"He died for you. What a pity. You should have been the one to die."

Suddenly, Lyndon appeared next to Walter without anyone noticing.

He had one hand in his pocket and was holding a bouquet of flowers in the other.

"Are you that waiter?"

Walter opened his eyes and looked at Lyndon.

"Yes, I was the one who killed Arthur."

Lyndon said it casually, as if he had only done a trivial thing.

"What did you say?"

Walter asked incredulously.

The culprit who turned the entire Old Sailor's Bar upside down was actually living right under the noses of a bunch of people.

This is utterly absurd!

"You're the one who killed Tommy!"

Walter's eyes reddened, and he reached out to grab Lyndon's collar.

But Lyndon was not afraid at all.

"I didn't kill Tommy, you and Cyril killed him together, so the main responsibility lies with you."

Upon hearing this, Walter involuntarily released his grip.

He looked pained.

Yes, Lyndon was right. If he hadn't been afraid of death, if he had taken the initiative to admit his mistakes, perhaps none of what has happened recently would have occurred.

It's all because of myself.

Seeing Walter's pained expression, Lyndon straightened his collar and said, "Blaming yourself won't help; you should take action."

"Action? What action to take?"

"Doing what Tommy didn't finish," Lyndon said, leaning closer. "Actually, Cyril is also responsible for this, isn't he? He could have used a gentler, calmer approach to eliminate the influence of Arthur, but he insisted on turning the knife on you. Otherwise, Tommy wouldn't have gone this far."

Lyndon continued his instigation: "So, Tommy did nothing wrong. Cyril should indeed be held responsible for your dead brothers. He was a tyrant, and tyrants should be nailed to the rack by their people."

Walter stared at Lyndon in shock.

He secretly harbored a support for Lyndon's statement.

At that moment, Rodney, Moran, and Mary also emerged from the shadows.

The four men surrounded Walter.

"So I think we have the same goal now."

Lyndon smiled and extended his hand to Walter.