Steam Old Days: The Extraordinary Begins with a Corpse Collector

When Alastor woke up, he recognized the monster's name the moment he saw the corpse on the deck.

"A fish-man?"

The three people on the deck said in unison.

Upon closer inspection, the monster did indeed resemble a large fish with four legs.

"That's right, I wouldn't admit I'm wrong."

The moment Alastor saw the alien corpse, he became alert.

He scrambled to his feet from the deck with such a nimble movement that he didn't look like someone who had just woken up from a hangover.

Alastor held the fishman's corpse in his arms.

The fishman's blue scales were covered with a layer of slippery liquid.

"These liquids reduce their drag underwater, allowing them to catch schools of fish as quickly as possible."

Alastor opened his palm to show Lyndon and the others the liquid on his hand.

"These are excellent raw materials for making lubricants! Selling them to mechanics or divers would definitely make a lot of money!"

As he spoke, Alastor pried open the fishman's lips again, inserted his fingers into the monster's mouth, and scraped the two rows of neat incisors with his fingertips.

"Look, the fish-men's teeth are just like humans', neat and straight. Their bite force is very strong. If you are unlucky enough to be bitten by them, they can even bite your bones in half."

"And its gills, those are a key ingredient for making underwater breathing potions!"

As Alastor looked at the merman corpse in his arms, his expression grew increasingly excited, as if he were holding not a corpse but a money bag.

Just as he was basking in his joy, a series of slapping sounds suddenly came from under the deck.

What was that sound?

Alastor instantly became alert, his gaze falling on the silvery swarm of fish leaping and churning on the river's surface.

"It's probably the sound of fish hitting the bottom of the boat."

Lyndon put away his spear, put his hands in his pockets, and said nonchalantly.

Clearly, he had no idea what the surging tide of fish represented.

But Alastor was different. He frowned, put down the body in his arms, and then walked quickly to the side of the ship.

He leaned out halfway, his eyes sharp as an eagle's.

Alastor carefully observed the underwater activity. Even when several fish nearly flew into his face, he refused to pull back and didn't even blink.

"Hahaha! I knew it!"

Suddenly, Alastor, who had been looking serious just moments before, burst into laughter. He excitedly pounded on the gunwale, almost leaping off the boat into the river.

"This isn't a fish swarm! This isn't a fish swarm!"

Alastor hurriedly pulled Lyndon to his side, pointing underwater and saying, "This isn't a normal fish migration, it's an escape for their lives! Do you understand?"

Seeing Lyndon's bewildered expression, Alastor was extremely anxious.

"Fishmen can only give birth to one offspring at a time! Therefore, during the breeding season, they hunt collectively to ensure that the female fishmen have sufficient nutrition and to store up energy for the upcoming breeding season!"

"These greedy bastards are hunting! That's why the fish swarm is forming!"

Alastor licked his lips, his eyes burning with intense desire, and deep within his pupils lay undisguised greed.

"Lydon, quick! Where's that spear you were carrying? Get it out now!"

Alastor pointed to the churning water with exaggerated gestures.

"Do you have a rope? I need to find a rope to tie to the back of your spear."

Seeing Alastor's anxious state, Lyndon shook his head helplessly. He stretched out his hand, which had been scratched by the tail fin, and used his fingers to peel off the newly formed scab.

Fresh blood immediately gushed out from the wound again.

With a thought, Lyndon produced a blood-red spear in his hand.

Without wasting words, he aimed at a bluish-gray shadow underwater and threw it with all his might.

The spear plunged into the water, splashing up a high spray.

Lyndon clenched his fist, as if he had grasped something from the air.

He pulled back, and the spear he had just thrown miraculously flew out of the water and landed back in Lyndon's hand.

However, unlike when it was first thrown, this time the spear had a bluish-gray merman pinned to the ground.

Alastor was overjoyed to see Lyndon capture a merman so easily.

"Okay! Let's do it this way!"

So Alastor directed the operation, Lyndon fished, and Giselle and Wesley helped carry the bodies.

And so a fishing team was formed.

The once clean deck was suddenly piled with a bunch of fishman corpses.

Blood stained the deck.

A foul, fishy smell permeated the boat.

It's unclear whether the group's ferocity scared the murlocs away, or if the murlocs were simply not numerous to begin with.

In short, after Lyndon killed the twelfth fishman, the surging tide of fish on the river gradually subsided.

Lyndon threw four spears in a row, but all of them failed.

"Are there any fish left?"

Giselle leaned over the gunwale, watching the calm river surface.

Alastor squinted, staring into the water, hoping to spot something unusual.

However, the river surface was unusually calm at the moment.

"It seems, probably, that's all."

Alastor sighed; he had to accept this heartbreaking fact.

Looking at the mountain of fishman corpses piled up on the deck, his face was full of regret.

"Alright, it's already pretty good that we caught this many."

Lyndon sheathed his spear, took a handkerchief from Giselle, and wrapped it around his hand to stop the blood from flowing from his wound.

"So what are you going to do with all these fishman corpses? They'll start to stink if left out too long."

When asked by Lyndon, Alastor looked at Lyndon and then gave him a meaningful look.

Lyndon's heart skipped a beat.

He couldn't help but take a step back.

"What are you looking at? You're not going to leave me to handle this alone, are you?"

Lyndon's eyebrows shot up, and he sternly refused.

"Don't even think about it! With so many corpses to deal with, I won't get a single day of rest!"

Alastor, on the other hand, relentlessly clung to Lyndon.

"Oh dear! You're the only one on this ship who knows how to handle corpses. The capable should do more!"

Lyndon didn't want to agree, but Alastor kept pestering him.

In addition, this task would also help him accumulate experience points, so Lyndon took on this arduous job.

[Burialer, you have successfully separated the flesh and blood of a murloc and obtained a considerable amount of loot in the process. Proficiency +10]

[Burialer, you have successfully separated the flesh and blood of a murloc and obtained a considerable amount of loot in the process. Proficiency +10]

[Burialer, you have successfully separated the flesh and blood of a murloc and obtained a considerable amount of loot in the process. Proficiency +10]

……

The destruction of the body does not mean the demise of the spirit. There is only a thin barrier between life and death, and they may look back at you in another form.

[To the one who lays the dead! Do not let arrogance lead you to destruction; try to soothe those restless, covetous eyes. To defy death is to be forever haunted by it.]

……

Lyndon used a knife to dismember the fishman corpse beneath him.

Fingers traced across the cold fish scales, the blade precisely slicing the junction of muscle and bone.

With each successful peeling, that deep voice echoed in my mind.

He never imagined that his skills would be used to kill fish!

Lyndon summoned the Book of Fate. As he watched the experience points steadily increase, the joy that welled up in his heart lessened the mental fatigue and boredom he felt.

However, the interspersed notification sounds left Lyndon completely baffled.

Similar remarks have been made ever since his primary profession changed from a corpse collector to an old burialist.

However, aside from reminding Lyndon that there was one more step he hadn't done each time he disposed of a body, he knew nothing else.

"What exactly does it want me to do?"

Lyndon cut the meat with increasing force.

This question has been bothering me for far too long.

"To appease those restless, voyeuristic beings..."

Lyndon pondered this sentence in his mind.

This statement still held some value for him.

Combined with the name of my current profession—the former burialist.

"Does this mean I have to bury their bodies?"

Linden looked at the fishman corpse, now a pile of bones under his blade, and made a guess.

After dealing with another merman corpse, Lyndon didn't leave it aside, but packed it up with its internal organs.

"Anyway, we can give it a try, what if?"

Lyndon thought for a moment, then pulled over another fishman corpse.

Just as Lyndon had predicted, he was busy with twelve merman corpses for almost the entire day.

His body, hair, and hands reeked of a strong smell of blood and fish.

Lyndon felt like he was being marinated.

He had intended to return to his cabin and get some rest.

But just as Lyndon lay down in the hammock, he was suddenly pulled up by Alastor.

Regardless of whether Lyndon was tired or not, Alastor insisted on dragging Lyndon out of the room.

Lyndon was dragged into the kitchen by Alastor like a puppet on a string.

In the kitchen, Burton and his daughter were each enjoying a plate of roast meat.

They seem to be enjoying their meal immensely.

"What are you eating? What smells so good?"

As soon as Lyndon entered the kitchen, he smelled the enticing aroma of roasted meat.

Following the aroma, Lyndon found a piece of meat grilling on a hot plate.

The grease sizzled on the hot iron plate.

Alastor simply sprinkled a pinch of coarse salt and some spices on the meat.

The hot oil brings out the aroma of the seasoning.

Lyndon couldn't help but swallow hard.

"Come on! Try my cooking!"

The roast meat was placed on a plate, and Alastor couldn't wait to use his fork to pick up a small piece and hand it to Lyndon.

Lyndon took the fork and hesitated for a moment.

"Mr. Lynn, you must try it! It's really delicious!" Giselle said, her eyes shining.

"Yes! Mr. Alastor's cooking is really superb!" Wesley also praised him highly.

Seeing the father and daughter say this, Lyndon blew on the roast meat and then put it in his mouth.

The moment the grilled meat enters your mouth, a unique sweet aroma travels from the tip of your tongue.

The blend of spices and caramel gave Lyndon a completely different experience.

Lyndon couldn't help but smile; this stuff actually tasted surprisingly good.

Indeed, the most delicious ingredients only require the simplest preparation methods.

"It tastes amazing! What kind of meat is this?"

Lyndon used his fork to pick up a piece and put it in his mouth.

Alastor smiled slightly: "It's the fish-man flesh you processed today!"

Lyndon was quite surprised to receive the answer.

He never imagined that the flesh of a different species could be so delicious.

"I left two fish with human flesh; that's enough for us to eat on the road," Alastor said, leaning against the table.

"And what about the rest?"

"Keeping the rest is a waste, so I plan to sell them all later."

"And what about the buyer?" Lyndon wondered. "Where are you going to find a buyer?"

"It will happen, it will happen," Alastor said confidently.

The cargo ship continued eastward along the canal, and a few hours later, a small river port town appeared ahead.

Alastor quickly directed Tom to dock.

As soon as the boat docked, Alastor jumped off and disappeared from their sight.

At first, Lyndon and his friends didn't know what Alastor was up to.

Tom responded, "Don't worry, the boss is as shrewd as a monkey. He's definitely got another idea. Just wait for him to come back!"

Seeing Tom say this, Lyndon and his daughter Burton said nothing more, and simply sat on the boat quietly waiting for Alastor to return.

It wasn't until dusk was almost over that Alastor leisurely returned to the ship.

Several burly men followed behind him.

Alastor led the big men around the warehouse, and then the men carried away the remaining fish-man meat.

He also had a stack of gold pounds in his hand.

"See? I told you, I'm never worried about not finding buyers!"

Alastor proudly showed off the money he had just earned that day to the group of people.

Lyndon exclaimed in disbelief, "As expected of Alastor! You dare to sell exotic meat in a place where you know no one. Aren't you afraid the sheriff will come after you?"

Upon hearing this, Alastor said mysteriously to Lyndon, "It's alright, the sheriff will be here soon too! I sold the fish-man organs to them at a low price!"

Lyndon glanced at Alastor and remained silent for a long time.

In the end, it all boiled down to a single sentence: "Six..."

The cargo ship rested for a day in the river port town, and Alastor also made a fortune by selling fish and human flesh on that day!

Before setting off, he lay in his hammock, smiling as he counted the banknotes in his hand.

For some reason, the people who ate the fish-man flesh felt an inexhaustible amount of energy.

Even though it was past midnight, the group was still quite energetic.

"Tom! Aren't you going to rest for a while?"

Lyndon went into the driver's seat and inquired about Tom's condition.

"No need." Tom took the helm, his eyes shining brightly ahead. "Mr. Lyndon, I'm full of energy! Go back to your room and sit down! I'm going to speed things up!"

"Full power, forward!"

……

As the cargo ship broke through the slightly murky waters at the end of the canal, the roaring whistle also carried a hint of weariness.

The group stood at the bow of the ship, gazing at the uneven buildings in the harbor.

Unlike the foggy city of Vertlin, where a persistent gray fog hangs over the place, the port here is bathed in sunlight, as if covered by a thin veil of pale gold.

"Dad! Look!"

Giselle was as joyful as a little bird, and she pointed lightly into the distance.

Tears welled up in Wesley's eyes as well.

"I see her, daughter! Wiltling! We're home!"