Steam Old Days: The Extraordinary Begins with a Corpse Collector

Recognizing that the person sitting at the bar was Alastor, Lyndon smiled slightly. He straightened his hair while looking at his reflection in the glass, and then pushed open the door of "Old Oak Barrel".

This pub is located in the new town, so the decor is not as rough as that in the old town, but rather quite sophisticated.

Lyndon tiptoed and quietly walked up behind Alastor.

At this moment, Alastor had not yet noticed Lyndon standing behind him; he was still drinking alone.

Lyndon was also surprised to learn that Alastor had such a high alcohol tolerance.

In the blink of an eye, he had finished a full glass of malt beer.

He was still not satisfied and raised his glass to ask the bartender to refill it.

"Mr. Alastor, indeed a huge amount."

Lyndon took the opportunity to put his hand on Alastor's shoulder.

Alasto froze, his hand holding the wine glass hanging in mid-air.

He turned around abruptly, and upon seeing it was Lyndon, a look of surprise flashed in his eyes behind his glasses, as if he hadn't expected to see Lyndon here again.

"Mr. Copperfield, I never thought we'd meet again."

Alastor handed the glass to the bartender, stood up from the bar stool, and put on a familiar smile.

"Yeah!" Lyndon simply agreed, then sat down in the empty seat next to Alastor and said to the bartender, "A glass of malt... no, porter."

After ordering the drinks, Lyndon asked Alastor enthusiastically.

"It seems the boss came to the new district to start a pretty big business."

Alastor waved his hand, took the beer the bartender handed him, took a sip, leaned forward slightly, and whispered, "You don't know, I recently met a big client. I just bought a batch of goods from him and made three thousand gold pounds."

He patted Lyndon on the shoulder; his face was flushed and his eyes were somewhat glazed from the alcohol.

"By the way, what about the ghoul fangs we talked about last time? Still one gold pound and five shillings?"

Seeing that Alastor had brought up fangs, Lyndon awkwardly took a sip of his drink and remained silent.

Seeing Lyndon's wandering gaze, Alastor's expression changed instantly. He stared intently at Lyndon and moved closer and closer.

"What? Could it be...?"

Alastor suddenly pressed down on Lyndon's shoulder, which startled Lyndon, causing his hand to tremble and spill some wine.

"Did you sell it to someone else?!"

Alastor suddenly shouted.

Lyndon was startled at first, then his mind quickly processed what had happened, and he pretended to look regretful.

He slapped his thigh and complained to himself, "Oh dear! I'm not lying to you, it's just that they really offered a higher price, three shillings more than you!"

Lyndon made an exaggerated expression and held up three fingers toward Alastor.

Alastor's gaze toward Lyndon gradually sharpened, making Lyndon tense.

Then Alastor grasped one of Lyndon's fingers and said slowly, "This, this is six fingers, you've extended too many."

But after bending down one finger, Alastor said, "Huh? Why is there one more?"

As he bent down another finger, Alastor became even more confused. How come there was one less finger?

Alastor, drunk, fiddled with Lyndon's fingers, trying to figure out exactly how many fingers Lyndon had extended.

The scene was somewhat comical for a moment.

"So you were drunk. I thought you were something special just by drinking. Turns out you're not much of a drinker after all."

Lyndon muttered to himself as he withdrew his fingers from Alastor's hand.

"I'll make it up to you about the fangs later."

"Next time?" Alastor tilted his head and let out a loud burp. "Oh well, that's how business is... By the way, what brings you to the new district? Is that bastard who stole my business in the new district?"

Alastor downed another half-glass of beer in one gulp.

Lyndon's eyebrows twitched when he saw this way of drinking.

He turned his head, his fingertips sliding along the rim of the cup, his eyes becoming deep.

As if by some strange twist of fate, Lyndon complained, "I came here to work, but I had bad luck and ended up with a corpse that was killed by a nightmare."

"nightmare!???"

Alastor, who was still drunk just moments before, became instantly excited upon hearing the word "nightmare."

The businessman's nature took over his mind in an instant.

His earlier drunkenness vanished completely, replaced by shrewdness in his eyes.

At this moment, Alastor was probably more lucid than ever.

"Copperfield, my good sir, are you sure it's a nightmare?"

Alastor was practically pressing down on Lyndon, his lips moving and his strong smell of alcohol spraying onto Lyndon's face.

"Yes, at least according to that lady's description, yes."

Lyndon shifted his position, trying to create some distance between himself and Alastor.

But Alastor was like a leech, clinging to Lyndon no matter what.

"However, we'll have to wait for the church representatives to arrive to find out the specifics."

Upon hearing the word "church," Alastor wailed in despair.

"The church? How can we let the church interfere? We can't let them interfere! We can't!"

Not content with just wailing, Alastor also slapped the bar with his palm, a sound that drew the attention of other patrons.

He shook Lyndon's shoulders, trying desperately to dissuade him from this foolish idea.

"Good sir, once those people are taught, everything—I mean all the valuable stuff, all the good stuff they squeezed from the Nightmare—will be gone!"

Upon hearing this, Lyndon couldn't help but smile wryly and said, "Nightmare doesn't have a physical form, so what good stuff could it possibly have? Besides, do you really think I can handle it?"

"No! That's not right!" Alastor cried out, his eyes wide with madness.

"Nightmares certainly have physical forms! Just like magic! Magic is invisible and intangible, but can you say that those royal magicians were all frauds? That that magic is unstudiable?"

"And nightmares aren't difficult to deal with!"

Nightmares aren't that hard to deal with...

Lyndon was in a daze. He keenly sensed that Alastor must be hiding information that could deal with nightmares, and that he could also make a considerable profit from it.

He remained calm and asked Alastor in return, "From what you're saying, you seem to know a lot about this alien species. Tell me about it."

Under the influence of alcohol, Alastor was blinded by the huge profits before him, and he blurted out all the information he knew.

It turns out that mental anomalies like Nightmare are usually supported by a strand of the strongest spiritual power.

What people in the church usually call spiritual awareness!

This wisp of spiritual consciousness is essential for many top-tier magical potions, or for the cultivation of some spiritual extraordinary beings!

Therefore, its value far exceeds that of many physical alien organs. If one could truly collect even a wisp of spiritual consciousness, even just a wisp, it could make a person rich overnight!

After hearing Alastor's description, Lyndon was instantly intrigued.

He hadn't expected the nightmare to be so valuable. If he could really gather that wisp of spiritual consciousness, he might be able to achieve his goal of leaving the old city.

Do not!

Even reaching the extraordinary!

In response, Lyndon quickly asked, "Then what should I do?"

"Kill it."

"How do we kill him?"

"Use your extraordinary abilities."

Lyndon looked puzzled.

But Alastor seemed to see right through Lyndon, and chuckled mischievously, "Still lying to me? Don't you Witchers all rely on potions for power?"

The Witcher? Potions?

Now it was Lyndon's turn to be dumbfounded. "Who told you this? I don't know anything about it!"