I became a god through archaeology in the Wizarding World.

The underground world of Plymouth is far larger, more complex, and dirtier than the city above.

If the Upper Town is the crown of this city, then the Rust Alley in the Lower Town is its intestines, swallowing all the filth and breeding the darkest deals.

Located at the intersection of a massive urban drainage system and abandoned mine tunnels, this place is perpetually shrouded in darkness, with the air thick with the mixed smells of sulfur, musty tobacco, and engine oil.

Rod and Benjamin walked on the muddy boardwalk.

Although both of them wore gas masks that covered half of their faces, it still couldn't completely block out the nauseating smell.

The surrounding area was bustling with people: witch doctors selling illegal potions, dwarves selling smuggled guns, and prostitutes with empty eyes who sold their bodies.

Steam pipes crisscrossed overhead, occasionally spewing out bursts of scorching white steam with a piercing hiss.

"Who are we looking for?" Benjamin asked warily, his hand on the shotgun at his waist, his eyes scanning the hostile gazes around him.

"Old blind man," Rod lowered his voice, "He's the biggest scrap metal recycler in all of Plymouth, and the only one who can get his hands on deep-sea silver and high-purity mithril. I bought a lot of stuff from him a long time ago. Of course, he also has some newer stuff."

The two walked through an alleyway covered with rusty gears and arrived at a building that had been converted from a huge abandoned boiler.

Two burly men, each over two meters tall, stood at the entrance. Their arms had undergone crude mechanical modifications, with hydraulic pistons replacing their original muscles. They carried heavy rivet hammers, and their bare upper bodies were covered in grease and scars.

"Halt!" one of the burly men said in a booming voice, blocking the way. His one eye flashed with a fierce light. "Private property, no trespassing. Unless you have an invitation from the old blind man, or..." He rubbed his fingers together, the meaning of which was self-evident.

Rod didn't speak, but calmly removed the gas mask from his face, revealing his pale but angular face.

In that instant, the once noisy entrance to the boiler room seemed to be put on pause.

The burly man's cloudy electronic prosthetic eye suddenly contracted, and the mechanical arm emitted a screeching sound.

His fierce expression froze instantly, replaced by a comical look that was a mixture of shock, fear, and bewilderment.

"Count Rhodes...?!"

The exclamation wasn't loud, but it sounded like a thunderclap in the noisy, rusty alley.

The black market vendors who were haggling over prices, the thugs who were fighting, and even the beggars huddled in the corner all turned around at once.

Rod Griffin.

The name has a special magic in Plymouth.

He was the youngest honorary scholar in the royal family, a genius who single-handedly saved the plague, and a nobleman who was granted the title of Earl.

Although there have been recent rumors that he has been caught up in some kind of political vortex, in the eyes of these people at the bottom of society, he is still that high-ranking figure who only exists in the headlines of newspapers.

"My God, it really is that genius scholar..."

"Why would he come to a godforsaken place like this?"

"I heard he's being ostracized because he offended the Iron Duke..."

"Shh! Don't talk nonsense. That's a big shot who can create an antidote for the plague. Look at his eyes, they're so cold..."

Whispers spread like a tide.

People felt more awe than curiosity; after all, in this world where steam and magic coexist, knowledge often meant the purest form of power.

Rhodes ignored this.

He put his mask back on, revealing only a pair of cold eyes as he looked at the burly man: "May I go in now?"

"Of course! Please come in! If the old blind man knew you were coming, he would definitely bring out the best tea!" The burly man hurriedly stepped aside, almost tripping over his own foot because of the large movement, and the rivet hammer in his hand almost hit his toes.

The heavy iron door was pushed open, and a wave of heat rushed out.

The boiler room was a huge warehouse filled with all sorts of scrap metal.

Gears, bearings, broken steam arms, and even a few rusted old cannons.

In the dark corner of the warehouse, hanging were some huge, dried animal skeletons, the remains of some kind of large sea monster.

At the far end of the warehouse, a gaunt old man sat atop a mountain of parts, holding a precision screwdriver, disassembling a mechanical prosthetic eye.

He was indeed blind, with two dark, empty holes where his eyes were, but his hand movements were more precise than those of anyone with normal vision.

"Why is it suddenly so quiet outside?" The old blind man didn't look up, his voice hoarse as if he were rubbing sandpaper. "Has some important person arrived, or is the military police here to raid?"

"it's me."

Rod's voice echoed in the empty warehouse.

The old blind man's hand suddenly stopped.

He slowly raised his head, his two dark eyes seemingly staring intently in Rhodes' direction.

Although he couldn't see, his keen hearing seemed to have already sketched out the outline of the person who was coming.

"That voice... it has a scholarly air, yet it also carries a cold, hard edge, like raw iron." The old blind man grinned, revealing a set of broken, yellow teeth. "A rare guest, Earl Rhodes. What are you doing in my rat hole instead of enjoying coffee and applause in your laboratory in the upper city?"

"A deal." Rhodes cut to the chase, his gaze sweeping over the hanging skeletons. "I want five hundred pounds of cold-forged steel, ten ounces of mithril powder, and... that complete skeleton of the Abyss Crocodile in the corner, as well as a complete mid-level magic core."

The old blind man's smile froze.

He put down his tools and jumped down from the mountain of parts, his movements as agile as an old man.

"What an appetite." The old blind man walked up to Rhodes, stopping precisely two steps away despite his blindness. "All of this combined is enough to buy several blocks in the lower city. Moreover, intermediate-level magic cores are military-controlled supplies. Are you planning a rebellion, Your Excellency?"

"That's none of your business," Rod said calmly. "You just need to tell me if you have any in stock."

"Yes, there is." The old blind man rubbed his greasy hands, a troubled look on his face, "but..."

Just then, heavy footsteps came from beside the iron railings on the second floor of the warehouse.

"However, I have already reserved these items."

A rough and arrogant voice came from above.

Rod and Benjamin looked up at the same time.

A man in a dark red military uniform, with a hideous scar on his face, stood by the railing, looking down at them. Behind him stood a row of soldiers holding repeating rifles, the dark muzzles pointed downwards.

"Kruger," Benjamin gritted his teeth as he uttered the name, "the mad dog under the Iron Duke, the scavenger of the black market."

Kruger was toying with a crystal that emitted a ghostly blue light; it was the intermediate-level magic core that Rhode desperately needed.

He looked at Rhodes, his eyes full of mockery: "Oh, isn't this our great genius Earl Rhodes? What's wrong? Your friends won't lend you money, so you have to come here to scavenge?"

Rhodes' expression remained unchanged, only his eyes narrowed slightly.

The energy fluctuation frequency of the core in Kruger's hand, the load-bearing limit of the railing upstairs, the muscle tension required for those soldiers to pull the trigger, the movement trajectory of dust particles in the air... everything was instantly analyzed in his mind.

"Kruger," Rhodes said calmly, "give me the stuff. I can pretend I didn't see you."

"Huh?!" Kruger burst into exaggerated laughter, as if he'd heard the funniest joke, bending over with laughter. "Pretending not to see me? Rhodes, have you gone mad from reading too much? This is Rust Alley, not your ivory tower! Here, whoever has more guns is right!"

He abruptly stopped smiling, a ruthless glint flashing in his eyes—a murderous aura that could only be cultivated through countless deaths: "Make your move! Just don't kill them!"

Kruger waved his hand.

Bang bang bang!

A burst of gunfire instantly echoed throughout the warehouse.

Flames spewed out, and dozens of lead bullets rained down like a storm, blocking all of Rhodes's escape routes.

"Rhodes!" Benjamin roared, about to rush over to cover him.

But Rod was faster than him.

In his vision, time seemed to slow down.

Rhodes clearly saw the trajectory of each bullet, the expansion rate of the gunpowder burning at the muzzle, and the slight effect of air resistance on the trajectory.

In his eyes, it was no longer a deadly hail of bullets, but countless crisscrossing red lines.

As long as you don't touch these lines, it's safe.

Rhodes moved.

His movements were extremely small, yet incredibly precise.

Turn your head to the side, turn your body to the side, slide your feet, and lower your head.

With a series of ghostly movements, he strolled leisurely through the dense hail of bullets.

The bullets grazed his clothes and hair, striking the ground and the pile of metal, sending up countless sparks, but they didn't even scratch his skin.

"This...how is this possible?!"

Kruger upstairs stared wide-eyed, as if he'd seen a ghost. "This can't be! Keep firing! Blow him up!"

"It's too late."

Rod's cold voice rang out clearly amidst the gunshots.

The metal floor beneath his feet suddenly shattered, and he was launched into the air like a cannonball, leaping directly onto the second-floor railing.

"Stop him!" Kruger retreated in alarm, drawing his sword from his waist.

Two soldiers raised their muskets, intending to fire at close range.

Rhodes didn't use magic; he simply reached out and lightly touched the barrels of the two muskets.

Click.

That was the sound of a metal structure being destroyed.

"Structural weakness confirmed."

The next second, both muskets exploded simultaneously!

"Aaaaah!" The soldier screamed as he collapsed to the ground, clutching his blown-out hand.

Without pausing, Rhodes, like a black whirlwind, instantly broke through the soldiers' defenses and arrived in front of Kruger.

"You bookworm..." Kruger roared and swung his sword, the blade glowing with a faint red aura of battle energy.

But in Rhodes' eyes, the sword strike was as slow as a slow-motion replay.

He sidestepped the blade, his left hand flashing out like lightning, precisely seizing Kruger's wrist.

"The point of force application is at the wrist joint, at the three o'clock position."

Click!

The crisp sound of bones cracking was enough to make your teeth ache.

"Ah!" Kruger let out a pig-like scream as his sword clattered to the ground.

Rhodes remained expressionless, his right hand petrified, and with immense force, slammed it heavily into Kruger's chest.

boom!

Kruger's burly body flew backward like a rag doll, crashing heavily into the wall behind him and creating spiderweb-like cracks in the thick brickwork.

He coughed up blood, his ribs were broken in countless places, and he collapsed to the ground, only able to exhale and not inhale.

The dark blue magic core slipped from his hand.

Rhodes reached out and caught the core steadily.

The entire warehouse fell into a deathly silence.

Although the old blind man downstairs couldn't see, he could hear all the sounds.

His empty eye sockets trembled slightly, as if he were reassessing the value of the young man before him.

Benjamin's mouth dropped open, and he even forgot to raise the shotgun in his hand.

He knew Rhodes had become stronger, but he hadn't expected him to be this strong.

The black market vendors who had been watching the spectacle were so frightened that they didn't dare to breathe.

The legendary Earl of Rhodes was a frail scholar who only knew how to draw blueprints and invent things; even if he had the talent of a flesh-and-blood wizard, he probably wouldn't be very strong.

But what they just witnessed completely overturned their understanding.

Their ruthless, precise, and efficient fighting style was more terrifying than any professional assassin they had ever seen.

Rhodes walked up to the dying Kruger, squatted down, and looked at him coldly.

"Go back and tell Balthazar."

Rod's voice wasn't loud, but it resonated clearly in everyone's ears.

"I know his secret..."

After saying that, he stood up, put the magic core into his pocket, and turned to look at the old blind man downstairs.

"Load the remaining materials, and the skeleton, onto the truck. Benjamin will pay for it."

The old blind man was silent for a moment, then suddenly grinned, revealing a smile that was even more respectful and greedy than before.

"As you wish, Your Excellency... Wizard."

……

Half an hour later, a carriage loaded with metal materials and huge animal bones drove out of Rust Alley.

Benjamin was still somewhat shaken as he drove.

"Rhodes, those moves you just made... were absolutely amazing! How did you do that? It was like those bullets were deliberately avoiding you!"

Rod sat in the carriage, his eyes closed, his face somewhat pale.

The intense battle he just fought had taken a huge toll on his mental health.

Although it was only a short minute, he felt as if his brain had been branded with a red-hot iron.

Human nature was suppressed to the extreme in that state, and the feeling of absolute rationality both fascinated and terrified him.

"It's just calculations," Rod said wearily, his voice a little hoarse.

"Calculate? Who can calculate that?" Benjamin shook his head. "Anyway, we have the materials. We have the core. What's your next step?"

Rhode opened his eyes and looked at the dark blue magic core in his arms, as well as the cold-forged steel and the huge skull of the abyssal crocodile at his feet.

In his mind, a vast, complex blueprint, filled with the aesthetics of violence, was slowly unfolding.

That was no ordinary puppet.

That was the ultimate weapon, combining First Age Titan technology with modern alchemy.

"Benjamin."

"Um?"

"We're not building a soldier," Rhodes said, a fanatical smile playing on his lips. "We're building an executioner."

As the carriage entered the night, the torrential rain poured down again, drowning out the sound of the wheels and the impending storm that was about to engulf the city.

In Rhodes' pocket, besides the core, there was something else.

That was a crumpled piece of parchment that had just been taken from Kruger.

In the dim light inside the carriage, Rod unfolded the paper.

The drawing depicts a bizarre biological structure, and in the lower right corner of the drawing is a peculiar symbol.

That wasn't the Iron Duke's emblem, but rather an eye made of countless intertwined tentacles.

"The Abyss Cult..."

Rhodes' pupils contracted sharply.

Things were more complicated than he had imagined.

The Iron Duke wasn't just engaging in bioalchemy; he even colluded with madmen who worshipped the Old Gods.

Rhodes gripped the parchment tightly.

In the torrential rain, the signboard of Black Cat Bookstore swayed in the wind, like an eye peering in the darkness, quietly waiting for its prey to return.