I became a god through archaeology in the Wizarding World.

In front of the iron gate at the junction of the Lower District and the Upper District.

Thousands of civilians who attempted to storm the checkpoint were driven back by heavily armed military police with spears and heavy shields.

Several bodies lay inside the cordon, and blood flowed down the drainage ditch, quickly turning black.

The crowd's initial angry roars gradually turned into desperate cries, and finally into deathly silence.

Several Royal Engineers, dressed in heavy protective suits, are using high-temperature spray guns to weld the last gap shut.

A three-inch-thick steel plate completely separated the two worlds, preventing even air from circulating.

Everyone understood that they had been abandoned.

……

Hongshui Bar, the largest underground gang gathering place in the lower city.

The air here is murky, a mixture of the smells of cheap tobacco, alcohol, and sweat.

This place is usually filled with noise and fights, but today it's so quiet you can only hear breathing.

One-Eyed Buck sat at the center of a round table, toying with a boning knife in his hand.

He was a burly man with a black eyepatch over his left eye and bloodshot eyes staring at the flickering kerosene lamp on the table.

Around him sat the leaders of three other gangs.

Normally, these people would draw their swords against each other when they met, but now they were all as wilted as frostbitten eggplants.

"The road up is blocked," Buck's hoarse voice broke the silence. "The sewer exits are also welded shut with iron bars. We're like rats in a jar."

"The food will last for three more days," another gaunt man said grimly. "After three days, without those green monsters lifting a finger, we'll be killing each other over a piece of moldy bread."

Just then, the bar's previously closed door was pushed open.

Just as the two burly men guarding the door were about to stop them, a heavy bag of gold coins hit them in the chest.

Benjamin walked in with somewhat unsteady steps.

He was still wearing that somewhat dirty silk suit and carrying a heavy black leather suitcase.

Although his legs were trembling slightly, he wore a strange, confident smile.

"Good evening, everyone." Benjamin wiped the sweat from his brow, walked over to the round table, pulled out a chair, and sat down. "Looks like the atmosphere here isn't quite right."

"Benjamin?" Buck narrowed his one eye, slamming the boning knife into the table with a sharp, penetrating motion. "What are you doing here, you swindler? If you're here to sell your fake medicine, I'll skin you alive and make boots out of your skin right now."

"I'm here to save your lives." Benjamin was not intimidated. He placed the black leather suitcase on the table and slowly opened it.

Twenty test tubes were neatly arranged in the box, the pale blue liquid gleaming enchantingly in the dim light.

"What is this?" Buck frowned.

"Silence Potion," Benjamin said calmly. "A royal supply, extremely rare outside. It suppresses toxins in the body, prevents mutations, and can even allow you to breathe freely in spore-filled air for three hours."

The leaders' breathing instantly became heavy.

The thin man reached out to grab it, but Benjamin pressed the lid down on him.

"Don't rush, there's no such thing as a free lunch." Benjamin's smile faded, his eyes sharpening. "This is an opportunity Mr. Rhodes is giving you. Not for you to escape and save your lives, but to buy your labor."

"Rhodes? That freak from the academy?" Buck sneered. "What does he want? Money? Women?"

He wants order.

Benjamin held up one finger: "First, from now on, stop all robbery and infighting. All gang members must be reorganized into patrol teams to maintain order in the lower city."

He held up his second finger: "Second, collect all the corpses, whether they've just died or have mutated, and burn them all. Not a single intact corpse can be left."

"Third..." Benjamin lowered his voice, "and most importantly. Mr. Rhodes needs you to organize a suicide squad, take this drug into the sewers, and clean up the pollution points that are breeding there."

"Are you crazy?" the skinny man screamed. "Send us to the sewers? They're full of monsters now! That's suicide!"

"Staying here is the same as dying." Benjamin looked at him coldly. "It's already sealed off. Once the plague fully breaks out, you'll all become those walking corpses that only ooze green fluid. But if you do as I say, Mr. Rhodes promises to provide a corresponding amount of medicine and food for each area cleared."

Buck's eyes changed when he heard the word "food".

He knew very well that in this closed environment, whoever controlled the antibodies and food would be the new king.

"How many potions do you have?" Buck asked.

"Enough to keep the obedient ones alive," Benjamin replied ambiguously.

Buck remained silent for ten seconds.

He looked at the box of medicine, then glanced at his colleagues around him, whose faces were filled with greed.

"make a deal."

Buck pulled out the boning knife from the table and slammed it down on the neck of the still hesitant, thin man.

Blood gushed out, and the man clutched his throat and collapsed.

"He wouldn't listen, so I cleaned him up for Mr. Rhodes." Buck wiped the blood off his knife expressionlessly. "From now on, the Bloodhand Gang is in charge of order here. Anyone who dares to cause trouble, I'll kill them."

Benjamin's eyes twitched as he watched this scene, but he forced himself to remain calm.

He knew that in this ditch, only such barbaric means could establish the most basic order.

……

Half an hour later, the chaotic situation in the lower city took a miraculous turn.

Several major gangs, led by the Blood Hands Gang, quickly completed their integration.

Those thugs who usually only collected protection money have now become the most efficient executioners under the threat of death and the lure of the drug.

On the streets, groups of gang members wearing red ribbons began patrolling.

They lacked the sophisticated equipment of the military police; instead, they carried axes, iron bars, and homemade Molotov cocktails.

Any civilian found with wounds or signs of mutation would be immediately dragged out, executed in the street, and thrown into a hastily dug cremation pit.

Thick columns of black smoke rose from all over the lower town, carrying a burnt smell, but this smell actually gave the survivors a sense of reassurance, at least indicating that someone was dealing with the problem.

Benjamin stood on the second floor of the Red Water Bar, looking out at the cruel yet orderly scene outside the window, and let out a long sigh.

He completed the task assigned by Rhodes.

Meanwhile, the first suicide squad, personally selected by Buck, had already drunk the diluted silencing agent and pried open the manhole cover leading to the sewer.

This group consisted of twelve of the most ruthless outlaws, each carrying a torch and a greased machete.

The sewers were cold and damp, the walls were covered with dark green moss, and the air was filled with a nauseating smell of decay.

"Everyone, stay alert!" the scarred leader hissed. "Chop anything that moves, then burn it."

They advanced five hundred meters along the main pipeline.

Strangely, the expected horde of corpses did not appear.

There were some scattered limbs on the ground, as well as traces of slime left by dragging.

"Something's not right." Scarface stopped and raised a torch to illuminate the path ahead.

At the crossroads ahead, the mutated corpses that should have been scattered and wandering around were now showing an astonishing uniformity.

They did not attack the group of living people, nor did they even react to the firelight.

These monsters, their bodies severely decayed and covered in green mycelium, were walking with stiff but orderly steps toward a certain direction deep in the sewers, like a group of pilgrims on their way.

"Follow them and see." Scarface gritted his teeth, waved for his men to extinguish the torches, leaving only a dim lantern.

They cautiously followed behind the horde of corpses, navigating through the complex underground pipe network.

As they went deeper, more and more corpses appeared.

From just a few at the beginning, it grew to dozens, and eventually became a long, densely packed line.

When these corpses passed through some forks in the road, they completely ignored the shortcuts to the surface and instead focused solely on heading deeper underground.

Finally, at the edge of a huge underground reservoir, the Expendables stopped.

The sight before them sent chills down the spines of even the most ruthless killers.

Hundreds of mutated corpses were gathered in the center of the reservoir. They were not tearing each other apart, but rather piling up in layers, using their own bodies to build a flesh altar.

At the center of that altar, a huge tumor could be vaguely seen throbbing, each throbbing accompanied by a low humming sound, as if it were some kind of summoning signal.

All the corpses were offering themselves as sacrifices to that tumor.

"Hurry, let's go..." Scarface's voice trembled. "This isn't a plague at all..."

He was about to turn around and retreat when he remembered the purpose of his trip.

He gritted his teeth, took a few steps forward, swung his knife and cut off the exposed arm of the tumor, then turned and ran.