This Dungeon Grew Mushrooms

Long ago, Lin Jun had already realized that for him to level up, he needed to kill far more monsters and decompose far more corpses than any ordinary adventurer.

He’d made many guesses as to why. The most plausible one was that whether it was killing, decomposing, or gathering energy through the mycelium carpet, all those actions were carried out through his extended network of mycelium and pujis—not directly by his main body.

Perhaps, he thought, there was a massive loss of experience during transmission. This idea was supported by how the pujis’ skill training efficiency worked.

If there truly were no loss, then with tens of thousands of pujis training nonstop for a single day, his gains would equal another person’s thirty years of practice.

But reality wasn’t so generous. While the efficiency was indeed higher than normal, it was nowhere near that absurd level.

Until now, Lin Jun had assumed it was because both experience and proficiency were heavily reduced when passed back to him.

But looking at things now… maybe that wasn’t the case at all.

Maybe his own level just required vastly more experience than others—not double or triple, but hundreds or even thousands of times more.

Was it because of his soul again…?

After all, if there was one thing that truly set him apart from others, it was the sheer size of his soul.

He couldn’t help but wonder—if he’d been reborn not as a mushroom but as a regular human or demon, would such experience demands mean he could never even reach level 20 in his lifetime?

There were indeed many humans and demons who spent their whole lives stuck at low levels, unable to advance no matter how hard they tried.

After his mycelium network reached the surface, Lin Jun had spent some time observing such people.

But when he examined them using [Inspiration Lv.7], he found nothing unusual about the size of their souls.

And their situation wasn’t like his—they didn’t level up slowly, but rather hit an invisible barrier at a certain level. Unless something extraordinary happened, they simply couldn’t progress.

Even with immense effort, they could only squeeze out one or two more levels at most. Old Dylan was a perfect example.

Clearly, that was different from Lin Jun’s current state, where his growth continued steadily—it just required enormous experience.

Still, discovering that the life-energy water had little effect on his own leveling was undeniably disappointing.

But objectively, Lin Jun’s current rate of growth wasn’t bad at all.

Since expanding the mycelium network, the large-scale combination of [Mana Harvest] and [Photosynthesis] had actually made his progression from level 63 to 64 faster than when he went from 60 to 61.

When Lin Jun used [Life Essence] himself, it acted like a powerful enhancement skill.

He’d once loaded it onto an S-class Crystal Knight Puji—and the result had been astonishing. The puji displayed battle strength worthy of the Sanctum tier and sustained it far longer than normal.

In truth, using all this life water on himself now seemed wasteful. It’d be better to distribute it strategically.

Of course, after dilution.

Core members would all get a share. Gray would get a bit more—her growth potential justified it. If not for the diminishing returns after repeated doses, Lin Jun might’ve given her half of all production.

And as for why only half? Because his group had another promising talent—Ming.

[Physical Immunity].

Even Lin Jun couldn’t imagine how powerful Ming could become once fully trained.

He’d once thought Ming might level too slowly and end up as a glorified shield like the Yellow Tome. But now, with [Life Essence], he could rapidly raise Ming’s strength instead!

As for Norris, Piglet, and Hunter, a little diluted mixture would suffice.

Speaking of Ming—it was time to “cultivate feelings” again.

…

Puji—squelch—

Puji puji puji—

The Marshal Puji still wore its bright red cloak, seated proudly on the mushroom cap throne of a specially crafted fat puji.

Behind and before it marched eighteen pujis forming an honor guard.

Each member of this guard possessed the [Chitin Shell] skill, their bodies shaped after refinement into ornate, impractical—but undeniably stylish—armor.

The Marshal Puji wasn’t Lin Jun’s real body, but to most inhabitants of the Puji Fort, that was his public image. Naturally, the display had to look grand.

As they passed through several caverns, the demonic workers cultivating plants or breeding monsters all paused and performed a simple tribal salute upon seeing the procession.

That wasn’t Lin Jun’s demand—it was simply that his status had long surpassed that of an ordinary chieftain.

Anyone with memory intact could tell. Comparing their old tribes to the current Puji Fort made it clear—the fortress’s might had already surpassed what any northern tribe could achieve, edging closer to the domain of a Northern King.

For the average citizen, Lin Jun had become an awe-inspiring figure—feared, revered, admired, and even worshipped. Under Xinghou’s deliberate guidance, these emotions had gradually formed a basic ceremonial culture.

And why did Xinghou encourage this? As head of diplomacy, he believed a majestic image for the boss made it easier to subdue and integrate other tribes.

Though, admittedly, no visiting chieftain had ever looked at the Marshal Puji and thought “majestic” on first sight…

Eventually, the Puji King’s procession arrived at a heavily modified cavern.

Calling it a cavern wasn’t quite right anymore—it was more like a massive underground colosseum, the air thick with the faint scent of blood, though Lin Jun himself couldn’t smell it.

This was Ming’s daily training ground.

At the moment, the arena floor was piled with all sorts of low-grade monster corpses. Clearly, Ming had completed the first phase of his training—combat against beasts—and was now in the second phase: fighting people.

Facing him were several D-rank fighters selected for their comparable level.

If they could defeat Ming, they’d be allowed to leave the dungeon and spend a week in the Puji Fort, living freely under a false identity.

That reward had become their greatest motivation, so they fought with everything they had.

Of course, Ming wasn’t some harmless kitten. Judging by the surrounding bodies, he occasionally “spent” a few D-rank challengers in battle.

In this round, the opposing team knew Ming’s terrifying defenses. Two mages handled offense while three melee fighters coordinated to restrain him. Their goal wasn’t to kill, but to capture.

Not because they didn’t want to kill—but because they couldn’t. Ming’s [Physical Immunity], combined with [Magic Resistance Lv.9] and [Regeneration], made him absurdly hard to bring down. Even draining a mage’s mana reserves might not be enough.

Today, their strength seemed evenly matched. Ming was nearly pinned several times, but in the end, he found an opening—killing a warrior with one strike, kicking a mage across the arena, and crushing the rest soon after.

When the fight ended, Ming, bloodied and panting heavily, spotted the Marshal Puji watching from the stands. His face lit up, and he ran over excitedly.

“Boss! I won again today!”

The Marshal Puji extended a tendril, wrapping around Ming’s bloodstained head. “Well done, Ming. As expected of you. You’ll be one of my strongest lieutenants one day.”

Beaming with pride at the praise, Ming grinned. “Not one of—the strongest! I’ll be the best helper you have!”

“Good spirit! Then you’ll need to grow even stronger. Let me give you a hand.”

With that, the Marshal Puji offered him a fresh drop of life water.

[Level Up: LV22 → LV23]

Grow quickly…