This Dungeon Grew Mushrooms

Although No. 4 was the one dragging Inanna out with great momentum, the moment they stepped outside, it froze.

After all, this was not the Mushroom Garden it was familiar with.

It had absolutely no idea which direction to go.

So in the end, it was still Inanna leading the two pujis, weaving through the camp’s twisting paths, until they reached the temporary command tent—where Arama and Lorenzo were sitting in tense silence.

Inanna wasn’t actually letting herself be dragged around by No. 4 blindly.

Before stepping out, she had already used the mycelial network to quietly ask the boss for guidance.

Lin Jun simply told her to conceal certain key information.

Lin Jun knew perfectly well that the spread of the mycelium carpet and the puji troop’s unusual traits could no longer be dismissed as the behavior of an ordinary magical creature.

He had known it from the moment the mycelium carpet covered the entire valley.

After hearing Arama and Lorenzo’s private discussions—discussions they tried very hard to keep away from puji ears.

But they didn’t understand the carpet.

Every inch of the valley’s mycelium carpet was Lin Jun’s senses extended outward.

Human leadership already suspected there was far more behind the pujis.

But with a massive enemy pressing in, they still had to rely on this mysterious force, making it impossible—and unsafe—to confront the truth.

But not being able to investigate did not mean they weren’t on guard.

Lin Jun’s intention was simple:

Since humans already suspected the pujis possessed intelligence, he would give them exactly that—intelligent pujis.

As he’d often told Little Xi:

“Whoever controls the pujis controls the world.”

His thirteen intelligent pujis would each be assigned someday.

Several to the Northern Frontier, several to major human powers, some to the elves—even the demons could get a few.

Let everyone see that those who gained the trust and cooperation of “intelligent pujis” would wield puji power.

Whether anyone suspected risks didn’t matter.

As long as Lin Jun stayed hidden, and the pujis provided real, tangible benefits…

Then if someone rejected puji aid because of suspicion, they’d simply be giving up power directly within their grasp.

This was Lin Jun’s open scheme.

And all of it served one ultimate purpose:

To spread his mycelium carpet everywhere, gathering nutrients and magic to continually strengthen himself.

Truthfully, Lin Jun did not want to look like some ambitious, world-conquering demon king.

But the words of the Divine Tree still echoed in his mind.

Ten years at minimum.

Perhaps decades.

And then the world might end.

Lin Jun couldn’t be certain that the powerful being was telling the truth…

But the signs of decay throughout the world made him unwilling to gamble.

With so little time left, the continent’s races still wasted themselves on civil wars and racial grudges.

Rather than expecting ancient enemies to suddenly unite and face a mysterious apocalypse…

Lin Jun felt it was more realistic to bring everyone under the radiance of his mycelial dominion—

To merge all powers, gather all resources…

And gamble everything on a single chance of survival.

In his vision, ideally, within three to five years, the mycelium carpet would cover every corner of the world.

Then the colossal mycelial network would feed him immense experience and nearly infinite magical reserves.

His level would rise rapidly, his strength expanding beyond imagination.

Afterward, he would sweep across the continent like an autumn storm, forcibly unifying the land and preparing it to face the coming disaster.

Of course, this was just an ideal scenario.

Lin Jun knew reality would be full of obstacles.

Failure would not surprise him.

If the plan collapsed, he could only imitate the Divine Tree—

Retreat to his dungeon core and hope that destruction arrived slowly…

Or that someone—anyone—would save the world.

At least the dungeon retreat plan was solid.

Through constant effort, he had already gained sixty to seventy percent control over the Dungeon Core—

With just a final set of rules left to decipher.

He wasn’t fully in control yet…

But he was confident that even if that terrifying Vampire Marquis visited again, no one could threaten his true body within the dungeon.

…

On the other side—

When Lorenzo and Arama saw Inanna return with two pujis in tow, they both subconsciously swallowed hard.

Both men had the same thought:

Did she get caught… and now she’s here to confess everything?

From a certain perspective, they weren’t wrong.

This was a confession.

Just not the confession they imagined.

The two watched dumbfounded as one puji—No. 4—excitedly waved its tentacles, sometimes raising them high, sometimes slapping the ground, its tiny fungal feet stomping rapidly while emitting urgent “puji puji” sounds.

The two men exchanged a glance.

Both saw complete confusion in the other’s eyes.

What on earth was this?

No. 4 finished its passionate speech praising the greatness of the Mushroom Tribe, then turned around and asked Inanna through the mycelial network:

“Pink puji, why aren’t they reacting? Was my explanation of the Mushroom Tribe’s greatness unclear?”

Truthfully, No. 4 was nervous.

This was a job No. 1 normally handled.

No. 4 was just imitating, terrified of embarrassing the tribe.

Inanna crouched beside it.

“It’s probably because… they’re not connected to the mycelial network.”

“Not in the network?!”

No. 4’s worldview cracked again.

“Then how do they communicate?!”

Inanna gently parted her lips and spoke:

“Like this. Using mouths.”

“Speak… with mouths?”

No. 4 was stunned.

“There’s such a primitive way to communicate?”

This wasn’t its fault.

Even the human residents living in the Mushroom Fortress had largely switched to mycelial-network communication.

It was instant, clear, and worked across wide distances.

Speaking aloud had mostly died out.

Only newly joined tribes still used it—and those people weren’t allowed in the Mushroom Garden.

So No. 4 simply assumed all intelligent beings used mental communication.

Even No. 10—far more composed—was shocked internally, though it didn’t show it.

“How about… I translate for you?”

Inanna sighed.

She never imagined she would become a real-time translator someday.

At that moment, Lorenzo seemed to finally catch on.

“Little niece… was that puji just now… trying to communicate with us?”

“In fact, it was talking,” Inanna confirmed.

Lorenzo immediately fetched a military mage skilled in mind-link spells.

After feeding the mage a strong mana potion, he managed to forcefully establish a temporary mental bridge connecting the three humans and two pujis.

Barely.

The mage’s face looked like he was holding up a mountain.

Thanks to his heroic effort, Arama and Lorenzo finally heard, for the first time in their lives…

The voice of the Mushroom Tribe.

“Two old non-mushrooms, can you hear me now?”

Arama and Lorenzo looked at each other—

And had the exact same thought:

This puji…

sounds very rude.