Novel Full Chapter 466
Arama and Lorenzo sat on wooden chairs while No. 4 puji hopped onto the table in the center and began its second grand speech about the glorious Mushroom Tribe.
But repeating the same content a second time clearly dulled its momentum.
The passion from earlier was gone; its mental voice grew flat, almost like it was mechanically reciting lines.
After finishing in a rather perfunctory manner, No. 4 seemed bored, its mycelial tendrils drooping as it plopped its backside onto the rough tabletop.
Lorenzo rubbed his chin, thought for a moment, and asked:
“So you mushroomborn are the so-called ‘embodiments of puji will’?”
No. 4 puji proudly bobbed its cap.
In truth, it wanted to say “the will of the mycelial master.”
But every time that concept reached the human side of the thought-link, it was forcibly interpreted as “puji will,” so it had no choice but to continue using that phrase.
Anyway, the mycelial master’s will was the will of all pujis—so it wasn’t technically incorrect.
And it wasn’t just “mycelial master.”
Lin Jun had set many restrictions.
Any information relating to the Mushroom Garden was blocked from being spoken.
After all, these were shards of his own split soul—creating restrictions was childishly easy.
Lorenzo and Arama exchanged a glance, each understanding the other’s thoughts.
To their ears, No. 4’s explanation sounded like an evolutionary leap—a collective consciousness emerging after the puji population reached a certain critical mass, giving rise to a higher-order existence called the Mushroom Tribe.
The so-called “puji will” seemed more like a symbolic concept, a quasi-religious reverence for their species, a metaphor for hive-mind instinct.
Surely they weren’t supposed to treat “puji will” as an actual… individual?
Such a being couldn’t possibly exist.
As their conversation deepened, they gleaned a surprising amount of information.
For example, the so-called “Thirteen Mushroom Tribe,” and the “pink puji.”
No. 4 even classified Inanna as one of the Mushroom Tribe.
While speaking, it reached out with a tendril and patted Inanna’s hand comfortingly, reassuring her not to mind her lack of an official Mycelial Number.
Hearing a puji lump his daughter into the same species made Arama’s mouth twitch violently.
He lifted a hand to rub his forehead yet again.
Lorenzo also found something odd:
Despite No. 4 calling humans “non-mushrooms” and itself “noble and glorious Mushroom Tribe,” its mannerisms did not actually carry arrogance.
It didn’t use respectful language toward them—yet showed no awareness of disrespect either.
Aside from terminology, nothing in No. 4’s tone resembled the hauteur of a noble.
In fact, many minor human lords carried far worse airs.
When the topic shifted to “mushroom servants”—the future puji handlers—No. 4 directly applied its worldview of “mycelial citizens.”
Pujis would provide delicious mushrooms, puji companions, mushroom houses, and mycelial healing.
In return, handlers would occasionally need to help maintain the mycelium carpet, fertilize it, and prevent damage.
When Lorenzo asked what would happen if someone refused—
No. 4 waved a tendril and answered viciously:
“Then they don’t get any of those things!”
To be honest, Lorenzo heard no hint of “slavery” in this arrangement.
If anything, the handlers got enormous benefits for minimal effort.
Clearly, No. 4’s understanding of the concept of “enslavement” was… skewed.
Lorenzo also attempted conversation with the quieter No. 10, but soon realized No. 10 was much more cautious than No. 4.
It never rambled, never volunteered extra details.
Apparently not every puji was as… straightforward as No. 4.
So Lorenzo returned his focus to the talkative one, asking No. 10 for clarifications only when necessary.
The exchange ended not because they ran out of questions but because the mage maintaining the shared mind-link finally reached his limit.
Afterward, as the two pujis toddled after Inanna and left, Lorenzo called over the pale, trembling military mage and asked softly:
“Well? What did you sense?”
The mage panted heavily, wiping cold sweat from his brow.
“That one called No. 4… its mind was completely open. Emotions streamed clearly. I sensed no deceit.”
Lorenzo nodded.
This matched the impression he’d formed through experience.
“What’s your take?” he asked Arama.
Arama exhaled deeply, temporarily setting aside his concerns about his daughter.
“One side’s account can be trusted—but not blindly. As for what to do… same as before. Power that helps us fight demons cannot be abandoned. But I am worried—”
Before he finished, Lorenzo already understood.
“You’re worried the demons might get other Mushroom Tribe individuals too?”
Arama nodded.
“We’ve seen the puji’s strength with our own eyes. Keeping these Mushroom Tribe under our control is safest. But… where do we begin?”
“Pujis can’t separate from the mycelium carpet,” Lorenzo said, rising and looking toward the spreading carpet outside the tent.
“We must monitor every place the carpet appears. And that puji dungeon is worth investigating again. It’s the origin of everything. Perhaps we’ll find answers there.
“Of course… all of this depends on whether the kingdom still has a ‘future’ to plan for.”
Both men released a long sigh.
Although the wounded Sigismund had retreated to Highkeep Fortress, the crisis at Tri-Mountain City was far from over.
The defense was crumbling.
No one knew how long the defensive spell array could hold.
Even though they were safe and well-fed inside the valley thanks to mushrooms—
If Tri-Mountain City fell, their fate was sealed too.
Right now, they were desperately clearing the collapsed canyon, trying to forge a barely passable escape route.
But progress was slow.
The shattered cliffs threatened further collapse with every strike.
At that moment, Inanna returned, carrying a wildly squirming No. 4 puji in her arms.
No. 4 clearly hated being held but didn’t dare resist too hard—afraid of hurting the pink puji and violating the mycelial master’s will.
So it wriggled relentlessly, trying to escape.
But Inanna was an expert at holding pujis.
No matter how No. 4 struggled, she easily held it in place.
She raised the puji high and declared:
“Old man, Little Four says it can help us dig the tunnel!”
“It? How?”
…
When a massive burrowing puji was dragged to the cliff face, it let out a deep “bzzzzzz” and began drilling.
The hard stone wall parted like soft cheese.
Arama and Lorenzo both stared, identical expressions of:
“What on earth is this thing?!”
—
Outside Tri-Mountain City, Demon Legion Camp.
Visarius narrowed his cold gaze, staring at the city still shining beneath the glow of a gigantic spell barrier.
Humanity’s last—and most crucial—resistance force was hiding behind that deceptively indestructible shield.
“No word from Hes yet?” he asked without turning.
A bloodborn demon stepped forward, kneeling.
“My lord, there has been no message from Lord Hes. We only received reports from coastal outposts—the sea fog has expanded abnormally. Subordinates suspect… Lord Hes may have accidentally entered the mist.”
“Abnormally expanding fog…”
Visarius’ voice chilled further.
“Even if he entered it, with Hes’s strength, he shouldn’t be trapped. That area isn’t even the deep fog!”
But the subordinate had no explanation.
Lately, everything had gone wrong.
Even someone with Visarius’ self-control was feeling simmering irritation.
First that idiot Xenophon, summoning a Storm Elemental Lord in front of everyone—
Losing his army and damaging the demon legion’s formation so badly that Visarius had no choice but to halt the offensive and wait for Sigismund.
And that troll army…
It had been a crucial siege force, one of the few capable of charging through spell barriers.
Who could have predicted that steady Sigismund would fail at such a critical moment?
The entire troll corps wiped out.
Not a single survivor.
Still, Visarius had backups.
The Abyss Beast used to ambush the Sword Saint—its core destroyed, but the body intact.
Once a new core arrived, it could be reawakened.
Unless the Sword Saint crawled out to fight again at the cost of his life, the Abyss Beast would tear that barrier apart.
But now even Hes—one of the top Sanctum-tier combatants—had vanished during a simple escort mission?
Was there not a single reliable demon among them?!
Settling scores could wait.
But at this rate, further delay served no purpose.
Visarius made up his mind.
He would wait a few more days.
If Hes still didn’t return—
He would launch a full-force assault, no matter the losses.