This Dungeon Grew Mushrooms

The halt in the war did not truly lift the shadow over the kingdom.

Although the demon race had suffered heavy losses and was temporarily unable to finish their ambition of destroying the kingdom, the fall of Highwall Fortress was equivalent to the kingdom losing its gate.

From this point on, the Empire held absolute initiative; once they dealt with other problems, they could return at any time.

The south still had Oath City, a mighty stronghold in its own right, but no fortress could seal off an enemy advance the way Highwall Fortress once had.

Not to mention that a vast area in the northwest remained under demon control, where scattered clashes and skirmishes never stopped.

Originally, the encroaching Mist had threatened the demon race’s sea route. In the long run, it might have naturally contained the demons operating in the northwest, forcing them back toward Highwall Fortress.

Yet after the battle of Tri-Mountain City, the Mist quietly receded.

Standing on the west coast now, one could see nothing at the horizon but sea and sky. No trace of the Mist remained. As for where it retreated to, no one had yet investigated.

To prepare for future threats, humanity had no choice but to center its efforts around Oath City, beginning construction of an unprecedented defensive network.

Countless civilians and mages were mobilized by the kingdom, taking part in this monumental project, hoping to protect themselves in the next war.

The war left countless scars.

The little shop attendant at puji’s home received notice that her father had fallen—killed early in the battle of Tri-Mountain City.

Bianca and her mother received a generous compensation payment. With Lord Fal overseeing the matter personally, no one dared skim a single coin.

But money could not erase grief.

Old Dylan wanted to give Bianca time off, yet the stubborn girl insisted on working in the kitchen.

Only when the place grew quiet would Dylan faintly hear soft sobbing, and sometimes the puji maid uniform she wore out to serve dishes would be stained with not-quite-dry water marks.

The war also forged countless living heroes whose names were now sung among the people.

For example, Nashi the demon-slaying archer from the western ravaged villages.

Her home was destroyed, yet she stood alone with her bow, firing until more than a dozen quivers were emptied—until the flesh of her right fingertips was raw—successfully covering the villagers’ retreat to Goldvalley City.

There was also the fortress mage Olivia.

When the city gate was breached, the elderly mage poured all her magic into the ground beneath her feet, raising layer upon layer of earthen walls. She bought precious time for soldiers and civilians to escape, nearly sacrificing herself, and was rescued only at the last moment by an elf known as Night Owl.

Of course, the most dazzling hero was still Inanna St. Clair.

This duke’s daughter perfectly embodied the saying: “A tiger father has no dog daughters.”

When the two dukes and what remained of their troops were trapped in Dragonroar Valley and on the brink of death, it was Inanna who appeared at the critical moment.

It was said she commanded raging storm elements with her left hand, and an endless army of puji with her right. She smashed the demon forces and preserved an irreplaceable human army.

Through word of mouth, the term “mushroomfolk” gradually spread.

Within Dragonroar Valley, puji number 10 had been extremely low-key, sticking close to Pink Puji and guarding her safety.

But puji #4 could not sit still at all.

With Lin Jun giving no explicit prohibition, he ran around the valley every day and actively approached people to preach the glory of the mushroom race.

A talking puji suddenly approaching someone startled quite a lot of soldiers at first.

This was completely beyond what Arama and Lorenzo expected.

They had no idea that puji #4 had zero intention of hiding, and would have held a public rally if allowed.

Eventually the two dukes had to personally step out and provide explanations.

After the battle, the survivors naturally held deep affection for the puji that had saved their lives, and so most stories circulating now were praise.

Of course, theories about the “mushroom threat” also existed, but these were mainly whispered by minor nobles and scholars.

In taverns, a one-armed veteran would slam the table and shout back at doubters:

“To hell with scholars! If not for those talking mushrooms, I’d already be a dried-up corpse in that Valley!”

Such firsthand testimony naturally won over ordinary soldiers and adventurers.

As for great nobles like Arama and Lorenzo, they refrained from making any official statements.

The mushroomfolk likewise attracted the attention of the demon race.

The battle of Dragonroar Valley had changed the war, and the puji—one of the most decisive factors—could not be ignored.

Through spies scattered across the kingdom, the demons soon acquired information on the mushroomfolk.

Many demons connected the puji to the sudden rise of the demonborn tribe in the northern frontier, speculating that this tribe likely controlled at least one puji.

But now the north had nearly become a frozen wasteland. The demons could not even confirm how many in that tribe had survived.

The demon lords of the northern border gathered, focusing first on finding the cause of the abnormal climate. If they failed, their lands would soon be abandoned.

Overall, the demon race was now simultaneously trying to prevent the fungal carpet from spreading into imperial territory, while each lord dispatched agents to collect information on the mushroomfolk, hoping to find—or steal—one to study and see whether it could be safely used.

As for the emperor, he had no time to care about puji or mushroomfolk.

The forces under his command—whether bloodguards or spies—were searching the land for a slime-like creature.

He did not broadcast that the demon king had escaped his seal. In truth, very few demons even knew that a fragment of the demon king had been sealed beneath Twilight Keep.

And even fewer knew that the demon king’s species was not “demon” at all.

Only those who understood a little of the truth quietly speculated, and wisely kept their mouths shut. Even Sigismund knew nothing.

…

In any case, with the external situation easing for the moment, Lin Jun finally had time to review his gains.

[ Level: 69 ]

Normally, Lin Jun relied on the fungal carpet’s automatic harvesting to level up.

Compared to the vast amount of experience the carpet produced, the experience from manually decomposing corpses was negligible.

But this time, the bodies were simply too many!

Once the mushroom forest covered Tri-Mountain City and every corpse had been dissolved, Lin Jun was only one step away from lord-tier!

Of course, experience was secondary. The greatest gains were skill improvements.

Heavy Strike, Trample, Swordsmanship, Archery, Blade Storm, spell proficiencies…

Countless commonly used skills had hit max level, and even the obscure ones had filled out their skill pages.

Lin Jun even obtained two new titles:

[ Weapon Master: +10% damage when using weapons ]

[ Omni-School Adept: +10% spell effectiveness ]

To Lin Jun, the second was more useful. Automated puji armies were still clumsy with weapons; combat skills were best left to the numbered puji.

And then there was the greatest prize of all—The Pinnacle of the Sword.

Compressed like countless skills fused together into a single condensed essence, this thing Lin Jun could not bite through; he had to slowly dissolve it within his soul.

Every day he checked his progress repeatedly, already impatient, but utterly helpless.

On this particular day, while reviving the numbered puji—four #4 included—after their deaths in Tri-Mountain City…

Lin Jun glanced at his sunstone, then at the spirit of the sword saint dangling from the other end of The Pinnacle of the Sword, and suddenly had an idea for an experiment.