“You useless idiots! How do you even do your job?”
The guard captain’s low roar echoed in the narrow alley. He pointed at the limp male corpse on the ground, so angry his hand shook.
“I repeated it countless times before we left: capture only, no harming! Did my words go in one ear and out the other? What the hell is this now? Explain!”
“Captain, this… really isn’t all our fault,” a young guard shrank back, voice aggrieved. “They blew out all the candles themselves. It was pitch black. The moment we rushed in, they panicked, knocked over the pot, and this guy slipped on mushroom soup. Bad luck—he hit the back of his head on the table corner… We hadn’t even touched his clothes.”
“Then why didn’t you use your brains?” The captain jabbed the guard’s forehead. “Twenty-plus of you. Block the doors and windows—could they have flown away? Did you have to charge in like wild boars and scare them?”
He could barely contain his rage.
Lord Farr had personally instructed him: “Don’t cause trouble!”
He had thought it was a chance to shine. Now a death—he didn’t know how to report back.
“Why not… quietly bury him?” A shrewd-looking guard sidled closer and whispered.
“Idiot!” The captain glared. “What if he has family or army friends? One inquiry at the lord’s mansion and we’re exposed. You planning to arrest and silence his whole family too?”
“Captain, I asked around,” the guard wasn’t flustered and leaned closer, voice lower. “He’s a new convert to their ‘Mushroom Worship Cult.’ A refugee from the western fallen zone. No relatives or acquaintances in Mushroom Capital.”
The captain’s breathing eased slightly.
He didn’t speak immediately, fingers rubbing his stubble, eyes flicking between corpse and subordinate.
Seeing the captain waver, the guard pressed, “Captain, we dump him on the fungal mat outside the city, cover him with some grass and dirt. In three days the mycelium will eat everything but unrecognizable bones. Split the other cultists into separate cells. After a while, who’ll remember this guy existed?”
“Hm…” The captain made an ambiguous sound.
Three days later, Lin Jun received a sticky soul.
…
Second time encountering a soul with this strange property—and this one clung even tighter.
Though still slipping away, it lasted over a minute.
Lin Jun reacted fast—he stuffed it straight into a spare cannon-fodder Puchi body used by the numbered Puchis.
It actually worked!
But the guy who just became a Puchi and broke out of the cocoon was utterly panicked.
He seemed to want to scream, but Puchis have no vocal organs.
He just “AAAAAH”-ed chaotically on the mycelial network while running around on short legs.
Lin Jun tried to calm him; he only ran faster.
Just as Lin Jun lost patience and prepared to reclaim body control, the guy stepped into thin air.
Short legs slipped. The round mushroom body rolled down a slope. *Thud*—mushroom cap split in half on a rock. Dead.
As the corpse decomposed, the soul popped out again.
But this time the stickiness was much weaker. It soon detached and vanished.
Lin Jun was speechless. How could someone have such poor mental fortitude?
Look at the Sword Saint—turned into a Puchi and only surprised for a moment before calming down.
This guy? From cocoon to death: nothing but “AAAAAH” and running. Not a single useful word.
Though he learned nothing, the mere existence proved humans could become Puchis.
The key was the source of soul stickiness!
Lin Jun found the corpse—in a dirt pile outside the city.
Though he couldn’t replay scenes like surveillance footage, tracing via the fungal mat’s perception network and info eavesdropping wasn’t hard.
Mushroom Worship Cult?
Deep in the dungeon, the woman named Julia, even imprisoned, repeatedly prayed to a cluster of mushrooms in the corner: “Puchi God bless… may Your mycelium guide me…”
Who the hell are you?
Who allowed you to found a religion centered on Puchis without permission?
It felt like a normal student suddenly hearing someone started a fan club in his name at school.
Hm… actually, thinking about it, not bad?
So… faith?
Faith creates a connection between souls?
Since gaining [Inspiration], Lin Jun’s understanding of souls had deepened.
Souls seem right there inside bodies, but once detached, they become independent entities he can barely affect.
He can catch them with [Gluttony], but only the skill-proficiency mixture on the surface.
Once skills are eaten, the pure soul left is beyond his interference.
Souls are mysterious. While in a body, they have fixed positions.
But once out, spatial location loses meaning.
Like the Frost Elemental Lord currently searching the ruin for Pink Puchi.
Lin Jun had clearly summoned it near Redstone City with a Puchi body, but when the body was destroyed, it crossed half the continent in an instant via the brief soul contact during summoning and appeared in the far north.
That was because that fragment of Lin Jun’s soul coordinate changed the moment the Puchi died.
Souls clearly operate on a different logic.
And now it seemed faith had special meaning for souls!
No wonder gods run religions.
Lin Jun recalled decomposing Church warriors and getting a skill called [Holy Barrier].
Church warriors could form fused holy light shields. When he used it, it shattered on touch. Was that because of faith?
Did the skill’s power come from the God of Light?
It seemed faith connections had many more uses for gods.
Lin Jun wasn’t arrogant enough to think he could rival gods, nor did he want to turn everyone into Puchis (Sword Saint was an exception).
But that didn’t stop him from being interested in faith.
In fact, anything soul-related interested him.
More and more clues showed souls were the most important thing in this world!
And right in front of him was ready-made material.
Rustling sounds interrupted Julia’s prayer. She opened her eyes to see the fungal mat in the corner spreading visibly.
Then a cocoon slowly emerged from it.
“Puchi… God?”
(End of Chapter)
