This Dungeon Grew Mushrooms – Chapter 37

Dylan felt like he had already entered a semi-retirement lifestyle.

Every day after emerging from his mycelial coffin, he would brew a bowl of mushroom soup.

These were all picked from the forest—the Boss had said that gray mushrooms could be eaten freely.

However, as a fungalized person, eating mushrooms still gave him a subtle sense of dissonance…

Moreover, the broth always carried a bland, earthy smell, requiring a few grains of rock salt to awaken any semblance of flavor.

Additionally, perhaps because he had previously mentioned to the Boss that the floors were too dim, recently the mushrooms had all begun to glow.

While solving the lighting problem was good, having the cooked soup emit an eerie glow was quite uncomfortable, making him feel like he was drinking a witch’s concoction.

Fortunately, work was leisurely. Aside from surface missions, the Boss rarely assigned him any tasks.

Occasionally, there would be equipment and items left behind by adventurers who forgot to take them, requiring Dylan to assess their value, but otherwise there wasn’t much to do.

He would sometimes use this free time to hunt above, bringing back some edible magical beasts.

After all, he couldn’t just eat mushrooms all the time.

The last time he mentioned to the Boss that he wanted some magical beasts to improve his meals, he was given a few mutilated Puffshroom slimes. That’s when Dylan realized he’d have to figure out his own dining arrangements.

No matter how you looked at it, eating his own colleagues was just too…

Fortunately, the Boss didn’t oppose his hunting trips to the upper floors—in fact, he was quite supportive, only instructing him to throw the remaining parts of the magical beasts into the swamp.

Finally, to improve his quality of life on the fifth floor, he had specifically requested some vacant land in the border area and begun constructing his own wooden cabin.

Unfortunately, he had barely started construction when work came up.

The Boss first asked if he knew anything about magical power or fluctuations, but how would a pure melee fighter know about magical matters?

Then he was immediately assigned a mission to gather intelligence on the surface, and it seemed quite urgent.

Not daring to delay, Dylan spent half a day traveling the familiar route to the surface.

Then he ran straight into three official Adventurers’ Guild personnel stationed at the dungeon entrance.

He recognized the leader—a middle-aged adventurer named Marshall who had been active in Mute Wind Town for ten years.

However, he was a Gold-rank adventurer, and ever since joining the guild, he no longer entered dungeons.

Seeing people blocking the entrance, the guilty Dylan couldn’t help but break out in a cold sweat.

What had happened?

Why was the entrance sealed?

Would they conduct some inspection and discover his disguise?

Swallowing nervously, Dylan still steeled himself, straightened his back, and walked out.

However, the guild personnel merely glanced at Dylan and let him pass.

Instead, four adventurers approaching the dungeon were stopped.

A red-armored warrior struck his sword hilt heavily against the stone pavement:

“Why won’t you let us enter the dungeon?”

The challenge came with sparks flying, yet Marshall on the other side stood with arms crossed, appearing quite composed.

Most adventurers were like this—when encountering problems, they’d raise their voices first. He was used to it.

“Mana Tide warning. The dungeon is sealed by guild orders.”

The moment the words “Mana Tide” were spoken, the adventurers’ dissatisfaction seemed to vanish instantly.

Although each dungeon only experienced a Mana Tide once every ten-plus years, and most adventurers had never encountered one before today.

But its reputation as the greatest disaster of dungeons was known to every adventurer.

No one would oppose sealing a dungeon due to a Mana Tide.

The four huddled together, whispering for a while before asking with some doubt:

“May I ask how long this will last? What about our time-limited quests? We can’t just let them drag on until they fail…”

Some time-limited quests required deposits, and if they failed, the deposits would naturally be forfeit.

However, the guild was clearly experienced, having considered all aspects.

“Just go to the guild’s front desk to apply for an extension or cancellation. As for the seal, it will naturally last until the Mana Tide ends.”

After saying this, Marshall waved the adventurers away, indicating they should leave quickly.

Those four adventurers did leave, but Dylan rubbed his hands together and approached.

“I have some things hidden on the second floor. Could you let me go retrieve them? It’ll be quick!”

“No!” Marshall didn’t even think before refusing. Why should he care about other people’s lost belongings?

Dylan stepped forward half a pace, quietly slipping a gleaming gold coin toward Marshall.

Marshall’s Adam’s apple bobbed twice, his peripheral vision sweeping over his two colleagues behind him.

The people working with him on this mission weren’t familiar faces—who knew if someone might report him. Risking trouble for a bit of gold wasn’t worth it.

“Rules are rules!”

Pushing Dylan away, Marshall once again refused his request to return with an expression of incorruptible righteousness.

Dylan scratched his head somewhat helplessly—now what?

He had easily obtained the information, but he couldn’t deliver it back.

He had a feeling that rather than himself, the Boss needed a high-level scout for this kind of work…

After thinking it over, he decided to check out the tavern first.

————

The moment the mold-stained wooden door cracked open, the turbid alcoholic fumes hit Dylan, forcing him back half a step.

The Rotten Willow Tavern’s business today could only be described as explosive.

The adventurers who couldn’t enter the dungeon had obviously decided to drown themselves in alcohol.

When Dylan entered, he found there were no empty seats at all—everywhere was packed with drunk adventurers.

If three of the Boss’s exploding Puffshroom slimes were here right now…

Dylan shook his head. Why was he having such strange thoughts?

“One drink.” Dylan tapped the bar counter with his finger.

The proprietor scooped half a bowl of brown liquid from a wooden barrel, with suspicious stains still clinging to the rim of the clay bowl.

The bowl’s capacity was obviously inferior to a wooden mug. That crafty merchant.

Finding a spot to lean against, Dylan listened carefully to the conversations around him.

Unsurprisingly, everyone was discussing this Mana Tide.

Some young people, unclear about the dangers of Mana Tides, were still complaining about being strapped for cash and unable to make a living without access to the dungeon.

This immediately drew mockery from others.

“Little brat, isn’t staying alive good enough?”

“Going to the dungeon now? You planning to feed all that meat on your bones to the magical beasts!”

Amid everyone’s laughter, a retired adventurer with graying whiskers actually shared some valuable information:

“No need to worry about having no work.

Based on experience, in a few days the guild will issue assistance missions.

By then, there will be countless magical beasts waiting for you to kill at the dungeon entrance, and there might even be creatures that have escaped from the deep layers.

As long as you’re not afraid to die, there’s money to be made.”

Hearing there would actually be opportunities to earn money, quite a few people in the tavern became excited, causing the old adventurer to shake his head.

Vera also thanked the old adventurer enthusiastically.

If they really couldn’t earn money for ten days to half a month, the three of them would have to consider pawning their equipment…

Dylan knew that magical beasts would emerge, but hearing that this included entities from the deep layers was news to him.

If magical beasts from the deep layers were surging to the surface, then the interior of the dungeon must be even more chaotic…

He had never considered such problems before.

Dylan also remembered hearing people say in the past that after each Mana Tide, the ecology of each dungeon floor would undergo changes.

Now he was a bit worried—surely the Boss wouldn’t become part of what gets changed away…