This Dungeon Grew Mushrooms – Chapter 200

The extreme northern ice plains, the end of the world.

Wind was the sole sovereign of this frozen wasteland.

As far as the eye could see stretched pure, suffocating whiteness—ice plains extending to the horizon until they merged with the leaden gray sky.

This was the graveyard of elements. Save for wandering frost spirits, not a trace of life could be sensed here.

Yet within this deathly silent world, a group of demonkin who didn’t belong here sustained their existence through an ancient underground city of untold age.

At this moment, two figures moved across the ice surface, carrying between them a massive creature—a snow-white worm several meters long.

Both wore sturdy armor crafted from monster hide, wrapped tightly around their lean frames. In the gaps between armor plates, ghostly blue light flickered and dimmed with their heavy breathing—these were cold-resistance demon patterns grown into their flesh and blood, marks of their constant operation.

“Shou!” The voice of Qiong, walking behind, carried suppressed excitement. “How long has it been since the tribe hunted a Fenrir fat-beast of this size? We’ve really struck it lucky!”

Shou’s face also rarely bore a smile: “Look at its build—its cold resistance must be at least level eight. When the Elder infuses it into the ‘Cradle,’ we’ll finally be able to add new members after so long!”

“Oh no!”

“What?!” Shou instantly tensed, reflexively gripping the bone spear handle on his back.

“My horn… it’s stuck inside! Ah, body fluid is dripping down! So sticky and disgusting!” Qiong complained irritably.

Shou relaxed, looking up to see the outline of their tribe’s massive ice-rock walls already visible through the wind and snow in the distance.

“Bear with it, we’re almost there.”

…

“Such a huge fat-beast!” The guard climbing down from the watchtower pushed open the heavy ice-rock gate while staring at the two in amazement. “Shou, Qiong, you didn’t go down to the lower levels, did you?”

“How could we?” Shou unloaded the burden from his shoulders. “We don’t have the skill to break through the middle layer. Pure luck—we ran into it on the upper level.”

The guard clicked his tongue, frost-covered eyebrows rising: “Tsk, that luck…”

“Stop chatting!” came Qiong’s exasperated voice from behind. “Quick, help me! My horn is stuck!”

The guard looked over to see Qiong desperately trying to pull his head from the worm’s corpse, his head-horn completely buried in the fat-beast’s blubber.

He grabbed the slippery worm body and yanked hard, separating beast from Qiong, then teased: “Who told you to grow horns more curved than a rock goat’s, yet still dare to ram this thing with your head?”

“Mind your own business!” Qiong finally broke free, disgustedly shaking the viscous fluid from his arms.

After handing the heavy prey to other tribesmen who’d arrived, Qiong immediately rushed toward the snowmelt pools to clean himself.

Shou wiped the ice shards from his face and walked alone toward the entrance to the “Cradle.”

The so-called Cradle was the tribe’s only stone house built from black stone. Heavy stone doors blocked out the external cold and deathly silence. The Elder had expended enormous effort arranging formations within, barely maintaining a small space rich in magical power and pleasant temperature, serving as the tribe’s birthplace for new life.

A silent tribesman stood guard at the entrance. Seeing Shou approach, he merely nodded slightly and stepped aside to clear the passage.

Inside the stone house was warm and quiet, the air filled with a dry atmosphere. At the center of the floor, a complex formation made of strange metals and glowing minerals emitted gentle, pulsing ghostly blue light. At the formation’s core was a half-human-height depression currently filled with crystal fragments and powder of some kind.

Shou didn’t pause, walking straight to the formation’s edge. He undid the leather straps of his chest armor, exposing a torso covered in complex demon patterns. At the center of his chest, a pendant-sized deep blue crystal was deeply embedded in his flesh, emanating weak, rhythmic pulsing light—all the demon patterns’ origins connected to this point.

Shou took out a file, his wrist extremely steady as he approached the crystal surface, carefully scraping off an extremely thin layer of powder that sparkled with stardust-like light, placing it into the depression.

Demonkin were not a naturally born species. They were a vassal race created by the previous Demon King, not purely flesh-and-blood beings, and had no gender distinctions.

Their method of reproduction was precisely this—accumulating trace essence powder naturally secreted by individual demon cores, or fragments from deceased compatriots’ cores, layer by layer in magically rich locations. New demon cores would quietly condense and grow under pure magical power’s nourishment, eventually birthing new tribesmen.

“Can’t you let me in to take a look?” Qiong’s complaining voice suddenly came from outside.

Unfortunately, as one of the tribe’s most important places, the Cradle wasn’t open to just anyone. The guard silently blocked Qiong’s path.

“Qiong, stop fooling around.” Shou pushed open the heavy black stone door, emerging with the stone house’s warm atmosphere clinging to him.

“I really envy you—you can already perform dust offerings!” Qiong immediately turned to him, speaking rapidly. “I’m not fooling around! It’s the Elder! He sent someone to find you. The messenger ran all over the tribe without finding you, so I guessed you’d be here!”

“The Elder is looking for me?” Shou’s brow furrowed slightly.

“Right! Not just you—all the senior warriors were called to the main tent ages ago. The atmosphere seems off, but nobody else knows what’s happening.” Qiong stepped closer, lowering his voice.

Shou’s expression grew serious. Without another word, he turned and strode toward the main tent. Qiong immediately followed like a shadow.

Shou glanced sideways at him. Qiong immediately grinned with a hint of cunning: “Don’t worry, I know the rules! I won’t go in—I’ll just wait outside the tent.”

Clearly planning to eavesdrop given the chance. Shou couldn’t be bothered to expose this little scheme, merely looking away and quickening his pace.

…

“Those snake-people to the south got recruited by the Empire! Now that territory is empty—we should immediately move in!” A rough voice exploded inside the tent, carrying unquestionable urgency.

“Move in? The southern frozen soil cuts just as bone-deep! Can the resources really compare to our neighboring underground city?” The objector slammed the stone table, voice hoarse.

A third person stood abruptly, his shadow stretching long in the flickering firelight: “Don’t you understand the current state of Stonekeep Underground City? Magical power growing thinner daily, fewer and fewer monsters—it’s hard to hunt even a slime on the upper level! The power containing those things in the middle layer is also weakening! When this broken underground city completely shuts down and those creatures crawl out, we’ll all become their snacks!”

“He’s right!” Another figure wrapped in thick fur chimed in. “Going south, at least the wind won’t cut flesh as badly! That way, we can relax the cold-resistance requirements for prey needed to birth new tribesmen!”

Cuiyan, who’d been coldly observing, suddenly gave a mocking laugh, sharp gaze sweeping over the warriors advocating southern migration: “All that talk—I think you’ve just caught a whiff of the Empire’s warmth and want to sidle up like tail-wagging dogs begging for a comfortable meal!”

“Cuiyan! Dare say that again?!”

When Shou lifted the heavy beast-hide curtain and entered the main tent, this was the tense scene that greeted him. The cramped space was packed with the tribe’s core members, firelight illuminating faces twisted by excitement or rage.

In a tribe of several hundred, counting himself, there were only seven senior warriors total.

“Shou.” A low, aged voice came from the main seat, cutting through the noise.

The Elder was wrapped in worn furs, only his eyes gleaming startlingly bright in the shadows. “They tell me you hunted back an adult Fenrir fat-beast. Very good… the Cradle can finally shine again.”

“Elder.” Shou bowed slightly, voice steady.

His gaze quickly swept every face in the tent, finally fixing on an empty seat next to Cuiyan that was currently vacant.

“Where’s Yao?”

As a member of the new generation under a hundred years old, still bearing a single-character name, Yao was like Shou—a senior warrior among the new generation, a pillar of the tribe’s future. His absence was particularly jarring to Shou.

“Right! Where did Yao go?” Someone immediately caught on, voice filled with confusion.

“He’s dead!” Cuiyan suddenly declared.

“What?!” Exclamations and questions instantly erupted. “A senior warrior died! How could you not mention this from the start?”

Cuiyan’s expression remained unchanged: “This is precisely what I came to discuss. His death bought us something more valuable than his life.”

He looked around the circle, enunciating each word: “His partner fought desperately to bring back news—we’ve found the location of the Qith ‘Brain’ entrenched in Stonekeep Underground City’s middle layer!”