Relocating meant moving key assets like Sunstones and the stash, not abandoning the Far North yet.
Fatshroom Puffshrooms shuttled back and forth, catching Little Black’s eye.
Clutching her newest ruby, she watched by the crevice.
Confirming the Puffshrooms were relocating, she acted fast, grabbing an empty Fatshroom Puffshroom, dragging it to her “treasure vault” (Norris’s mushroom hut), and stuffing all her shiny bits inside.
One wasn’t enough—she hauled another to fit everything.
Puffshrooms were the best at hiding stuff. Little Black’s gut told her: follow them, no mistake!
Lin Jun noticed her antics. Helping her move was no big deal.
But after crossing the crevice, he had four Fatshroom Puffshrooms mix together, then split into pairs!
“Left!” Lin Jun called. “Your shinies are with the left team!”
Little Black froze, head whipping between the two groups, lost.
Good thing she was fast, darting to check both, finally finding her “treasure convoy.”
They reached a nearby cave Lin Jun used for regular storage.
Seeing her shinies stuffed into a big mushroom warehouse, Little Black relaxed.
The cave wasn’t far from the crevice, within her memory’s range.
Besides her designated warehouse, the cave held other mushroom storage units.
Little Black didn’t hold back, poking her head into each one!
Most held dull junk, no match for her shinies!
But a few had sparkly goodies, making her stomp in envy.
Too bad they were still the Puffshrooms’. She resisted snatching.
Little Black dreamed of earning all the Puffshrooms’ shinies for her nest!
Just help them fight one, four, two more battles…
While Puffshrooms moved assets, the Far North stayed busy. Captive “re-education” kicked off.
Lesson one: line up for food!
Four long lines, nearly four hundred each, got a bowl of demonkin-served mushroom soup.
Still hungry? Line up again.
Not that Lin Jun couldn’t add more serving spots for speed—he wanted it this way.
Four hundred half-demons and twelve hundred lizardmen, all tribal stragglers.
Discipline? What’s that?
Fear from their defeat kept them from crossing the guarding Puffshrooms and demonkin, but the lines were a mess.
Strong ones cut in, half-demons and lizardmen shoved and cursed, glaring at each other.
Marshal Puffshroom, in a scarlet cape and wide hat, stood steady on a Heavy-Armor Puffshroom’s cap, eyeing the chaos.
In one line, a demonkin scooped soup from a Digging Puffshroom, passing it to the next captive.
A yellowish lizardman reached, only to be shoved aside by a bigger, brawnier one.
The yellowish lizardman recognized the bigger one as a tribal superior warrior, said nothing, and slipped back into line.
Cutting wasn’t enough—he cut to the front!
The serving demonkin didn’t hand over the bowl, glancing at Marshal Puffshroom and Shòu nearby.
But the superior warrior, banking on strength, snatched the bowl, guzzled a gulp, and griped loudly, “Soup for these losers is fine, but for superior warriors like us, no meat scraps or oil?”
His booming voice drew eyes.
Shòu spun his spear, stepping up to teach the loudmouth a lesson.
Facing the spear, the lizardman didn’t back down, dodging or blocking with claws. As a superior warrior, even unarmed, he wouldn’t lose fast.
Thanks to Lin Jun not starving captives, only planting mycelium and light shackles, he held his own.
After swift clashes, Slick leaped back, glaring at Shòu. “Showing off? I, Slick, am a superior warrior! With a proper weapon, you think I’d fear you?”
Words barely out, his vibe shifted. He spun, facing the real boss—Marshal Puffshroom—dropping to one knee with a thud on the tundra!
Posture humble, head high. “Lord! I, Slick, have sharp claws, tough bones! I’ll rip your enemies apart, no worse than your demonkin! Accept my loyalty, let me fight for you! I’ll prove my worth!”
Cutting, taunting, sparring with Shòu—all a pitch.
Slick knew tribal rules: strength was the ticket. Show power to a stronger lord, swear loyalty, earn a spot, even respect.
The fiercer you fought, the more respect you got!
His burning gaze locked on Marshal Puffshroom, awaiting the master’s reply.
Lin Jun gave one.
“Interesting.”
That chilling familiar voice rang out, freezing the camp like invisible frost.
Demonkin just flinched, used to their boss’s voice.
Captives? A nightmare. The voice yanked them back to the bloody battlefield, many trembling, teeth chattering.
Even kneeling Slick stiffened, but he forced his body steady.
From Marshal Puffshroom’s wide hat brim, a Voice Puffshroom popped out, hopping to land by Slick’s feet.
It crawled up his rigid-as-stone body, settling on his thick neck with a cool slimy touch.
“Strength deserves respect,” the voice vibrated against Slick’s scales, unearthly. “Shòu! Get meat!”
Shòu, just spear-to-claw with Slick, snapped to attention. “Yes!”
He strode off, no hesitation.
Getting this near-approval, Slick’s stiff face cracked a smug grin.
When Shòu brought a bowl of soup with meat chunks and oil, Slick took it, shooting Shòu a taunting glance.
In the lines, captives barely reacted. In Northland tribal rules, this was normal.
Some superior warriors among them got ideas, plotting their own “pitch.”
Nearby, Louisa leaned lazily on a cold stone wall, arms crossed, smirking with open scorn. She watched Slick’s smug soup-sipping, eyes glinting with anticipation.
(End of Chapter)
