“Fall in! Line up!”
At Louisa’s command, twenty handpicked captives snapped into action, forming two neat rows. Flanking them were nearly four hundred Puffshrooms, controlled by the captives.
The end of the line stood out: one captive didn’t command regular Puffshrooms but a clunky Jida.
Louisa scanned the group, confirmed everything was in order, then spun sharply and waved. The whole team followed obediently.
These twenty captives were carefully chosen for their outstanding performance and high compliance.
They knew this was a rare chance and valued it deeply.
After all, daily labor earned just ten contribution points. Redeeming freedom required nearly three years of relentless saving—assuming they resisted all temptations and spent nothing.
Reality was harsher. Ever since the cafeteria offered limited batches of mouthwatering “Tasty Mushrooms,” nearly half the captives spent points on food cravings.
The less disciplined ones saved nothing, seemingly giving up on freedom and settling for a laid-back life.
This mission, though? It offered a base of fifty contribution points daily!
Top performers could earn extra rewards, so everyone was fired up, moving with care.
The team passed through a spatial rift, the air growing warmer.
Baroque, the lizardman, felt his cold scales loosen, letting out a pleased shiver.
He glanced at Louisa leading the way, then leaned toward his half-demon friend, whispering, “Ergen, where do you think we’re headed?”
Back when they were first captured, lizardmen and half-demons clashed often, trading sneers and sparking fights.
But under Puffshroom management, when it was time to “plant mushrooms,” no one got special treatment, lizardman or not.
Living together as captives, most barriers between lizardmen and half-demons faded. Except for a few hardheads, many, like Baroque and Ergen, became friends.
Ergen thought for a moment. “Maybe to deal with werewolves? I heard some captives got chummy with them, learning a pack of holdouts refusing to bow to the boss is holed up somewhere. Could be we’re off to tame them.”
The captives called the leader “the boss,” thinking it was the scarlet-caped Marshal Puffshroom. Lin Jun never gave them Mycelial Network access.
Baroque eyed the team’s size. “Just us… isn’t that too few?”
“Woo, woo-woo-woo!” A muffled, garbled sound came from the Jida behind them.
Baroque glanced back. “What’s Stick saying?”
Ergen translated, “He says, who cares? The points are good!”
“You’re something else, understanding that!” Baroque said, genuinely impressed.
“Stick” was the half-demon piloting the Jida.
He’d had rotten luck, losing all four limbs and his throat in that decisive defeat.
By rights, injuries like that were as good as death, but the Puffshrooms saved him, unlocking his knack for controlling Jida, letting him earn points this way.
His nickname “Stick” came naturally from his limbless torso.
Unlike other captives aiming for freedom, Stick’s top goal was the pricey “Limb Regeneration Potion” on the redemption list.
So he craved—and needed—every point more than anyone.
“Woo, woo!” Stick mumbled again from the Jida.
“What’s that mean?” Baroque asked.
This time, Ergen didn’t answer right away. Baroque raised his voice, but Ergen seemed oblivious, staring ahead.
Before Baroque could press, he felt something off—a chilling gaze on him. Turning, he met Louisa’s crimson eyes…
The team’s destination was Godwood Dungeon.
They climbed to the tenth floor, then used hidden rooms to shuttle in batches to the seventh floor’s rift.
Hidden rooms were handy, but their range was limited to floors one to ten, not the deeper zones.
At the Far North base, captives faced endless rules and busywork.
Most tasks were pointless, assigned by Lin Jun to keep them occupied.
The real goal was breaking their tribal habits of slacking and disorder.
Now, they’d improved, learning to follow rules and obey superiors—even if those superiors were weaker.
It was time to train them to fight alongside Puffshrooms.
Louisa would be their combat instructor.
The “Madness” beasts in Godwood Dungeon were still few, with only one or two wandering to the sixth floor daily—perfect for training newbies.
With twenty as a combat unit, any losses would be manageable.
When these Far North recruits first entered Godwood Dungeon, the ancient forest’s grandeur floored them!
Trees towered a hundred meters, thick enough for seven or eight to hug!
The Far North had no such sky-blocking forests.
Even Stick, tucked in his Jida, let out a string of excited “woo-woo-woo!” sounds.
After brief awe and chatter, Louisa reorganized the team, deploying them orderly across the defensive line.
But, to Lin Jun’s surprise, their first foe wasn’t a Madness beast or some clueless monster—it was an elf, and an old acquaintance: the ranger with tricky archery, firing curving arrows!
He appeared from the lower floors, heading back up.
Lin Jun hadn’t noticed when he’d slipped into the depths.
That wasn’t unusual, though. Even on the mycelium-covered first six floors, large areas stayed bare due to migrating trees or mud-slime waters. With enough luck, someone could sneak down undetected.
But this elf’s luck ran dry on his way back. The moment he stepped onto the mycelium, Lin Jun recognized the killer of Scout Puffshroom No. 3 and prepared a warm welcome.
(End of Chapter)
