In Mushroom Garden No. 3, Norris and Louisa had just finished an intense spar and were taking a short break.

“Blood Sis, thanks for the pointers!” Norris poked half his body out of Jida, panting slightly, yet wearing a delighted grin.

Louisa gave a small nod, but the look she cast at Norris held a touch of puzzlement.

“What’s wrong, Blood Sis? Do you need… to drink blood?” Norris tilted his head and bared his neck.

“No, not that.” Louisa shook her head. She no longer worried about a shortage of blood; she merely felt somewhat confused. “It seems you’ve been a lot more spirited lately.”

“Ah, really? Hahaha!” Norris scratched his head with a laugh. “Probably because I’ve been sleeping great. Not like before, when I kept having dreams that left me totally exhausted.”

“Very tiring dreams…” Louisa repeated under her breath. Something stirred in her heart; she remembered she too seemed to have had a similar experience some time ago, and wondered if there was any connection.

Norris suddenly recalled something and spoke to Lin Jun directly through the fungal network: “Boss, last time in the Captive Disciplinary Chamber I saw a Puji that can discharge electricity—can we add that function to Jida’s drill too?”

However, the Boss didn’t respond as swiftly as usual. The other end of the network fell silent for a moment before a distinctly absent-minded voice came through: “We’ll talk about it later.”

Norris leaned close to Louisa and whispered, “What’s up with the Boss? Bad mood?”

Louisa shrugged. She had no idea.

…

Lin Jun’s mood was indeed bad.

The reason was simple—he’d been “getting beaten up” every single night lately!

As for the investigation into the [Strange Dream], Aiden unfortunately hadn’t found anything useful.

And somehow, starting from the second night, the intensity of the intrusion Inanna encountered in her dreams more than doubled!

While it wasn’t to the point where he couldn’t protect Inanna, the previously at-ease Lin Jun was instantly forced into a situation of getting hammered at the chokepoint.

By now, it wasn’t just superficial scrapes each night—it was like poking his pinky through a water pipe and having someone jab a needle into it to draw blood!

At first, Lin Jun had simply wanted to fend off the invasion for Inanna so everyone could be happy; now, he only wanted to drag out the mastermind behind it and settle the score properly.

To reverse the situation quickly, the most direct method was to consume large quantities of Dream Flowers and rapidly raise the skill level of [Mental Guidance].

Inanna took on this arduous task with decisiveness—she would go steal flowers from her own family’s treasure vault!

Lin Jun felt that with her capabilities, sooner or later she’d be caught red-handed.

Even if she were, it wouldn’t be a big problem.

Inanna herself wouldn’t suffer any severe consequences, and once the [Strange Dream] situation was exposed because of it, Lin Jun had follow-up plans ready.

The most important thing right now was to eat enough flowers, upgrade the skill, and break free from this nightly passive beating.

As for the fungal network connection problem…

The ducal residence was about two days’ travel from Mordu [lit. “Mushroom Capital”]. In this region and its surroundings, traces of mycelium could now be seen everywhere.

In fact, even in the two cities adjacent to Mordu—Norwede and Fishing Sail ["Yufan"] Port—their outskirts had already begun to see the Mycelium Carpet spreading.

…

The spread of the Mycelium Carpet expanded the activity range of the Puji-handlers[handlers who command Pujis], and they naturally began to operate in Norwede and Fishing Sail ["Yufan"] Port.

Their appearance quickly aroused hostility from the local old-guard adventurers and mercenaries.

The reason was simple: they were stealing business!

A commission that originally required a four-person adventuring party could now be completed by just two Puji-handlers leading their Puji squads—and that was even after deliberately forming a team to reduce Puji attrition.

Not only subjugation-type commissions, even passing merchant caravans now preferred hiring Puji-handlers as escorts.

Unlike human mercenaries, who prioritized self-preservation when encountering enemies, Pujis were evidently more “dedicated.”

They would execute orders without hesitation and, even at the cost of their own lives, strive to complete the task.

For merchants, they only needed to pay a “Puji attrition compensation” afterward—far lower than condolence payouts for human mercenaries—so costs were greatly reduced.

However, these two small cities were limited in scale; the number of commissions they could generate was only so much.

When the relatively cheap yet efficient Puji-handlers seized most of the commissions, the adventurers and mercenaries who had once relied on these jobs to make a living suddenly found their livelihoods on the brink.

Some people, embracing the principle of “if you can’t beat them, join them,” made inquiries and then headed to the Dungeon to seek “baptism,” hoping to become new Puji-handlers.

But more people refused to accept such change and couldn’t adapt. After being completely crushed by competition, they holed up in taverns—drowning their sorrows, slacking and complaining—while furiously cursing the Puji-handlers who had stolen their rice bowls.

This sentiment kept spreading and, through mutual venting, found validation, fermenting into a pervasive resentment.

And then, at some moment, it erupted!

“Get out! Freak!”

At the door of a bustling tavern in Norwede, a figure in a gray robe was shoved roughly out and fell to the ground.

His hood slipped off, revealing faint white mycelial traces upon his face—clearly, he was a Puji-handler.

The few Pujis that had been waiting quietly outside immediately scurried to him, clustering tight at his side.

The ones who had kicked him out were a group of drunken mercenaries.

They blocked the tavern entrance, their faces mixed with liquor-flush, anger, and undisguised hostility.

Inside the tavern came a chorus of cheers and jeering.

Only the tavern owner was unhappy about a customer being driven off, but in such an atmosphere he couldn’t very well protest.

The noise from behind made the mercenaries even more pleased with themselves as they loudly mocked the Puji-handler’s appearance.

The Puji-handler clenched his fists, but in the end chose to endure.

Never mind just these three mercenaries in front of him—if things turned ugly, who could say whether people inside the tavern might join in? He didn’t want to risk a brawl that offered no benefit whatsoever.

He said nothing. After getting up, he prepared to leave with his Pujis.

However, his behavior only made the mercenaries press harder.

They not only hurled open insults, mocking him as “trash who only dares rely on a pile of mushrooms,” but one of them even took a few steps forward to catch a Puji by its short leg and dangle it upside-down.

“What Puji-handler? It’s just a bunch of ingredients. Let’s use this for soup tonight!” He didn’t hold back in the least—the Puji’s foot was crushed in his grip.

The Puji-handler’s voice came: “Put it down…”

“And if I don’t?” The mercenary drew the knife at his waist and pointed it at the Puji-handler.

A current surged from the Puji in his hand through his whole body—the mercenary’s limbs instantly seized up in paralysis.

Another Puji lashed out and slapped the weapon flying, then a shell-cased Puji smashed into the mercenary’s face, knocking out several teeth.

“You’re dead!” the mercenary’s two companions drew their weapons, cursing as they charged.