“Form up! Line up!”

At Louisa’s command, the twenty selected prisoners moved quickly, arranging themselves neatly into two rows. On either side of the formation followed a mass of nearly four hundred Pujis, all controlled by those prisoners.

Only at the very end was the situation unusual. The prisoner there wasn’t controlling ordinary Pujis, but instead piloted a rather bulky Ji-da.

Louisa’s gaze swept over them. Once she confirmed everything was correct, she pivoted sharply and gestured. The entire unit obediently followed her lead.

These twenty prisoners had been carefully chosen—individuals with outstanding performance and extremely high obedience.

They themselves knew how rare the opportunity was, and so cherished it greatly.

After all, ordinary labor earned them only ten contribution points a day. To buy back their freedom would require nearly three years of nonstop accumulation, and that was under the ideal condition of resisting all temptations and never spending a single point.

Reality, however, was different. Ever since the mess hall once offered a limited batch of those unforgettable “delicious mushrooms,” nearly half the prisoners occasionally wasted points on satisfying their cravings.

Those with even less self-discipline saved nothing at all, practically giving up on freedom and resigning themselves to a life of idleness.

By contrast, joining this mission meant a daily base of fifty contribution points!

Rumor had it that excellent performance would earn extra rewards. Naturally, morale was high and everyone was on their best behavior.

The unit passed through the spatial rift, and the surrounding temperature gradually rose.

The lizardman Barok felt his cold scales relax, giving a comfortable shiver.

He stole a glance at Louisa at the front, then leaned toward his half-demon companion and whispered, “Ergen, where do you think we’re going this time?”

When first captured, lizardmen and half-demons often clashed and looked down on each other. Fights broke out frequently.

But under Puji management, when it came time to “plant mushrooms” on someone, it didn’t matter whether you were lizardman or not—you got the same treatment.

As fellow prisoners living side by side, over time most of the tension faded, except among a few stubborn types. Many even became friends, like Barok and Ergen.

Ergen thought for a moment. “Maybe to deal with werewolves? I heard someone made connections with them, found out there’s a group unwilling to submit to the boss. Maybe this time we’re going to bring them in?”

The prisoners also called him “the boss,” but all of them assumed the true leader was the Marshal Puji with the crimson cape. Lin Jun had never allowed them access to the Mycelium Network communications.

Barok frowned at the unit’s size. “With just this many… isn’t it too few?”

“Mmmph! Mmmph mmmph mmmph!” A muffled voice came from the Ji-da behind them, as though blocked by something.

Barok glanced back at the Ji-da and asked, “What’s Stick saying?”

Ergen translated: “He says, who cares—what matters is the contribution points!”

“You’re amazing, you can understand that?!” Barok said sincerely.

“Stick” was the nickname of the half-demon piloting that Ji-da.

He had been unlucky. In the decisive battle, he lost all four limbs, and even his throat was gravely damaged.

By rights, such injuries should have meant certain death. But the Pujis had saved him and discovered his talent for controlling a Ji-da, allowing him to earn contributions in this form.

Given that his body was reduced to a mere torso, the nickname “Stick” came naturally.

Unlike other prisoners who earned contributions to eventually buy freedom, Stick’s primary goal was to purchase the costly “Limb Regeneration Potion” on the exchange list.

Thus, he was more desperate than anyone to earn every possible point.

“Mmmph, mmph mmph!” Stick made more muffled noises inside the Ji-da.

“What’s that mean now?” Barok asked.

But this time, Ergen didn’t translate as usual. Barok asked again louder, but Ergen didn’t respond, his eyes fixed ahead.

Just as Barok was about to press further, he felt a chill—Louisa’s crimson eyes were locked on him.

…

The unit’s true destination was the Divine Wood Dungeon.

First, they ascended to the Tenth Floor, then used the Hidden Room to transfer in batches down to the Seventh Floor rift.

The Hidden Room had many advantages, but unfortunately its movement range was limited to Floors One through Ten. The deeper layers were not included.

Back at the Far North camp, the prisoners had been subjected to endless rules and chores.

Most of those arrangements were actually busywork, designed by Lin Jun purely to keep them occupied.

The true purpose was to correct their old tribal habits of disorder and laxness.

Now, their discipline had improved greatly. They had learned to follow rules and obey orders—even if the officer giving them commands wasn’t as strong as they were.

Now it was time to begin training them to fight in coordination with Pujis.

Louisa served as their combat instructor.

At present, the number of “frenzied” monsters appearing in Divine Wood Dungeon wasn’t high, averaging only one or two wandering up to the Sixth Floor each day. Perfect for giving these recruits practice.

With twenty people as a unit, even if something went wrong, losses would stay within acceptable bounds.

When these northern recruits first stepped into Divine Wood Dungeon, they were stunned by the magnificent sight of the ancient forest!

Each giant tree was over a hundred meters tall, requiring seven or eight people linking arms to encircle its trunk.

In the north, where had they ever seen such a vast, towering forest?

Even Stick, confined within the Ji-da, excitedly let out a rapid series of muffled “Mmmph mmph mmph!” noises.

After a brief commotion of awe, Louisa reformed the ranks and deployed them carefully along the defensive line.

Yet, contrary to Lin Jun’s expectations, the unit’s first opponent wasn’t a frenzied monster, nor even an ordinary wandering beast. It was an elf—and not just any elf, but an old acquaintance of Lin Jun’s.

That elf ranger, whose trick arrows could bend mid-flight!

He appeared from the deeper layers, seemingly intending to return upward.

Lin Jun hadn’t sensed when he had entered the lower floors at all.

But that wasn’t unusual. Even in the first six floors where the Mycelium Carpet had spread, large areas remained uncovered for various reasons.

Such as the domains of migrating trees, or swamps teeming with Mud Monsters. With enough luck, one could indeed descend without being detected.

However, it was clear that this elf’s luck had already run out. The instant he stepped onto the Carpet, Lin Jun recognized him as the one who had killed Scout No. 3—and made ready a proper welcome.