The city guards of Norwede arrived at the scene to clean up the aftermath of the brawl.

In the end, one Puji-handler and two mercenaries were seriously injured, and one mercenary died on the spot.

By the final stage of the fight, all the Pujis had self-destructed. The shockwave of the explosions completely destroyed the tavern’s front door, and two unlucky bystanders were lightly injured.

Fortunately, there were no more casualties. Most adventurers were veterans—when they saw the conflict escalating, they had long since skillfully retreated to a safe distance to watch the show.

Drunken adventurers brawling and causing deaths was nothing unusual in border cities like this.

In fact, one death and three injuries wasn’t even the worst outcome for such incidents.

But this time was different. It marked the escalating conflict between local adventurers and the rising class of Puji-handlers.

Unfortunately, though Viscount Palen, the city lord, recognized the situation, he drew the wrong conclusion.

At first, after a bit of treatment, the two mercenaries involved were released, while the Puji-handler was locked up alone.

This biased handling immediately enraged all the Puji-handlers in Norwede.

They gathered with their Pujis outside the administration hall, loudly protesting for fair treatment. No Puji-handler was willing to risk being subjected to the same injustice!

Although their numbers weren’t large, once their swarms of Pujis were counted, the scene was overwhelming.

Viscount Palen looked out at the “white ocean” churning outside his window and felt a splitting headache.

He had released the mercenaries because he thought the locals, being more numerous, would be harder to manage, while the Puji-handlers, fewer in number, wouldn’t dare cause a scene. But things had turned out exactly the opposite.

In panic, he made his second mistake: he re-arrested the two mercenaries he had just released.

Now things truly spiraled out of control. Not only were the Puji-handlers still protesting, but the local adventurers also rallied, angrily denouncing the city lord as “weak and indecisive, changing his orders at a whim.”

Two opposing crowds—already natural enemies—now gathered outside the lord’s manor, on the brink of all-out conflict.

Knowing he had bungled it, Palen had no choice but to mobilize large numbers of city guards to forcibly disperse both groups.

Afterward, he imposed a hefty fine on the two mercenaries and the Puji-handler. Regardless of whether they could pay, he promptly threw all of them out of jail, clearly eager to get rid of these “hot potatoes.”

From beginning to end, Palen weighed only what was “most convenient for himself,” rather than making a judgment based on law and fairness.

He did get rid of the problem—for the moment.

But only for the moment.

After this, conflicts between Puji-handlers and local adventurers grew ever more frequent, escalating from quarrels and scuffles to deadly violence, breaking out almost every few days.

By the time Palen tried to suppress the trend, it was already beyond his control.

Worse still, the tensions were no longer confined to Norwede—they spread gradually to Yufan Port and Mordu [" The Mushroom Capital"].

The difference was this: Yufan Port almost perfectly replicated Norwede’s experience—conflicts escalating, public order rapidly deteriorating, city guards run ragged.

But Mordu responded differently.

The first time a similar conflict broke out there, Veyra personally stepped in, stopping the two hostile sides at sword’s edge.

The troublemakers might not have wanted to give her face, but the surrounding adventurers watching the scene were happy to rally behind her.

With Veyra’s timely mediation and sheer presence, the conflict didn’t escalate into bloodshed.

Soon after, Fahl received the report. Taking Norwede’s precedent into account, he immediately recognized the seriousness of the problem.

He strengthened patrols to prevent violence and urgently summoned Aiden, Mirabelle, and other core members to discuss solutions.

Finally, a new department was established under the Adventurers’ Guild: the Puji-Handler Professional Association.

This department was responsible for registering Puji-handlers, mediating disputes, and distributing commissions.

Aiden firmly separated which types of commissions Puji-handlers could take versus traditional adventurers, and placed limits on the missions Puji-handlers could accept—ensuring they wouldn’t completely squeeze out the old adventurers’ livelihood.

This was only a stopgap, not a cure.

But even a temporary fix was far better than the paralysis of the city lords of Norwede and Yufan Port.

Ironically, when the Puji-Handler Professional Association was first founded, not a single true Puji-handler was among its core members—it was essentially a hastily assembled “makeshift troupe” of outsiders.

But something was still better than nothing.

Fahl poured nearly all his energy into refining and adjusting the department’s operations. Wherever problems appeared, he patched them immediately.

The results were obvious: while the other two cities’ security continued to deteriorate, Mordu had yet to suffer a single fatality from such conflicts.

…

Lin Jun didn’t involve himself.

Whether it was the rise of Puji-handlers or the conflicts they sparked, any new phenomenon would inevitably trigger a chain of reactions.

What was happening now was only the beginning.

Since the larger trend was irreversible, it was best to leave it to humans to find their own ways to adapt and resolve it.

Compared to human quarrels, Lin Jun’s attention was currently drawn elsewhere—toward the elves.

What caught his attention wasn’t a major event, but the simplest of things: an old elf had died.

That old elf who spent every day refining potions had, in the end, failed to live until spring.

The day before, under the watch of a Scout Puji, he had patiently taught his granddaughter Riel a new potion recipe.

The next day, he passed peacefully in his sleep. His expression was serene, as though sinking into an endless slumber.

But young Riel was devastated. Her sobs drew nearby elves and neighbors to her side.

The elves gathered up the elder’s remains and, in the now mushroom-grown cemetery, held a simple funeral. Aside from Riel, only old neighbors attended.

The ceremony followed the elves’ tradition of calm and serenity. Only this time, it included Riel’s inconsolable tears.

The other elves showed no grief. They calmly carried out their farewell.

Through his now Level 5 [Elvish Tongue] and long observation, Lin Jun had gradually come to understand their culture.

For them, death was not disappearance, but transformation of life’s form. A proper farewell was all that was needed.

Only young Riel, still too young to understand, cried her heart out.

The surrounding elves showed no irritation or rejection. They simply accompanied her silently, sheltering this tender grief.

The funeral ended with Riel’s quiet sobs.

When all the elves had gone, Lin Jun, as was his custom, decomposed the elder’s body.

When the Scout Puji returned to the familiar potion shop, Riel had just seen off a few neighbors who had comforted her, telling her to “speak up if she needed help.”

Her eyes were red as she silently arranged the herbs on the shelves.

Seeing the Puji fly in, she seemed to find someone to confide in, whispering as though to the Puji and to herself: “Flying mushroom, you came again… Grandpa’s gone, but I’ll keep the shop running! Will you… watch me make potions?”

Three days later, however, an elven official in uniform knocked on the shop door, delivering a formal notice: the area was to be redeveloped.