It wasn’t some cliché of “the master just died, and outsiders swooped in to seize the inheritance.”

The potion shop left behind by the old elf, in the affluent society of the elves where material abundance and food security were guaranteed, really wasn’t considered a particularly precious property.

The elf messenger who came with the letter didn’t even know that the old elf had passed away. His purpose was simply to deliver a notice to the shop’s owner.

After learning of the elder’s death, he left the notice with Riel.

In short, as the situation on the continent grew increasingly dangerous, the elves decided to prepare in advance by further strengthening city defenses. That required certain areas of the city to be renovated.

Unfortunately, the potion shop just happened to be located in the planned redevelopment zone.

Of course, that was the official explanation. When human nobles wanted to expand their mansions, the reasons given were just as “righteous and proper.”

For the elves living in the affected zone, it wasn’t exactly bad luck. Those forced to relocate would receive corresponding compensation.

But for Riel, the shop itself was irreplaceable, because it was filled with memories of her and her grandfather.

After explaining everything, the messenger hurried off. He still had several similar notices tucked in his chest, clearly meant for other nearby households.

Riel clutched the notice, slumping in the rattan chair behind the counter in a daze. The spirit she had painstakingly propped up earlier was now completely drained. She didn’t even notice the Pujis wandering around the shop.

Scout Puji casually flipped through the old elf’s manuscripts, filled with potion formulas written in dense elf script.

Unfortunately, with Lin Jun’s current proficiency in Elvish, he could only make out bits and pieces. If Riel were at his side to demonstrate, he would surely learn much faster.

As for the demolition of the potion shop, Lin Jun himself couldn’t care less. He had no sentimental ties here. Learning potion formulas elsewhere wouldn’t be a problem.

But…

The old elf had indeed treated the Pujis with unusual kindness.

Because Pujis constantly came and went, distracting others, most potion shops either refused them entry altogether or restricted them to the front counter, strictly forbidding them from entering the workshop.

Only the old elf’s shop always kept its windows open for the Pujis. He never minded their presence during alchemy, even when Riel and the Pujis’ antics occasionally disrupted the process. He never truly got angry.

Not to mention, just earlier, the old elf had helped Lin Jun raise [Elvish Language] to Level 6.

In the end, Lin Jun’s conscience stirred. He decided to help the little girl a bit.

As for how to help?

Killing the relevant elves, sending in an army of Pujis to occupy the place, and slaughtering any intruders—that was obviously out of the question.

[Mana Perception LV8]

The messenger from earlier hadn’t gone far. At that moment, he was still on a treetop walkway across the way, having just delivered another notice, preparing to leave.

A Puji took off, trailing behind him at a distance, relying on its superior sensory advantage.

…

The messenger, relaxed after completing his task, strolled along the wooden bridges between the tree corridors.

When he passed a larger platform, he stopped at the sound of an impassioned voice.

An elf stood atop a crude wooden box, waving his arms as he addressed a sparse group of listeners. His voice carried urgency and fervor.

The Puji perched on a distant branch, catching only fragments.

The elf seemed to be urging others to pay attention to the Mists and to prepare actively.

Truthfully, since the elves lived far from the Mist-ravaged Western Isles, it sounded about as strange as warning inland folk about tsunamis. Lin Jun even suspected he was misunderstanding due to his still-limited language skill.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t listen for long.

Just as the speaker grew more agitated, two lightly armored elf rangers appeared. Without wasting words, they swiftly seized him, one on each side.

“You can’t do this! The elves need the truth! We must—”

His protest was cut short as the trained rangers carried him away. The whole incident was quick and quiet, like a trivial interruption.

The small crowd dispersed. The messenger, seeing no reason to linger, continued on his way and eventually arrived at the forester’s office.

After passing a colleague coming from another district, he entered, reported the successful delivery of the notices, and casually mentioned the old elf’s death.

The forester nodded in acknowledgement and dismissed him.

Once the door closed, the forester was left alone.

Stretching wearily, he rubbed his aching temples and muttered, “Even using the Surveillance Array, these radicals still keep stirring things up… Isn’t life good enough already? Why can’t they just settle down?”

He didn’t notice the invisible Puji hiding in the corner of the room.

That night, the forester had a strange dream.

In it, he returned to his childhood and saw his father—then still in his prime at over seven hundred years old—die in a sudden fire.

The raging flames consumed their treehouse. Every keepsake turned to ash, leaving only endless regret.

Upon waking, the forester found the dream absurd and full of flaws.

His father was a palace guard, alive and well, formidable as ever. How could he have perished in a fire?

Yet when he later received a petition signed by local residents requesting the preservation of the old elf’s potion shop, his gaze lingered on the details describing young Riel’s plight.

The bond between the girl and her shop stirred in him a faint resonance with the sense of “losing all mementos” from his dream.

Naturally, the petition had been spurred by the neighbors, prompted by Lin Jun’s dream-inserted hints.

To accomplish this, Lin Jun had spent the whole night busy—getting beaten up in Inanna’s dream while planting seeds of suggestion in the forester’s and the neighbors’ dreams. Even for him, it was exhausting.

But the effort wasn’t wasted.

The forester consulted the elves overseeing the “Surveillance Array” about adjusting its placement.

When assured that small modifications were possible, he went to inspect the area personally. In the end, he relocated it to several other giant trees near—but not including—the potion shop.

Throughout the entire process, the forester never met Riel in person.

Two days later, Riel received official notice: her potion shop no longer needed to be moved.

Overjoyed, she went door-to-door thanking her neighbors, even offering potions in gratitude, though they politely declined.

When she returned, she found a familiar scout Puji already waiting in the shop, seemingly ready to observe her potion-making.

“Flying Mushroom! I don’t have to move anymore! This is wonderful!”

Overwhelmed with happiness, Riel opened her arms and rushed to hug it.

And, as always, several tough yet flexible mycelium tendrils politely held her head and body at bay, keeping her from succeeding.