Riel’s little shop was able to be preserved mainly thanks to the elves’ friendly, mutually supportive culture.

If this had happened in a human city, well… it would have been much simpler.

Grease the wheels with gold coins and it’s done—no need to work Lin Jun like a dog! [internet slang: “worked to the bone”]

Of course, good mushrooms earn good returns. After this round of high-intensity overtime, [Mental Guidance] actually rose to Level 6!

Honestly, getting beaten up every day lately—it was about time it leveled up!

Lin Jun was already cracking his knuckles, eager for tonight’s dream skirmish.

Originally, faced with the opponent’s sudden, massive increase in intrusion strength, Lin Jun had felt a bit uncertain.

He even worried that if their offensive kept ramping up a few more rounds, he’d have to set up a gravestone for the Pink Puji.

However, things didn’t develop that way.

After a clear round of strengthening, the opponent’s intrusion seemed to stabilize and no longer escalate.

They could still pin down his “pinky” and pound it each night, but that was all.

Now he only hoped this “异梦” [lit. “aberrant dream,” a hostile dream-link ability] wasn’t some shameless skill the other side could cancel unilaterally at any time, leaving him only to be beaten without any chance to strike back.

Of course, before the delightful night arrived, Lin Jun still had other matters to handle.

…

Divine Wood [Sacredwood] Dungeon, Sixth Floor.

Patches of the Mycelium Carpet were scattered through the firefly-grass-free forest.

Lin Jun didn’t blanket the area on a large scale—that would be too conspicuous. The underground mycelial network tunnels were what mattered.

Yet as the Carpet reached the Sixth Floor, he ran into those burrow-happy rats again.

This time the species was slightly different, and the numbers were larger.

They not only chewed the Carpet into a pockmarked mess, but also ambushed Pujis traveling within the mycelial tunnels.

Lin Jun had to wage another protracted “tunnel war” against them.

Fortunately, these rats carried the [Acceleration] skill. The level wasn’t high, but it was a gain nonetheless.

The rat skirmishing was everyday trifles. What truly drew Lin Jun’s attention was an uninvited guest—a treant with only half a body left.

For ordinary adventurers, treants were enemies they’d rather not face.

They possessed high [Physical Resistance], with no obvious fatal weak points; even cut in half, they could crawl and keep fighting, and even a headshot rarely finished them.

They also wielded clumsy-looking yet lethal skills like [Trunk Slam] that could kill in a single blow.

Without a fire mage, the fight would be extremely hard; but if you brought a fire mage, you’d likely fail to preserve intact combat materials.

That was exactly why his treants had once been able to cling to a corner of the Sixth Floor. If they had been truly valuable, they’d have been found by adventurers no matter how well hidden.

The treant before him, reduced to only its upper half, had clearly been through one or more brutal battles. Not only had it lost its lower body, the remaining upper half was shattered and scarred.

Yet in contrast to its ruined body, it was spirited—too spirited, in fact.

[Status: Frenzy]

Between its tangle of dead twigs and broken branches, a faint dark-red glow pulsed.

Even near death, it stubbornly inched toward the nearest Puji, swinging its remaining limbs, hell-bent on attacking to the very end.

This immediately reminded Lin Jun of that elf party he’d encountered before—they had produced a treant that had fallen into [Frenzy] as well. Unfortunately, he hadn’t tracked it down at the time.

This one wasn’t the same specimen; its panel showed it was two levels lower.

Had those elves converted other treants? Or… was this “frenzy” itself contagious?

Test it and see.

Soon, a leopard-type monster, knocked groggy by hallucinogenic spores, was tossed near the treant. The treant, without hesitation, switched targets, dragging its ruined body toward the closer prey.

Sadly, it was too weak to exert full strength. Its mighty blow left only a shallow wound on the leopard, and then Lin Jun had the Pujis separate the two.

The leopard didn’t show signs of infection immediately.

Just as Lin Jun thought it might not be contagious, the leopard, stung by pain, quickly locked onto the culprit.

Still swaying from residual hallucinations, it lunged at the broken treant.

One was frail and spent; the other half a body. The two “old, weak, sick, and disabled” began a clumsy, ugly brawl.

Unexpectedly, during the fight, an ominous dark-red glow began pulsing beneath the leopard’s fur; its eyes gradually turned crimson.

[Status: Frenzy]

The same status! It spread!

Lin Jun had no desire to catch some “rabies,” so he immediately ordered the Pujis to bombard from afar with Artillery Pujis and finished both monsters off swiftly.

But he still hadn’t pinned down the exact transmission route.

Was it like zombies—wound first, then an incubation period?

Or…

Whatever the case, the point that it was contagious was now certain.

Gazing toward the newly explored Seventh Floor, and further depths he had yet to touch, Lin Jun felt a bad premonition.

Before night fell, the premonition came true—a second monster showing [Frenzy] stepped into the Sixth Floor’s range.

He killed it quickly, but clearly, there were more below…

…

Deep within the Crimson Spire, in that same lightless, sealed hall, Duke Sigismund once more slowly pushed open the pitch-black coffin at the center of the magic circle and sat up.

By now, the circle beneath his feet had long ceased to be a simple hexagram.

It had become immense, with an extremely complex structure. Twisted runes writhed and intertwined like living things, glimmering with baleful ghostlight.

The formation’s nodes had multiplied—eighteen in total!

Upon each node slumped a lifeless “consumable.”

Among them were not only humans, but also dwarves, orcs, and even a lizardman—now all reduced to empty shells with shattered minds.

At the sound of the coffin, Malgas pushed the door open and entered.

He was even paler than last time, nearly bloodless. Faint wisps of black vapor occasionally seeped from his eyes, ears, nose, and mouth.

If a brave soul probed his status, they would find he had even dropped a level.

No wonder he was so anxious about the progress of the “aberrant dream.”

Yet the result disappointed him again.

Duke Sigismund’s face was dark, his expression deeply displeased. “Still couldn’t break through. Worse, the other side’s mental defenses suddenly strengthened a great deal. I can’t even maintain suppression anymore.”

Malgas frowned. No progress was one thing—how could it be worse than before?

After a moment’s thought, he conjectured, “My lord, perhaps they’ve reached their limit and resorted to some drastic tonic, hoping to repel you once and for all. Though it looks evenly matched now, such a burst can’t last. In my view, in at most two or three days, they’ll fall into mental exhaustion and be at your mercy.”

Sigismund nodded. Though something still felt off deep down, there was no more reasonable explanation for the moment, so he temporarily accepted Malgas’s guess.

Then his gaze swept over the surrounding “consumables,” and his tone turned cold. “Malgas, go find Eleanor! Have her send as many captives as possible! If she can’t help on the front line, she should at least contribute to logistics!”