Watching his little sister still playing fetch with her pet Puji, Salyan couldn’t help but chuckle, his eyes full of fondness.

“A red piece of wood? That is unusual.”

“It’s more than unusual! Touch it, you’ll see—it’s amazing!” Elawen’s face flushed with excitement as she shoved the shard into his hand.

The instant his fingertips brushed the wood, Salyan’s expression changed.

His blood seemed to heat up, a surge of violent exhilaration flooding his chest!

A battle trance?

Not the ordinary morale-boosting kind—something far more primal, closer to bloodlust!

What kind of dangerous junk had this Puji dragged home?!

His smile vanished. Swiftly, he channeled mana, wrapping the crimson shard in a shimmering glow so it floated above his palm, no longer in direct contact.

He probed it several times, finally relaxing when he confirmed the fragment wasn’t immediately hazardous.

But clearly, it was just a piece of something larger.

Its grain… familiar. Almost like tree demon bark.

“Elawen,” he said gravely, “where did this come from?”

Seeing his sudden seriousness, Elawen grew flustered, clutching the Puji on her head.

“I—I’ll let Little Puji explain…”

Closing her eyes, she held still, speaking silently through her gift.

Moments later, the scout Puji extended a tendril, pointing out the window in a certain direction.

“That way?” Salyan frowned.

Elawen explained, “Little Puji said it found it at home… and by ‘home,’ I think it means the dungeon.”

“The dungeon…” After long thought, Salyan sternly warned his sister never to touch strange things her Puji brought back again. It was far too dangerous.

Then, with the shard in hand, he hurried off, leaving behind a confused Elawen—and a Puji that knew exactly what was going on.

…

When faced with multiple choice, Lin Jun always picked all of the above.

Since he had already sent Bastaldos deep into the dungeon, there was no reason to leave the dungeon’s true masters—the elves—sitting idle.

Would the two sides run into each other below?

The Divine Wood Dungeon was vast. Odds were slim. And even if they did cross paths, slipping away would be easy—Lin Jun trusted his scouting abilities.

For now, all he could do was wait for results from that front.

He shifted his view, checking on the tenth floor.

The roaming charm Pujis had just “captured” another hunting werewolf.

Next came the usual process: lure it out, have Norris and the converted werewolves play friendly, butter them up with lines like “You’re already here, might as well try it” until curiosity took hold.

Stay or leave after—that was up to them.

One by one, the old wolves’ blockade was crumbling.

Watching those grizzled leaders fume helplessly as their grip was eroded bit by bit had become one of Lin Jun’s favorite pastimes.

In the dream battlefield, with his skill at Level 6, he had finally escaped the misery of one-sided beatings. Though still locked in stalemate, it no longer felt suffocating.

And the Pink Puji “inside agent” was officially on the job!

Under the guise of testing skill equipment, she slipped in and out of the treasury, always “forgetting” to return with some Dream Flowers—dumping them all onto the nearest mycelium mats.

A crude, obvious method of theft, but with the steward distracted and her being a duke’s daughter, she remained untouchable.

At least until the next inventory check, she would keep living carefree.

Lastly—and what Lin Jun looked forward to most—the person he had been quietly watching for a long time was finally about to trigger his plotline!

…

Ring-a-ling—

The doorbell of the Mushroom Inn jingled as a merchant-looking guest stepped inside.

Bianca, who had been hoisting a Puji to dust the corners of the ceiling, quickly slipped behind the counter.

“Welcome! Will you be dining or staying?”

With Dylan away, reception fell to her.

Now the Mushroom Inn truly bustled with Pujis shuffling about, and faint traces of mycelium marked Bianca’s face—her cuteness now tinged with something strange.

Coexisting with mycelium wasn’t rare in Molden anymore, but for such a young girl, it was unusual.

After all, the process required one to brush against death itself.

Plenty of tales told of those who failed: stabbing too deep, or bleeding out before healers arrived.

The risk of death was real. Few young girls had the resolve.

Bianca had no choice. She was broke.

Fortunately, Dylan had overseen her ritual himself—Lin Jun would never allow his shopgirl to die by accident. She simply didn’t know it.

With her new ability to command Pujis, she could do the work of three, earning twice the pay!

So even as business grew, Dylan hadn’t needed to hire extra help.

The merchant studied the fungus marks on her face, as if recalling something, before replying:

“Lodging. The room at the end of the first-floor hall—is it free?”

“It’s free. I’ll register you.”

Bianca quickly completed the process and handed over a key.

She was sharp—after months at the inn, she had realized that particular room carried special meaning.

But that wasn’t her concern. Dylan paid her double, enough to buy medicine and fine mushrooms for her mother. That was all she needed.

Watching the merchant’s back vanish into the corridor, Bianca returned to the kitchen. Dinner for the guests wouldn’t cook itself.

…

When Dylan came home with his pack full of herbs, Bianca already had hot food waiting.

The herbs were cover for potion sales, collected from the guild.

He casually asked about the inn, and when Bianca mentioned a guest had taken the end-room, his brow lifted.

Odd. The spies he knew in Molden had all checked in recently. None should be arriving so soon again.

Was it a newcomer seeking contact? Or someone with special intel?

No rush. He ate dinner first, then slipped into his room.

Through a hidden door, he entered the cellar—and came face to face with the “merchant.”

“Brother Clorro?!”

“Little Dylan?!”