In the distance, the city walls already towered high, their massive stone outlines nearly closed.
Though countless magic arrays still needed to be inscribed and activated afterward, the moment the walls met, Mushroom Town would officially be elevated to the rank of a true city.
Word had it that Fahl and the other leading figures were already discussing what name this new city should bear.
On the streets of Mushroom Town now, the sight of Pujis wandering idly had become rare. Instead, more and more figures walked surrounded by clusters of ten or twenty Pujis—the “Puji Masters.”
As expected, this peculiar new “profession,” difficult to classify under the traditional system, had quietly spread.
Whether warrior, mage, archer, or even powerless commoner, in theory anyone could become a Puji Master—so long as they had the courage to endure a near-death experience and willingly let that strange mycelium parasitize them.
Most who chose this path were mediocre adventurers whose strength had stagnated, or commoners desperate to change their fates.
For the truly talented, it was nothing more than a risky, unorthodox shortcut.
And it came with severe limitations. Since constant mana was required to keep the Pujis active, Puji Masters could not long survive outside the range of the Mycelium Carpet.
After all, expensive mana potions were hardly something those from humble backgrounds could afford for daily consumption.With the growing number of Puji Masters, Mushroom Town began to change in many ways.
Among the negative changes, the most glaring was road congestion.
A single Puji Master and his troop of followers could easily take up the space meant for ten people.
Even though Guildmaster Fahl had originally planned the roads with a major city in mind, this unprecedented situation strained them to the limit.
For now, traffic was still passable, but if numbers kept increasing, bottlenecks would become a serious headache.
It was said that Fahl was deeply troubled, torn between expanding the roads now with large-scale construction, or enacting policies to restrict Puji Masters’ movements.
Of course, there were positive sides as well.
With the right Puji formations, one person could perform the role of an entire adventuring party.
This gave rise to new modes of operation—solo or duo Puji Master expeditions—breaking the tradition of needing three or four people per team.
Naturally, the rise of Puji Masters also spawned a new market.
Craftsmen now made protective leather armor tailored to Pujis, to keep them from dying too easily in battle. Merchants sold diluted mana potions, too weak for humans but just right for Pujis.
But the greatest change was the birth of an entirely new, living market—the Puji trade market—as people realized that not only were there many types of Pujis, but even individuals of the same type had different attributes.
…
Two weary Puji Masters entered the bustling Puji market.
Their leather armor bore dried bloodstains—not their own, but from bandits who had long plagued the trade road between Mushroom Town and Fishsail Harbor.
Those fools had dared to rob within Mushroom Town’s sphere of influence. As expected, within ten days of the bounty being posted, they were wiped out.
And the ones who completed the job were none other than these two silver-ranked Puji Masters.
Even though that bandit group had several silver-ranked fighters among them, the two men had used their swarms of Pujis, plus clever tactics, to crush them.
Of course, it hadn’t been an easy steamroll.
Though the Puji Masters themselves were unscathed, their troops had been decimated. Now only six remained at their heels, and they had come here precisely to replenish their “forces.”
They could have captured new Pujis directly from the dungeon, but the uncertainty of types and attributes there made it inefficient for their carefully built combat formations.
The market Pujis were pricier, but they could be selected according to need.
On entering, they impatiently waved away a few hawkers peddling so-called “elite Pujis.” Everyone knew those were scams aimed at rookies.
If someone truly had the luck to obtain a silver-ranked elite Puji, they’d already be mobbed by bidders—not hawking it from the roadside.
Inside, proper vendors displayed their Pujis quietly squatting around their stalls, forming little showcases for customers to browse.
The transfer of Puji ownership was remarkably simple: both buyer and seller placed a hand on the Puji, confirmed “give” and “accept” in their minds, and the transaction was complete.
This psychic process also explained why there was no such thing as Puji theft.
The two men strolled and selected carefully, replenishing their troop with several suitable Pujis.
Just as they were about to leave, a dense crowd gathered nearby caught their attention.
As the saying went, when adventurers gathered three-deep in a circle, it was either a fight—or the appearance of an extraordinary Puji.
The two exchanged a glance and, true to their instincts, pushed their way into the throng.
…
“Thirty gold! Any higher?”
On a high platform, Horn raised a Puji that looked ordinary except for its strikingly vivid red cap, shouting loudly:
“This is a genuine Level 7 Gourmet Puji! Certified by the Guild!”
He quickly pulled out a parchment stamped with the Guild’s scarlet seal and unfurled it before the crowd. On the skill line, the words 【Gourmet LV7】 shone clearly.
“Just this appraisal cost me five gold! Anyone higher?”
Sure enough, the certified report ignited the crowd’s bidding.
“Thirty gold!”
“Thirty-five!”
“Forty!”
No wonder they were so eager. A 【Gourmet LV7】 was unheard of!
Even most nobles had never tasted such a delicacy.
Many adventurers weren’t bidding to eat it themselves, but hoping to resell it to nobles at a high price.
As the price climbed higher, Horn grinned ear to ear.
After selling the symbiosis information, he still hadn’t paid off his debt. But he had wisely reserved some coins, spending them all on monster corpses to draw more Pujis—and it had paid off!
“One hundred gold!”
A clear female voice cut through the bids. People turned to see it was Liliane, Guildmaster Fahl’s personal maid.
“One hundred five!” someone tried weakly to top it.
“One hundred twenty!” Liliane called firmly.
Silence fell.
Horn happily handed the precious Puji to Liliane. The price exceeded all expectations—enough to clear his debts and still have some left to buy more corpses.
Since Liliane wasn’t parasitized by mycelium, she couldn’t complete the psychic ownership transfer. But as this Puji wasn’t for battle, it didn’t matter.
She simply grabbed it by one foot, as if picking up a plump chicken for the pot, and carried it away calmly.
From afar, Fahl stood at a window overlooking the market and asked Aidan beside him:
“Aidan, what do you think of these Puji Masters?”
Aidan considered, then replied:
“Right now, with the new city under construction, stability is what matters most. And this new profession has, objectively, strengthened the weaker adventurers. My advice: don’t encourage it openly, but don’t forcefully suppress it either. Maintain the status quo, keep warning of the risks. Since the trend is already set, instead of struggling to stop it, we should think seriously about taxing Puji trade—and what rate to set.”
Fahl nodded approvingly.
“Aidan, it’s good to have you analyzing by my side. If every decision fell to me alone, I’d collapse.”
Then his tone lightened.
“By the way, tonight let’s try this ‘Gourmet LV7’ Puji together!”