【Greed of the Seven Sins Triggered】
【Skill Plundered: Elvish LV9 → LV10】
【Skill Plundered: Ancient Elvish LV2 → LV3】
【Skill Plundered: Nature Magic LV7 → LV8】
【Skill Plundered: Archery Mastery LV8 → LV9】
【Skill Plundered: Flowing Step LV4 → LV5】
【Skill Plundered: Life Perception LV2 → LV3】
…
What’s Ancient Elvish supposed to be?
No clue.
Burp~
The sudden disaster that struck the Elves weighed heavily on Lin Jun’s heart as well.
Unfortunately, being just a humble grass mushroom, he had no way of sneaking into the Elven Royal City to attend King Aurel’s funeral — a true regret in his mushroom life.
During that chaos, one of the pujis had rescued little Ruil.
Following the pujis through the underground tunnels, Ruil eventually found herself naturally led into the Dungeon of the pujis.
There were many reasons for bringing her along.
For instance, since Ruil had already witnessed the pujis’ true power and the underground network, it would’ve been inconvenient to just let her go.
And besides, Lin Jun had long planned to bring back an elf or two — to highlight the diversity and inclusiveness of the Mushroom Garden, and to indulge his own little collector’s obsession.
But if one stripped away all those excuses, the truth was simple: Lin Jun was too lazy to make potions himself.
The Puji House potion shop had opened for business and was doing well. But that success only made Lin Jun experience firsthand the miserable, overworked life of a corporate employee.
He was the boss — yet he still had to meet daily production quotas? What kind of boss life was this?!
The Mushroomborn's Xīnghuǒ and the lizardman priests of the tribe could also make potions, but their style was... primitive. Ingredient proportions were purely by feel, and potion quality fluctuated wildly — the results were no better than gambling on blind boxes.
It was a purely wild-school approach. And if he tried to force them to adopt proper techniques, even that level of instability vanished — they couldn’t make anything at all.
By contrast, Ruil, trained personally by an old elven master, was far more reliable. Though still inexperienced, her methods were precise, her steps standardized, and she absolutely crushed that group of wild amateurs — exactly the kind of high-quality talent Lin Jun needed.
Such a perfect opportunity? Of course he brought her back.
Only… there was one small problem. Because of the language barrier, Ruil wasn’t adapting very well.
…
“Little elf~ don’t be scared, I really don’t mean any harm~”
Norris kept his ten-centimeter claws tucked carefully behind his back, speaking as softly as he could while forcing what he hoped was a friendly smile.
But to Ruil — staring straight at a towering lizardman with glistening fangs and drool about to drip from his jaws — it looked anything but friendly.
She instantly buried her face in the giant mushroom beside her and whimpered in Elvish, “Please don’t eat me… Ruil doesn’t have much meat… Big mushroom, help me!”
Seeing her terrified expression, Norris felt like he was the real victim here, yet he still had to keep trying to comfort her.
In the end, after Lin Jun called him a “useless waste,” Norris reluctantly went to fetch the Mushroom Garden’s resident linguist — the Yellow Book.
The Yellow Book truly lived up to its reputation as a master manipulator. Without even resorting to its usual trickery, it only took a few minutes of communication to completely calm Ruil down.
It even helped explain to her that Norris only looked scary but was actually kindhearted.
“But… but his claws are that long!” Ruil still trembled at the memory of those ten sharp talons.
[Did you notice he doesn’t have a tail?] the Yellow Book whispered.
Ruil nodded — indeed, she hadn’t seen a tail.
[He used to have a beautiful one. But…]
As the Yellow Book told the story, Ruil’s expression gradually changed.
When it finished, she hesitantly reached out her small, trembling hand and gently patted the scaly head of the crouching Norris.
Now she understood — this lizardman who had once sacrificed his own tail to feed his starving comrades couldn’t possibly be a bad person!
From that moment on, caring for the little elf was entrusted to Norris.
Interestingly, by age, Ruil was actually a few years older than Norris.
But due to differences in racial maturity — and her long, peaceful life in the carefree Elven Forest — she still behaved like a child, while Norris, who had already turned down over a dozen marriage proposals from female werewolves, was a fully mature adult lizardman.
Beyond recruiting a new member for the Mushroom Garden, Lin Jun certainly hadn’t forgotten the SSS-ranked mission
he’d nearly died to accept.He promptly sent Aiden and Inanna to gather information on the current status of that adventurer team.
The key now was to determine how those Diamond-ranked adventurers viewed the artifact fragment.
If they saw it as merely a valuable relic, Lin Jun could easily obtain it through trade — using Aiden’s or Inanna’s name.
Gold coins, S-rank magic crystals — everything was negotiable. If needed, he could even have the wealthy Inanna pay in advance. Surely they wouldn’t get too greedy.
But if they believed the Fragment of the Divine Tree Core held some irreplaceable significance and refused to part with it, things would become troublesome.
After all, facing the temptation of a skill without level restriction, Lin Jun was determined to claim that artifact fragment.
…
Meanwhile, the Mycelium Carpet’s expansion across human territory was going splendidly. It had long surpassed its original three-city spread, steadily extending into surrounding regions.
With official human support, one branch of the carpet had even reached a fortress near the northwestern front line.
The first batch of Puji Masters recruited by humanity had been deployed there for garrison duty.
However, since this section of the Mycelium Carpet was laid entirely by humans themselves, it existed only on the surface — no underground puji network beneath it.
Honestly, Lin Jun was very curious about how these human Puji Masters would perform in real warfare.
In theory, they should do quite well — but theory and battle were two different things. No one could guarantee the outcome.
He sincerely hoped they wouldn’t embarrass themselves, since their performance would directly affect whether the Mycelium Carpet could expand further.
Unfortunately, the fortress where the Puji Masters were stationed, though close to the front lines, hadn’t yet engaged the demon army.
In fact, even the Puji Masters themselves were beginning to think they’d never get the chance.
On both the Sword Saint’s northwestern front and Duke Alamar’s northern fortress line, the demon troops had grown strangely dispirited.
They rarely attacked now, spending most of their time encamped in stalemates; even when they did assault, it was half-hearted, as though they’d lost the will to fight.
Duke Alamar’s forces had even turned to the offensive, scoring several victories in a row.
Many Puji Masters lamented privately that they’d arrived too late — missing the perfect opportunity for glory.
Restricted by the limited spread of the Mycelium Carpet, confined to rear-line fortresses, they could only watch enviously as other units reported triumph after triumph.
This invasion war launched by the demons now seemed destined to end with humanity successfully fending off the invaders — an anticlimactic conclusion to a supposedly grand conflict.