“Retreat? They… just retreated like that?” On the wall, a face-smudged soldier leaned on the battlement and watched the serpents’ line vanish into the distance, murmuring in disbelief.
The next second, a wave of ecstatic cheering swept across the entire wall.
“We survived! We won!”
“Ha ha! Those damn demons—nothing special!”
“See that? My self-destruct pujis literally blew a serpent’s tail to pieces!”
Everyone cheered; the Puji Masters were the most excited—others felt less involved, and frankly didn’t much want that involvement.
Angela leaned against the cold bricks and breathed out a long, slow sigh.
Her taut nerves finally relaxed; she realized her sword-hand was still trembling.
Not long ago she had steeled herself to die—she had no desire to experience a life of slavery.
Now they had survived…
“The Puji Masters are actually pretty useful,” she murmured.
Of course, that “useful” referred to the potential of the profession itself, not the particular lot of men under her command.
Those rookie Puji Masters exemplified everything a “green” unit should be—no tactical sense, poor discipline, panicking on contact.
Today’s victory relied entirely on how annoying the pujis familiars themselves were.
Not only the handlers; the wall archers also performed poorly.
From the serpent corpses, fewer than twenty had actually died from arrows—whereas a fair number of pujis had been accidentally killed by friendly fire.
Even with such chaotic coordination, they had still repelled an army that had seemed unbeatable!
That proved the enormous potential of the Puji Master unit.
Angela thought that if the serpents had charged in a berserk mode and prioritized killing the Puji Masters first, the outcome might have been different.
But evidently, they themselves did not fully understand the pujis’ characteristics—let alone the enemy.
In short—they’d dodged a bullet. For now…
“Is there any way to replenish these pujis?” the Viscount Knight’s voice pulled Angela back to reality.
The lord was already thinking about follow-up defense; having half the pujis gone made him anxious.
Angela and the other commander exchanged glances—they didn’t know!
The original pujis-handler commander had fled.
No choice: they summoned several Puji Master squad leaders to ask.
“Go to the pujis dungeon and feed the mycelial carpet with monster corpses; pujis will grow.”
“Who’d go to the dungeon now?”
“What about the city’s mycelial carpet?”
“I don’t think so… I heard pujis spawning really depends on ambient mana; the surface’s mana concentration isn’t enough…”
“Feed it more corpses?”
“There aren’t monster corpses right now—can’t exactly risk running into demon patrols to find some!”
“Also, they didn’t say the corpses have to be monster corpses…”
The group muttered back and forth and then fell silent, their gazes converging on the serpent corpses piled outside the walls.
Using enemy corpses to spawn your own troops—what an obviously sensible idea. No one felt the least moral qualm.
Not only were the serpent bodies gathered, but the piled-up pujis remains from the field were carefully collected and carried to the city’s mycelial carpet, spread out evenly.
The few fallen wingfolk and defenders killed by magic or thrown spears were buried elsewhere in the city.
Without Lin Jun accelerating the process with mana, the carpet’s decomposition moved slowly.
Angela and the Viscount came to check several times a day.
Fortunately, no other demon contingents appeared nearby in the next few days.
On day one, fine mycelial threads quietly spread like cobwebs over the corpses; tiny mushrooms began to poke out around the carpet.
On day two, the mushroom clusters noticeably increased, even salted with a few enticing-looking “tasty caps.” These corpse-fed fungi, ignored by day, were pilfered at night by two bold beastfolk soldiers as a midnight snack.
On day three, change finally occurred. From the half-decomposed corpse heap the first newborn pujis pushed its rounded body up. Around it, more not-quite-formed pujis shapes surfaced from the carpet.
When a Puji Master successfully established a mental link with the newborn pujis, everyone present breathed a collective sigh of relief.
In the days that followed, newborn pujis sprouted like spring after rain.
Before the corpses were fully consumed, the losses were completely replenished—and even slightly exceeded.
Combat strength was restored; the long-held anxieties lifted.
What they didn’t know was that purely from mana accounting, decomposing a hundred-odd serpentfolk could not produce over three thousand pujis—the missing portion had been subsidized by Lin Jun.
No choice: Golden Valley City was the Puji Masters’ first appearance; the better their performance, the more attention the new profession would get later.
Lin Jun accepted losing some mana as payment for improving his skill proficiency.
A few days later another small demon contingent appeared outside Golden Valley, smaller than the serpents. After a probing assault that left dozens of corpses, they withdrew quickly.
For a long stretch after that, no demon host attacked Golden Valley; instead, many humans came.
Golden Valley had held because of its Puji Masters—nearby towns without such units fell under small demon raiding parties.
Because demon forces were dispersed, each time they sacked a settlement some survivors escaped; many drifted to Golden Valley.
Refugees and fleeing soldiers poured in.
Their arrival didn’t bring much actual fighting strength; instead they worsened already-tight food supplies.
At the same time, Golden Valley’s strategic value grew.
Scouting birdfolk had recently spotted multiple demon scouts near the region.
Previously the two assaults had failed not because Golden Valley was superior but because the attackers judged it not worth the cost.
Now, with many refugees arriving, the city’s “value” in the demons’ eyes was rapidly rising.
Angela realized it wouldn’t be long before the city became a target the demons would take seriously.
“The worst-case,” she said in a low voice, scanning the assembled faces, “is several demon contingents arriving at the walls at once.”
In the council hall, besides the Viscount Knight and the new thousand-man commander, there was another face: Baron Morton.
He’d broken out from his fallen lands, battered and with almost all his troops lost—but he’d survived by sheer Diamond-rank strength.
“We need more Puji Masters,” the Viscount said.
Angela reminded them, “We tried symbiotic mycelium before—though its success rate is lower than the dungeon’s, it can still create new Puji Masters. But we no longer have extra corpses to raise pujis.”
The Viscount’s finger hovered over the map and finally stopped at a mark west of Golden Valley.
Warrior Cape Bay, a small port that once traded frequently with Golden Valley.
“That place fell a few days ago,” Baron Morton said grimly—his lands lay nearby; he knew the region’s fall well.
The Viscount shook his head slowly. “Precisely because it’s fallen, we must send people.”
“Your meaning is…” Angela guessed, incredulous.
“We need corpses,” the Viscount said with terrifying calm.
Baron Morton sprang up. “You’re mad! Those are human corpses! You want to—use them to—”
“They are already dead!” the Viscount snapped, raising his voice. “But we are still alive! There are so many people in this city who want to keep living! Without enough pujis, we can’t hold the next attack! Then everyone will die!”
Baron Morton opened his mouth but sat back down without finishing his objection.
The Viscount looked around at everyone present and returned to his quiet tone. “It’s a two-day round trip at least… who will go?”
…
Meanwhile, a large ship slowly sailed along the coastline.