In a quiet corner of the elven tree-top market, a small potion shop hung like a fruit woven from tough vines on a giant tree’s branch.
A sign shaped like a potion bottle, made of braided twigs, stood out in the dappled sunlight filtering through the leaves.
Scout Puffshroom flapped its tiny wings and landed on a branch by the shop’s door, where dried herbs dangled.
“Grandpa! Look! That flying mushroom’s back!” a bright voice called from inside.
A young elf girl, looking about eleven or twelve with two long braids, stood on her toes, leaning over the windowsill. Her big, sparkling eyes studied the Puffshroom with curiosity.
Elves in this world grew slowly. They didn’t take centuries to mature, but it still took over thirty years to reach an adult body.
So, this “little girl” was probably over twenty.
By elf standards, though, that was still a kid.
“Oh? Where, Riel?” Behind the counter, an old elf with a white beard nearly down to his waist looked up slowly.
An elf starting to look old meant they had less than ten years left. One as aged as this was probably down to a year or two.
The old elf followed his granddaughter’s pointing finger and smiled faintly.
Yesterday, when this Puffshroom first slipped into the shop, they noticed the green cloth on its foot. Not knowing Airaven or that she was searching for it, they assumed it was a free-roaming pet.
“Special little guest, huh? Come in if you want,” the old elf said, his voice raspy and slow, with a strange calming effect. “Riel, don’t scare it.”
He worried too much.
Before Riel could even step away from the window, the Puffshroom squeezed past her face, diving into the shop filled with the scent of herbs.
Lin Jun couldn’t understand their words, just exploring wherever he felt like.
After days of poking around, he was starting to like this elf city.
The nice environment was secondary—for a Puffshroom, a smelly swamp was the real paradise.
The main reason he liked it here was that most elves were kind to Puffshrooms.
Even if they didn’t show much affection, they usually ignored it rather than trying to catch or hurt it.
Back in Yafeng Town half a year ago, a human adventurer not “clearing out” a Puffshroom bouncing around would’ve been big news.
Things were different now—no one in Yafeng Town attacked Puffshrooms anymore.
A weird rumor had spread: kill a Puffshroom, and its ghost would haunt your dreams.
It sounded ridiculous, and the town’s priests found no evil spirits, but the rumor kept growing.
Some who had nightmares after harming Puffshrooms or the Mycelial Network believed it even more.
In truth, only a few cases were Lin Jun’s doing—most were just people scaring themselves. But with a bit of truth mixed in, the rumor got wilder.
Back to the elves.
The green cloth on its foot let Scout Puffshroom move freely. Even now, slipping into the shop without a clear “invite,” no one minded a Puffshroom.
It hopped onto the smooth wooden counter, plopping down right in front of the old elf, who was grinding herbs with focus.
Riel quickly tidied up the scattered herbs and tools on the counter to keep the “guest” from knocking them over.
Her small hand reached under the Puffshroom’s round, soft butt, gently pulling out a squashed flower.
So soft!
She glanced at the Puffshroom, then reached out again, wanting to poke its bouncy white body.
A mycelium tendril stretched out, firmly blocking her fingertip…
The old elf’s movements were skilled and steady, shaped by years of practice.
Grinding, mixing, brewing… deep purple liquid soon bubbled and blended in a small crucible.
He carefully poured the finished potion into three tiny glass bottles.
Lin Jun didn’t know the potion’s type but recognized four ingredients used.
Three grew in his Amethyst Dungeon, and the fourth, a yellow flower, he’d seen in the Godwood Dungeon.
Lin Jun was into potions because his dungeon had tons of materials but no way to turn them into valuable potions.
Before, when the demonkin joined, Lin Jun gave Shòu and Qióng limb-regrowth potions to win over Demonheart.
Those came from Edin, bought at a discount through guild channels, and still cost Lin Jun five hundred gold coins.
Even with all the wealth from adventurers’ “donations,” he couldn’t keep spending like that.
If he could make his own potions, that’d be perfect!
Not for selling—just to meet his dungeon’s needs and use the piles of materials lying around.
Otherwise, it felt like starving while sitting on a gold mine.
For potions, he could either learn himself or find someone new.
Lin Jun decided to do both.
Scout Puffshroom hopped between potion shops, watching. When he saw a recipe with materials he had, he tried making it in the dungeon, no matter the effect.
Failure was common, but his dungeon could handle the losses.
When a potion worked, he tested it on minotaur volunteers and noted the results.
After finishing the three potions, the old elf leaned back in his vine chair, closing his eyes to rest.
His energy couldn’t match younger elves.
A shop owner a few hundred meters away could manage three potion pots at once, brewing all day without tiring.
Too bad that owner was one of the few elves who’d shoo Puffshrooms away, or Scout Puffshroom would’ve camped there to “learn.”
No wonder this shop’s business was so slow—no customers had shown up.
But the old elf probably didn’t care much about business.
The elf territory seemed small, but the Elven Forest was way bigger than any human city.
With less than a hundred thousand elves in such a huge area, resources were plenty—no one worried about survival.
Those working hard were just chasing bigger goals.
Done watching the brewing, Scout Puffshroom turned and flew off.
Riel, who never got to grab the Puffshroom, pouted. If it came back tomorrow, she’d block the window, forcing it to squeeze past her!
Scout Puffshroom was heading to the next shop when a faintly familiar voice rang out: “Little Ji—!”
(End of Chapter)
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