Leaving the Adventurers’ Guild, Norris savored the lingering taste on his tongue.
The hefty bounty task got them a private room for processing, where they were served a drink he’d never tried—fruity, fizzy, sweet, and crisp. It left an impression.
As a “manager” in Mushroom Garden No. 3, Norris had no shortage of Tasty Mushrooms, but the dungeon lacked any real drink culture.
He planned to buy some to share with Louisa, Little Black, and his demonkin friends, including Qióng.
But that could wait until they headed back.
Besides the bounty, they had another task…
Near Mushroom Town, in an undeveloped forest.
A woman in plain linen, posing as a common farmer, slipped quietly to a small pond.
The surrounding scene was grim—flowers blackened, trees wilted, like a plague had swept through.
Her doing. Yesterday, she’d dumped an entire bottle of “Corruption Potion” into the water.
Yet, her face showed no triumph, only gloom and frustration.
Beneath the decayed branches and leaves, white mycelium stubbornly spread, climbing onto freshly dead trees, soaking up their last nutrients, looking… healthier than ever!
“Even Corruption Potion doesn’t work?” she muttered, teeth gnawing her nails, making a faint click-click.
Over days here, she’d tried all six poisons she brought. The results? Disastrous.
Potions that could ruin entire crops were nearly useless against the Mycelial Network.
Even the most promising Corruption Potion only shriveled the mycelium closest to the pond.
To truly kill it, she’d need to pour undiluted potion directly on it.
But the cost—who could afford that?
One bottle of Corruption Potion could buy a cartload of mushrooms, yet it only destroyed a patch less than four square meters.
Poisoning the fields was a lost cause.
“Damn it!” She bit her nails harder.
She could report this failure—nobody could’ve predicted the mycelium’s resistance, so it wasn’t her fault.
But no fault meant no credit either.
For this mission, she’d trekked a month and a half from the front-line city, blending with refugees. No reward? She wasn’t happy.
Suddenly, her ears twitched—someone was coming!
She darted behind a tree, slowing her breathing to a whisper, listening intently.
Two people, not heading toward the pond. They hadn’t spotted her.
They stopped some distance away, talking.
Too far for normal ears to catch, but her hearing was sharp.
“How’d it go?” a gruff male voice asked.
“Made it to the seventh layer, got some key info. You?” a younger voice replied.
“Here’s the latest map of the town’s mushroom fields and population breakdown,” the gruff voice said.
“Old rules—swap,” the younger suggested.
A rustle of papers followed.
“I’m saying, it’s just a bunch of mushrooms. What’s the big deal? Push harder at the front, crush the humans, done,” the younger voice griped.
“Shut it!” the gruff voice snapped. “The Emperor and the Twelve Pillars’ plans aren’t for us to question. Work more, whine less, or you’ll regret—Who’s there?!”
Dylan and Norris spun, weapons drawn in a flash, blades gleaming toward the woman stepping out from behind the tree!
“She heard us! Can’t let her run!” Dylan growled.
Norris and Dylan charged like arrows. The woman didn’t flinch, a faint smirk curling her lips.
Judging their speed and stance, she gauged their strength—slightly weaker than hers. Against two, she could escape.
And she had no plans to run.
Her arm writhed, morphing into a monstrous claw.
Norris and Dylan skidded to a halt.
“One of… us?” the woman said, waving her inhuman claw with a smile.
Norris and Dylan exchanged a glance, lowering their weapons but keeping them unsheathed, wary.
“No need to be so tense!” Her arm reverted to human form, her tone light. “My ears are sharp, caught a bit of your chat. Since we’re all serving the Empire, why not share intel? Help each other out, make things easier, right?”
Dylan gave her a cold look, sheathing his sword. “Intel? We’ve already swapped. Don’t need more.”
“Don’t be so chilly!” She rummaged in her coat, pulling out glass vials glowing with eerie, dangerous hues. “No intel, but poison? You wouldn’t turn that down. Sell these on the side, and it’s a nice chunk of cash!”
“Well… fair point,” Norris said, licking his lips, reaching for the warm vials.
Rita pulled back nimbly. “Call me Rita, shapeshifter. Which lord I serve… let’s keep that private. Your turn to share, boys.”
Norris’s arm shed its flesh tone, revealing silver scales. “Norris, lizardman.”
Dylan’s illusion rippled away, exposing a eerie face laced with green mycelium. “Dylan.”
Rita studied Dylan, her mind racing through rare races that might match his look, coming up short.
Some obscure species, hiding weaknesses by staying vague?
No time to dwell. After confirming basics, Rita handed over the poisons.
Norris and Dylan checked them, then shared their “intel” with her.
“One more thing,” Rita said, scanning the papers. “You here long-term or short?”
Dylan: “Long-term.”
Norris: “Short-term.”
Rita memorized the intel and returned it, turning to Dylan with a glint in her eye. “Maybe we could set up a longer partnership?”
After a pause, Dylan said quietly, “In a while, a tavern called ‘Puffshroom Home’ will open in town.”
He paused. “Next time, no passing off a few poison vials as a deal, got it?”
Rita grinned. “Got it. I owe you one.”
With that, the three parted like strangers, vanishing into the forest’s different corners.
Once Rita was out of sight, under the Mycelial Network’s watch, Dylan and Norris regrouped.
“Boss,” Norris’s voice echoed in the mycelial link, puzzled, “why do I have to play a greedy, lecherous lizardman?”
“Don’t you get character-building? Fleshing out a persona?” Lin Jun groaned, exasperated. “You’re clueless!”
“Boss,” Dylan cut in, “so I’m the tavern keeper now?”
“Yup!”
This demonkin spy, Rita, slipping in days ago, made Lin Jun see a potential risk.
Killing all spies would draw too much attention.
Ignoring them could lead to trouble.
Better to “manage” them.
The idea came from Dylan’s old travels with Cloro.
The demonkin spy network was vast but not unified.
They served different dukes, who got goals from the Emperor, then assigned spies.
In theory, each duke’s spies worked alone. In practice, spies in the same area often teamed up for survival and efficiency—sharing intel, reporting separately, all claiming credit. Why not?
Sure, there was a risk of getting traced, but the benefits usually outweighed it.
Credit meant a ticket back to the Empire’s comforts—who wouldn’t want that?
Helping each other was a shortcut.
Lin Jun decided to start this “mutual aid” network himself!
If Dylan got exposed, no big deal—fall back to the original plan: wipe out the spies.
On his home turf, could they really cause trouble?
Back from his outing, Norris hauled a big jug of the fizzy drink to Mushroom Garden No. 3.
He debated who to share this “luxury” with first.
At his familiar mushroom hut, he reached to pull open the door—
Clatter—
Glass beads spilled out, and behind him, a familiar growl rumbled.
(End of Chapter)
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