This Dungeon Grew Mushrooms

Deep within the Puji Dungeon’s lower levels lay Lin Jun’s lair—a vast marsh-filled cavern brimming with bioluminescent mushroom trees.

Countless glowing mushroom trunks rose from murky pools, bathing the entire cavern in an ethereal, dreamlike light.

Spore particles drifted visibly through the air, casting the space in a faint haze.

At first glance, the spore-choked cavern seemed silent and lifeless. No wild monsters roamed here, and not a trace of Lin Jun himself could be seen—only a few ordinary pujis wandered idly between the mushrooms.

Yet beneath that calm surface lurked killing intent.

This seemingly dormant cave was in fact guarded by one thousand carefully arranged puji sentinels.

Artillery pujis merged into the ceiling and walls using [Rock Eater]; landmine pujis mimicked ordinary mushrooms on the ground with [Mimicry]; massive armored pujis slumbered within the thick mushroom trunks; and beneath the swamp’s murky surface lay two S-class Knight Pujis, using [Feign Death] to conceal their presence entirely.

Such elaborate defenses in what should’ve been a secure rear base reflected one simple truth—this world, with its endless strange skills and chaotic magic, was far too dangerous.

Lin Jun had witnessed it himself during the Northern Front war: two demonkin, cornered, had escaped right before his eyes using Abyssal Magic teleportation.

He still remembered that moment vividly.

He didn’t know where they ended up—Abyssal Magic was notoriously unreliable—but that didn’t stop him from planning for the worst.

With this setup, even if a powerhouse on Duke Sigismund’s level were to teleport directly into the lair, as long as they didn’t appear right in front of his main body, the layered defenses would buy Lin Jun enough time to react.

He could either retreat with his true body or swap positions with a distant puji using [Clone], leaving behind a decoy.

And since this cave was next to the Dungeon Core itself, if an intruder failed to realize which body was real, Lin Jun could lure them into the core chamber and activate the two dormant golems waiting there.

Of course, if it ever came to that, it would mean his main body’s existence had already been exposed—an extremely dire situation.

In Lin Jun’s eyes, the best outcome was for these defenses to never be used at all.

Beneath the swamp lay a hollow chamber supported by thick fungal strands—this was where Lin Jun’s true body resided.

He liked the humid environment but hated letting filth touch him directly, so he always created a separate air space within the swamp for himself.

At the moment, his usually motionless body was actually stirring.

Finally—

Finally, he had obtained a truly unique no-level skill that belonged solely to him!

The [Physical Immunity] on Ming didn’t count; that ability wasn’t on Lin Jun’s own body.

And as gifted as Ming was, he’d been born far too late.

Even after spending mornings studying with Qiong, afternoons fighting brutal cage battles, and swallowing countless “potential-stimulating” concoctions brewed by Ruier, the kid had only just reached the level of a low-tier adventurer. It would be ages before he became truly useful.

But [Life Essence]—this was a genuine, personal no-level skill Lin Jun could wield himself!

He still remembered vividly how his army of pujis had been annihilated under [Sword’s Apex]; the sheer overwhelming might of a no-level skill had burned itself into his mind.

He’d dreamed of the day that Sword Saint would keel over dead, so he could dissect him and steal that supreme ability.

Who would’ve thought—he didn’t get [Sword’s Apex], but by accident, he’d acquired this instead!

Lin Jun couldn’t help feeling exhilarated.

Still, he had to find out exactly what it did.

Judging by the name, it probably boosted vitality—something like rapid regeneration?

But as he felt the change within himself, something seemed… off.

Since absorbing the skill, his main body had grown noticeably moist.

What the hell? The skill wasn’t called “Extra Juicy”…

He summoned a puji and attached the skill to it.

On the status panel, [Life Essence] appeared successfully installed on the puji. On Lin Jun’s own panel, the skill didn’t vanish—it just turned gray.

A grayed-out skill? That was new, though easy enough to guess why.

He tried installing it on a second puji—failed.

He then killed the first puji. Before he could even use [Greed] to devour the corpse, the grayed-out [Life Essence] on his panel lit up again.

So the skill couldn’t be shared among all pujis, but at least he wouldn’t lose it permanently if the user died.

Then what if he gave it to someone else?

Probably the same deal—it would return once they died.

Now for the real test.

From within a mushroom trunk, a hulking Armored Puji emerged, tearing open the bark as it stepped forward.

Lin Jun implanted [Life Essence] into it.

Time to see what this skill could actually do. The Armored Puji was tough enough to handle testing.

Blade strikes, spear thrusts, electricity, flames, salt roasting, oil frying…

After a full round of experimentation, Lin Jun was utterly baffled.

It wasn’t useless—the Armored Puji’s regeneration was clearly enhanced. Severed mycelium tendrils regrew in seconds. Even when sliced in half, as long as it wasn’t outright dead, it could restore itself on its own. A decent healing skill, sure.

But this? This was supposed to be a no-level skill?

If it couldn’t regenerate an entire body from a single strand of mycelium within seconds, how was it worthy of that title?!

At this rate, [Regeneration Lv.10] combined with [Mycelium Reconstruction Lv.10] could reach nearly the same effect—and even offered revival upon death!

[Regeneration Lv.10] + [Mycelium Reconstruction Lv.10] ≥ [Life Essence]?

What a joke!

After fully decomposing the Armored Puji and reclaiming the skill, a disappointed Lin Jun fell into deep thought.

Could it be that the Divinewood had handed it over so readily because it was a defective no-level skill?

The more he thought about it, the more that seemed likely.

A few pujis emerged from the fungal carpet at the bottom of the Divinewood Dungeon—Lin Jun planned to pay the Divinewood a visit and complain about the “after-sales service.” At least the old bastard owed him an explanation!

What kind of scam was this? Did it think he couldn’t tell the difference between trash and treasure?!

Just as he was about to knock on the Divinewood’s “door”—

Drip.

A drop of clear liquid slid down from the edge of a green mushroom cap, trailing a glimmering thread of moisture.

What the hell…?