This Dungeon Grew Mushrooms

Lin Jun didn’t rush to get Julia out of her cell.

In fact, whether she came out or not made little difference to him.

What Lin Jun needed right now wasn’t for her to run around spreading doctrine, but to refine and purify her faith in the “Puji God.”

In a sense, the cell’s isolated, cut-off-from-the-world environment actually provided her with an excellent setting for contemplation.

With her body confined behind bars, she could focus more fully on envisioning that promised future, letting her faith grow ever firmer through repeated reflection.

During this time, her husband tried to come visit her. Worried sick yet forcing himself to remain calm, he attempted to comfort his wife—only to end up being comforted by her instead.

Lin Jun decided to maintain the status quo for now. In any case, he had already opened the “Twelve emergency hotline” for her, so nothing major could go wrong. If things really went sideways, he could always feed Twelve to Gray for a month and then look for another suitable test subject.

Once the diplomatic delegation returned, Inanna could easily find an excuse to pull Julia out without much effort.

Lin Jun, meanwhile, once again focused most of his attention on analyzing how to use the Sunstone and studying the Book of Miracles.

Thanks to the ancient experimental records discovered in the abyssal space of the puji dungeon, Lin Jun had finally figured out how to actively trigger the Sunstone.

Before this, whether it was absorbing energy through photosynthesis or splitting his own soul to shape the mushroomfolk, he had only been making shallow use of the artifact’s passive properties.

Drawing inspiration from the God of Light’s notes, Lin Jun came up with quite a few unorthodox ways to use it.

Still, he needed to find an appropriate occasion to test the effects.

As for the Book of Miracles, the tome itself was a creation of a certain kind of abyssal magic.

When it had been delivered into Sigmund’s hands, it had been sealed inside a multi-layered sigil-bound metal case nearly half a meter thick and transported by a specially outfitted vehicle.

Emperor Mortis had even attached a personal note warning him “not to trigger abyss-related disasters within imperial territory.”

Once unsealed, the book became like a miniature abyssal rift, continuously radiating the knowledge it contained and forcibly injecting it into the minds of nearby living beings.

That said, the flow of information was much slower than that of a true abyss—even Little Xi could withstand it alone for a time.

In theory, Lin Jun didn’t even need to study it. Just hugging it to sleep would eventually let him grasp the knowledge within. But that method was far too inefficient.

The contents were extremely profound, making Lin Jun relive the pain of studying.

The Book of Miracles recorded several relatively stable abyssal rituals.

Although the conditions for performing them were strict and risks still existed, at least those risks were constrained within controllable limits. Among them were methods for summoning abyssal beasts.

It cleverly split the abyssal core and the abyssal beast’s body into two separate rituals. That way, even if something went wrong, an abyssal beast without its core would cease activity within minutes of being summoned, minimizing potential damage.

However, these were not the book’s true essence.

The rituals recorded in the book were more like “successful examples,” used to demonstrate and validate its real core ideas.

The truly important content lay in its attempt to find order within the chaos of the abyss, offering a complete method for “making wishes” to the abyss.

In theory, you could use this method to create countless rituals and achieve any desire you wished.

Of course, if it were really that simple, the emperor would have already used it to realize his ambition of ruling the world, and he certainly wouldn’t have handed it over to Little Xi so easily.

This method was similar to a kind of targeted retrieval technique. During the ritual, you had to lock onto specific “conceptual anchors” to filter the vast, disordered torrent of information.

For example, you could lock onto the concept of “apple,” but whether what came out was a shiny red apple you could eat or a box-shaped object was anyone’s guess—at least you wouldn’t end up with a pear.

In reality, these “concepts” used as anchors weren’t something you could just imagine out of thin air.

You had to personally dredge through the abyss’s information rapids, fishing out fragments that carried specific meanings.

Often, in an entire stretch of junk data, only an extremely tiny portion was what you actually needed.

You would have to collect a massive number of such fragments and engrave them simultaneously into a complex ritual array, cross-verifying them, before you even had a chance of finding what you truly wanted.

Not to mention that the entire creation process consumed vast numbers of slaves and captives as fuel.

The emperor didn’t think Sigmund would try to create rituals on his own. He had likely sought the Book of Miracles for its relatively mature, ready-made rituals.

In fact, even Sigmund himself thought so.

And things like abyssal beasts were indeed powerful—but still not enough to threaten the emperor or his rule.

As for the possibility that Sigmund might grow arrogant enough to research original rituals… the emperor had already made it clear: if you’re going to get yourself killed, don’t do it within imperial territory.

Lin Jun, for his part, was deeply interested in “miracles” themselves.

But first, the book was extremely difficult—harder than any magic book Lin Jun had read before. Second, he still hadn’t found a suitable place to risk blowing himself up.

So for now, there were no further actions.

The current Mushroom Garden was bustling with activity.

Little Pig, in order to adapt to her battle armor, set her sights on the former half-demon chieftain who had already settled into a leisurely life. Recently, that man had become a literal punching bag—of course, Little Pig paid a hefty amount of contribution points for it.

Norris received an upgraded Jida unit. Lin Jun added new functions to the puji inside it, such as electrified tentacles, a corrosive aura, and limb-launching mechanisms.

Not only that—Lin Jun even gave Norris himself new abilities. For example, he could now cloak himself while ejecting from the cockpit.

At the same time, over at the fungal fortress, Xīnghuǒ and the Yellow Book were continuing to set up city-defense magic.

Torin was also working on deciphering the war-construct technology they had brought back.

However, although this young master of the Deep Furnace clan had picked up more knowledge in this field than most through exposure, he truly wasn’t cut out for research.

Recently, he had been writing to his brothers, hoping to find a few more professional experts to help out—though whether anyone would dare come remained to be seen.

…

On the other side, the kingdom’s diplomatic delegation led by Inanna ran into a bit of trouble after successfully passing through the Scarecrow Abyss.

There was a small town here currently in a state of administrative limbo. Although bloodshed occurred from time to time, thanks to the flow of people brought in by puji-assisted safe passage through the Scarecrow Abyss, the town as a whole was still fairly prosperous.

Now that the war had ended, it wouldn’t be long before the elves or dwarves took over management of the town and put everything back on track.

However, when Inanna and her group arrived, the town was eerily quiet.

The locals seemed to have vanished.

Unmanned shops had been looted clean by adventurers who arrived ahead of them. Yet those adventurers hadn’t left. Instead, they had all gathered in the tavern, drinking free booze while waiting for more newcomers.

After all, anyone could see that something was wrong with the town. No one wanted to be the one scouting ahead. Some of the more timid had already turned back and returned through the Scarecrow Abyss.

That was, until Inanna and her party arrived.