As long as compute power was sufficient, the dungeon could repair itself—a truly astonishing ability.
And this repair wasn’t limited to fissures!
Take the third floor, for instance—the trap floor. The dungeon not only reset its traps automatically, it even repaired destroyed chanisms, refilled wall cavities, and—
Wait, crap!
Lin Jun hurriedly cut off compute power to that process.
So the only reason he’d been able to dig fungal tunnels through the first seven floors earlier was because the dungeon had been too underpowered to keep up with repairs!
The upper floors, though scarred, were still manageable—repairing them was a matter of labor, not impossibility.
Even the fifth floor, after the battle royale, wasn’t the worst. The real trouble lay in the sixth and seventh floors.
When the dungeon’s collapse had accelerated, new fissures had burst open everywhere—even in places previously untouched.
That hollow in the mountain? Its once fist-sized rift had widened into a six-ter maw. The two-toned slis couldn’t hold it back.
No monsters ca through, but the corrosion curse poured out, turning half the floor into wasteland. Worse, the slis themselves leaked through to the opposing dungeon.
If he’d known it would get this bad, he would’ve eaten those slis first and stolen their skill 【Core Split】. That ability had always tempted him.
Mushroom Garden No.2 was gone. Thankfully, the treants had transplanted the saplings back into the secret forest beforehand.
If the sixth floor’s ecology was half-ruined, the seventh’s was wiped out entirely.
It had been almost wholly aquatic. Now most of the water had drained away—only two to three ters of shallows remained of a hundred-ter depth.
All the great underwater beasts were dead, their carcasses half-picked by fish and shrimp before Puji carried the remains away.
With the “puddle” left behind, no new underwater overlord would ever rise.
And the fissure responsible? Lin Jun didn’t bother patching it.
The water was gone, repairing it wouldn’t bring it back, and since it leaked neither curse nor monsters, its priority was low.
As for the fishn, Lin Jun searched the ruins—nothing.
Not a trace. Their strange idol vanished too.
The only explanation was that the fishn, carrying their god, had migrated en masse through the rift.
Sigh—
Another neighbor who moved without saying goodbye.
But at the idol’s forr spot, Lin Jun found three preserved Puji corpses—likely his last three, who’d burned through their magic.
The fishn had preserved them deliberately. Why?
When Puji touched the bodies, a ssage entered his mind:
“Three hundred years we waited—at last, we return to the Sanctuary! Lord Puji, forgive our abrupt departure! The fishn shall forever be your friends. May Neferela guide your soul!”
…Huh?
Not exactly without goodbye—but… “Lord Puji”?
As a mushroom, Lin Jun was used to starting with negative favorability. For the fishn, who’d barely interacted with him, to treat him with reverence…
Honestly, it was creepy.
Were they trying to recruit him into their faith?
His soul needed no god’s guidance.
So the rift beyond must lead to their “Sanctuary.” Best to leave it for now.
As for floors eight to ten—without fungus mats, he could only sense many fissures, no details.
His mats were spreading toward the tenth-floor stairs. Soon, he’d see.
He rembered the werewolves there. They had devoured forty of his Puji.
If possible, he wanted to ta them.
Hopefully they hadn’t been killed by monsters from the other side—or gone charging into the rift themselves.
…
Aside from dungeon repairs, humans demanded attention too.
After several collaborations, Fahl had extended an olive branch to Aiden. On Lin Jun’s orders, Aiden accepted, officially registering with the guild.
Lin Jun trusted Aiden. A pragmatic man, parasitized but not exploited, he had little reason to betray.
And indeed, intelligence now flowed steadily through him.
Fahl had led the townsfolk ten li away, waiting for the dungeon’s collapse. In their plan, within two weeks they’d know whether to return and rebuild, or disperse.
A week had passed already.
They would be disappointed.
The dungeon wouldn’t collapse—it would erge stronger.
When they discovered that, they’d surely send people to investigate the core.
And the sight of two war golems there… what conclusions would they draw?
With golems guarding the chamber, unless a Sword Saint arrived, no one could break through. Even inside, they couldn’t wrest the core’s control—if they could, they would have already.
Still, Lin Jun wasn’t about to gamble on “impossible.”
That was why he had deliberately left the first floor looking unstable, to give the illusion of impending ruin, buying himself ti to master the core’s permissions.
But… he felt like he was forgetting sothing.
He reviewed his thoughts—
The stone fortress was fine. The fungal tunnels reached the demonkin tribe’s underground. As their stable food source, relations were good—“honeymoon period,” even.
They seed to be saving up contribution points, not spending them. For what, he didn’t know.
Piggy, Gray, and Norris were doing well too.
Gray lazed about uselessly. Norris grew skilled with Jida, showing off. Piggy trained diligently every day, shaming Lin Jun with his dedication.
Everything was fine. What had he forgotten?
Pink Puji?
He shifted focus to the knight Pink had carried off.
Pink treated it like a treasured doll, feeding it magic potions daily, even curling up with it at night.
Classic only-child psychological issues from lack of parental care…
But the number of knights seed halved.
Danger?
The ducal mansion was safe, and Pink’s doting ruled out casual loss.
So most likely, they’d perished during the core’s soul-draw.
The sa had happened at the fortress, causing unrest when Pujis dropped dead suddenly. But once Lin Jun absolved them of penalties, the demonkin let it pass.
Ah!
That’s what he’d forgotten!
The scout Puji link—was gone!
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