“Is it tasty?” asked the Voice-Puji coiled around Slik’s neck.
Though the meat soup was so bland it barely had salt, Slik still wiped his mouth hard and bellowed: “Delicious!”
“That’s good.”
Puff!
Before the words finished, a mushroom burst from beneath the scales and flesh of Slik’s thigh, tearing through with blood!
“Uaaaahhh—!” The bone-sawing agony shattered him. He screamed and rolled across the ground.
“What… what is this?!” He stared in horror at the mushroom sprouting from his leg, unable to comprehend it.
Puff, puff… More mushrooms pushed through his scales one by one, slow and merciless.
The prisoners recoiled in shock. The proud warrior who just moments ago received “reward” now lay writhing, gruesome beyond belief.
A few who had seen parasitized mushroom-men on the battlefield guessed the truth.But not Slik.
“Of course strength deserves respect, but…” The Voice-Puji still coiled around his neck, every word dragging him into despair. “Are you truly strong?”
“Look around you—missing arms, missing legs, scars everywhere. And you? Not even a scratch on those shiny scales.”
“I… I…” Slik tried to speak, but pain and terror strangled his voice.
Lin Jun revealed the truth:
“When I blew your chief into pieces, you ran the fastest! When my Pujis caught you, you dropped to your knees without swinging a claw! And you call that strong?”
“Most of all—you’re a prisoner, a sinner—how dare you demand privilege?”
Two more mushrooms tore through his body. He coughed blood, shivering violently, babbling: “Wrong… I was wrong! Mercy… please, I can still… serve…”
The Voice-Puji slipped from his neck, lifted by Shou and returned to the Marshal Puji’s broad hat.
“You will serve me still… in another way.”
Puff!
With one last bloody burst, Slik’s screams ended.
He rose stiffly, his body sprouting mushrooms, transformed into a jailer.
“Does anyone else think they’re strong enough to cut in line, to demand privilege?”
No one answered. The new “Mushroom Lizardman” Slik stood straight before them. The rest dropped their heads in silence.
The meal continued in perfect order. No more fights, no more barriers between half-demons and Lizardmen. Two hours later, the first “lesson” ended.
Only then did Shou stand again, lifting a thick roll of parchment covered in rules. His voice rang out:
“You are invaders. You are sinners. I should send you to the fields as fertilizer! But our lord is merciful, and grants you a chance to repent!”
“New Regulations for Prisoners of the Mushroom Garden! Hear them, remember them, obey them! Violate them, suffer the consequences!”
“No private fights. No stealing. No sabotage. No noise or disorder. No spreading rumors…”
“Every sinner must work daily to atone. Extra work earns Contribution Points!”
“Contribution Points can be exchanged for supplies—food, hides, weapons, even… freedom!”
…
Lin Jun handed Slik’s control to Shou and ignored him.
Training prisoners was a long war. First, carve discipline with fear. Then slowly grind down their edges with benefits and environment.
Three to six months, and they would be fully digested. Then the Mushroom Garden’s power would rise again.
Total parasitism would only be a last resort.
The value of prisoners was not their combat strength, but their function as nodes to expand the Puji network.
Once fully parasitized, their souls vanished, leaving only body and skills. They became little more than alternative Pujis—costly in control capacity.
And without a soul, Lin Jun could neither add skills nor harvest proficiency from them.
Low-level mushroom-men were weaker than ordinary Pujis. Only gold-rank and above were worth keeping. The rest had already been reclaimed into pure mana after the battle.
So though it was wasteful, making an example of Slik was worth it.
Now, if anyone else thought to cause trouble, one look at him would cool their heads.
Lin Jun’s gaze shifted to Piggy.
She leaned lazily against the wall, crimson eyes half-lidded, tongue flicking across pale lips, savoring the memory of screams.
Whenever the terrifying methods of her leader were turned on others, they thrilled her to the bone.
If only the targets were those she had once schemed against in the Empire, fighting tooth and nail for promotion—the pleasure would double!
For example—the vampire countess Uniel, still locked in the dungeon.
Though they had no real dealings, Louisa had already branded her a fraud.
A countess, yet she had been tied down by Louisa and Xīnghuǒ(Spark) with just a handful of Pujis. Clearly promoted through connections, not strength!
Such parasites disgusted her even more than open rivals.
It was trash like this that blocked precious slots for advancement, forcing her into brutal competition and dangerous missions.
Louisa’s sharp fangs ground unconsciously. She was already plotting to persuade her lord to gift Uniel with a few beautiful mushrooms of her own…
“Piggy.”
“I’m here!” Louisa snapped upright instantly.
“Meeting room.”
“Yes!”
The so-called meeting room was nothing more than a small carved-out chamber, furnished with stone tables and chairs.
But as Louisa stepped inside, her gaze was captured immediately by the object at the center.
A thin, uncanny book—just a single fragile page bound in yellowed cover, looking ready to crumble at any moment.
“The Sacred Tome(Yellow Book)…”