On the training field, shadowy figures surged forward endlessly.
Each time Garon threw a punch, another figure shattered to pieces.
After crushing two more, suddenly no new enemies appeared.
The familiar training ground had changed—somehow it now resembled the inside of a colossal mushroom.
On a high platform, a glow lit up, revealing the silhouette of a Walking Pujis.
“Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to the Grand Mushroom Arena! Tonight, our star gladiator—the pride of the Empire, warrior of the demonkin, Garon!—will once again demonstrate his so-called ‘indestructible will’! Let’s see how long he lasts!”
As soon as the Pujis finished speaking, the solid ground beneath Garon softened and cracked.
With a grotesque sound of roots tearing through soil, several hulking tree demons, their bodies veined with frenzied crimson lines, roared as they emerged!
Thanks to Lin Jun’s frequent use, [Mental Guidance] had now reached Level 4, allowing for more flexible variations.
For someone like Garon, whose dreams were always set in a combat-training field, Lin Jun could alter the theme into an arena and replace shadowy enemies with monsters of his choosing.Of course, too much absurdity would backfire.
Ultimately, this was a contest of spirit and soul—the appearances only served to guide, to suggest, or as now, to shatter the opponent’s mental defenses.
“Just these rotten logs?”
Roaring, Garon charged headlong into the frenzied tree demons, his iron fists blazing with black magic patterns.
Splinters and blood sprayed as he tore through them, each clash leaving him bloodier, yet still ripping his way forward with brute force.
More and more tree demons rushed him. On the arena floor, a brutal struggle raged—black magical light clashing violently against the crimson glow of madness.
Though injured again and again, Garon fought harder and harder, until at last, only he remained standing.
The Pujis’ voice came again, right on cue: “Tsk, tsk. The appetizer seems a bit bland? No matter! We’ve got plenty more! Next course—buzzing death!”
Poisonous giant wasps and twin-headed serpents spewing corrosive fluid attacked in waves.
Garon’s body was torn to shreds, yet he still refused to fall.
The Pujis’ tone now carried a faint trace of frustration: “Unbelievable resilience… but the grand finale always arrives at the most hopeless moment! Are you ready… to face your ultimate destiny?!”
The lights of the arena dimmed. From the highest, grandest viewing stand, space twisted—and a monstrous figure several meters tall slowly emerged.
Larger than in reality. More oppressive.
Gray—final form!
Her brutal golden eyes locked upon Garon at the center of the arena.
ROOOAAR!!!
A soul-shaking dragon’s roar shook the air. Then, in an instant, Gray’s massive body vanished!
Where Garon had stood, an apocalyptic strike landed, pulverizing the ground!
A shockwave blasted outward in a circle, a sandstorm wall of smoke and dust tens of meters high ripping through the arena stands.
And yet—when the dust cleared, Garon was still there, kneeling on one knee, arms crossed over his head in desperate defense!
The magical markings on his arms blazed as his armored flesh shattered, revealing bloodied bone and torn muscle. Half his body was crushed into the cracked rock floor.
But he had stopped her blow!
Gray’s colossal claws hovered just above his head, blocked by his mangled arms.
“Is that it?!” His rasping roar rang out, filled with defiance and madness. “Not… enough!!!”
No matter how ferociously Gray ravaged him, Garon would not collapse. He never yielded—not until the first rays of dawn pierced the horizon.
The dreamscape dissolved like a fading painting, colors twisting, blurring, then vanishing completely…
…
As expected, breaking through his mental defenses wasn’t so easy.
In fact, Garon’s mental resilience was even greater than Lin Jun had anticipated.
In the pitch-black dungeon cell, faintly lit only by a few bioluminescent mushrooms, Garon awoke from the forced “slumber.” The agony in his body quickly reminded him of reality.
His bloodshot eyes brimmed with exhaustion, but held not a shred of fear.
His limbs, shoulders, and torso were pierced and locked in place by hardened rock-armored Pujis tendrils, pinning him in a humiliating kneeling position. He could not move.
“Spiritual magic?” Garon rasped, turning his head to glance at a silent Pujis beside him. He gave a hoarse, mocking laugh. “Heh… suits a coward like you. Always hiding behind puppets, never daring to face me directly.”
Footsteps echoed through the dungeon. Shou appeared before him.
“Warrior of the Empire,” Shou said in a low voice, “what exactly do you demonkin want? Why do you resort to killing at the slightest disagreement?”
Garon was silent for half a minute, then asked coldly: “Grey… hasn’t been working with you?”
Catching the flicker of confusion in Shou’s eyes, Garon understood at once.
He did not regret sending that final message accusing Grey. Ending up here, he knew Grey’s sloppy intelligence bore much of the blame.
What was that nonsense about only one half-diamond-level combatant?
That black Dragonkin—those Walking Pujis—none of it had been mentioned!
Cursing Grey endlessly in his heart, Garon finally lifted his gaze, his bloody lips curling in a sneer.
“Hmph. And if I tell you? You still wouldn’t see it coming? For the demonkin of the Empire, besides mana cores, what else would drive us to such lengths?”
Shou’s face darkened at the confirmation of his worst suspicions.
Seeing this, Garon grinned, baring bloody teeth. “Defeat me—and what of it? What you face is not just me, but the Empire’s entire demonkin! Even the Empire itself! Against that, what can you do? That Dragonkin? The more you resist… the more miserable your fate will be!”
“Release me now. Take your tribe and your mana cores, return with me to the Empire. I can make it as if none of this ever happened.”
“Or—kill me now if you like!” His eyes burned into Shou’s as he spat each word. “And then watch your tribe, thanks to your stupidity and stubbornness… reduced to ashes!”
Shou said nothing. His gaze shifted instead to Garon’s shoulder—where a voice Pujis had crawled up.
“Tsk, tsk…” The slimy, distorted voice drawled with mock admiration, whispering in Garon’s ear. “Who would’ve thought—a brute like you, but with such a silver tongue! Come on then, tell us just how mighty your Empire’s demonkin are. Maybe if you scare me enough, I’ll… surrender.”
Even restrained, Garon’s skin prickled with goosebumps at the sound.
But after Lin Jun himself spoke, Garon knew persuasion was hopeless. He shut his mouth tight, assuming the posture of one who awaited death—unyielding, unbending.
Seeing no response, Lin Jun lost interest, tossing the problem to Louisa, who found such matters far more entertaining.
After all, Lin Jun hadn’t captured Garon for information. What he really wanted was that [Physical Resistance LV10].
As for the Empire’s threats, Lin Jun wasn’t particularly worried.
This was the Far North. Who could really march an army here?
At most, elites might come.
If they were too weak, they’d just be food. If they were too strong, Lin Jun could simply retreat, taking the entire demonkin tribe back to his homeland.
Back home, he had Lightning Punishment, battle automatons, and even humans. Let them come if they dared.
And if someone truly arrived with some broken, godlike skill that screamed “overpowered,” Lin Jun would immediately seal the northern rift shut.
In the end, the Far North was only an outpost. Its greatest value lay in the demonkin, who could be relocated at any time.
With a retreat always available, Lin Jun wasn’t concerned.
The only regret was that he had hoped to make allies of the demons as well.
From the looks of things, that goal was slipping further away.