This Dungeon Grew Mushrooms

With Julia’s release, the other detained members of the Mushroom Worship Sect were also gradually set free.

However, Julia did not rush to reorganize the sect and resume preaching.

Instead, she gathered those still willing to follow the puji and announced the founding of an entirely new organization—the Great Mushroom Charity.

“Charity?” One of the recently released believers, his face still pale from lack of sunlight, repeated the word in confusion. “Like how the Church of Light used to distribute porridge on the streets? But now…”

In the past, whenever disasters struck, the Church of Light would often cooperate with local lords to distribute porridge outside their churches—relieving the hungry while spreading the teachings of the God of Light.

Such scenes, however, were no longer seen.

It was not that the Church had grown less compassionate. Rather, hunger itself had nearly vanished from the United Kingdom.

Even though the Kingdom had lost nearly a third of its territory and countless people had been displaced—

The yield of wild mushrooms had increased even more. Even if the number of refugees temporarily unable to work doubled again, it would still be sustainable.

Unless someone had lost even the strength to bend down and gather them, it was hard to imagine anyone truly starving to death now.

Naturally, there was no longer any need to distribute porridge.

“Similar, but different,” Julia explained to the confused followers before her. “We won’t distribute food. We will go out to help those who still wander in the wilderness beyond the cities and build shelters they can truly call home.”

Refugees wandering outside the cities—this too was one of the changes of the times.

In the past, refugees would flood into towns seeking protection. Now, however, many destitute wanderers chose instead to roam the wilds and forest edges.

Mushrooms inside the city were regularly cleared and limited in number. Outside the walls, however, they could gather freely.

Yet abundance in the wild came with danger.

Monsters roamed. The cold nights were merciless. Wind and rain offered no shelter.

Seeing that many still looked puzzled, Julia stepped aside slightly and respectfully invited Twelve forward.

Twelve walked onto a stretch of fungal carpet. It made no grand gestures, merely pressed a few mycelial tendrils gently to the ground.

In the next moment, a miracle unfolded before their eyes.

Mycelium surged upward from the earth, intertwining and thickening, structures forming visibly before them.

In a short while, a mushroom house over ten meters tall stood before them.

Its outer walls bore textures resembling tree bark, yet were softer and more resilient. The cap at the top spread like an umbrella, with glowing strands of fungus hanging gently from its edges, providing soft illumination.

A rope-ladder woven of mycelium dropped down; climbing it led into the hollowed living space within.

And it did not end there.

With a few light taps of Twelve’s tendrils in different directions, a second and third mushroom house burst from the ground.

Even more astonishingly, bridges formed between the elevated houses, linking them in midair into a small aerial settlement.

This shelter design was inspired by the treetop cities of the Elven Forest—but unlike the elves, who lived atop trees towering hundreds of meters high.

At such heights, most ordinary humans would suffer vertigo.

Add a few hallucinogenic spore traps around the mushroom houses, and they would effectively repel wild monsters. At the very least, refugees wandering in the wilderness would gain relatively safe shelter.

“What we must do,” Julia declared, “is to actively seek out those scattered across the wilderness and, through the blessings of the mushroom folk, build such homes for them. So they no longer need to clutch sharpened sticks each night in fear, no longer wake at every rustle in the dark. We will make the coming of night something to look forward to once more.”

“And we will tell them that whether it is the inexhaustible mushrooms in the wild or the mushroom homes that now shield them from wind and rain—everything comes from the favor of the puji and the gift of the fungal carpet!”

…

Julia and Twelve, with a small group, quietly left Mordu.

Even under Inanna’s protection, openly preaching in major cities of the Kingdom would draw too much attention.

More importantly, city dwellers lived relatively stable lives. The likelihood of abandoning established faiths for a new sect was minuscule.

But the refugees scattered across wilderness and borderlands—

They were like an untapped blue ocean market.

Imagine it: when the homeless moved into towering mushroom houses, filled their stomachs with mushrooms growing everywhere, and relied on puji protection against the dangers of the wild—

For the idea of “believing in puji,” would they not naturally develop some inclination?

Once the number of shallow believers accumulated to a certain level, Lin Jun could at the right moment display some skill-granting methods akin to divine miracles. Then the faith of puji would truly take shape at scale.

For now, better to let them develop on their own. After all, their activities remained atop the fungal carpet. If trouble arose, Twelve only needed to call, and Lin Jun could intervene.

Frankly, it was only because the God of Light seemed as good as absent—no miracles, no revelations—that Lin Jun dared to make such small moves.

If one day the God of Light suddenly reappeared, Lin Jun would have no choice but to recall Twelve instantly and complete a clean break at lightning speed.

No help for it—Lin Jun couldn’t even fully understand that old Divine Tree, much less a true god.

Knowing when to keep his head down had always been one of Lin Jun’s finer virtues.

…

While the United Kingdom arranged its long-term development, the Northern Territory presented a different scene.

With temperatures clearly rising, the entire Puji Fort seemed infused with new vitality.

Life that had long been suppressed burst forth. Every fungal citizen wore expressions of genuine joy.

For most residents of Puji Fort, life there was stable, orderly, and filled with hope.

Yet as temperatures had continued to drop without apparent end, even if propaganda insisted everything was under the Boss’s control, no one could truly claim there was no worry.

If Puji Fort were defeated by the cold, where could they go?

The dungeon could not accommodate tens of thousands, and if they were displaced into the Empire… aside from those two vampires who liked to knock on doors, few would welcome such an outcome.

Thus, when the threat of extreme cold truly began to recede, the entire Puji Fort erupted into heartfelt celebration.

Recently, even mushroom wine sales had surged. A faintly tipsy ease seemed to drift through the air.

Yet in stark contrast to the relaxation and joy of the common fungal citizens, the core leadership—led by Shou, Xinghou, and Little Pig—were more tense than ever.

The extreme cold had been a survival threat, yes—but it had also served as a sturdy barrier, isolating Puji Fort from the Empire.

For all they knew, in the Empire’s intelligence reports, the Northern Territory might already be marked as a lifeless white wasteland.

But that misunderstanding would not last forever. The existence of Puji Fort would sooner or later be discovered, reported to border lords, and eventually placed on the desks of higher authorities.

It was difficult to imagine the Empire tolerating the sudden emergence of a potentially threatening new power on its northern frontier.

This was the first—and most severe—challenge Puji Fort would face after its beginner protection period ended.

“If they dare extend a claw, we cut off the claw. If they dare stick their heads out, we cut off their heads too! Showing strength is the best form of diplomacy, isn’t it?”

Little Pig, eyes filled with blood and fire, made this proposal at the council.