This Dungeon Grew Mushrooms - Chapter 589

Half a Month

Clink… thud… clang…

Frozen earth lay beneath thick snow. From somewhere under the snowpack came a series of dull, muffled knocks. A section of snow suddenly collapsed inward, revealing a dark hole.

A puji pushed aside the broken snow and popped out, ice crystals clinging to its mushroom cap.

The puji shook itself, then extended its mycelial tendrils and pulled two dwarves up from below.

“How long… were we crawling down there?” Pollock wiped his face, staring dazedly at the snow drifting across the northern border. “Two days? Or three?”

Gaddin lifted his forging hammer, its edges already slightly warped, and complained, “If I’d known we’d have to chisel our own way through the whole route, I’d have brought a pickaxe no matter what!”

This underground passage that cut across the Empire’s border wasn’t newly dug. When puji first excavated it, there had indeed been plenty of space.

But long-term abandonment allowed meltwater and snow to seep in and freeze, compressing the passage. Even puji could barely squeeze through now, let alone two dwarves who were a full two sizes bulkier than puji.

They had no choice but to move bit by bit, chipping away as they went, spending an enormous amount of time just to make it out.

Fortunately, puji had given each of them a constant-temperature pendant, and its body still stored plenty of juicy, moisture-rich delicious mushrooms.

Those two days of crawling underground were certainly grueling—their bodies were bruised and battered—but when it came to food, it was truly the most exquisite taste they had ever experienced in their lives.

Although delicious mushrooms were steadily dropping in price on the human side, the mountain regions had yet to be covered by fungal carpet.

When merchants transported delicious mushrooms into the mountains, their prices multiplied several times over.

Even so, they were still countless times cheaper than the delicious fruits of the past—but still far beyond what two apprentice craftsmen could ever afford.

That alone somewhat satisfied their fantasies of “paradise.”

After emerging, the two dwarves didn’t forget their situation. After catching their breath, they nervously scanned their surroundings, afraid they might still be within imperial territory—running into a demon patrol would be disastrous.

The surroundings were a vast expanse of white, seemingly empty, but sharp-eyed Gaddin still noticed something amiss.

“Who’s there?” he shouted loudly. “The one behind the tree—come out! I saw you!”

The figure behind the dead tree hesitated for a moment, then slowly stepped out.

It was a human man. He wasn’t wearing shackles, but his patch-covered, low-quality coat and the faintly visible branding scars on his neck made his identity clear—he was a slave.

“Who are you? How did you end up here?” Gaddin asked in a low voice, still gripping the hammer tightly.

The man shrank back, his voice trembling. “I… I escaped from Stone Valley Mine. I was starving… beaten all the time. I stole a heat stone and… and ran north as fast as I could.”

He instinctively touched his chest, where the small heat source he mentioned was hidden.

He looked utterly miserable—lips purple with cold, cheeks sunken, bare feet wrapped in rags, trembling slightly as he stood in the snow.

In his eyes, besides fear, there was also a hollow confusion that followed a desperate gamble.

Gaddin and Pollock exchanged a glance, sympathy flickering in their eyes.

The dwarves captured by the Empire probably ended up just like this man.

“You alone? No weapons?” Pollock pressed.

The man shook his head frantically and even pulled open his tattered coat to show them. “No, nothing at all…”

Seeing that he truly posed no threat, the two dwarves finally relaxed, hanging their hammers back over their shoulders.

They wanted to help, but they themselves had just arrived in this unfamiliar land, with an uncertain future ahead.

Both of them instinctively looked toward the quietly waiting puji.

This little creature was the guide.

Puji reached into its body, pulled out several still-plump, fresh delicious mushrooms, and then produced another constant-temperature pendant.

Heat stones were naturally heat-storing rocks that could maintain warmth for a long time once charged, but compared to a magical item like a constant-temperature pendant, they were nowhere close.

And given the current conditions in the northern border, an ordinary heat stone probably wouldn’t even last a single night.

The man trembled as he reached out to accept the mushrooms and pendant. A wave of warmth instantly wrapped around his nearly frozen body.

He wolfed down the mushrooms, even hurriedly scraping up the sweet juice spilling from the corners of his mouth with his fingers and licking it back up—exactly the behavior of someone who had been tortured by hunger for a long time.

After eating several mushrooms, he finally caught his breath, repeatedly thanking puji and the dwarves, his voice choked with emotion.

Puji merely hooked its mycelial tendrils lightly and pointed in a certain direction, signaling them to follow.

That walk lasted a full half month.

The mushrooms stored inside puji were soon eaten up. Fortunately, on the third day after leaving the tunnel, they stepped onto fungal carpet.

From then on, the guiding puji could always accurately lead them, amid the pale snowfields, to fresh clusters of delicious mushrooms growing from the fungal carpet.

Their initial worries about demon patrols gradually faded as the journey continued.

Such extreme cold and desolation were practically a forbidden zone for life. Aside from the few of them, who else would risk their lives wandering through this icy wasteland?

However, the endless cold and monotony—where almost no living things could be seen aside from fungal carpet—also began to stir unease once more in the hearts of the two dwarves who dreamed of a “blacksmith’s paradise.”

Hope was slowly worn down by the unchanging whiteness, while doubt quietly took root.

The journey was long and dull, but fortunately the human slave named Joel was a talkative man.

Captured during a border conflict, he often spoke during rest breaks about what it was like to be enslaved in the Empire—the depths of the mines, the overseers’ whips, companions who vanished without a sound.

Through such idle conversations and shared hardship, the group gradually formed a bond.

On the seventeenth day, just as they thought they were about to face another repeat of exhausting travel, footprints appeared in the snow ahead!

The discovery instantly reignited their nearly numb nerves—this meant their destination might finally be close.

But upon closer inspection, the footprints also raised new doubts.

The small, round tracks—or long grooves dragged through the snow—clearly belonged to puji. They had been seeing those for half a month and couldn’t mistake them.

Mixed among them, however, were many larger footprints. Some looked like heavy boot prints sunk deep into the snow; others had clearly defined edges with sharp claw marks—definitely not human or dwarven.

Uncertain of the situation, they became cautious once more.

Following the mixed trail, they pressed on through increasingly fierce wind and snow for another half hour or so.

Suddenly, the guiding puji stopped and pointed in a certain direction. The three followed its gesture—and in that instant, it was as if even the howling wind fell silent.

Beyond the swirling curtain of snow, on the horizon, without warning…

A city rose into view.

It was no illusion.

Towering walls cut a solid, uncanny silhouette against the vast white landscape.

Atop the walls stood several magic towers. Most striking of all, the tops of some weren’t ordinary spires but massive magic crystals floating in the air, slowly rotating and emitting magical light.

“There’s actually… a massive city built in a place like this…” Gaddin could hardly believe his eyes.

Pollock was so overwhelmed that tears streamed down his face, muttering about “endless ore.”

Joel also stood there with his mouth hanging open, unable to close it for a long time. Judging by scale alone, the city ranked among the largest even within the Empire—and judging by the glow on its walls and towers, it was clearly far more than an empty shell.

In the distance, Xinghou, who had been waiting for some time, led his subordinates and puji forward to greet them.

“A demon-blood!” Seeing Xinghou, Gaddin’s emotions plunged like a roller coaster.

“Don’t be nervous. This isn’t the Empire, and I’m not your enemy,” Xinghou said in accented Common, smiling as he approached.

Compared to Xinghou’s reassurance, the presence of his human subordinates was far more convincing.

Those humans were well-dressed, their expressions natural—clearly not slaves—which finally allowed the three to relax somewhat.

“You’ve had a hard journey. Hot springs and a feast have already been prepared for you, but before that…” Xinghou said, his narrowed eyes flicking toward the human at the rear.

“Watch out!”

Gaddin reacted instantly, tackling Joel aside.

Several barbed tendrils pierced past the edges of their bodies and stabbed deep into the snow.

Scrambling up from the snowdrift, the three found themselves surrounded by puji.

“Gaddin… Joel…” Pollock’s voice cracked, tears welling up.

Gaddin swung his hammer several times. “Damn demons! Let’s fight! I’d rather die than be dragged off to become a slave!”

And with that, he leapt forward without hesitation, hammer raised, smashing straight toward the puji swarm…