This Dungeon Grew Mushrooms - Chapter 590

“Finally, some dwarves have arrived?”

Thorin excitedly grabbed the hem of the lizardman Balok’s clothes and asked again.

After receiving Balok’s affirmative nod, he stomped his foot in excitement. “At last! Judging by when the letters should’ve arrived, they really should’ve been here already—if anything, why did it take this long? Right, where are they?”

After hearing the location Balok reported, Thorin turned around and rushed out immediately, not leaving behind a single extra word.

He had been burying himself alone in research on those complex war-automaton structures. Progress had been crawling at a snail’s pace, and he was already on the verge of going mad. What he needed most right now was a capable helper who actually knew what they were doing.

However, when he charged into the newly built hot spring bathing center’s attached dining hall and caught sight of the two dwarves seated at the long table, he skidded to a sudden stop.

They were two unfamiliar faces.

The people he had sent letters to were all master blacksmiths or automaton experts he had known back in the Deepfurnace clan.

After all, war automata were no simple craft—ordinary blacksmiths simply wouldn’t cut it.

The two dwarves in front of him were not only strangers, but far too young. No matter how he looked at them, they didn’t seem like experts carrying secret techniques.

Even so, Thorin walked over with his doubts in tow.

Meanwhile, Gaddin and Pollock were still in a dazed state. They mechanically stuffed food into their mouths, completely unresponsive to their surroundings.

What had happened earlier had hit them far too hard.

Surrounded by puji, the two dwarves—who weren’t even professional combatants—stood no chance.

Puji tendrils lashed them like spinning tops before binding them tightly, leaving them completely immobilized.

Ironically, the human Joel—the one they thought needed protecting—had suddenly expanded both hands into enormous keratin-covered claws, slicing through the mycelial strands wrapping around him.

But it was still futile. The puji pierced him several times in quick succession, leaving him half-dead before dragging him away, a bright red trail staining the snow behind him.

After that, the two bewildered dwarves were brought here, soaked in a hot spring, and treated to a lavish meal.

Joel… no, that thing masquerading as a human slave—was actually a shapeshifter!

Gaddin and Pollock’s minds went completely blank.

They had heard stories of spies before, but those were distant tales from taverns or battlefield reports.

When a conspiracy truly unfolded right beside them—and they themselves became part of it—the resulting shock shattered their understanding of the world, leaving them dizzy and unable to think straight.

Looking back now, everything really had seemed off.

Running into a runaway slave carrying nothing but a single heat stone in the middle of an endless snowfield, his overly talkative nature, his vague answers about certain details…

Yet in that isolated, desperate environment, where trust toward a fellow sufferer came naturally, they hadn’t suspected a thing.

Meanwhile, the people of the Puji Fort clearly looked like they had known all along. That alone was unbelievable.

A puji waiter shuffled over with a “puji puji,” collecting the empty plates in front of them. The faint clink of metal snapped the two dwarves back to their senses, and only then did they realize that another dwarf had somehow appeared sitting across from them.

Seeing Thorin, the two froze for a moment—then their faces erupted with uncontrollable joy.

They had already accepted that in this legendary “blacksmith’s paradise,” most residents were puji and demonfolk, with only a handful of humans.

But seeing another bearded dwarven compatriot here was, without question, the most reassuring thing they could have hoped for.

Pollock hesitantly reached out and pinched Thorin’s arm.

Thorin jerked his arm back, brows knitting together. “What are you doing?”

He didn’t recall any dwarven custom that involved greeting someone like that.

“I… I just wanted to make sure,” Pollock pulled his hand back awkwardly. “I was afraid you might also be some shapeshifter in disguise…”

“What nonsense,” Thorin said with a laugh. “There are no shapeshifters in the Puji Fort. And even if I were one, what kind of shapeshifter would get exposed just because someone pinched them twice?”

Pollock sat back down sheepishly and scratched his head.

The three dwarves gathered together, talking over one another, and quickly pieced together each other’s stories.

The difference was that as Gaddin and Pollock listened, their eyes grew brighter and brighter, until excitement practically burst into flames.

Thorin told them that the Puji Fort had indeed stockpiled an enormous quantity of raw ore. While the quality varied, there was so much of it that even with constant warehouse expansions, it was nearly overflowing.

“And those ores,” Thorin paused, looking at the two of them, “as long as you have the skill, chances are… you’ll be able to use them.”

Those words struck like a hammer slamming into red-hot iron, sparks flying everywhere.

Puji hadn’t lied to them.

Thinking of how they had given up a comfortable, stable life in Ashfurnace City to head north, thinking of the fear and anxiety along the way—and how they had unknowingly lived alongside a dangerous shapeshifter for half a month…

All of that effort actually being rewarded—how could they not be so happy they wanted to cry?

Thorin, however, wasn’t nearly as happy.

He was glad fellow dwarves had arrived, of course, but these two had been recruited by puji to work as blacksmiths. They had nothing to do with the letters he had sent.

And given how long it had been since he sent those letters with no response, chances were that no one else was coming.

So what about the war automaton research?

For a moment, Thorin slumped back in his chair, deflated.

After a full day of proper rest, Xinghou led the two dwarves to tour the forging district that would one day belong to them.

When the heavy metal doors slid open to either side, Gaddin and Pollock froze in place.

This wasn’t a blacksmith shop.

It was a factory.

Beneath the towering dome, dozens of furnaces of varying sizes were arranged in neat rows. The largest of them looked practically like a small mountain.

Overhead, interlocking gear rails and crane arms crisscrossed the air. The floor was paved with fire-resistant dark stone, clearly divided into material zones, forging zones, quenching zones, and finished product zones.

Even the most prestigious master workshop in Ashfurnace City would look like a child’s play corner compared to this grand, orderly space built for large-scale production.

And when the attached warehouse was opened, the two dwarves’ breathing stopped altogether.

Crates upon crates were stacked from floor to near the ceiling, layer after layer, stretching so far that the end couldn’t be seen at a glance.

Pollock swallowed hard, his voice trembling. “All of this… is for… us?”

“More accurately, it’s for all blacksmiths who come to the Puji Fort and are willing to work here,” Xinghou corrected calmly, his gaze sweeping over their stunned faces. “But for now, you are indeed the first group. As long as you follow safety regulations and don’t cause any accidents, you may take materials freely.”

The two dwarves nodded furiously, heads bobbing like woodpeckers. There wasn’t a trace of disappointment on their faces—only dizziness and ecstatic joy at being struck by such an enormous stroke of fortune.

A forge of this size could accommodate thousands of craftsmen working simultaneously.

Of course all blacksmiths should share resources!

Just as the two dwarves were itching to get started, Xinghou smiled and slid a contract across the table toward them.

“This is…”

“The Puji Fort is willing to provide both of you with facilities, ore supplies, and the means to help you grow into true master blacksmiths,” Xinghou said, his voice gentle and clear. “Naturally, we also sincerely hope to achieve a mutually beneficial partnership in the end.”

There was no such thing as a free lunch. Dwarves understood that well.

Gaddin nodded and took the contract.

It outlined terms for exchanging contribution points in advance for ore, to be repaid later through the value of qualified forged products.

After carefully asking about the exchange rates between contribution points and various ores, the two dwarves quickly did the math in their heads. The conditions weren’t harsh at all—certainly far more promising than endlessly handling scraps as apprentices to official blacksmiths back in Ashfurnace City.

There was only one requirement.

They had to accept mycelial symbiosis.

Xinghou calmly rolled up his sleeve, revealing his arm. Between the winding magical patterns on his skin, delicate milky-white mycelium could be faintly seen.

“There’s nothing to worry about. Everyone in the Puji Fort lives in symbiosis with mycelium. It not only facilitates communication, but also provides cold resistance. That way, the two of you won’t need to keep wearing constant-temperature pendants.”

The two dwarves exchanged a glance, then nodded.

Back in Ashfurnace City, they had seen plenty of humans living in symbiosis with puji. They hadn’t heard about cold resistance before, but assumed it was simply due to their own limited knowledge.

“Um… there’s just one last question,” Pollock raised his hand hesitantly.

“Please go ahead.”

“I’ll say this first—I’m just curious. I really don’t mean anything by it, so please don’t misunderstand.”

Xinghou smiled and gestured for him to continue.

Pollock went on, “This contract… it’s just written on ordinary paper. Is that really okay? There’s no magically binding contract attached? I mean, we’ll be consuming quite a lot of ore. What if… I mean, what if a blacksmith finishes learning and then refuses to pay and runs off?”

“Oh, you’re worried about contract enforcement,” Xinghou’s smile deepened. “There’s no need to worry on behalf of the Puji Fort. We’re willing to trust the two of you, and we trust the character and honor of true dwarven blacksmiths. We believe that only sincerity exchanged for sincerity can forge a better future—for each other, and for this city.”

“Lord Xinghou…” Pollock’s eyes reddened, a burning warmth surging in his chest. “We are true dwarves, of course! I swear on my beard that I will never betray this trust!”

With that, he grabbed the pen and firmly signed his name on the contract. Gaddin followed immediately after.

Soon after, the two were led away by Xinghou’s assistant to undergo the supposedly painless symbiosis ritual.

Watching their figures disappear around the corner of the corridor, the gentle smile on Xinghou’s face never changed.

Only on the yellowed book he had been holding did several lines of text quietly appear.

[Xinghou, you’re getting smoother and smoother with those pretty speeches.]

[What’s there to worry about? In the Puji Fort, who’s ever managed to dodge the boss’s debts?]

[Why not let them ask the D-rankers—debts always get paid back, one way or another. Hahahahaha!]