Mushroom Lord in the Underground City

Chapter 575: Outside the Plaza

There was a dead silence from the audience, followed by a buzz of murmurs like the tide spreading.

"What happened?"

"Young Master Badri... why did he suddenly..."

Most of the dwarves didn’t see the process clearly. In their eyes, the lord announced the start, Little Badri took a step forward, and immediately the armor disintegrated, the axe blade fell, and the valiant young master was nearly naked, stiff on the stage.

Yet among the crowd, a few keen-eyed or well-positioned warriors and old adventurers wore expressions full of disbelief and shock.

"It’s that Puki!" An old dwarf with gray beard explained hoarsely to his confused companion beside him, "At the start of the fight, it flipped over from above Little Badri’s head, tentacle gripping a dagger... I couldn’t see the specific actions, but the young master’s armor, all connections were cut open almost simultaneously!"

"Nonsense!" A blacksmith nearby immediately refuted, pointing at the scattered armor pieces on the stage, "That’s enchanted quenched heavy armor! It’s impressive if an ordinary dagger can leave a mark. To cut it? And cut all the locks at once? Do you think it’s made of paper?"

Yet Little Badri’s axe was indeed sliced into halves...

Common sense clashed with the reality they just saw, and the audience immediately fell into a chaotic debate and confusion, the noise growing louder.

However, not everyone was entangled in the details of the battle.

Some young dwarves and children had already been attracted to the entirely different scene on stage.

They watched the once-wind-stepping Little Badri, now almost naked, standing foolishly on stage, a sight too amusing and embarrassing.

"Pfft!"

Someone couldn’t hold back first, letting out a short puff of air.

Immediately, suppressed muffled laughter echoed from several places.

These laughs, though not loud in the noisy debate, were exceptionally piercing, deeply wounding Little Badri’s pride.

Shame, anger, and an incredible sense of defeat instantly overwhelmed his reason. He abruptly threw away the ridiculous axe handle and let out a wounded beast’s roar, eyes scarlet, turning back to swing his fist filled with combat energy at the Puki behind him!

"Stop!"

Old Badri stopped his son’s full-force punch with one hand, the wind brushing his graying beard backward.

"Father?!" Little Badri was stunned.

"The duel is over," Old Badri solemnly announced the result, "You lost."

Lost?

Little Badri had not fully comprehended these two words, when he suddenly felt a chill on his chin.

His meticulously braided beard silently broke off in the middle.

And at the front of his neck, previously covered by the beard, a point of icy metallic sharpness was slowly retracting, the tip of the dagger rolled by Sword Saint Puki’s mycelium tentacle.

If it had advanced half an inch more, it could easily pierce his throat.

Only at this moment did Little Badri belatedly feel the closeness of death, cold sweat emerging from his back.

In fact, the Sword Saint wouldn’t truly strike to kill.

Just a young fellow in his thirties, if he were to seriously compete with the half-year-old Puki, then that would be losing face.

But if Old Badri hadn’t intervened, the Sword Saint wouldn’t mind shaving Little Badri’s head, and also taking off his last pair of shorts.

Yet, there was no more questioning from the audience.

They realized that indeed, they themselves couldn’t discern the skills of this Puki.

But soon, new doubts occupied everyone’s minds.

They recognized Little Badri’s strength, combined with his enchanted heavy armor, he could wrestle hands with palace-level opponents.

And to so effortlessly annihilate Little Badri like this, what was the level of this Puki?

A servant climbed onto the stone platform holding clothes intending to pass them to the half-naked young master, but was halted by Old Badri’s raised hand.

Old Badri looked at his half-naked son and said, "You lost, according to the agreement, go apologize, just like this."

"Father... I..." Badri’s face flashed with struggle and humiliation.

But under his father’s piercing gaze, he eventually just took a deep breath, turned around, and walked step by step off the stage. In front of Inanna, he lowered his head: "It was my offense... I will abide by all agreements, please forgive..."

Even No. 4 used tentacles to brush his remaining beard, he did not resist.

Old Badri then approached, nodding slightly to Inanna and Ronan: "The envoy can set off at any time. Ash City will provide necessary supplies and dispatch guides familiar with the mountain paths."

His tone was steady, with little discernible emotion.

No deceit involved .

An honor duel is an ancient and sacred rule , and its outcome under the watchful eyes of many must be honored , even by the Lord . To betray it is not only disgraceful but also a stain on the clan’s reputation .

Besides...

Old Badri glanced back at the Sword Saint who was reattaching four swords to his body .

Even he was unsure he could defeat the power exhibited by that Puki .

The Mushroom Race... Past intelligence only emphasized their ability to summon waves of Puki , which held immense strategic value .

But who could have thought their individual combat strength could reach such a level ?

This matter needs to be communicated within the clan ; an evaluation and strategic adjustment regarding the Mushroom Race must be made .

Having finished explaining , Old Badri said no more , took his son who had just put on an outer garment and was still somewhat disoriented , and turned to leave , their silhouettes quickly lost among the separating and rejoining crowd .

As they walked away , Inanna immediately put down No . 4 from her arms , and embraced the Sword Saint Puki joyfully , her fingers gently kneading its smooth , rounded mushroom body , unabashedly showing her appreciation .

Knowing it doesn’t have the chance to be attended to by Pink Puki for the time being , No . 4 quietly climbed onto the stone platform , using mycelium tentacles to wrap the neatly severed beard .

Although this is the spoils of Fourteen , it is also a testament to the Mushroom Race’s honor , it must be brought back to be displayed .

This gave it an insight : Heads can’t be taken , but maybe by defeating a strong enemy in the future , a small part can be cut off as proof ?

This way , Pink Puki wouldn’t reject it , and it could leave evidence of its battle record .

But , what should be cut then ?

Not everyone has such a symbolic large beard like the Dwarves...

...

When everyone’s attention was on the honor duel , besides Inanna , no one noticed that the third Puki among the troop wasn’t present at the scene .

At the edge of Ash City , inside a quiet stone house away from the bustling square , the light was dim . More than ten young Dwarves sat on their knees uneasily on the ground , their rough hands clasping nervously .

And standing before them was Knight Puki , who wasn’t at the scene .

"Is... Is this true?" A young dwarf whose cheeks bore the marks of furnace smoke , stared at the letters on the ground , his voice trembling , mixed with disbelief and yearning .

These young dwarves had similar circumstances ; they are all basic blacksmiths , barely initiated with some talent and sweat , with no clan backing them or affluent family resources to rely on .

Those mountains were indeed rich in minerals , but nearly all high-quality veins had long been controlled firmly by major clans , each piece of mineral output having a predetermined destination .

For these basic craftsmen , seeking to advance to intermediate , advanced , or even the dream of becoming a legendary blacksmith , the biggest lacking isn’t effort and sweat , but numerous , even luxurious practice opportunities .

According to normal processes , they could only serve in clan or wealthy merchants’ forges , processing crude items day after day , pulling bellows , occasionally getting the chance to forge a few simple bits .

It would take five to six years , or even longer , to gradually accumulate a scant amount of experience and savings to possibly touch the threshold of the next level .

And now , a Puki capable of communicating through writing was painting them a near-dreamlike picture .

Just by going to a certain place , they would have inexhaustible minerals , unlimited forging opportunities .

They could wield their hammers without restraint , experiment at will , until their own skills truly hit a bottleneck , unable to advance anymore .

That is simply the "paradise" blacksmiths dream of.

Aspiration burned like the hot furnace in their eyes , but doubt followed closely behind .

After all , this fellow mentioned a location , somewhat near the Demon Race border...

However , Knight Puki wrote no more to explain , only took out an object from its body and threw it on the ground .

Thud .

A dull thump sounded .

There appeared a A Level demon crystal as large as an adult’s fist !

The value of such a large A Level demon crystal was enough to match the hard work of these people over a dozen years !

It lay quietly on the ground , emitting a purple glow , wavering the Dwarves’ pupils , their breath becoming heavy .

After Puki left , several clear swallowing sounds came from the room .

Some Dwarves’ gazes were fixated on the demon crystal , filled with greed , having already begun urgently and quietly discussing with companions how to divide this surprising wealth .

But there were Dwarves who gazed dumbly at the departing doorway of Puki , then lowered their heads to look at the glowing demon crystal , their minds repeatedly echoing the promise of "Blacksmith’s Paradise"...