Remote, decayed, rarely passed by.

Even Will, who seldom wandered in the city, felt something was wrong, but he was determined to complete this final task before departure, so he reluctantly suppressed the unease in his heart.

Seeming to notice Will’s tension, the person who brought him here took out a bottle of wine from a drawer in the room and poured two glasses.

"I’ve asked the owner to fetch some items, it should take about ten minutes. They’re materials stolen and resold by clerks or apprentices from other shops, not quite legitimate, can’t be displayed openly, I hope you don’t mind."

Saying this, he raised the wooden cup and drank the wine fully.

Will nodded and took a sip as well.

After the wine went down, the other person seemed to have opened up, starting from the weather, moving to the situation, and onto discussing others and himself.

Sparing no detail of his helplessness, lacking the smart mind to become a scholar or an alchemist.

Nor possessing extraordinary talent, unable to level up, couldn’t become an adventurer or join the army.

Could only engage in shady business inside the city, appearing profitable, but with few clients, the earnings split, reaching his hand, were little.

Listening to his complaints, Will nodded, somewhat resonating with him.

As a child, he too fantasized about becoming a powerful mage or a great warrior; if he hadn’t lacked the talent, how would he have spent half his life as a farmer?

Seeing Will recognize his predicament, the person suddenly asked, "Do you... believe in reincarnation?"

A slightly tipsy Will pouted, "You mean the soul reincarnates after death, reborn again?"

"Yes, some churches can control the afterlife. Wouldn’t you want to be a genius in your next life?"

However, Will reacted indifferently, shook his head, "I don’t know about that. Even if there are souls and rebirths, surely this life’s memories are gone, otherwise past heroes, nobles, should be jumping out claiming ’who’s who’. Since there aren’t, it means memories can’t be retained. Without memories, is that person still themselves?"

"Why not? Your soul is still that soul!" The man spoke excitedly, unconsciously clenching his fists.

Drunken Will didn’t sense his unease, continuing, "Anyway, I don’t think so, rather than believe that, how about believing in Puki? They can make this life happy and fulfilling! As for the next life, although the Mushroom Worship Sect’s doctrine says believing in Puki grants eternal life, I still only care about this life... hiccup..."

After saying this, the other side suddenly went quiet, which finally made Will realize something was wrong.

Sobering up halfway, he looked at the other side with some guilt, "It’s... been over ten minutes, right? The owner hasn’t arrived yet?"

The man stood up, gritting his teeth, exclaiming, "Incurable heretic!"

"What are you... going to do?" Will retreated, but was tripped by clutter underfoot.

And the person in front drew a longsword from his sleeve.

Will didn’t know how such a long sword was hidden, not a trace was seen before.

Of course, perhaps it was due to his own lack of vigilance; after all, he was merely a former farmer with little knowledge.

"Help... help!" He retreated while loudly calling for help.

"Your cries are futile." The cultist opposite was undisturbed, having long arranged a soundproof magic array around the room.

Simple yet effective, sufficient against someone ordinary like Will.

He targeted Will for a reason, a one-armed unfamiliar face, likely a refugee from elsewhere.

Such individuals are most likely to join the church; if not, they’d serve as sacrifices, their vanishing wouldn’t likely cause concern.

Pushed into the corner, under a survival instinct, Will suddenly burst with courage, counterattacking.

However, despite the cultist not being a master, he wasn’t someone the one-armed Will could overcome, instead, during the tussle, the longsword accidentally pierced Will’s heart.

Seeing this, the cultist angrily roared, "Damn it! Why resist? I meant to send you to the goddess’s embrace, yet you resisted, now dying unjustly, all efforts wasted!"

Indeed furious, the sacrificial ritual required a living offering; dead, the ceremony couldn’t be held.

However, Will couldn’t sense his anger anymore, staring blankly at the sword embedded in his chest, his thoughts scattered.

Recently experiencing happiness, finally having something to strive for, yet the journey’s end arrived so abruptly.

Such a pity.

With regret and reluctance, Will closed his eyes forever.

...

The cultist continued his self-directed angry cursing, oblivious to the mycelium originally only growing within the wall cracks now expanding in patches, even emitting a rustling, worm-like sound.

As Lin Jun’s faith experiment project, the Mushroom Worship Sect naturally commanded Lin Jun’s attention.

The initiation ceremony indeed held no magical factors, yet Lin Jun added all formally initiated members into a Level 3 observation list within the Fungal Network.

The disappearance of an observation object naturally drew Lin Jun’s notice.

Cultists of the Hand of Death...

Like cockroaches, although attempted to be eradicated as much as possible, no traces of their gathering activities were seen on the Fungal Mat anymore.

Yet in corners of such a city, inevitably, a few might slip through, occasionally stirring trouble.

Feeling slick underfoot, the cultist finally noticed the abnormality, looking down at a floor covered with mycelium.

Under his terrified gaze, the Fungal Mat continued its spread.

Soon climbing onto Will’s corpse, decomposing it at a visibly rapid speed, within a mere ten seconds, leaving only a skeleton and clothing.

He tried to exit, yet discovered the doors and windows had unknowingly been sealed by mycelium.

Even more perilously, on the Fungal Mat, Puki prototypes were emerging.

"What’s... what is happening?"

Plop—

From the wall, a tattered, broken voice Puki first fell, a terrifyingly sticky sound echoed within the closed room:

"Beloved cultist, you’re about to die! In the most painful manner!"

"Scream and struggle with all your might!"

"After all, didn’t you set up the soundproof magic array?"

Plop— Plop—

Puki fell one after another, even under the cultist’s frantic longsword swings, they calmly surrounded him slowly.

"What are you really? Wait, no, no! Aaaaah—"

Outside, silence reigned, the soundproof magic array’s effect indeed superb.

...

Two companions who sourced the purchases together, followed the final perception from within the cultist’s Fungal Network, locating Will’s remains.

In the deserted, empty house, they found no clues.

Mourning and seething, the duo could only return first, seeking help from Julia and the Mushroom Envoy.

Meanwhile, in the Mushroom Garden, a new mycelium cocoon was gradually forming.