Mushroom Lord in the Underground City-Chapter 420 - 411: The Power of Wisdom

On the ground, there was an almost invisible outline moving swiftly with an eerie trajectory, each landing stirring up tiny clouds of dust; it was an invisible jumping insect fleeing for its life.

Despite its concealed form, the dust on its body betrayed its presence, leaving behind a sporadic trail.

Broga pursued relentlessly, the heavy ring-headed blade in his hand repeatedly slicing down with the sound of wind being torn.

Yet, he ultimately couldn’t see the full form clearly, and the blade always narrowly missed that invisible body, leaving deep slashes in the ground.

A streak of lightning shot across the surface, hitting that blurred outline.

The air immediately filled with the smell of burning as an insect electrified to a crisp revealed itself, falling from mid-air, its limbs still twitching slightly.

Broga’s blade followed closely, splitting it in two, with viscous purple blood gushing out and seeping into the ground.

Broga straightened up, looking towards the old acquaintance slowly walking not far away, his tone slightly discontented: "Rama, your lightning almost grazed me."

The half-demon named Rama flicked the remnants of the electric arc off his magic staff: "I reckon that if I hadn’t intervened, that thing would’ve slipped away under your blade."

"I don’t have your magic eye that can see through disguises," Broga muttered, "Besides, what difference does it make if one gets away? They’re already surrounded, bound to meet their end sooner or later."

Rama was an upper-level warrior from the nearby "Stone Claw" tribe.

Like Broga’s "Broken Blade" tribe, they were typical mixed settlements of the Northern Territory.

Mixed settlements are communities formed by different races banding together for warmth to survive in this harsh land.

Without racial boundaries and because there is no fundamental conflict of interest between tribes, the relations between Broken Blade and Stone Claw are relatively harmonious, with some upper-level warriors even considered friends.

Broga and Rama were such friends.

Broga disgustedly kicked the still-twitching insect corpse aside: "This damn thing is revolting."

In the Northern Territory, food is extremely precious. Even now that there are mushroom trade channels with Fungus Castle, the thrifty habits of the tribesmen are deeply rooted, never wasting any potential prey.

But these purple-blood insects are exceptions; their flesh is slimy, foul-smelling, and consumption induces violent vomiting and weakness, making them altogether inedible.

Rama glanced at the warriors slowly advancing, constantly sprinkling powder, gradually compressing the encircling circle, and said, "It’d be great to clean these dead insects thoroughly; in just a few months, they snatched away over forty of our people."

"Our tribe suffered even worse," Broga’s face was grim, "Even one of our upper-level warriors was lost!"

Rama nodded, his expression solemn: "I know, if not for this, the leaders wouldn’t have resolved to unite like this. These insects are too dangerous to be left unchecked."

"Thank goodness for that Fungus... whatever castle, if not for their mushrooms, who knows how long we’d have to save up food for such a large-scale cleanup."

Earlier, the tribes in the Northern Territory were barely surviving, struggling to gather enough food for an operation of this scale, but the emergence of Fungus Castle undoubtedly injected more vitality into the surrounding tribes.

Trading slaves for a whole cart of mushrooms is certainly a profitable business.

They could even trade a small amount of mushrooms from more distant tribes, unable to deal directly with Fungus Castle, for slaves, then send the slaves to Fungus Castle and earn the difference.

It could be said that if it weren’t for these suddenly emerging insects, this spring should have been an unprecedentedly delightful period.

Of course, not everyone was satisfied with what was happening.

"What intrigues me more," Rama said, picking up a piece of mud, "is that our tribe also has a fungal mat nearby, but the mushrooms grow sparsely. What method do they use to make mushrooms grow like wild grass?"

Broga responded, "Surely they have some secret ritual or exclusive concoction, doesn’t your tribe have a shapeshifter? Mix him in to steal the formula."

Rama nodded, though evidently now wasn’t the time to ponder such matters.

During their conversation, a warrior under Rama ran over to report: "Captain, blood was found there!"

After thinking for a moment, the subordinate added: "Red blood."

They followed the warrior to a shaded slope, the ground indeed spattered with dark red blood, shocking to behold, yet there was no body—clearly the work of those insects.

After some searching, someone unearthed a severed finger from the soft soil.

Rama examined it carefully: "It’s a human finger. Probably some unlucky individual from among the ’bait’ left it... didn’t expect someone to run this far."

Since the start of spring, several surrounding tribes suffered attacks repeatedly.

Judging by the timing and locations, these purple-blood insects must be lurking in the Gong River.

To lure them out, the tribes gathered a batch of slaves as bait.

The plan was very successful; many insects were drawn out, after which the allied forces blocked their escape, continually tightening the encirclement.

This operation aimed to severely damage this batch of insects, making it difficult for them to recover for several years, even if it couldn’t eliminate the threat entirely.

The bloodstain before them was likely the last trace from one of the baits.

The encirclement was steadily shrinking, and encounters with invisible jumping insects were becoming more frequent.

Everyone understood these insects were at the end of their rope, merely fighting a futile last struggle.

In the eyes of these upper-level warriors, invisible demons might be troublesome, but they were ultimately just dumb creatures acting on instinct.

They might succeed in ambushing solitary warriors, but posed no genuine threat against organized, intelligent races. Throughout this hunting operation, the allied forces suffered only a few casualties.

The final desperate retaliation might be fiercer, but the overall situation was settled.

The insects crazily tried to break out but were met with obstacles everywhere, finally fleeing to a section of Gong River still frozen with thick ice.

The ice here was thick, and before summer arrived, there was no concern about weight-bearing.

As a tribe priest chanted a spell, a revealing spell shimmered, sweeping across the ice, instantly exposing the last few hundred insects.

They gathered at the ice center, tightly guarding an unusually large insect with six scythe-like claws.

"That’s the insect king, right? Now that we can see it, dealing with it is easier! I’m claiming the glory for this one!" Broga licked his lips bloodthirstily, leading his men to initiate the first charge.

"Kill them all!"

"Avenge our fallen tribesmen!"

As he moved, the other tribal warriors around him weren’t willing to lag behind, flooding forth like a breached dam, shouting as they swept toward the insect swarm in the ice’s center.

Broga was the first to charge ahead, and the first to engage with the insects.

In one encounter, two insects, large and small, were cleaved in half by him.

Without pause, he continued advancing, his target firmly set on the suspected insect king.

The insects resisted fiercely, but having lost their invisible forms, faced with thousands of tribal warriors far outnumbering them, any resistance was futile.

Numerous insects were slain, their blood dyeing the ice purple.

Just as Broga fought his way to the center, intending to confront the insect king, a powerful tremor suddenly came from beneath his feet.

Broga staggered, nearly falling, while the insect king seemed ready, stabilizing itself and striking swiftly.

In the nick of time, Broga twisted his waist, used his knife to deflect the insect king’s attack, then rolled backward, somewhat awkwardly regaining his stance.

However, this was just the beginning, the tremors continued to intensify.

Finally, under the incredulous gaze of everyone, a giant toothed tentacle broke through the ice from the river...