Which meant—it wasn’t dead.
But what the hell was “a sixth of a Demon King”? Gather all the fragments and summon Shenlong for a wish?
And chopped into eight parts yet still alive?
Given this world… maybe, just maybe, that was possible.
Of course, this was only the Yellow Tome’s claim.
And with its track record—hiding half the truth, mixing a deadly lie among nine truths, tripping you up at the worst moment—every word it spoke had to be doubted.
If not for Lin Jun’s abnormally vast soul, he would have been finished already. Scheming, traps, dirty tricks—on that front, he grudgingly respected the Yellow Tome’s skill.
Thinking this, Lin Jun expressed his “respect” in the most straightforward way—
A sudden lightning arc struck the book dead-on.
[Charred—charred! Boss, boss, boss, I swear every word’s the truth! I wouldn’t dare lie!]
“How do you know what’s sealed behind the door is a Demon King?”
[My mission… is to release the Demon King…]
“Mission? Who gave you that task?”
[Ow ow ow! Stop zapping! I really don’t know!]
[From the moment I gained awareness… the mission was already there!]
[I only know… if I free the Demon King… I’ll obtain… a soul of my own! That’s all!]
Hoh. So it really was like a wish.
“Your own soul?” Lin Jun recalled that not-quite-soul core inside it. “And what difference would that make?”
[Everything! Worlds apart!]
[I’ve dealt with souls all my existence—I know better than anyone!]
[A soul can be bound, reshaped… but it never dies! To have a soul is to truly live—eternally!]
The Tome grew heated. Lin Jun graciously shocked it again to calm it down.
“So… you still haven’t given up, huh? Still thinking of stealing my core to release your Demon King?”
[N-no, no, Boss, not at all…]
[Boss, if you release the Demon King, that’s legendary merit!]
[The Lord Demon King will rule the demon race—he won’t covet your little dungeon, surely?]
“Then why didn’t you consult me before?” Lin Jun’s voice was cold.
[That… that was… because I wasn’t sure of your stance! Ow ow ow! Don’t zap! It was revenge, Boss—I didn’t think it worth telling you! I was wrong! I was wrong!]
The Puji’s tendrils lifted the charred, smoking Codex, dangling it midair.
At once, the book felt the terror of its impending end.
[Boss! If you don’t agree, fine! Fine! Just spare me! I know many secrets—Vampire ascension! The Hero’s holy sword! The Emperor’s black history! I’m useful! I’m still useful!]
A thick arc plowed through its fragile page, carbonizing it. The Puji snapped its tendrils shut with a “clap,” gripping the smoldering book like a burnt log, and carried it out of the core chamber without a glance back.
Lin Jun didn’t destroy it. As it said, it was still a library of knowledge.
With its life hanging between his fingers, it was smart enough to know: it had just one lie left to spend, and it wouldn’t waste that on trivialities.
So most of its intel could be trusted—as long as he guarded against its twists on the big things.
But spared death didn’t mean spared punishment.
Mushroom Garden No.3.
“Noris, I’ll reinforce your Jida’s breastplate.”
“Boss? Oh, oh, sure!” Norris scuttled out of the construct obediently, curious to see what “reinforcement” meant.
The next moment, to his utter confusion, the Puji took out the scorched, smoking Yellow Tome—and jammed it straight into the Jida’s chest.
“Eh? S-senior?!” Norris stared at the charred cover, bewildered. He poked it—bits of blackened skin flaked off!
The Tome couldn’t even respond anymore.
Behind that door might lie a fragment of the Demon King.
As tempting as it was to peek, leaving it sealed was the wisest choice.
It wasn’t prejudice against demons.
He’d seen vampires, demonkin, dwarves, elves, beastmen—none were truly different from humans, apart from biology.
It was just plain fear of the unknown. And fear of trouble.
Please. That was just a flowery way of saying “Step into the storm’s eye and prepare to be devoured by every faction alive.”
Lin Jun had zero interest in that.
If his true body could just bask safely in the sun, lay down more fungus carpet, build more mushroom gardens—without attracting attention from the big shots—that was all he wanted. Nothing more.
Still, the core was both admin chamber and Demon King prison. Security had to be airtight.
How many Pujis should he assign here?
At least a thousand, to guarantee fighting strength.
And elites among them, too…
But at that rate, how many Pujis would he even have left to use?
In the end, Lin Jun brought the two war golems back.
It took half a day. The moment they crossed into the core chamber on the back of Chubby Puji, they reactivated.
At once, the Pujis carrying them were shredded from the inside. Then the others nearby fell in turn.
In less than thirty seconds, over a hundred Pujis were dead.
Only after purging every “threat” did the constructs return to their original stations at the core gate, motionless.
Nope—Lin Jun couldn’t control them.
Somewhere among the countless motes of the stele was the authority node for them, but he couldn’t tell which.
So they reverted to default programming: kill everything in sight, including Pujis.
But Lin Jun had his own solution.
He now controlled the compute power itself. As long as he didn’t funnel any into the golems, they stayed dormant.
A fresh Puji swaggered into the chamber. The two constructs didn’t stir, frozen like statues.
Good. He couldn’t reprogram them, but he could keep their power switches off. As gatekeepers, they’d do.
With core security settled and the Demon King problem shelved, Lin Jun turned his focus to dungeon repairs.
And the Amethyst Dungeon… even “ruins” was too kind. Horrific space fissures tore through every floor, ecosystems had collapsed, and some strata’s very landscapes had shifted.
The new administrator had work to do.