Scarecrow Abyss, fourth layer of overlapping space, Forgotten Mansion.
The long corridor appears dark and decayed under the candlelight.
The space is filled with an unseen, yet highly concentrated corrosive curse, where any unprotected ordinary person wouldn’t last more than half a minute before being corroded into a pile of rotten flesh.
What is more to be feared are those scarecrow guards dressed in tuxedos, along with their subordinate demon servants, not to ntion the most terrifying butler in the mansion.
Even the truly strong need to be cautious, for if entangled by the guards and caught the attention of the scarecrow butler, there have been precedents of Palace Level individuals dying here.
However, at this mont, those scarecrow guards wearing black tuxedos, which are quite incompatible with their straw bodies, have lost their threat.
They slump against the walls and in the corridor in various incomplete postures.
The terrifying corrosive curse still exists in the air, but to the victor in the mansion at this mont, it seems rely an added flavor.
Pop... pop... pop...
Red and green sli happily bounce along the corridor.
They completely ignore the curse, gathering beside the remains of the scarecrows and digesting the evil grass that constitutes their bodies.
These slis were originally restricted to the Lost Garden on the third layer, serving as watchdogs, but now they have turned against their master and even won the victory.
Hollow Sli Man strides rhythmically across the corridor.
His body slowly shifts, maintaining a human silhouette, even clad in clothes, yet empty inside apart from occasional magical auras swirling.
In one of his sli-ford palms, he holds the scarecrow butler’s remains casually. The lower part of the remains has disappeared, with its edges being slowly digested by Sli Man’s palm, turning into pure energy.
On his shoulder sits a bi-colored red and green sli, from which the slis feasting in the corridor have split.
As Sli Man passes by, the feasting slis abandon the partially digested scarecrow remains beneath them and leap into the following team.
Then, a kind of magical resonance ripples among them, and the slis gradually rge into one.
When Sli Man arrives at the study door in the deepest part of the manor, the slis behind him have already rged into a massive python that almost fills half the corridor.
Entering the room, the shelves hold not books, but bundles of evil grass, as if there’s nothing else worth exploring in the entire Forgotten Mansion.
For most adventurers who intrude here, this indeed is the case.
But the newcor knows there is still a fifth layer of overlapping space in this Underground City.
Brilliance of magic spreads from Sli Man’s forehead, revealing a hidden magic lock on the shelf.
As Sli Man raises his arm, ready to touch and unlock this intricate magic lock, his motion abruptly halts.
After a while, he slowly lowers his arm, temporarily putting aside the unlocking task, turns around, sits on the room’s only chair, and falls into a silent state of contemplation.
The sli python obediently coils up without moving, only the bi-colored sli seems sowhat impatient, jumping back and forth between Sli Man’s shoulder and top of his head.
For a long ti, Sli Man, or rather, Demon King, cos back to his senses.
Just now, one of his remotely controlled slis was surrounded and humiliatingly stomped to death by three Puki.
The malice contained was transmitted undisguisedly, causing him so puzzlent—what grudge?
That sli was originally used by him to gather intelligence and monitor the movents of Hand of Death.
That organization backed by a true god, even if its force isn’t large, its intelligence priority is higher than information related to the Empire.
Unexpectedly, that sli suffered an unnecessary disaster, stumbling upon...
"Puki..."
He certainly has quietly observed these creatures before, but has never understood the form of their existence.
He holds a far superior understanding of this world, and thus, ordinary people have accepted the existence, even grown accustod to Puki, which to him is almost an incomprehensible existence.
These Puki clearly have a similar unified will, possibly being part of the Mushroom Race, or perhaps sothing above the Mushroom Race.
But still, this couldn’t explain why their scale could be so enormous, and their structure so... homogeneous.
Even the Chis, whose shape most closely resembles it in his mory, have their staggering numbers based on Eye Worms serving as core control nodes.
To Chis, Eye Worms are truly its will’s extension, extrely limited in number. When separated from Eye Worm, an ordinary Chis individual, regardless of strength, is rely a lifeless husk lacking instinct and autonomy, unable to be considered a complete life.
But Puki is different.
What puzzles him more is that they carry real souls inside them, not pseudo-souls.
This situation is not uncommon for independent lives with self-will, but Puki is a communal creature...
It’s as if all Puki are one entity sharing a single grand soul.
This hypothesis is too absurd.
Its level of absurdity is akin to calculating a running speed surpassing the speed of light.
Demon King has a vague premonition that these Puki may likely beco stumbling blocks in his future plans.
Therefore, when the ti is appropriate, he plans to delve into the secrets behind them.
Of course, the primary task at present is to restore strength as soon as possible, at least to a degree sufficient for self-preservation.
A pseudopod extends from the body, touching the magic lock.
rely two seconds.
The complex magic lock is easily unlocked.
Subsequently, the surrounding space blurs, and he and the sli once again fall into the true core of the Scarecrow Abyss.
Here, there is no light, only pure darkness that devours all vision.
"You... shouldn’t be here now." A hoarse, shriveled voice echoes from the depths of the dark space, "Three hundred and thirty-three years have not yet passed."
"Plans never keep up with changes," the Demon King’s voice emanates from the sli body, gentle and knowledgeable, "Due to so accidents, I ca out early."
"An agreent is an agreent! The ti limit is not up, even if you are the signatory, right now you have no right to step here! Leave!"
In the darkness, countless dark purple lights begin to illuminate, eyes densely packed and overlapping, each filled with evil.
Under the reflection of the dark purple eyes, a colossal monster body composed of evil grass looms faintly.
"I know," such a developnt is not unexpected for the Demon King, otherwise he wouldn’t need to create that sli python, "It’s truly pathetic; no matter how brilliantly thoughts and reactions are simulated, pseudo-souls are still pseudo-souls, destined never to birth a true self."
The sli python rges upon, magic brilliance converging within the Demon King’s translucent body.
The core of darkness is soon filled with surging magic power and terrifying screeches.
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