650. The Age of Puji

The central tower of the Fungal Fortress, its highest terrace, faced the thin sunlight of the Northern Territory.

Looking down at the three new mushrooms surrounded by the Fungal Citizens below, the Sword Saint asked Marshal Puji beside him, "You perform miracles and resurrect the dead. Are you—a god?"

It very much wanted to straighten its mushroom body, spread the radiance of the Sun Stone behind its Mushroom Cap, and then coolly admit it.

But Linden was an honest mushroom.

"Not yet."

The Sword Saint did not press him on what that "yet" meant. It only tilted its Mushroom Cap. "Then why did you resurrect them?"

Hearing the Sword Saint's question, Marshal Puji bounced up in righteous indignation. "What do you mean, why? They're all my precious subjects! If I can resurrect them, of course I should resurrect as many as I can—besides, it doesn't cost anything."

For some reason, the Sword Saint always felt that last half sentence was the main point.

He had originally thought Boss must have paid some kind of price to resurrect him.

After all, as the Sword Saint, he had that value.

He had imagined many possibilities: that precious resources had been consumed, that some price had been paid, or that some forbidden power had been used.

But now it seemed—the resurrection ability Boss possessed was far more convenient than it had expected.

So convenient it simply did not seem like something that should appear in a mortal's hands.

Of course, Boss was clearly neither "ordinary" nor "human." But no matter what, in the Sword Saint's eyes, this ability was still far too powerful.

It did not know how long a puji could live, but since they could be resurrected at will, lifespan was presumably no longer a problem.

Leaving aside the point that