As a Charming Mushroom, I Fell into the Apocalypse (MUSHROOM)
“What’s that?”
“Nightclub’s promotional video. I heard they spent a lot of points to get it broadcast on the big screen.”
“Nightclub needs promotion?”
“I thought this screen only showed major emergencies and new regulations.”
“Even if it’s promoting Nightclub, we can’t afford to go. Just the entrance ticket costs fifty points. I heard people inside spend extravagantly—some save up for half a year and blow it all in one night.”
“Tch.” A passing uncle pushing a cart full of scrap spat, “They’re all a bunch of bored idiots. Nightclub is no good place—only those muddle-headed new humans go there to amuse themselves.”
“It’s nothing special, just an ad.” Someone waved dismissively and continued walking.
Most people didn’t stop. Even if a splash of unusual color was injected into their numb, painful lives, the overall tone remained gray. They had long forgotten entertainment, focused solely on survival.
Though it had been ages since the big screen last lit up, it couldn’t stir their heartstrings.
But contrary to expectations, after a soft, soothing melody, a young man who seemed barely of age appeared on the screen. His platinum-blond, slightly curly hair and fair, delicate skin formed a face so perfect even angels would feel inferior. Light seemed to favor him, casting a just right glow upon him.
His voice was as clear as a stream gently flowing over pebbles—not the trained tone of a broadcaster, but with a natural, slightly soft cadence that felt soothing. Everyone in the square unconsciously stopped and looked up, listening intently.
He recited a poem, comparing himself to the only rose blooming in the wasteland. Though his tone was somewhat immature, it evoked the image of a vibrant, spirited sprout breaking through constraints to bloom.
It was hard to say whether it was because they hadn’t seen someone so full of unique vitality in so long, or because his intense life force was infectious, or perhaps because his exquisite face was utterly stunning even through the screen.
More and more people stopped, drawn in, and crowds began gathering at the central square of the base.
The poem was short. The video looped a few times but soon ended as the screen went dark, plunging everything into a black silence.
As if waking from a dream, everyone came to their senses and realized they were surrounded by others, each wearing the same expression of lingering fascination.
“Who is he?”
“He’s so beautiful. I feel like I’ve fallen in love for the first time. If I could be with him, I’d even brave a nest of mutant creatures!”
“Take a look at yourself in a puddle first. He should be with a strong new human like me.”
"Get lost, just a C-Class like you?"
"If our child hadn't died, they'd be about this age now."
"He reminds me of my younger brother..."
"Mom, this big brother's voice makes me feel so comforted."
"Play it again! Let us hear it one more time!"
The square buzzed with excitement. The faces of those who had stopped to listen were no longer numb—they glanced around, eagerly asking one another, hoping to learn who this young man was.
"Nightclub, you've got some nerve!!"
Someone shouted toward the sky, and the crowd in the square unanimously nodded in agreement.
...
Hui Gu had no idea he had suddenly gone viral.
He woke up to a jolting motion, opening his eyes to the sharp, defined line of Gu Wang's jaw.
"Gu?"
Hui Gu mumbled, fully awake now.
Having gone to bed early the previous night, even though he'd been woken by the alarm this morning, he was unusually free of grogginess. He obediently stayed in the pocket, gathering his senses.
Gu Wang noticed and murmured softly, "I'm taking you to my workplace."
He had initially left Hui Gu alone at home because he thought his workplace was too violent for a mushroom. But after yesterday's events, he no longer felt comfortable leaving the mushroom behind.
Hui Gu didn't mind being "kidnapped" and taken to work—instead, he eagerly poked his head out to survey the surroundings.
The place resembled a sparsely furnished break room, with dim lighting and slightly thin air.
Hui Gu looked around and let out a puzzled sound: "Ji?"
Gu Wang was wrapping bandages around his hands in slow, deliberate circles. Hearing this, he explained, "This is an underground fighting ring."
Underground fighting ring.
Hui Gu blinked his little black bean eyes a couple of times before it finally clicked—so this was where Gu Wang's injuries had come from.
For some reason, he felt displeased, though he couldn't pinpoint the source of this irritation. He sulkily nudged Gu Wang.
The man reached out and patted him soothingly, mistakenly thinking the mushroom was frightened by the grim atmosphere of the underground ring.
Hui Gu let out a soft grumble.
He sensed the others in the break room and could tell none were a match for Gu Wang. With the Incubator's strength, using less than half of his supernatural ability would be enough to crush them all.
So why did he still get injured in this job?
Before Hui Gu could figure it out, a few more people trickled into the break room, loudly discussing the day's fresh gossip.
Usually, their conversations revolved around violence or vulgar topics. In this blood-soaked underground ring, it seemed only such crude talk could stimulate these caged beasts, sparking a faint interest in survival.
But today was different. New words slipped from their lips, and their eyes held a subtle shift—closer to genuine appreciation, a rare sincerity.
Words like "square," "beautiful," and "pity" were repeated.
Gu Wang stood and walked toward them. He had deliberately kept a low profile in the break room, his presence so muted even his breathing was hard to detect. The others hadn't realized he was there.
Now, as he rose, that familiar pressure returned. The group that had been chattering loudly moments earlier fell silent as if someone had hit pause.
They exchanged furtive glances.
"Why didn't anyone mention this god of death was here too?"
"How would I know?"
"Can't we avoid him if we can't afford to provoke him?"
Old Jin watched helplessly as the man with bandages covering half his face and gloomy eyes walked toward him. When he turned his head, all his so-called friends had already fled in advance.
Old Jin: ...
He could only force a wrinkled smile: "Did we disturb you just now?"
Gu Wang shook his head. The white bandages covering most of his face diluted his original severity while adding an even stronger ghostly aura. Through the covered areas, one could still sense a terrifying, bloody atmosphere.
Old Jin: Think, damn it! Think!
Suddenly, his eyes lit up again: "Did you also see the promotional video released by Nightclub today?"
"Many people are guessing about that young man's identity, wondering if he's a new human. His voice is so pleasant to listen to, and he's incredibly good-looking - even more beautiful than those pre-apocalypse celebrities."
Mistakenly thinking Gu Wang was also interested in the promotional video, Old Jin rambled on excitedly.
Nightclub? Celebrities?
Gu Wang's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly, his tone somewhat indifferent: "I'm not interested in such things."
He even seemed somewhat displeased.
Old Jin awkwardly stopped talking.
Then he heard a soft but sincere "thank you."
Old Jin looked up at him in astonishment: "Huh?"
Gu Wang didn't repeat himself: "This is a thank-you gift. I went home early after hearing your advice yesterday, and the cub at home indeed ate more."
He handed him a smaller black mutated tomato.
Old Jin was somewhat incredulous: "You're giving me something so valuable?"
The underground fighting ring paid well, but you had to risk your life to earn that money.
With a wife and child at home, Old Jin usually tried to avoid participating in overly violent matches. In this place that celebrated violence as art, he naturally only earned enough to barely get by.
Mutated tomatoes were considered precious ingredients for him.
Not to mention he had only given some casual advice at the time, never expecting to receive thanks and a gift in return.
Old Jin was almost overwhelmed by the unexpected favor.
It wasn't until Gu Wang walked away and others crowded around that he snapped out of it, clutching the tomato tightly to his chest: "Shoo, shoo, this is mine."
He quickly locked the tomato in his locker. No matter what others said, he only wore a cheerful expression.
His wife and daughter would be so happy when he brought this tomato home. He could hardly remember the last time they had eaten such fresh fruits and vegetables.
Then someone nearby said sourly: "We're having a team battle with the Golden Fist group in today's arena matches. If we're unlucky enough to draw strong opponents, we might not make it down."
"Not making it down" meant dying in the arena.
Although referees would stop matches when fighters' lives were in danger, there were still unlucky souls every month who sacrificed their lives in the ring.
The underground fighting ring didn't impose corresponding punishments either - at most, they'd give the fighter's family a condolence payment barely enough for half a month's basic food expenses. This led some fighters to satisfy their already twisted battle desires in the ring, truly beating others to death.
Those who came to watch underground fights were all people who worshipped bloodshed and violence in this post-apocalyptic world. Some were even psychologically disturbed - in short, the more violent the scene, the more they enjoyed watching it.
Underground fighting rings pay better than regular jobs, but the costs are equally high.
Unlike the Nightclub, which operates in a gray area, this is a completely black-market industry.
However, the base management has far too many daily tasks to handle. Just dealing with external threats like Exotic Beasts keeps them fully occupied, leaving no spare manpower to crack down on the fighting rings.
As a result, these black-market industries have taken root in the base like stubborn, chewed-up gum—tough to remove and firmly entrenched.
Hearing this ominous remark, Old Jin immediately spat back in retort, yet he couldn't shake a faint unease growing in his heart.
The words proved prophetic.
Old Jin stared at the shortest lot in his hand, his face turning ashen.
This meant he would have to face the highest-ranked arena champion in the very first warm-up match.
Today was the underground fighting arena's monthly tournament, attracting more than twice the usual crowd. The organizers placed great importance on the opening match.
They called it the "lucky opener"—it had to draw blood, and substantial bets had been placed on it.
"I—I can't do it! Manager, please, help me change opponents." Old Jin's face paled by degrees as he turned to beg the man in the suit.
In this post-apocalyptic world, dignity was worthless compared to survival. Without a second thought, he dropped to his knees: "I beg you, I'm only C-Class! The arena champion is A-class!!"
What terrified him even more than the absolute suppression of rank was the opponent's notorious reputation.
In just half a month here, the champion had already killed dozens in the underground arena. Today marked his debut as arena champion, and he was so exhilarated that his supernatural ability fluctuations were completely unrestrained.
He was also Golden Fist's ace—their only A-class new human. Rumor had it he'd previously been a wasteland mercenary. During an expedition, his pollution level had spiraled out of control, causing the deaths of his entire squad. He was the sole survivor, but due to insufficient evidence, he couldn't be prosecuted—only barred from taking missions.
After drifting through various places, he ended up at the underground fighting arena.
Old Jin's desperate pleas echoed through the rest area. No one stepped forward to help. Even if some felt a flicker of pity, no one would speak up for him at this critical juncture.
That arena champion was barely human anymore, consumed by bloodlust. Even if Old Jin surrendered the moment the match began, his chances of death remained over ninety percent.
Anyone else would've been manageable, but he'd drawn the one who loved killing on stage.
In one match, the referee had nearly been killed trying to stop the fight. Yet the audience adored him, instantly making Golden Fist the most famous fighting arena.
Old Jin's pleas gradually faded into despair. As he rose to accept his fate, a hand suddenly appeared before him: "I'll trade with you."
Gu Wang's tone was calm as he offered his later-drawn lot.
A fierce surge of survival instinct flashed in Old Jin's eyes. He instinctively grabbed the lot: "Deal!"
Only after the exchange did he realize what he'd done, conflict and hesitation washing over his face.
He clutched the lot tightly, his trembling hands completely unsteady.
Contradictory emotions erupted in his mind—he wanted so desperately to live that when someone offered him a lifeline, he seized it without considering whether it was selfish, gripping it like a vise.
But was this really right?
Gu Wang seemed to see through his thoughts: "Don't worry about it. The prize for defeating Golden Fist's champion is the highest."
That prize money would be enough to pay off all his debts at once and keep Xiao Hui well-fed for some time.
Once the points issue was resolved, he could focus on his personal affairs.
As for those who betrayed him—revenge could wait. What he truly wanted was to root out all the cancers within the base.
Taking advantage of his current "death" situation, they would gradually reveal themselves.
With external threats looming, internal dangers must be eliminated first.
A flicker of coldness passed through Gu Wang's eyes, quickly returning to their placid state.
The witness who had observed their unauthorized tag-swapping stood by, hesitating to speak. After receiving an icy glance from Gu Wang, he swallowed all his objections.
His beady eyes darting around, he thought: Whatever, this Gu Chen is their newly acquired ace anyway—most people don't recognize him yet.
If he can truly hold his own against the Golden Fist Champion, his reputation would instantly skyrocket. The risks they'd need to bear are minimal, while the potential gains are substantial.
Moreover, he had personally seen Gu Chen compete—calling him a rabid dog wouldn't be an exaggeration.
He's also an A-class, so this match is bound to be highly entertaining.
Hui Gu still hadn't fully grasped the competition rules they were discussing, only understanding that it involved two people brawling on a platform where supernatural abilities could be freely used, but not extended beyond the stage.
How boring.
Why do humans enjoy watching their own kind fight? The daily death toll is already approaching this species' threshold.
Before he could ponder further, he felt a sudden swaying motion as Gu Wang removed his jacket, revealing a black tank top that showcased his well-defined, impressive muscle lines.
Several wraps of white bandages were coiled around his wrists as protection.
Gu Wang handed his jacket—with Hui Gu hidden inside—to Old Jin: "Keep an eye on this for me. Don't lose it."
Heading into a ring fight while carrying a mushroom wasn't safe, but he didn't want to leave Hui Gu alone in the dressing room either, so entrusting him to someone else temporarily was the only option."
Meeting those dark, profound eyes, Old Jin shuddered: "Y-yes, sir!"
He would definitely fulfill what his lifesaver asked of him.
Gu Wang pointed toward the area below the arena: "Go wait there." Stay within my sight.
Old Jin nodded repeatedly, quickly clutching the clothing as he hurried over to take a seat.
Hui Gu also nodded inside the pocket.
He naturally understood that Gu Wang's words were directed at him.
Of course he wouldn't run around recklessly.
He would sit right there and cheer Gu Wang on.
He was the most well-behaved Mushroom King in the entire world.
Just as Hui Gu thought this, a clamor of voices suddenly reached his ears.
Several sycophantic remarks arose: "Champion, he's your first opponent."
The one addressed as the champion was a bald man with a build nearly resembling a sumo wrestler. Glancing toward Gu Wang's direction, he sneered: "All flashy appearance—what's the use of just having nicely shaped muscles?"
He slapped his own fleshy body, making it jiggle like waves: "This kind of muscle wrapped in fat is truly the strongest."
Those around him immediately began showering him with flattery, each person brown-nosing enthusiastically.
As they passed Old Jin, he tightened his grip on the clothing and tried to make himself as inconspicuous as possible.
But Hui Gu overheard all their pre-match trash talk.
The sleazy-looking men beside them were laying on the flattery thick, desperately belittling Gu Wang to elevate the champion, criticizing him from head to toe.
Until the champion's face revealed a satisfied expression.
Hui Gu: ?
Someone actually dared to slander his Incubator right in front of him.
Hui Gu let out a cold laugh, crawled out of the pocket with a rustling sound, and leaped directly to the ground along Old Jin’s pant leg. The other party was too nervous and hadn’t expected a living creature to be in the pocket, allowing Hui Gu to easily complete his escape.
Hui Gu swaggered directly toward the direction they had just left. The transformation from an obedient Mushroom King to a rebellious Mushroom King took only a moment.
The rest area of the Golden Fist was spacious. With everyone still preparing before the match, the fighters were all busy, and the audience had not yet taken their seats. Surprisingly, Hui Gu smoothly slipped into their rest area without any trouble.
Hui Gu casually grabbed a set of fresh clothes prepared for the fighters to change into after the match and, like a little puppy, dashed into the nearest restroom with the clothes in his mouth. When the door opened again, he had transformed into a neatly dressed young man.
The strikingly handsome young man neatly rolled up the overly long sleeves, flashing a bright smile at the mirror.
Mushrooms hold grudges fiercely.
Now, he was going to make those people realize who the real trash was.
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