Under the blazing midday sun, the battlements of Novid faded to a pale grey, and only the shadows retained the chill of the bluestone.

The iron-clad city gate was open, and four guards were inspecting entrants in the shadow beneath the walls.

The crowd here had grown considerable, and Dylan was finally allowed to dress.

However, as he gazed distantly at the city gate, Dylan's expression was far from pleasant.

He had just received a warning from the boss: "There's a magic array in operation at the gate."

A magic array placed at the city gate could easily be predicted as some kind of low-tier detection magic.

Though it's low-tier, it's more than enough to deal with someone like me with low-level mimicry.

Sustaining a magic array involves considerable expenditure, since when did these nobles become so willing to spend?

Having rushed along the way after leaving the Underground City, no information was gathered.

I wonder if something has happened recently that I'm unaware of?

In conclusion, entering the city is no longer an option.

He glanced at the merchant beside him, whose name he had forgotten, and casually found an excuse:

"We've reached safety here, I have other matters to attend to, so I won't accompany you into the city."

The merchant seemed a bit surprised: "Mr. Dylan, what matters do you have? I had hoped to properly thank you once inside the city."

Dylan was too lazy to fabricate a reason, simply waved, turned his horse, and left.

"Mr. Dylan, are you afraid to enter the city?"

Dylan pulled the reins, fiercely staring at the merchant.

What do you mean?

Exposed?

Dylan's mind even started considering the consequences of killing to silence him here.

Yet the merchant appeared not to notice Dylan's peculiarity, continuing to speak: "Or perhaps you're worried my excessive gratitude might delay your journey?"

His knuckles turned white on the reins, and after a while, Dylan spoke with a hint of hoarseness: "Just joking, I indeed have other matters, won't delay here."

After speaking, he tugged the reins and fled, riding away like a hunted animal.

The merchant squinted slightly, staring at Dylan's retreating figure.

After riding along the path for a lengthy period, Dylan could no longer see the city walls, and the surroundings gradually showed no trace of passing travelers.

However, when he looked back, he saw that familiar figure.

The merchant had followed!?

By now, Dylan realized the merchant was unusual, but couldn't discern the merchant's purpose.

If he had inadvertently discovered my disguise, he should have alerted the guards to capture me, right?

Why follow me alone, unafraid of being silenced?

Unusual circumstances always have something amiss, Dylan wanted nothing more than to avoid confrontation.

Thus he continued to flee, running until the sun was about to set, and his horse panted exhaustedly.

Looking back, he finally saw no sign of the merchant.

Still unable to relax, Dylan led his horse into the roadside woods.

Not until the road was nowhere in sight did Dylan stop.

Just as Dylan was about to retrieve his belongings from the horse, a small rock flew and struck Dylan's face.

Disregarding the failure of his mimicry, Dylan turned to look at the merchant, who had caught up again, feeling a chill down his spine.

This is certainly not an ordinary merchant!

Only the backpack on the ground could bring him slight comfort.

Yet, why hasn't the boss acted?

Do I have to engage in a fight myself?

Dylan drew his longsword, expecting an intense battle.

"Indeed!" The merchant looked at Dylan's face, voice filled with glee, "No need to be nervous, we're on the same side!"

Then Dylan saw the merchant's head begin to distort like a water balloon.

Transforming into several different faces, even Dylan's.

After the transformation, the merchant smiled and said: "Now, do you understand?"

Understand what?

Realize you're a monster?

Wait, on the same side?

Dylan touched his green face full of fungal threads, thoughtful.

The merchant took this as comprehension, comfortably found a rock to sit on.

"Ah, what a rarity to encounter a kindred spirit in such a place."

The merchant now appeared relaxed, posture casual, missing the earlier propriety.

"Let's reintroduce, I'm Keroro. What's your name?"

Seeing him this way, Dylan temporarily set aside his intentions to act, just took his backpack and donned it.

"Dylan."

"You're the parasitic type, right? I've seen it, my question is your real name, not the name of this body."

"Dylan..."

"Alright, alright," Keroro displayed a helpless expression, "Your disguise isn't all that impressive, yet I didn't expect your discretion to be tight."

"Where's the flaw in my disguise?" This was indeed something Dylan wanted to know, the journey ahead is long, if anyone can see through his guise, how could he proceed!

"First off, your mimicry fails upon harm, clearly not over Level Five. Then your behavior—far too peculiar!"

Keroro approached Dylan, one hand placed on the shoulder, bearing the manner of a mentor instructing a junior.

"Who in broad daylight would ride a horse naked?

I suspected you from the first glance!

Later, you noticed their detection array at the gate, right?

When leaving, your escape was too evident, and you revealed such a flaw upon my probing. How are you trained over there?"

"Trained?"

Dylan recalled the boss's words:

"Alright, you look sufficiently human now, should be fine."

Keroro inhaled sharply: "That negligent? No acting training? No counter-detection lessons? Just sent you with low-level mimicry behind enemy lines? Whose faction are you, they seem to be sending you to die!"

"Whose faction..."

Seeing Dylan plunge into silence again, Keroro felt some admiration.

"I get it, I get it, cannot casually disclose.

But brother, Dylan, you must know loyalty alone accomplishes nothing.

Us spies thrive on timely improvisation.

If they teach nothing and directly send you over, even by our Demon Race standards that's despicably negligent."

After speaking, Keroro rubbed his chin in thought, occasionally glancing at Dylan, eyes filled with empathy and nostalgia.

While Dylan was internally perplexed about what to say, the scene fell silent.

In the Fungal Network, however.

"Boss! What now?"

"What now, isn't this going well?"

Lin Jun initially anticipated the shapeshifter intended to impersonate Dylan after grasping his details, never expected this course.

"But I'm not a Demon Race spy!"

"But you're a Mushroom Race spy, rounding up, it's roughly the same."

"..."

Dylan reflected on his life post-parasitism.

Gathering human intelligence for the boss, distributing "strategies," crafting wooden signs to attract adventurers, mediating with pro-Mushroom factions in humanity...

Seems I'm truly a spy indeed!

Meanwhile, Keroro appeared to have thought of something.

"Brother Dylan, I realize you still have reservations with me.

Encountering you, such a junior, here, watching you head to your demise weighs on my conscience.

Fortunately, I've no tasks at hand, accompanying you for a stretch to teach you is no issue."

Dylan stared in disbelief at Keroro.

Are all Demon Race individuals so kindhearted?

Keroro fully understood Dylan's skepticism, not urgent in persuading.

Like a friend, sat beside Dylan, took a flask for a sip, speech left him parched.

Closer now, Dylan noticed the flask contained magic potion...

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