Slime Immortal.

Chapter 124 The Soft God

Ugh...it stinks.

Chen Yu felt something was wrong as soon as he entered.

The shack was filled with a pungent smell of sweat, excrement, and mineral dust. This purely mental attack was even worse than a pair of size 38 feet stomping on the slime's head.

"I can not make it."

Chen Yu indeed stopped sharing the senses and left this "enjoyment" to the two chubby brothers.

The nanny's brothers carried the fat little boy and struggled to move through the cracks of the dimly lit and cluttered shack.

A pitch-black illusion covered them, making them look like two slowly moving ink stains, blending perfectly into the darkness in the corner.

Hey hey hey…

After a long time, the two little guys finally arrived at their destination - the shadow behind the dwarf hut.

At this time, Anvil was lying on a pile of dirty hay, his breathing seemed very weak, and the little boy named Little John was lying beside him exhausted, and had fallen asleep with tears on his little face.

Chen Yu looked at Tiezhen's bloody back and the wounds on his arms that had begun to swell and turn red and dark.

Even a dwarf with a strong physique would find it difficult to withstand the constant hunger, torture and such serious injuries.

Especially in a dirty place like a mine full of germs, infection and sepsis could easily take the dwarf's life in just a few days.

Chen Yu controlled the nanny brothers to approach silently, and with a light jump, he landed on the anvil's palm, which was covered with calluses and cracks.

At the moment of contact, a stream of pure life energy emanated from the gel, slowly seeping into the dwarf's body like a warm current.

Tiezhen felt the warmth coming from his palm while he was in a trance.

It is so weak, yet so strong.

Just like the first flickering spark in the furnace on a cold winter night, it completely ignited the firewood in the stove. The bone-chilling cold and tearing pain melted away like ice and snow in the scorching warmth.

"Is this... the Crucible Light of Moradin?"

An idea flashed through Anvil's hazy consciousness.

The kingdom of the dwarf god Moradin, the final destination of the soul - the warm light of the Eternal Furnace?

Yes, only the power of God the Father can be so warm and full of creative vitality.

A strong sense of nostalgia and relief welled up in my heart.

His consciousness seemed to be lifted by the warm current, passing through the darkness and returning to the depths of his memory...

He saw the majestic Black Stone Rampart, which was his home.

Huge obsidian blocks guard the mountainside, and furnaces burn day and night, forging precious ores into sophisticated weapons and sturdy armor.

The clanging sound of hammers played like a lullaby, and the complex smell of ore, sweat, beer, and barbecued meat gradually formed a picture like gathering clouds.

The tribesmen sat around the long table, holding heavy oak cups, and their rough laughter echoed in the stone hall, celebrating another winter year of food scarcity.

However, soon, the stench of the goblins filled the air, bringing destruction to the scene.

A deafening explosion tore through the fortified gates, and legions of screaming goblins, mixed with even larger legions of slaves, poured into the fortress like a filthy flood.

The dwarf warriors roared and raised their hammers and axes, using their flesh and blood to build the last line of defense, but the disparity in numbers was despairing.

The furnace was defiled, the exquisite stone carvings were smashed, and the screams of the tribesmen and the goblins' hideous laughter intertwined...

Then he saw himself being captured in the melee, saw his tribesmen falling one by one from whipping, hunger and overwork, and saw the unyielding light in their eyes gradually replaced by the numbness of despair.

The fortress fell, and his people were either killed in battle or enslaved. In the end... it seemed that he was the only one left struggling in this hell.

“Father God…”

The anvil's consciousness whispered in the warmth.

"Am I finally... going back to the Eternal Forge? Well... I'm tired..." He failed to defend the fortress, failed to protect his people, and even in this last mine, he failed to truly unite those corrupt believers who were also enslaved to ignite the flames of resistance.

Endless regret overwhelmed him.

Perhaps, death is the only relief...

Just when Tiezhen had completely given up hope of living, a soft voice suddenly sounded in his mind.

"How can you sleep at your age?"

"Get up!"

"Who?!"

Anvil was startled, his consciousness was instantly pulled back from the chaos of dying and warm memories. His body trembled violently and a hoarse gasp came from his throat.

The noise immediately startled the human slaves who were sleeping lightly around them.

"Uncle Anvil?!"

Little John was the first to wake up. He rubbed his eyes and looked over, then let out a low cry of disbelief.

"Oh my God, Uncle Kane, look!"

Kane and several other believers gathered quietly. When they saw the condition of the anvil in the faint light coming through the gap in the shack, everyone gasped, their eyes filled with shock.

The horrific whip marks on Anvil's back and arms, which were so deep that the bones were visible and the skin was torn and the flesh was exposed, were now... miraculously healed for the most part.

Although the hideous wound has not completely disappeared, the rolled-up skin and flesh have scabbed over, the redness and swelling have subsided, leaving only a dark scar.

His face, which was originally as pale as paper, had regained some of its bronze luster. Although his breathing was still a little weak, it was obviously much more stable and powerful.

"Miracle... This is a miracle!" A believer's voice trembled, and he was so excited that he almost knelt down.

Kane held the still dazed anvil and asked hurriedly in a low voice.

"Anvil, what just happened? Why are you suddenly so much better?"

Iron Anvil's consciousness was still somewhat confused; the near-death illusion, the light of the Father God's furnace, and that soft, sweet voice... still echoed in his mind.

He subconsciously touched his body which had recovered a lot, then looked up at Kane, and then looked at the shocked and awed eyes of the believers around him. An idea gradually became clear in the chaos.

"You may not believe it, but it was corruption, it was Morgul, who gave me knowledge when I was sinking."

In fact, he hadn't said anything else. Perhaps the temper of that being was much gentler and softer than his followers thought.

It feels just like... just like a ball of bouncy slime.

Yes, that’s right, a very accurate description.

"what?!"

Everyone's faces changed drastically, looking very strange.

How come those who claim to be followers of Morgul pray for God's guidance day and night but receive none, but it is the stubborn dwarf who believes in the dwarf father god Moradin who receives divine revelation when he is on the verge of death?

Aren’t their beliefs in God devout enough?

Kane's tone was nervous and anxious.

"What knowledge did the gods... grant you? Anvil, this is important!"

Anvil hesitated.

"It seems like a trial."

"The Trial of Corruption?!"

These words were like thunder, exploding in the hearts of all the corrupt believers. They opened their eyes wide, their faces filled with shock and disbelief.

(End of this chapter)