Slime Immortal.

Chapter 35 Slime...?

On the bank of the Reed River stands the camp of the Rotten Moss Tribe. Green-scaled figures crawl among the reeds, fishing with spears, or spreading fishing nets, dried meat, and herbs and mosses with a bitter aroma on the shore to dry.

On this ordinary afternoon, the appearance of a businessman broke the tranquility of the tribe.

Lizardmen of all sizes gathered from green huts, drying racks or under the shade of trees, their amber vertical pupils curiously gazing at the human merchants entering the tribe.

The cubs excitedly peeked around the wheels, making hissing sounds, but were stopped by the adult lizardmen.

Although the scene is primitive and rough, it carries a unique and slightly noisy vitality of the tribe.

However, the sounds faintly coming from the center of the crowd did not seem so harmonious, but more like a quarrel.

Segash and her sister Semiya were observing the freshly dried herbs from a distance when they were suddenly attracted by the noise in the camp. She stood on tiptoe curiously and looked at the human figure in the center of the crowd who seemed out of place.

"What happened, sister?" Sergash asked in a low voice.

Semia's amber vertical pupils swept across the crowd, and she just shook her head slightly, indicating that she should go and see for herself.

Segash squeezed into the circle of lizardmen and tried to ask a young warrior next to him.

The young lizardman glanced at her, recognized her as the outsider's sister, turned his head away, obviously ignoring her.

Old Shazak noticed the commotion here, coughed lightly, and reprimanded the young lizardman for his rudeness.

"Respect the Shaman of Sergash."

Then he turned to the Segash sisters and tapped the ground with his tail as a greeting.

"This human businessman."

Shazak looked at Arno.

"He said he wanted to go to a... 'forest path where monsters don't dare approach.'"

"We have lived in the swamp for dozens of rainy seasons. We are familiar with every puddle and every old tree, but we never knew there was such a road."

"I think Mr. Arno must have misunderstood something."

He does not mean that.

Segash on the side became more active.

Forest path? Monsters don't dare approach?
This description...isn't it the Shunfeng Forest Road opened up by the envoy?

This human knows that road. Could he be related to the Messenger?

On the other side, Arno felt a dull pain in his head, and sweat dripped down his forehead, partly because of the swamp's heat and partly because of his anxiety.

He gestured hard, trying to describe the characteristics of the forest path - clean, without monsters, leading to the depths, but the vocabulary of the Lizardmen language he had learned at the last minute was pitifully limited, and the pronunciation was even more strange.

Old Shazak and the surrounding lizardmen looked bewildered, and some of the younger ones even couldn't help but sneer.

The communication gap was as chasm as a chasm, and he felt like a fool trying to explain the sky to a fish.

"These lizardmen don't even know about that forest path. What a joke."

He didn't know the way through the swamp, and without a map, he couldn't find the forest path at all. He could only explain it over and over again in vain.

Segash's gaze lingered on the anxious human merchant.

She was keenly aware that despite his predicament, there was none of the disdain or calculation in his eyes that she was accustomed to seeing in human businessmen.

Just anxiety and a kind of...attempt to be polite restraint?

Was it because the Rot Moss Tribe had saved him? Or... because of the Messenger, that he had a different attitude towards the Lizardmen?

An idea quickly formed in her mind.

She calmly retreated to the edge of the crowd and quickly pulled out a simple map tanned with waterproof oil from the small leather bag she was carrying, which marked the tribe's approximate hunting areas and water sources.

She carefully wrapped a piece of gray gravel crystal the size of a pigeon egg with the map and stuffed it into the gap between a pile of sacks at the edge of the truck bed.

……

after an hour.

Arno left the noisy but relatively safe area of ​​the Rot Moss Tribe and went deep into the dark and humid swamp forest.

The closer he got to the area in his memory, the more nervous Arno's heartbeat became.

He couldn't help but recall the dark outline in the mist and the pair of emotionless green "eyes".

This time it comes to him...what will be waiting for him?
To dispel the faint fear in his heart, he subconsciously reached into his pocket. There he found something unexpectedly in the seam of a sack while sorting through the goods—a rough map of the lizardmen, and inside it, a cold, hard piece of gray gravel.

He unfolded the map on the wooden box in his arms and carefully identified the direction of the forest path in the faint light of the forest.

I suddenly felt doubtful.

Who gave you the map?

Could it be that there are also followers of that devil in the Rotten Moss Tribe?

He felt as if he was being watched, and any hope he had in his mind vanished.

He tried to calm himself down.

Arno, this is nothing, just a deal with the devil.

There is nothing to be afraid of...

Well, this comfort not only had no effect, but made him feel even heavier inside.

He felt like a wild boar that had voluntarily stepped into an oven, thinking about how to roast its fat until it was sizzling and golden, so as to satisfy the devil's greedy appetite.

His thoughts were churning wildly in fear, but his footsteps had mechanically brought him to the end of the forest path.

Ahead, the thick and indissoluble poisonous fog completely engulfed the road.

He took tentative steps, trying to penetrate the suffocating barrier, but every time he raised his leg, it returned to its original position.

Arno stood there frozen, the fear of the devil seeping into his bones. In the end, an idea that even he himself thought was extremely crazy prevailed.

call.

He actually wanted to summon the existence from hell to his presence himself!
"Great Lord of the Swamp! You...your humble servant...brings you...a sacrifice."

Arno's hoarse voice echoed in the woods with a trembling voice.

Before he could finish his words, a huge regret surged in his heart. He wanted to escape, wanted to withdraw this fatal invitation, but his feet seemed to be rooted.

That's too late!

Deep in the thick fog, the outline of an oppressive figure suddenly appeared!
It came through the fog, carrying with it the smell of decay and sickening fear that had settled deep in the swamp.

Arno's heart almost beat out of his chest!

He stared intently at the approaching shadow, the demon's hideous appearance emerging in his mind—twisted muscles, twisted horns on his head, scarlet eyes burning with soul-smiting evil fire. Every step he took should make the earth tremble...

The shadow expanded rapidly in his field of vision, its outline becoming clearer and clearer. Fear and despair reached their peak, and he could almost smell the imagined breath of death mixed with sulfur and blood!

The thick fog was violently torn apart by some force, and the figure brewing the ultimate terror finally stepped out completely...

A ball...soft, translucent, wobbly jelly-like...

...Slime?

Ok? !

……

Chen Yu has been a little troubled recently.

Deep in the swamp, he discovered some corrupted swamp gators.

It seems that the power that fascinates the Lizardmen comes from the depths of the swamp.

In other words, his territory was surrounded by those crazy and corrupt believers.

All it takes is a rainstorm or an opportunity, and the corrupted monsters deep in the swamp will pour out and occupy the entire swamp together with the corrupted demihumans outside.

Push him down from his high position as the swamp overlord who had not been in office for long.

The struggle for supremacy has always been like this.

I didn't expect these corrupt believers to have so many evil intentions.

In order to defend their position, they must strike hard and repel these presumptuous invaders.

He was still racking his brains over how to teach them a lesson when a figure emerged from the poisonous fog in the swamp.

It was Arno who returned.

(End of this chapter)