Slime Immortal

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 hold the fortress, failed to protect his people, and even in this final mine, he failed to truly unite those corrupted 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?"

Anvil's consciousness was still a little confused. The illusion of dying, the light of the Father God's furnace, and that soft voice... were still echoing 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.

Chapter 125 People are iron, rice is steel

There were still many eyes watching in the slave camp. In order not to be exposed, Kane suppressed the shock in his heart after listening to the content of the trial, and hurriedly dispersed all the believers, leaving only little John to take care of the anvil who needed rest.

Silence returned to the shack temporarily.

Little John looked at the still hideous scar on the anvil, his face full of self-blame.

"Uncle, it's all my fault. If it weren't for me..."

Anvil extended his broad, rough hand, gently patted the little boy's head, forced a smile, and said in a humming voice, "What nonsense! You are clearly my lucky star. If you weren't here, I might have really fallen asleep."

"Besides, we were the ones who let you out. You don't have to blame yourself."

He paused, his voice slowing down.

"You go back first. I'm a little tired and want to rest alone for a while."

"But your injury..."

"No buts. Be obedient and go back." Anvil's tone was gentle but unquestionable.

Little John hesitated for a moment, but finally nodded obediently and left the shack, looking back every few steps.

After confirming that the little boy had left, the fatigue on Anvil's face was instantly replaced by a complex sense of anticipation and caution.

He took a deep breath and recalled the words left by the soft voice before his consciousness faded away - "When no one is around, knock on the rock wall behind you three times, and I will answer you."

He did as he was told with a bit of awe and more uncertainty.

The knuckles knocked on the rough, cold rock, making three dull "knock, knock, knock" sounds. The sound echoed in the small shack and then fell into silence.

Tiezhen's heart was lifted up, and he felt a little uneasy.

He actually knew very well that the life-saving warmth and so-called "knowledge" were by no means a blessing from Morgul, the god of corruption.

That felt more practical, more like some unknown force within the dungeon had rescued him.

Moreover, this force is not only familiar with the secret knowledge of "Trial of Corruption", but can also sneak into the heavily guarded obsidian mines quietly... Its mystery and terror are far beyond imagination.

But does he have any other choice?

Given his broken body and desperate situation, no matter what happens next, even if he makes a deal with the devil and sells his soul, it won't be worse than being enslaved to death like livestock.

Just as Anvil's mind was filled with all kinds of chaotic thoughts, the shadow-shrouded rock wall in front of him, the darkness on it seemed... to come alive.

The shadow began to wriggle unnaturally like sticky ink, as if a messenger who controlled the shadow was about to step out from the eternal darkness and come to see this poor slave with orders or harsh conditions that could not be refused.

Anvil held his breath, his pupils slightly contracted, waiting for the verdict of fate.

Then he saw the wriggling darkness slowly condense and deform, eventually turning into two round, fat shadows.

Then, the shadow faded, revealing the jelly-like gel body underneath.

Slime?!

This dwarf warrior, who had experienced many hardships and witnessed the fall of his homeland and the death of his people, now had an ignorant expression on his face, like a dwarf cub who had just left the cradle.

He could never have imagined that the mysterious and terrifying "messenger of underground forces" who pulled him back from the hands of death were actually two groups of... slimes.

Or are they puppets under the spell of the wizard?

Anvil's Adam's apple rolled, and he tried to make his voice sound calm and respectful.

"Uh... Hello, two Slime Messengers?"

The nanny brother jumped straight up and landed in his open palm, his soft and elastic body swaying slightly.

Then, the soft voice he had heard when he was on the verge of death rang directly in his mind.

"Hello, dwarf, we are from the Slime Kingdom in the Eastern Swamp."

East Swamp? Slime... Kingdom?

Anvil was completely stunned. The huge amount of information impacted his inherent cognition, making him have the absurd illusion that the world was evolving rapidly without his knowledge, but only he was forgotten in this mine.

It’s hard to imagine how the word slime and kingdom are combined together.

"Ahem," Anvil coughed dryly, trying to regain his voice and make the conversation sound normal. "Two...envoys from the Slime Kingdom, thank you for saving me. But I believe your kingdom went to so much trouble for more than just saving a dwarf slave like me, right?"

The slime in the palm of his hand bounced slightly, as if expressing dissatisfaction, and at the same time a sense of "arrogance" was transmitted.

"Of course not! Our king doesn't like these noisy and dirty greenskins, and he doesn't like his mines being occupied by these lowly creatures!"

The corner of Anvil's mouth twitched slightly. He wanted to remind this "arrogant" messenger that this obsidian vein originally belonged to their Copperfire Dwarf clan.

But he swallowed the words back when they came to his lips... The clan had long been destroyed, and now he was the only one left.

The mine belongs to whomever wants it.

Except for those damn greenskins, of course!

As long as he can regain his freedom and overthrow the Goblin Army, he doesn't mind becoming a sharp blade for any force, even if the other party is a very unreliable-sounding...Slime Kingdom.

But the question is, this Slime Kingdom... can it really work?

He tried to imagine in his mind a group of slimes jumping and charging towards the goblin army... No matter how he imagined it, the ending seemed to be that the slimes were trampled into jelly paste by the goblins' big feet.

The slime in his palm seemed to sense his suspicion, puffing out its belly and conveying an even more arrogant emotion.

"Humph! The kingdom's greatness and power are beyond your imagination."