Slime True Immortal

Oros stood up and looked out through the hazy window.

In the heavy snow, mages and slimes were building a circular structure on the edge of the icefield.

Gray stones were constantly transported from the mine on the other side of the fissure, cut and shaped by Slime Artisans, then placed in position by mages using stone-shaping spells.

The construction speed of the magic formation was much faster than he had expected.

The Slime Emperor had been quite generous, scarcely sparing any materials. From adamantine powder to moonstone and Astral Realm coral, every item listed had arrived at the site within three days of being requested.

The Slime Decision Council, responsible for oversight, even suggested proactively doubling the formation’s core hub, using the extra space as redundancy to offset potential future mana attenuation.

At the current pace, in another half month this magic formation would stand proud on the icefield.

The function of this magic formation was actually quite simple: it could block most legendary creatures’ watchful eyes and prevent those trying to peer from the Elemental Plane into the Material Plane through fissures.

But for strange magical objects of unknown origin and the malicious gaze of demigods, there was no better remedy.

Still, the formation, imbued with classic Silver Dragon artistic style, represented the Silver Dragon attitude itself.

Anyone who wanted to spy on the icefield would do well to think twice when they saw the Silver Dragon emblem, and consider whether a single glance at what the slimes were doing was worth facing the Silver Dragons’ wrathful annihilation.

In Chen Yu’s words, it was like being under the protection of the dragon-run underworld, and they had paid protection fees.

Oros had intended to leave the Slime United Empire for a while after the formation was completed, to visit an old friend, Andrew, in Dawn City.

He also planned to personally hand the final revised draft of that biography to the typesetter, just to avoid those layout-cutting editors who would delete illustrations to save space.

What surprised him was that two days later, the Slime Emperor planned to explore the Astral Realm.

Inside the Slime City Palace, Oros stood below the throne steps, his right hand pressed to his left chest, slightly bowing toward the pale green figure on the throne in a gesture of equal respect.

This was an honor dragons bestowed only on heroes they recognized. Win the respect of the dragonkin and you earned this courtesy.

When he straightened, his silver brows lifted slightly, and his tone carried surprise. “You’ve already learned those magical techniques? Only half a month has passed since I gave you the scrolls.”

Chen Yu squatted on the throne, blinking his small eyes. “Pretty simple, actually.”

He hopped down from the throne, his belly bumping forward. The air before him split open.

A fissure with edges tinged in silver light was violently torn open by him, and the other side revealed a silvery-gray void where ethereal gray mist churned at the fissure’s rim.

Oros stepped closer and peered into the breach. His vertical pupils gleamed faintly.

“Your magical talent rivals ours, Your Majesty. From a novice who did not know Draconic to tearing open a stable fissure pointing to star-chart coordinates in half a month—this is rapid, even among dragon mage apprentices.”

He turned, his gaze sweeping the Draconic study books on the throne’s side whose pages had been thumbed, as if weighing something, then asked, “Have you considered studying other Draconic spells?”

“Other spells?”

“Yes. For example, teleportation—more combat-practical spells. It’s rare for Silver Dragon mages to come to the Empire for extended leave. You probably won’t have the chance to learn at the dragon lairs in the Dark Realm.”

“You still preserve the fragmented Draconic spell inheritance from the Father God era. From basic mana condensation to cross-plane teleportation, there are no corresponding casting models or practice protocols.”

Chen Yu thought for a moment, then nodded.

Learning spells was indeed difficult for him at first.

At first there was no patient servant-teacher like Silver Sparrow.

But he could split dozens of gel avatars and have them practice the same spell together, boosting efficiency by dozens of times.

Hand gestures and incantations that would take others months to master, he could drill into instinct in days.

Oros did not press further on that topic; instead his tone grew sober.

“You must already be aware of the Astral Realm’s dangers. This time we are exploring star-chart coordinates even our dragonkind have not set foot in. What lies in that sector, the spatial scale, whether native hazards exist—it's all completely unknown.”

“We must make full preparations.”

Chen Yu assured him with force, puffing up.

His gel belly abruptly swelled, then from his side split off a legendary slime nearly identical to his main body.

This newly split gel avatar inherited ninety percent of the original’s attributes.

Whether in mana reserves, Divine Sense range, defense, or regeneration speed, it remained close to the main body’s level.

If some Astral Realm creature swallowed it, it would sting a bit—he’d have to eat and recuperate for a while to restore—but it was far better than letting the primary body face unknown danger.

Chen Yu patted the new slime with a gel hand, ceremonially performing a pre-expedition flag-passing ritual.

“Armstrong, as the Empire’s first slime to explore the Astral Realm, are you ready?”

Armstrong straightened proudly, raising a gel hand. A green flame burned in his small eyes. “Always ready! This Slime is prepared to sacrifice everything for the Empire.”

Chen Yu nodded in satisfaction.

Although Armstrong was, strictly speaking, a part of him, as the Empire’s emperor he had to maintain a sense of ceremony.

The first ship’s launch needed champagne, the first mage tower’s capping needed a ribbon cutting, and the first slime to explore the Astral Realm needed a formal name and an expedition declaration.

Oros stood by, staring blankly.

In his long dragon life he had seen countless duplication spells—from human mage mirror-images to elf sage soul replicas—yet this was the first time he felt genuine curiosity about a slime’s split.

He glanced at the leisurely wobbling green jelly on the throne and then at the nearly identical green jelly on the ground, hesitating before asking, “So next, Mr. Armstrong will accompany me to explore the Astral Realm?”

Chen Yu hopped back onto the throne and, once steady, answered, “Actually it is me. It’s just that signal weakens over distance. If a decision needs to be made, Armstrong will make the judgment for me.”

Oros pondered the meaning and roughly grasped the relationship among these slimes.

The Slime King and Armstrong belonged to the same unified will, but splits also possessed independent agency.

It’s like dividing left and right brains into two persons while retaining a shared connection. This relationship was uncommon among dragons, but not incomprehensible.

Chen Yu waved his gel hand at Oros from the throne. “Good luck, Oros. Good luck to me as well.”

Oros shrugged, then stepped into the fissure. Armstrong followed, bouncing across with a plop.

The instant they crossed, ethereal gray mist surged from all directions, then quickly receded.

Chen Yu sensed a change in the surrounding environment that was difficult to describe in words.

He felt as if suspended in a vast silver void—neither cold nor warm, no wind, no scent, time itself slowed to a standstill.

For a big-bellied slime to feel no hunger was rare.

The records about the Astral Realm had not lied.

Not far ahead of them, a ruined city entwined with ancient trees floated quietly in the silver void.

Its walls were built of silver-gray stone, covered in unknown vines that maintained an emerald green even in the Astral environment.

Above the city gate was set a huge elven emblem. Although long abandoned, the emblem’s lines remained intact and clear.

The city stood silently in the void, its stone reflecting the silver gleam of the Astral void itself.

Oros drifted slowly into this compact, delicate city.

He moved between tall elven pillars, casually scanning the crumbling eaves and collapsed colonnades, then drew a preliminary conclusion.

“It looks like the elves left here to return to Zeyerra and never came back.”

“And at some point this city was discovered by creatures wandering the Astral Realm and suffered some damage. Judging by the erosion at the breaks, it was at least several hundred years ago.”

Chen Yu understood him.

In the Astral Realm, the rate of material decay was stretched to an extreme slowness, almost frozen.

There was no weathering, no rust.

A city could remain unchanged for a thousand years as it was when abandoned.

Only creatures that liked to wander the Astral Realm, or floating objects caught in void currents, could damage a city.

This was why many mages tirelessly explored the Astral Realm.

There, bodies hardly aged, hunger fades, and wounds can remain unrotten in the Realm’s special environment.

For knowledge-seeking mages, the Astral Realm was an endless library; if they could find a safe enough anchor point, research time could be extended to unimaginable lengths.

Of course, the Astral Realm was not safe.

Most mages avoided entering it with their mortal bodies to prevent irreversible accidents.

Chen Yu transformed into green light and descended onto the plaza before the elven emblem.

He glanced at claw marks on the pillars.

He realized this place was not as safe as he had hoped.

He produced the star chart from his belly and unfolded it with Divine Sense, letting it hover before him.

It marked six coordinates in total; the starting coordinate was the elven city beneath his feet.

After exploring those coordinates, they needed to determine what shielded this sector—an area even an experienced traveler like Oros had never encountered.

Only after confirming the sector’s safety and establishing a stable silver fissure here could their expedition be considered a true success.

“Go ahead and scout forward. There should be unexpected gains.”

Oros said nothing more and closed his eyes to meditate.

His body trembled lightly in the silver void, like a stone dropped into still water. The next instant, a silver-thread only he could see extended deep into the void.

Chen Yu imitated him, closing his eyes and trying to catch the silver-thread leading to the second coordinate with his Divine Sense.

It felt like grasping a spider’s silk in the dark; at the silk’s end hung a faint glimmer, quietly floating at some corner of the void.

He followed that tug, relaxing his body and letting his consciousness carry him forward.

The silver void around him rushed past; the sensation was not flying or teleporting, but the world being drawn away from him.

The ruined elven city in his perception shrank rapidly, finally becoming a tiny light point and vanishing at the edge of his senses.

He finally understood the importance of these silver-threads in the Astral Realm.

Without the star lanes charted by ancient elven pioneers, crossing distances by flight alone—even at dragon speed—would wear a dragon out.

The effort the early elves spent drawing the first silver-thread through the vast void exceeded his imagination.

Before long, Oros slowed.

They reached the second coordinate.

Here stood a port.

Much smaller than the initial elven city, it had only a stone causeway extending into the void and several low warehouses.

The small harbor floated quietly in the silver void, all structures preserving their original abandoned outlines. Chen Yu saw no signs of damage.

Oros landed at the causeway’s end, looked around, and his tone eased a little. “Perhaps the city was damaged by chance—some wandering Astral creature passing through, attracted by the city’s light, rummaged through and moved on.”

“This happens often in the Astral Realm. The older a city, the more likely it is to lure such things. The harbor’s lack of damage suggests the deep sector may not be as dangerous as we feared.”

Chen Yu agreed.

This sector had been shielded by some force; most Astral creatures simply could not find its entrance, much less enter.

Even if a few happened to drift nearby, without perceiving the interior coordinates they would pass by.

They did not rush to conclusions and continued toward the next coordinate.

The third coordinate was an outpost, floating alone in the void. Besides the structure itself, it still preserved some purposeless elven logs.

Chen Yu picked one up. The parchment retained surprising toughness.

Fourth coordinate, fifth coordinate...

They explored several coordinates in succession without finding problems.

Oros hovered in the void, murmuring in Draconic as he sensed the stream of thoughts around this sector, then nodded to Chen Yu.

“This sector is much emptier than usual. Not only Astral creatures, but even floating debris are absent.”

“In a normal sector you might find rock fragments caught in void currents, frozen mana crystals, or ancient biological remains, but here there’s none of that.”

“It seems that strange shielding effect is indeed working.”

Chen Yu squatted beside Armstrong, staring at the emptily transparent silver void around them.

He felt the cleanliness here was abnormal—but this ‘abnormal’ had yet to show hostility.

No creatures, no traps—only an ancient cluster of elven ruins forgotten in a corner of the Astral Realm.

This expedition was going far more smoothly than he had anticipated.