Compared to the locals accustomed to the cold, the squad’s Poison-stinger Wasps and Beetles developed varying degrees of chill sensitivity after entering the snowfield.
When night fell they all curled up in the warmest corners of the cave, huddled around the fire to keep warm, occasionally emitting faint rustling sounds like shivers.
Beside them, rows of bulging cloth sacks were neatly stacked.
After the Bat Slime agreed, Sekashi and Semiaya carefully approached and untied the cord of one sack.
With a clatter, a pile of irregular but plump, solid tubers tumbled onto the straw-strewn ground, still coated with the rich black soil of Rootwhisper Forest, though it had already dried.
“So much food!” Sekashi exclaimed.
Semiaya picked one up and hefted it, feeling its weight.
The two sisters exchanged looks, then untied the rest of the sacks to reveal even more tubers.
In addition, there were more than a dozen tightly packed bags of smoked jerky, salt wrapped in thick oiled paper, and even some iron tools tied with straw—iron pots, iron axes, and spears, things for daily life and hunting.
Sekashi also found a special cloth bag engraved with delicate magic patterns. Curiously she opened it and discovered a brand-new cold-resistant leather armor set and an exquisitely crafted elven staff.
The staff’s wood was smooth and warm to the touch, and a gem set at its tip emitted a gentle, soothing warmth. Just holding it, Sekashi felt a wave of heat that drove away the chill.
“This is... for me?” Sekashi rubbed the staff in disbelief, unwilling to put it down.
The Bat Slime hopped excitedly, proud: “Of course. The sovereign personally picked it out. It’s made from premium moonwood and a warm-sun stone—both beautiful and practical.”
Of course, Chen Yu hadn’t forgotten Semiaya’s share.
In the other outfit, besides the cold-resistant leather armor, there were two patterned steel short blades.
The grips were wrapped with anti-slip leather cord, and the blades bore natural frostlike patterns that spread like ice blooms, reflecting cold, sharp light in the firelight.
Elven smithing wouldn’t explain such superb forging;
these had been traded for with merchants passing through the territory.
Semiaya picked up a short blade, twirled her wrist and flourished it;
the wind from the blade carried a metallic chill and satisfaction flashed across her eyes.
She sheathed the short blade and, facing the Bat Slime, solemnly thanked it: “Thank you, generous envoy. If we return safely to the swamp, Sekashi and I will personally come visit and express our gratitude.”
After their delight, they remembered everyone was still starving and hurriedly brought the sacks of tubers in front of the fire.
The savages who had been drinking boiled snow water for sustenance rose to help carry them when they saw the sisters approach.
“Miss Sekashi, let me.”
“I’ll help as well.”
“Thank you all.” Sekashi smiled gratefully.
Before the aged shaman Brutu could ask what was in the sacks, the helpers cried out in surprise.
“What’s happening?” the old man asked anxiously.
Pointing with trembling fingers, the savages spoke with joy and disbelief, “It’s food—so much food!!”
Sekashi emptied one sack fully onto a spread hide, letting the purple-brown, plump tubers lie exposed for everyone to see.
She smiled lightly: “The envoy brought enough food;
no one will starve tonight.”
“Food?!”
At the word “food,” the savages’ eyes, dimmed by fatigue and hunger, instantly lit up frighteningly. The sounds of swallowing rose and fell.
Shaman Brutu drew a deep breath and struck his staff—an emblem of his status—heavily on the ground to suppress the excited clamor. His voice was hoarse but solemn.
“Put away your disgrace. This is a blessing from the gods through their envoy;
do not forget to be grateful.”
At his words the savages immediately grew solemn, set down what they held, and knelt before the Bat Slime in devotion, murmuring the old, simple prayers.
At that moment, the Bat Slime perched on Sekashi’s shoulder sensed something strange.
It seemed to see a nearly imperceptible white halo flash across the kneeling savages, then vanish quickly.
“Huh?” the Bat Slime cocked its round little head in puzzlement.
It looked to Sekashi and Semiaya, who were busy sorting the food and appeared not to notice. The Bat Slime was curious but its tiny brain wasn’t built for complex thought, so it dismissed the phenomenon as an illusion and pushed it out of mind.
Soon the cave was bustling again. The tubers were scrubbed clean with snow, skewered on sharpened sticks, and roasted over the fire until their skins crisped and hissed.
Some tubers were cut into pieces, thrown into a newly arrived iron pot with shredded jerky, snow water, and precious salt, simmering into a thick, aromatic meat broth.
Before long, the smell of roasted tubers and meat broth spread through the cavern like a warm hand, soothing each ravenous stomach and exhausted soul.
The savages circled the fire, watching hungrily as the food transformed in the flames;
stomachs grumbled involuntarily.
They didn’t eat at once;
according to tribe custom, the first roasted tubers and the first steaming bowl of soup were respectfully offered to Sekashi and Semiaya.
Sekashi thanked them and took a perfectly roasted tuber. Facing the expectant gazes of the savages, she carefully blew on it and nibbled a small bite.
The crisp skin cracked to reveal soft, fragrant flesh. Warmth slid down her throat, banishing the chill and bringing the satisfying fullness of a proper staple.
“Mmm! Delicious!” Her eyes narrowed happily into crescent moons as she took another big bite, her cheeks stuffed.
Semiaya favored the meat broth. She sipped it slowly;
the hot soup warmed her frozen limbs, driving away the cold’s sluggishness and drowsiness.
Seeing the sisters eat, the savages couldn’t help themselves. Ignoring the heat, they stuffed large bites of roasted tuber into their mouths and gulped the hot soup.
“So hot! So fragrant!”
“By the gods, it’s the taste of salt! I haven’t had this in ages!”
“I’m so full...”
They devoured the tubers in two or three bites and finished every drop of broth, patting their rounded bellies with unprecedented contentment.
In that moment, the terror of fleeing, the sorrow over lost companions, and the uncertainty of the future were temporarily driven off by this warm meal.
The cave filled with contented sighs and low chatter;
the atmosphere relaxed like never before.
The Bat Slime noticed the strange white halo again, clearer and brighter this time. It hung like a faint mist, emanating from the happy, satisfied savages before dissipating.
Huh?
So strange.
Unfortunately, it felt its own intelligence fell a little short of its sovereign’s, and it couldn’t figure out what it was.
It decided not to worry and planned to tell the sovereign about the phenomenon after returning to the swamp.
Everyone ate and drank until sated, then weariness set in.
The children, exhausted from a day of running for their lives, couldn’t stay awake and, warmed and full, cuddled into their mothers’ or relatives’ arms and fell into steady, deep breathing.
Old shaman Brutu, however, still seemed troubled. He walked with a staff to the cave’s corner and approached the two sisters who were speaking quietly.
“Honored ones,” the old man began, his voice low and grave. “Do you still plan to continue the Snow Eagle Trial?”
He paused, his clouded eyes turning to the endless darkness and storm outside, worry heavy in his tone.
“The Snow Eagle sanctuary—except for the legendary warrior Kukara—no one has truly crossed that endless blizzard, scaled those sheer cliffs, and reached the highest peak. Even the rulers of this snowfield, those mighty orcs, treat it as forbidden ground.”
“Ancient tales say fearsome frost monsters dwell in the sanctuary. They can exhale extreme cold and freeze any intruder—body and soul—into eternal crystal.”
Sekashi gripped her warm staff and met the old shaman’s gaze with determination: “We have maps and guidance passed down by our ancestors. We will find the path to the summit.”
“And what about your tribe—will the savages leave the snowfield? The Rotten Moss Tribe in the swamp would welcome you,” Brutu asked slowly, shaking his head with resignation.
“We appreciate the offer, but the swamp is too warm and damp for us,” the old man replied.
“We have lived for generations on the ice. These thick furs and cold-hardened bones are a gift from the snow, but also the shackles that bind us. There, they would be a burden.”
“Perhaps we will migrate toward the snowfield’s edge, to the border between cold and warmth, and find a place where we can continue to live.”
“The hardest step has already been taken;
nothing else will stop us now.”
Sekashi opened her mouth to say more when the Bat Slime on her shoulder suddenly hopped and transmitted a thought.
“Sekashi, ask them if they’re interested in joining our Slime Kingdom.”
“Envoy, you want to take them in?” Sekashi asked curiously.
“Take them in? Well... you could say that.”
“My sovereign already thought this through. He plans to build an outpost fortress on this snowfield, extending the kingdom’s border.”
“They’ve lived here for generations;
they know the terrain and withstand the cold. They would be excellent at defending the fortress.”
Sekashi understood and relayed the invitation to Brutu and the savages nearby who were watching the commotion.
“Slime Kingdom?”
“What is that place?”
“That sounds... odd.”
They exchanged puzzled looks and murmured uncertainly at the unfamiliar name.
But when Shaman Brutu heard Sekashi’s words, his clouded eyes brightened faintly.
With maps to the outside world and enough food, crossing the snow curtain was no longer impossible.
Yet if they stayed near the snowfield, sooner or later the Frostbone Tribe would find them.
Their descendants would repeat the same fate—oppressed and enslaved by orcs—scraping by merely to survive.
The blizzard would not break the savages’ indomitable will;
Brutu feared the orcs’ revenge more.
Those orcs, starved during Winter Year, would cross the snow curtain and head south to cause trouble for human kingdoms.
The snow curtain means little to them, so the tribe would not truly be safe even if they left the snowfield.
Brutu had only just been wrestling with this thought when he learned the gods’ envoy would welcome them in.
For him and for the tribe, this was undeniably an opportunity.
Without much hesitation he stepped forward with trembling knees, knelt to the Bat Slime, and choked with emotion as he spoke:
“Thank you, honored envoy. Thank you to the kingdom for taking in us homeless people. Our tribe is willing to join the Slime Kingdom, to serve and guard this snowfield’s border for the kingdom for generations.”
His decision was swift and resolute, leaving the other savages stunned.
But recalling that this envoy brought lifesaving food and promising shelter under the “kingdom,” silence broke and more savages followed the shaman, bowing their heads toward the small Bat Slime.
Perched on Sekashi’s shoulder, the Bat Slime glanced down. Its gaze lingered briefly on them before fixating on the reappearing white halo.
Huh?
It’s getting brighter...
It felt as if it had accidentally done something extraordinary.
Oh well, whatever.
More new subjects joining was a good thing.
Its sovereign would praise it for sure, hehe...
After the solemn oath, the savages returned to rest around the fire.
Outside the cave the storm still howled, but inside the firelight flickered warmly and peacefully.
The savages, nerves loosened, drifted into heavy sleep—clearly exhausted.
Sekashi was fighting drowsiness too, hugging a little slime and trying to stay awake, but her drooping eyelids betrayed her.
Semiaya moved closer and draped a thick hide over her.
“Sleep. I’ll keep watch tonight. No one will come.”
“Mm...” Sekashi felt reassured and fell into deep sleep in her sister’s arms.
Even the little slime curled up in the warm hide, closed its tired eyes, and fell asleep, its small body rising and falling with each breath.
...
The cold and night gradually ebbed.
In the Obsidian Mining Area, subterranean magma churned restlessly. Rivers of blazing red flowed from fissures in the ore veins. Some of the flow was guided into manmade channels, snaking like fire dragons along their predetermined paths.
The bright red glow dispelled much of the smelting zone’s darkness and lit the small figure standing on the channel’s edge.
Chen Yu focused intently, his small eyes fixed on several medicinal herbs floating before him that emitted a faint spiritual glow. He clumsily manipulated the fire to calcine the herbs, aiming to extract their spiritual essence and condense it into a pill.
In Xu Xuan Heaven, pills are classified into earth pills and spirit pills depending on refining methods.
Earth pills are simpler to refine and do not rely on advanced esoteric techniques. Through grinding, mixing, shaping, fixing the pill, and detoxifying and sealing the spirit, one can produce a pill.
Finished earth pills are mostly dark brown. This traditional method produces earth pills that are easy to make and preserve their spirit to a degree.
But drawbacks exist—pill poisoning is a common problem. The Three Origins Sect has members seeking treatment every year.
The process is tedious and time-consuming.
To solve pill poisoning, a thousand years ago three alchemy sects jointly pioneered a new method called spirit pill refinement.
It removed many tedious steps and focused solely on pill formation, mastering Fire Control and Object Manipulation to precisely manage heat and ingredients, extracting only the herbs’ spiritual essence and sealing it into a pure yang medium to form a spirit pill.
With the physical herb gone, pill poisoning no longer occurs;
the entire spirit pill is pure essence.
It sounds prestigious.
In reality, spirit pill methods have not become widespread.
Not only is the entry barrier high, but the resulting spirit pills do not necessarily outperform earth pills in effect.
During the fire refining process, spirit essence can be lost if calcination takes too long, resulting in weaker pills than earth pills.
It demands extraordinary alchemists—almost a matter of innate talent.
Otherwise, higher cultivation helps—the stronger the cultivator’s spirit, the easier they can control heat and ingredients, producing pills whose effects match earth pills.
Thus spirit pill techniques are almost exclusive to great alchemy sects, rarely taught to juniors.
Earth pills, despite pill poisoning risk, are cheap and sold in boxes—hardly fatal if misused—so they remain popular.
Chen Yu had planned to start with the simple earth pill method, but quickly found a problem.
Zeyarila had no antidotes for pill poisoning;
if he overdosed on pills he couldn’t cure himself.
To be safe, it was best to study spirit pill techniques.
His Level 1 Fire Control only allowed rudimentary manipulation of flame, not refined operation.
By coincidence, his Flame Affinity talent whipped wild fire into compliance like a cracking whip, letting his Fire Control function at Level 3 or above.
Combined with maxed Object Manipulation, his pill success rate wasn’t low—comparable to alchemists who had been refining pills for years.
He carefully controlled the earth fire drawn from the magma channel. The once wild flame, under Flame Affinity, became obedient, like silk smoothed by an invisible hand, gently enveloping the herbs for precise calcination.
The process consumed great spirit;
his gel body even contracted slightly from tension.
Finally, the last herb, precisely calcined by the flame, turned to ash and left a swirling, liquid-luster spiritual essence that radiated tempting energy fluctuations.
Chen Yu was so nervous he bubbled a bit. From his treasure-bag-like gel belly he produced a prepared Gray Gravel Crystal.
The Gray Gravel Crystal floated up and approached the restless spiritual essence. The essence seeped evenly into every tiny pore of the gray crystal like a thin stream.
Under the rotary calcination of the flame, the two fused and emitted a soft glow.
After some time the light dimmed. A round, translucent bead fell from the flame, bouncing lightly on the ground with a crisp sound.
A faint red glow clung to its surface while glasslike radiance flowed within.
Success!
After so long, it was finally made!!
Chen Yu was thrilled;
his whole gel body bounced like jelly and sprang several times on the ground.
When the bead cooled, the red glow faded, revealing a crystalline pill that looked like a masterful glass treasure and still emitted a faint spiritual glow.
Chen Yu gingerly picked up the “Quench-Bone Yellow Pill” with his squishy gel hand, inspecting it from all sides with growing satisfaction.
He then gulped the spirit pill into his belly to digest it quickly. The pill’s power immediately turned into a mild, pure energy that spread through his gel.
But a slime has no bones or real muscles—just a limp mass of gel—so he felt no obvious effect.
However, Xu Xuan Heaven, which shared his body, seemed to receive the pill’s power, bringing a pleasant sensation and a slight boost in physical quality.
—
Life Status: Flourishing [HP: 970/1000]
—
One pill gave thirty life points?
Chen Yu’s eyes lit up.
He felt not only vitality but also slight increases in strength and agility.
This was excellent.
Tasting success, he immediately started a second pill. This time his technique was a bit more practiced and took less time, but the absorbed effect was slightly weaker, only adding 27 life points.
So even a pill without poisoning can’t remain equally effective forever—there seems to be a limit.
The Shadow Trial would begin in a few days, so Chen Yu stopped experimenting and instead produced a slime with Flame Affinity and Energy Storage.
“You’ll be the alchemy slime from now on,” Chen Yu said.
The little slime nodded seriously, wobbling its gel as if accepting a sacred duty.
So the two slimes, big and small, began busily working around the magma channel.
Half a day later, when the final glasslike spirit pill with a ding rolled onto the ground, all the pills gathered in a small hollow.
Counting them carefully, there were thirty spirit pills—translucent and radiant, clearly not ordinary.
After recalling the alchemy slime, Chen Yu produced a second Bat Slime.
Number Two swallowed all the spirit pills for storage, then set off at full speed under escort by the Poison-stinger Wasps.
To save time, Chen Yu charted a straight route through Riftrock Pass, which would take it into the Dark Realm and on to Gore to meet Yano.
With the second batch of herbs not yet delivered, his awareness drifted outward, ready to see how Yano’s martial arts practice was progressing.