The shriek was abrupt, and its cessation even more so, as if brutally choked off at the source. Fang Senyan’s heart lurched upon hearing it, and he sprang instantly from the lithe, alluring body of the elf maiden. Then, another scream followed!

After all, elves were famed as the Children of Nature; hidden in the woods, even the most skilled hunter could hardly detect them. For both sentries to die within a mere three seconds—what ferocious and premeditated assault could achieve such terrifying efficiency?!

The next second, a tide of Orcs and Uruk-hai swarmed into the small encampment.

This was a savagely executed raid.

The manner of the attack was swift, vicious, and sharp, like a sudden, thin, keen dagger thrusting forward!

The attackers were Orcs, Uruk-hai, and one Uruk-hai chieftain.

Fang Senyan noted that the Uruk-hai chieftain was exceptionally tall and broad, and standing beside him was a figure cloaked entirely in black robes. This person was hunched over, clad in a mysterious mage’s garment, clutching a crooked staff. Shaven-Thorn, the elven elder, was already formidable, yet under the suppression of this mysterious mage, he couldn't unleash his full power. If the elven elder's magic was as brilliant as starlight, this mysterious figure’s power was like endless, suffocating night!

The moment Fang Senyan saw this mysterious figure, he immediately knew his journey in Middle-earth was likely coming to an end... Others might not know, but Fang Senyan, having read the Uruk-hai notes, possessed some inside knowledge. For a long time, Saruman, even after his corruption, had maintained the disguise of a righteous White Robed Wizard, even serving as the chief of the powerful White Council. Because of this, his surface identity as a champion of justice compelled Saruman to conceal most matters that could not be exposed to the public eye.

Thus, as a servant of the Secret Fire and a Sage, Saruman utilized his potent scientific and magical abilities to create several avatars through alchemy and sorcery, infusing fragments of his own soul into them to travel across Middle-earth in his stead. This strategy was undoubtedly highly effective; had Saruman’s own ambition not grown too vast, his true nature would never have been revealed.

...The hunched, mysterious figure before Fang Senyan and the others at this moment was one of Saruman’s avatars. Though possessing only a fraction of Saruman’s true strength, it was absolutely beyond what Fang Senyan and his companions could currently resist.

Facing the camped elves, the Orcs and Uruk-hai—driven on by overseers—roared and charged forward without fear of death. For these controlled, savage creatures, death was liberation, not a burden. Although this small contingent of elves from Rivendell possessed formidable combat skills in the jungle, and although their leader, Shaven-Thorn, managed to turn five Orcs into rotting wood amidst his shock and fury, he was swiftly struck down by a strange paralyzing ray fired from the avatar’s staff, leaving him immobilized on the ground.

In the space of half a cigarette’s burning time, the elven company in the camp was annihilated. Strangely, the notoriously brutal Orcs and Uruk-hai, having gained complete superiority, did not slay the remaining survivors but merely bound them as captives.

Fang Senyan feigned severe injury, claiming broken ribs and an inability to walk. Some Orcs even lifted him up and carried him on their backs. The woman, Elita, had a bleeding wound on her arm, yet Orcs actually applied medicine to it. They appeared surprisingly concerned for the captives' survival.

Fang Senyan finally let out a long breath. He was prepared to retreat at any moment. He knew well that such unnatural safety often masked a far more terrifying danger! However, for him, every minute delayed was a minute gained, especially with the ultimate 'get-out-of-jail-free' card ready for instant recall. If an opportunity arose, he naturally intended to rescue the elf maiden from their clutches. From the exchanges he caught between the Orcs and Uruk-hai, he vaguely discerned that their organization was called the "Slave Catchers."

They were then marched north. During the trek, more similar slave-catching parties converged, bringing a motley assortment of captives—even Orcs and Uruk-hai themselves!

The Orcs were likely native races, while the captured Uruk-hai were those whose genetic modulation had failed, causing them to go berserk and flee while on assignment. To maintain secrecy, Saruman needed to suppress any news about the Uruk-hai, so he also hunted or captured these unstable test subjects.

It was worth noting that the individual who had attempted to assault MistSong was also one of these uncontrolled test subjects. His own genes were already near collapse, and combined with the severe injuries inflicted by Fang Senyan, this led to him being stabbed fatally on the spot with a spear.

As time passed, it was surprising that not only was MistSong and the other women unharmed (she had already prepared to kill herself), but all the captives were well looked after.

After two more days, the temperature began to drop rapidly. Every captive received cold-weather furs, and the Orcs even ate their leftover scraps. If not for the tight guard placed on every prisoner, one might have believed they were invited guests. But this illusion was soon shattered by brutal reality:

A severely wounded elf, unable to bear the grueling strain of the journey, worsened until, despite all efforts to save him, he died. Before his spirit fully departed, his body was savagely torn apart and consumed by the greedy Orcs. The head of the unfortunate elf was severed and offered to the leading Uruk-hai chieftain, who happily sucked on it as eagerly as a human drinking from a coconut with a straw...

Their long march continued for two and a half days (Fang Senyan let out a silent sigh of relief: delaying this long was completely unexpected). Finally, they reached the snow-capped peaks, deep within the Misty Mountains. Everyone was astonished to find that in this frigid region, the Uruk-hai, who usually preferred small gatherings, had established a vast settlement—almost a city. Countless caves had been excavated; viewed from a distance, the entire mountainside was dotted with black specks, resembling a grotesque, white honeycomb—immense, strange, and filled with unknowable peril.

"Good heavens!" Elder Shaven-Thorn exclaimed in awe. "This must be the legendary deep reaches of the Misty Mountains! They say it's a death zone from which one cannot return, but now it seems to be the very birthplace of the Orcs and Uruk-hai!"

At the core of this settlement, a moderately sized mage tower had been constructed. The tower exuded an eerie aura; its dark, gaping doorway resembled a grotesque eye. Standing guard at the entrance was the mysterious wizard, who had now removed his black cloak and face-covering, exposing his features to them.

Every captive had to pass under his gaze. Deep wrinkles crisscrossed the wizard's face; his eyes were cloudy, suggesting he was nearing the end of his life, yet pure, substantial magical power enveloped him. Even a mere glance felt impossible to meet, as if one's eyes were being cut.

His strength could be summed up in four words: unfathomable depth! However, sometimes knowing too much is not beneficial. To the current Fang Senyan, this unfathomable ocean was no different in its essence than a bathtub—it was the same as jumping from a fifty-meter cliff versus a five-hundred-meter one; the end result is identical. Perhaps it was this very nonchalance that caught the wizard’s attention. He looked over, his dry lips unmoving, and a withered voice issued from his abdomen:

"Hm? You carry a faint glimmer of destiny upon you (Legend Rating +1)."

Fang Senyan shrugged casually: "Hearing you say that, should I feel honored or humbled?"

The wizard let out a dry, rasping chuckle: "For me, the creator of the Uruk-hai, this 'perfect creature'—you are insignificant!"

Then the wizard turned his gaze upon Elita, his expression shifting to one of confusion: "Woman, why does your presence carry an aura that disgusts me?"

He extended a withered, bird-claw-like finger toward the top of Elita's head. Elita convulsed violently, and before everyone’s eyes, her clothing rapidly disintegrated into ash, slowly revealing her naked body. Surprisingly, her skin was covered in scars, though all old, suggesting she had undergone terrible torture previously.

The wizard's eyes shot out light that seemed almost tangible as he scrutinized Elita’s body. Wherever his gaze fell, the blood vessels beneath her skin appeared to bulge forcibly to the surface, forming blueish striations.

When the wizard focused his observation on Elita’s right forearm, the poor woman let out a piercing shriek. Her arm suddenly burst open with a crack, splattering blood and flesh. From the explosion flew a crystalline, six-sided ice shard, attempting to shoot upward.

The wizard countered with a flick of his finger, freezing the ice shard mid-air. He then casually tossed a vial of deep black liquid, which collided with the shard, forming a dense cloud of black smoke that enveloped it. After several minutes, the smoke dissipated, and nothing remained in the air.

For more novels, visit storyread.net.