It was evident that the array of items Saruman had left here were the fruits of the Dwarves' past labor, plundered by Orcs from Khazad-dûm, the Dwarven city that preceded the Mines of Moria, and since Saruman had enslaved and decimated numerous Orc tribes, these spoils naturally fell into his possession.

Fang Senyan stared at the string of notifications, his eyeballs nearly popping out, especially regarding Mithril; if this material were used to forge a shield, it held the potential to manifest an attribute similar to Fang Senyan’s innate talent, Toughness—a direct reduction of incoming damage. Undeniably, such an attribute was highly effective against attacks characterized by high speed and low damage. However, these treasures could not be taken out!

"If I can't take them out, I won't leave them behind!" Fang Senyan ground his teeth, thinking. Then, he began the work of packing all this wealth into a chest.

At this moment, the girl Wuge was also stunned. Though she was innocent, she was no fool. Even in Rivendell, Mithril weapons and armor were rare sights. It was rumored that only Elven royalty—like Princess Arwen, who supposedly possessed a perfect circlet of Mithril (over 50% Mithril content)—and Prince Legolas, who owned a perfect Mithril weapon and a finely crafted Mithril mail shirt!

In Rivendell, items earning the title "Refined" (Mithril content between 10% and 20%) were limited to only three or five pieces, and there was just one weapon of pure Mithril. Even weapons deemed "Spirit-Plated" (only the edge coated with Mithril) required the wielder to be a powerful figure in Rivendell. Pure Mithril could not be processed by "plating," meaning the lowest-grade Mithril weapon was already of Refined quality.

The reason Wuge understood these matters so clearly was that she had previously been tasked with the chore of cleaning weapons and armor...

Although Fang Senyan had reverted to his ordinary human state, he was remarkably efficient in his movements. In a few quick motions, he packed the fine materials into the chest and then grabbed a rope from nearby to lash it tightly with several knots. He peered out of the Mage Tower window before speaking to Wuge:

"I cannot take these things when I depart, so you must take this chest and flee immediately. After exiting the Orc encampment, cast 'Blessing of the Dawn Elves' upon the chest, bury it deep, and mark the location well."

"If Saruman learns that news of this place has been leaked, he won't wait for the Elves of Rivendell to arrive; he will abandon this location himself! Then you can return to retrieve these items safely and transport them away. Remember, do not tell anyone about your possession of this fortune! Go secretly and find a skilled Dwarven smith to forge you some proper gear! Your own strength is the most fundamental source. If you doubt my words, recall how your own kin treated you in the prison before you became a Dawn Elf!"

The Elven girl looked at Fang Senyan timidly, her eyes brimming with tears:

"Must you speak so fiercely? What about you?"

Fang Senyan managed a bitter smile:

"Of course, I will stay behind to cover the retreat. Don't worry, I absolutely will not die. How about this: after you've buried this chest safely, return to rendezvous with me—provided those Orcs haven't returned yet. Hurry now!"

When he uttered the last two words, Fang Senyan's tone had become sharp and severe. The scheme brewing in his mind was utterly shameless: if the system won't let me profit, then I'll let my lover profit! Given Wuge’s submissive demeanor, wouldn't she obey his every command—be it dominant or canine? If she became stronger, wouldn't that equate to an increase in my power? It's not like I'll only visit the world of The Lord of the Rings once!

The girl Wuge looked at him pitifully, her eyes welling up, moving one step while looking back regretfully. Finally, Fang Senyan couldn't bear it, cursing loudly, and had to resort to shouting and shoving her away before she fled in tears.

Having made up his mind, Fang Senyan finally calmed down to search for his true objective—which, naturally, was Saruman’s research notes!

Evidently, research notes are records of experimental data, emphasizing efficiency, speed, brevity, and crispness. If he had to make a racket with bottles and jars every time he recorded data, wouldn't that be counterproductive? Thus, Fang Senyan immediately positioned himself where Saruman usually stood during experiments, and began searching the surrounding area from that center point.

On the tabletop: nothing.

Inside the table... The table had no drawers, so that possibility was eliminated.

The laboratory environment was rather filthy, and the arrangement of test tubes and other items was chaotic, suggesting Saruman's avatar was not a strictly meticulous or orderly person. Therefore, the possibility of the notes being misplaced casually could not be ruled out.

From this, one could deduce that the desks near the entrance, the dining table, or near the latrine door held a higher probability of containing the research notes.

Fang Senyan continued his search, still finding nothing. He was not discouraged, however. Repeated failed guesses at least indicated that although Saruman's avatar was somewhat slovenly, he still cherished his research notes greatly, meaning they were usually kept in a drawer.

But he searched through all seven or eight drawers, large and small, in the laboratory... still nothing. By this time, a full half hour had passed since they entered the Orc city. Clearly, factoring in the time they spent traveling, Saruman's party—unless completely annihilated—should at least have reached a verdict or be on their way back.

Though naturally calm, Fang Senyan felt a surge of anxiety and frustration. He let out a roar and swept his arm across a nearby table, sending the glass and crystal testing equipment crashing to the floor. Then, venting his spleen, he kicked stools and threw boxes, finally releasing his pent-up agitation.

From the moment he encountered Saruman’s avatar with the intent to seize the Great Octopus Hachimgar, he had been meticulously planning and calculating. The execution had gone smoothly, almost too smoothly, only for him to fail at this final, crucial step!

"Could it be that Saruman, despite his seemingly powerful exterior, is actually a weak and insecure little bottom, so he avoids the obvious path? Not only has he set up numerous traps outside the Mage Tower, but inside, he must have installed a magical mechanism, like a safe compartment, to store his valuables?"

Panting, Fang Senyan felt this possibility grow stronger, bringing waves of despair... If Saruman had truly done this, it undoubtedly meant he and the research notes were saying a long, painful farewell. Watching time slip away, Fang Senyan couldn't help but heave a long sigh to the heavens. In his frustration, he unconsciously slammed both hands heavily onto the experimental table before him...

"Huh!" Fang Senyan suddenly felt something amiss. He possessed only ordinary human abilities now, stripped of those powerful enhancements, yet his left hand striking the tabletop produced a sensation of slight depression?

At this moment, Fang Senyan looked again at the spot where he stood, then at the smooth finish of the wooden table before him and the floor beneath his feet. He suddenly realized: the spot where he was standing must be where Saruman spent the most time and stood the longest while conducting experiments.

A thought flashed through Fang Senyan's mind. He pressed his left hand down again, instantly feeling that the seemingly seamless tabletop could indeed be depressed, but still, nothing moved. Fang Senyan thought for a moment longer, then placed his hand on the wooden table, applied slight pressure first, and then pushed downwards!

Still no movement.

Fang Senyan took a deep breath. The hope that had barely surfaced seemed as fragile as porcelain. But he was not one to give up easily when a glimmer of hope appeared. He gently held it down and then pushed upwards!

Still nothing...

Then, what about pushing it to the left after holding it down? As his hand moved according to his will, there was a distinct click. A wooden block the size of a book popped out from near Fang Senyan's right hand, rising about ten centimeters above the tabletop.

Then, this wooden panel opened in the middle like a folded book. The left half supported a stack of horizontally laid parchment scrolls, while the right half held an inkwell and a pristine white feather quill! Beneath the inkwell lay a crumpled piece of white cloth stained with black smudges, likely used for wiping spilled ink.

Clearly, this was Saruman's designated area for recording his experimental observations. This ingenious little mechanism required a downward press followed by a push to the left to activate, maximizing prevention against accidental triggering. On the miniature writing surface that automatically rose on the right, one could see that "Minor Floating Spell," "Lumos," "Endurance of Spellcraft Ward," and "Permanency" were all magically inscribed. This undoubtedly provided Saruman considerable convenience for his work, research, and study.

Fang Senyan snatched up the parchment scrolls from the miniature writing desk and quickly flipped through them. His heart immediately turned cold again. The stack of parchment, at least three fingers thick, was completely blank! Not a single character, not even a splash of ink—it seemed Lord Saruman had just concluded a project, perhaps finishing (or abandoning) his latest insights, and was currently only drafting the framework for a new venture, letting it incubate!

Fang Senyan closed his eyes in agony. Knowing this outcome, he would have preferred never to have found the mechanism! Giving hope only to snatch it away was worse than never offering it at all! Suddenly, the crumpled white cloth stained with black smudges flashed through Fang Senyan's mind once more... Didn't that black smudge seem a little too regular?