Tonight, Alice joins the hunt.

Meriyadak the Fiery Deer sat at a spacious stone table, a handful of pretzels in one hand and his beloved hookah in the other—filled with Saruman's prized long-stemmed tobacco from the south of the Shire, the finest, most famous, and most meticulously processed tobacco in the world. He took a deep, satisfying drag, then slowly exhaled with a 'puff,' and as the pale white smoke obscured his vision, he couldn't help but burst into hearty laughter.

For hobbits who eat at least six meals a day, tobacco is the only thing in their otherwise stable worldview that can make them put down their food at mealtimes. Their towns have fields specifically for growing tobacco. And whenever there's something to celebrate—or something they deem worthy of celebration—they'll indulge in a large pack of tobacco, which will keep them happy for quite some time.

Clearly, this is a time for celebration. Although hobbits spend more than ten hours a day in blissful idleness, this is different now. They have just won a battle, and this victory certainly deserves a more enthusiastic celebration than usual.

“When I return to the Shire, they may call me ‘Meriadak the Victor,’” Meriadak gestured with an air of authority. “For I am one of the few outstanding Hobbits who has won a great victory. The Hobbits haven’t fought a war in many years!”

“Oh, that’s because you don’t study history at all. Merry, you don’t even know what hobbits wore two hundred years ago.” His companion didn’t hesitate to expose his boasting. Then he grabbed a slightly cold egg tart and stuffed it into his mouth—eating was more important than talking.

“Perhaps I really don’t know.” Merry shrugged. He heard the tree-men outside launching wave after wave of attacks on the wizard tower’s base, a sound that had been going on for at least half an hour—he filled his pipe with a new tobacco and picked up half a roast chicken. “But I certainly know what hobbits liked to eat three hundred years ago.”

He grabbed the roast chicken, brought it to his mouth, and took a huge bite.

"Delicious as always."

“I think Peking duck might be a strong contender for this award,” said Pippin, another hobbit, grabbing a large, glistening piece of roast duck breast and shaking it. Then he took a bite… an even bigger one. “And I’ve eaten more than you.”

“That’s just your imagination, like your height…” Merry glanced at him, then looked past Pippin to the window frame behind him. A gray pigeon had somehow landed there, tilting its neck as it observed them preening their feathers. “Look, there’s a pigeon!”

He picked up a carrot and threw it at the pigeon.

"Idiot! Pigeons don't eat carrots! They only eat rice!" Pippin grabbed a handful of rice from the bag next to him and threw it over, but the pigeon easily swatted it away with its wings.

"You're the idiot! Pigeons don't eat rice, they eat oats!" This time, a handful of oats was thrown at him.

"The oatmeal stewed pigeon soup is delicious!" Pippin exclaimed, and then he saw the pigeon flap its wings and fly away from the windowsill, circling around before landing on the beam in the storage room.

“Fool! You’ve scared the pigeons!” Merry grabbed a corncob and shoved it into Pippin’s face. It was a good weapon; it took over the other hobbit’s teeth and tongue, forcing him to spend about two minutes dealing with them and swallowing every single kernel.

Merri raised his hand, and the gray pigeon fluttered its small wings and landed lightly on his palm. He fed it some refined oats. The lovely little creature then obediently hopped onto his shoulder and gently touched his cheek with its short beak.

Hobbits are always like this; they are easily distracted and tend to focus their attention on things that are unnecessary or unused. It is precisely for this reason that hobbits spend most of their day in joy and happiness, because they have little understanding of pain—perhaps that description isn't entirely accurate; it would be more accurate to say that they have little ability to immerse themselves in negative emotions.

And naturally, they had more important things to do than the pigeon—they continued to enjoy Saruman's treasures, occasionally counting the number of times the treants bombarded the wizard's tower out of boredom. Time passed slowly, and even the gourmet hobbits eventually had their fill in this rich storeroom.

And that moment came very quickly.

“I think this little thing likes me.” Merry stroked the little creature perched on his shoulder—it seemed to have made the hobbit’s shoulder a cozy nest, fast asleep. Even when stroked by the hobbit’s fingers, it only chirped twice in dissatisfaction, then shifted its position and went back to sleep. “I’m going to take it with me and raise it.”

“Then you might need a birdcage.” His companion looked at him with a hint of envy, having long since forgotten about pigeon soup… or rather, Pippin… or rather, Peregrine Took. He was eight years younger than Merry, still considered a minor among hobbits. He was in the most immature of immature times.

“The great victor, Meriyadak, the Spirit Deer, has no need for a foolish birdcage! Keep it for yourself!” Meriyadak glared at his junior. Then he turned and gently stroked the pigeon’s feathers. “Trust me, this little fellow will have a safe new home.”

"The new home..."

He suddenly became sentimental again.

"When will we be able to go home?" the little hobbit sighed softly. "It has only been a short time since we left the Shire, but it feels like it has been so long... We have been through so much, and we have so much more to go."

“…Will you give up?” Pippin patted him on the shoulder. “Isengard is dead, and we’ve already saved half of the Shire from Saruman. And when we get good news from Frodo that the evil monster and its Mordor are gone, we can go home.”

“Yes, then we can go home.” Merry nodded, revealing a confident smile typical of a hobbit. A strange impulse filled him with a desire to speak. “So we can’t give up, after all, we’re already halfway there. And this journey doesn’t seem as difficult as we’ve imagined.”

“We made many friends. Gandalf, Aragorn, Legolas, Gimlich, Boromir… and Neos and the others. They helped us defeat the Balrog and rescued Boromir, didn’t they? When we were captured by the Orcs?”

“It’s a shame they didn’t save us too.” Pippin took a puff of his tobacco. “Those few days when we were captured by the orcs were the worst days of my life. Neos and that Zhao… Zhao Zhuikong… that name is really hard to pronounce, those two never got along. Several times I thought Zhao Zhuikong would kill him, and Aragorn didn’t seem to trust that guy either.”

"Humans are truly incomprehensible... But if it weren't for that, how could we have encountered the Treebeard, and how could we have received their help? And weren't there Black Knights when the orcs attacked us... although Gandalf seemed to call them Ringwraiths..."

Merri shook his head.

"Never mind that. I'm getting a little hungry again... When do you think Gandalf and the others will find us? I have a feeling they should be here soon..."

“Then we’d better eat something before then.” Pippin grabbed an apple. “Because soon there will be four hobbits here, and their food… our food might not be enough.”

Section Twelve: Actions of Other Factions

Meanwhile, somewhere in Helm's Deep, within the fortress.

The air reeked of rotting blood. Dead men, dead elves, dead orcs—no matter how fiercely they had fought to sever each other's flesh with their swords or blades in life, now they were nothing more than corpses. The war was over, and the dead would not return.

This is not an equal war.

From the very beginning, the humans on Rohan's side received external support far beyond what the powerful orcs could have imagined. They gained a much larger and more skilled elven army than depicted in the original story, and on top of that, the power of the Reincarnators served as an even greater balancing factor.

Ultimately, this is merely a battle fought within the confines of a stone fortress, and neither side can possibly cross the line into the supernatural. Even if the power levels in this world are several times stronger than in the original story, even if the mortals here can unleash sword strikes capable of tearing through rock through training, even if the orcs here possess muscle strength comparable to a fully powered heavy-duty crane—Helm's Deep is still just Helm's Deep. Even if its size and garrison are more than ten times larger than in the original story, it is still just Helm's Deep.

It was ultimately just a large earthen fortress armed with magic and soldiers, not a cloud fortress capable of ascending to the stratosphere and unleashing death rays from the top of the sky. Both those who guarded it and the powerful orcs who sought to attack it were reduced to dust by the will of a fourth-tier powerhouse, and naturally, the war ended in a resounding victory.

The defenders of Helm's Deep easily contained the orcs beneath its walls. The Reincarnators didn't even need to reveal much of their strength; a single large-scale battlefield amplification spell was enough to bridge the gap in combat power between the defenders and the orcs. The orcs' only hope of turning the tide—the drainage ditch breaching strategy—was rendered futile because all the orcs attempting to approach the ditch died mysteriously on their march.

As the art of war says, the best strategy is to attack the enemy's plans, the next best is to disrupt their alliances, the next best is to attack their army, and the worst is to besiege their cities. Although the world is different, siege warfare is a military strategy that requires at least a tenfold difference in combat strength to execute without any ingenious plans. When this "tenfold difference" was forcibly erased by a group of reincarnators from outer space with their incredible power, the result was naturally like this.

The Reincarnators contributed greatly to this battle, yet they didn't seek the limelight. They kept a low profile, sending the lesser-tier fighters—whose combat strength was generally around the first or second tier of genetic locks and whose fighting wasn't particularly impressive—to the front lines. They assigned the more experienced and newer members, whose aptitudes weren't as high, and who hadn't even unlocked their genetic locks yet, to logistical support. Only the members of the Fellowship of the Ring, the King of Rohan, and his guards knew of their efforts. And these Reincarnators, appreciating their contribution, naturally became the flag bearers of the battle, shining brightly in combat just like in the original story. And honor accompanied their victory.

Helm's Deep held out, the fortress surviving with minimal losses until dawn the next day. And just as in the original story, the Hussars arrived at daybreak. With a powerful, precise charge, perfectly timed and executed, coinciding with the Orcs' weariness from prolonged fighting, the battle came to a successful conclusion.

The mortals suffered minimal losses, as did the elves. Even the elven general who survived in the original novel but died in the movie survived. This provided the reincarnators with a considerable amount of side quests and reward points. And after the battle ended, a celebratory banquet was held.

The righteous side suffered losses, but only a few. Therefore, the banquet was exceptionally lively. The main characters who had distinguished themselves in the battle, along with the lower- to mid-level reincarnators, were naturally confined to the banquet hall and forced to drink far more than they could possibly finish. Meanwhile, the truly powerful figures, the high-ranking reincarnators who had orchestrated events behind the scenes and shaped the current situation, were given some leisure time. They were able to easily leave the bustling banquet hall and go to a quieter spot outside to hold meetings that wouldn't be noticed by the main characters.

....................................

“Gandalf suspects us; he should already know about the Fangorn Forest.” Esdeath’s true form wasn’t here; what appeared was an avatar she created from ice. Her true form was doing things in some unspeakable places that weren’t exactly beneficial to some people’s mental and physical health. And her avatar was here to tell Neos, who was currently standing at the edge of the castle eating chocolate, what she knew.

—The link between psychics is not secure. After their battle with the Central Continent team, the Southern Flame Continent team learned their lesson and returned to the Main God Space to watch the 'Legend of the Gods' episodes, which arrived perfectly on time, and resurrected Neos. What followed was a series of rigorous trials that could turn an iron man into a steel man, and a steel man into a diamond man whose molecular structure had been altered—they experienced several horror movies in a row, and in each horror movie, they discovered the most difficult missions and the rich rewards that came with them.

The message that 'the communication of mental beings is very likely to be cracked by powerful spellcasters' was less of an intelligence report and more of a lesson learned through blood and tears. This was something they learned after watching a fantasy movie called "The Sorcerer's Apprentice"—who knows why the villainous witch in what was originally a terrible movie became so ridiculously powerful, silently cracking the mental network of the Southern Flame Continent team, almost causing their complete annihilation, and even turning the entire Earth into a land of the dead during the final battle—and Esdeath happened to touch the fourth level in this world, and now she has roughly mastered this power.

“Don’t worry about Gandalf, he won’t get in the way.” Neos stood on the edge of the wall, gazing at the dark clouds floating on the horizon—that was Mordor, and Mordor’s wrath was evident in Saruman’s defeat.

He tapped his fingers lightly on the heavy stone slab.

“Gandalf is a Maiar, a demigod, with abundant knowledge and experience. Now he has even become the White Robe, possessing power that is almost equivalent to unlocking the fourth stage of the genetic lock. Therefore, with his thinking and observation abilities, it would not be difficult for him to detect any clues we might have left behind. In terms of strength alone, it is indeed a target that must be guarded against. However, it is precisely because of its identity that we do not need to be deliberately vigilant against it.”

"Because it has a mission. It is commanded by the 'Vera,' the true gods who no longer descend to this world, to come to this land to deal with Sauron. As long as this mission remains, we do not need to worry about being his enemy."

"Because our cause is righteous, and we have come here to bury Sauron—though our arrival undoubtedly renders all the prophecies of this world worthless. But as long as we remain steadfast in this position, minor deviations are insignificant—after all, we only set fire to Fangorn Forest, and it's impossible for us to reveal any evidence—in such a speculative situation, it will at most judge us as having our merits and demerits canceling each other out. Since our stance will not shift in the future, it will naturally prioritize completing its mission. After all, even in the original story, it returned to Valinor, the kingdom of the gods, less than three years after the War of the Ring. And I think even if Ilúvatar, the creator of this world, were to change its mind at the last minute, the Celestials would be the first to suffer."

“That makes a lot of sense.” Esdeath’s avatar gave a gesture of agreement. “Then let’s leave that aside for now—I summoned the wind and water in the air on my way here, but unfortunately, there was no trace of the Central Continent Team in the Fangon Forest—the elementals told me that not a single unfamiliar speck of dust appeared in the forest. Perhaps their landing point is not in that place.”

“I didn’t expect this to force them out.” Neos snorted and bit a long bar of chocolate into hundreds of equal-sized pieces in one go. “But there’s no doubt that they’ve already come into this world. And what I’m doing is essentially to stir up trouble.”

"I deliberately pushed the plot in a direction that superficially aligned with the original story—we defeated the Balrog, rescued Boromir from the Orcs, and successfully reunited the Fellowship of the Ring, which should have been shattered. But Gandalf still went to undergo his trials to become a Wizard of the White, so I took this opportunity to create some unexpected events that allowed the Fellowship to enter Rohan and for the two Hobbits to leave the group. And the subsequent events unfolded exactly as I had imagined, with the Battle of Helm's Deep taking place as planned."

"Sauron watched this place, but after we wiped out three waves of the Ringwraiths it sent out and fought them to a standstill with the Celestials, it fell silent. It must have decided to put the battle on Gondor, where we will have to confront its most powerful forces."

"The plot has actually changed a lot, but the outward appearance is not significantly different from before the change. This is a huge contradiction that will definitely attract the attention of the Middle-earth team. As for the fire in Fargon Forest, it was less a tool for me to force them out and more a deliberate inducement I arranged for them—whether they were there or not, they would follow the contradiction in the plot and turn their attention to Isengard. And then they would notice the two hobbits I had specifically arranged to go there."

Neos let out a cold laugh.

"When those two hobbits were here, I deliberately left them a lot of information, most of which was true, and a very few were not entirely true. And of course, there wasn't a single piece of false information. However, what is a mixture of truth and half-truth is a complete lie—they will know our approximate combat strength. They will know that the East Sea team was wiped out in the Ringwraith attack long before we arrived, that our camp includes you, Captain, and Zhao Zhuikong, both of whom are at the fourth rank, and that the Celestial Team also has two corresponding powerhouses. And their vision will be blinded as a result, because we actually have a third fourth-rank combatant hidden on our side."

“They might not fall for it.” Esdeath’s projection raised an eyebrow slightly.

“Perhaps, but they will definitely value this intelligence. And as soon as they do, a flaw will appear.” Neos’s fingers trembled slightly, and more chocolate appeared in his palm. “Whether it’s Chu Xuan or those two witches, they are both people who value intelligence highly. And those two hobbits are the intelligence sources I specifically sent out. They will definitely contact them, send forces around them, and infiltrate their ranks. And that is our chance to gain the upper hand.”

"Zhao Zhuikong got up and went over five minutes ago. He was happy to be the spark that ignited the situation. Although I don't know who he's planning to find, I can tell he's deeply obsessed with someone in the Zhongzhou team. He's an assassin, although he's a little different from the kind of assassin I usually understand, but his ability to gather information is still top-notch. Naturally, the people an assassin values ​​are most likely also assassins, so his arrival is very likely to be accompanied by the exposure of the Zhongzhou team—even if they aren't exposed, internal instability will arise from this."

He glanced at the banquet hall.

“Aragorn and the others won’t stay at the banquet for long. They’ll leave soon to reunite with their lost companions in Isengard, just like in the story. I specifically protected Boromir for this moment. His will is relatively weak, and there are loopholes in his mind. In addition, with the mental interference physique that Sheringer exchanged for, even if we don’t do anything, when he gets involved in the confrontation with Saruman, he is very likely to be misled by Saruman’s words. He might make a move, although the probability is not 100%, it’s worth the gamble.”

"...You mean the Zhongzhou team might intervene?"

“That’s highly likely.” Neos tugged at his collar, sensing that Gandalf and his group had already left the banquet hall. “Because Zheng Zha, the captain of the Middle-earth team, is a good man, a good man even mortals in the story world would protect. And with Boromor’s death, the Gondor storyline will become full of uncertainty—after Zhao Zhuikong arrives first, accurately assesses the fighting strength as the subject of intelligence evaluation, and is certain that even our entire alliance combined might not be able to defeat the Middle-earth team, he is very likely to do what we expect—Gandalf won’t go all out against Boromor, because he foresaw Boromor’s death long ago. He might not just go with the flow, but he certainly won’t go all out.”

"After all, it is confident that it can reverse all variables before everything becomes irreversible, and it probably also wants to know what we want to do."

Section Thirteen: Fu Zi

In Neos's mind, the strong are strong, and the weak are weak; the weak can never defeat the strong. Throughout history, all instances of the weak defeating the strong have involved using 'strategy' to alter the balance of power within a region, thus masking the overall weakness with local strength.

It's just the strategy of Tian Ji's horse race; it's nothing more than that level of strategy.

Since their team already had an intelligence advantage, they had to rely on that advantage to suppress the other teams.

The strategy of using superior horses to suppress inferior ones relies on the premise that the opposing side does not know which horse is superior and which is inferior. Only by gaining an advantage in intelligence can the feasibility of this plan be ensured, and it is precisely for this reason that they must advance their plan as quickly as possible.

Although I died young in that horror movie, I was able to roughly deduce the current strategy of the Zhongzhou team from the information gathered from others.

Because they have more than one wise man, they are accustomed to a two-pronged approach. Alice and Patchouli set up the obvious scheme, while Chu Xuan orchestrated the hidden one—after all, they have abundant resources and can afford to waste manpower, and it is precisely for this reason that I must hurry.

Neos tapped his fingers lightly on the stone slab, the one-way observation barrier still enveloping him. Esdeath's avatar vanished quietly after he finished his analysis. His gaze shifted slightly upwards, clearly seeing and hearing from the direction of his gaze the sounds of the banquet's main figures preparing to depart—it seemed Gandalf and his party would soon be heading to Isengard.

It's a real shame that the Ring can't be used for teleportation. So, no matter how unwilling we are, we have to accompany the Fellowship of the Ring to Mordor. Fortunately, some of the faster routes are still usable, so at least it won't take too long to reach Isengard.

Ah... if only we could have arrived in this world sooner.

Neos rose from the edge of the city wall and strode in the direction the protagonists had left—the Southern Flame Team was the second reincarnation team to arrive in this world. Before their arrival, the East Sea Team, which had done virtually nothing, was hunted down by the Ringwraiths on their way to the Prancing Pony Inn, and was wiped out without even seeing the future King Aragorn. The arrival of the Southern Flame Team's reincarnators came after the Council of Rivendell.

They weren't able to get in touch with the Fellowship of the Ring from the start, so some of their bolder plans couldn't be implemented—for example, taking advantage of the fact that all those powerful beings hadn't fully focused their attention on Frodo the Hobbit before... well, that plan was no longer feasible, and there was no need to waste any more energy on it.

[Hobbits possess pure minds, making them virtually immune to all mental magic. Tsk, this is probably what they mean by "you can't have everything." After all, compared to the East China Sea team, which was doomed from the start, and the East America team, which lacked any secondary combat power and was entirely supported by those two freaks, Zhao Zhuikong, our Southern Flame team's excellent organization allows us to execute many strategies that only require a good opportunity to turn the tide of battle.]

In short, let's maintain the current strategy for now. Head to Isengard with the main characters, and try to force the Middle-earth team out there—even if it means Saruman turning the tables, and even if one or two main characters die, we must make sure the Middle-earth team makes their move before they can establish themselves! Otherwise, if they have even a little time, my entire scheme is destined to be destroyed by Chu Xuan… or even without Chu Xuan's intervention, those two witches alone could utterly dismantle all my plans!

He stopped, his location shifting in his mind from the outside of the fortress to the stables where the main characters were. The Fellowship of the Ring greeted him warmly.

“Hey, Neos, my friend.” The future human emperor Aragorn smiled and nodded slightly at him.

"We still have some things to do, let's go together."

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Meryadak the Brut Deer was feeling terrible, terribly terrible. He felt like he and Pippin were two pieces of raw bacon laid flat on a hot plate, and a skilled chef was about to prepare a very strong-flavored sizzling dish—green onions, salt, and pepper had already been sprinkled all over the two poor hobbits, and the only thing left to do was to light the fire under the plate.

He felt sweat pouring down his neck, every muscle twitching violently as if struck by lightning. Yet he dared not move an inch, for he didn't know if doing so would be interpreted as a provocation by the black-haired youth who had suddenly appeared before them like a shadow, a strange smile playing on his lips—especially since they had just been gossiping about each other behind their backs.

"Why didn't you continue?" The black-haired youth toyed with a small, cicada-wing-shaped knife. Without a visible movement of his fingers, the sharp weapon seemed to float and dart between his wrist, the back of his hand, and his fingernails like a lively fish. "I'm quite curious about what others think of me. It seems I'm being treated like a madman? Hmm?"

The young man gripped his knife and glanced at the two hobbits—his fleeting change of gaze gave the two little ones a moment to react. In an instant, Merry and Pippin scrambled down the stone platform, nearly collapsing to the ground. They cursed inwardly that the tree-men outside were blind while loudly begging for mercy.

Meili: "I was wrong! Uncle Zhao, I shouldn't have talked about you behind your back..."

Pippin: "I...I...I was wrong too! Please don't cut us into apple pie like you did with that poor Balrog..."

However, the young man just looked at the two of them with a half-smile.

“Don’t be nervous, my capacity isn’t that small.” The young man flicked his wrist slightly, and the dagger vanished beneath his skin like snow in the sunlight. His words seemed to possess a strange magic. With this simple gesture, the hobbits felt a quiet sense of relief.

A strange sense of ease washed over them, and this ease relaxed their faces, causing their desire to speak to vanish rapidly. As if they had smoked a kilogram of long-stemmed tobacco in one go, the two little ones drooped from the corners of their mouths to their eyelids.

Just then, the heavy footsteps of a treant suddenly echoed from outside the storeroom. In the blink of an eye, a large, rugged wooden face squeezed down from the doorway. However, the unfamiliar treant seemed to ignore the black-haired youth sitting in the chair inside the storeroom, merely glancing at Merry and Pippin before muttering something like 'strange hobbits' and slowly walking away.