Wanted

The roasted Spotted Deer feast was satisfying.

Even though just half a day ago, the Expedition Team had been ambushed by Orc scout cavalry and forced to flee while wounded.

After finishing this meal of roasted meat.

The previously somewhat somber atmosphere of the team had lightened up significantly.

Between the fierce battle last night and the frantic run that lasted most of the night.

The members of the Expedition Team were truly exhausted.

After finishing the roasted deer feast, Thorin Oakenshield did not have the team set off immediately.

Instead, they rested right where they were.

The members of the Expedition Team were either chatting, smoking, or lying down to rest.

Only one person was currently in a clearing not far from the temporary camp, continuously swinging a longsword.

The one practicing swordsmanship was, naturally, Morgan.

Having reinforced his three major attributes not long ago, the sudden increase in strength and agility had left Morgan feeling somewhat unaccustomed.

That embarrassing fall before the meal was precisely for this reason.

Otherwise, given Morgan's strength and control over his body, it would have been difficult for him to trip, no matter how slippery the ground was.

"Hah! Hah!"

His footsteps shifted constantly, and the iron longsword in his hand sliced through the air with heavy, whistling sounds.

"Whew."

"Refreshing!"

The third iteration of the White Crow Swordsmanship was complete.

Morgan felt his entire body heating up, feeling incredibly comfortable.

Morgan was in a great mood.

He had originally thought it would take at least a day or two to fully adapt to his body after the attribute enhancements.

He hadn't expected that after practicing the White Crow Swordsmanship just a few times.

He felt he was already nearly accustomed to it.

With just a few more repetitions, he should be able to adapt completely and return to normal.

He turned his head to glance at the camp not far away, where the members of the Expedition Team were all resting.

Morgan silently exhaled a long breath and continued his training.

"Hah! Hah!"

His footsteps shifted, and the whistling sound of the longsword cutting through the air rang out incessantly.

Morgan's body moved and shifted constantly, following the forms of the White Crow Swordsmanship.

Yet, in his mind, he was thinking about the journey ahead.

In his memory, in the original plot, there was no such scene of being attacked by an Orc scout squad last night.

Was it his own participation that had triggered this plot deviation?

Or was there some other reason?

Would the future plot continue to unfold as it was originally shown?

Or would there be changes?

Morgan had come to this world.

His greatest reliance was, of course, the Time Traveler System within his body.

It allowed Morgan to obtain Soul Power and then continuously grow stronger.

Then there was his understanding of the progression of this Middle-earth based on the plot in his memory.

This allowed Morgan to possess something akin to a god's-eye view, enabling him to seek advantages and avoid disasters.

These two things were Morgan's greatest reliance for survival in this world.

If the future progression of Middle-earth were to change because of his participation.

What should he do?

Of course, it was also very possible that it wasn't because of him; after all, he was currently nothing more than a tiny, insignificant pawn.

But regardless, if the plot underwent major changes, what should he do?

His body continued to swing the longsword, following the White Crow Swordsmanship that he was so familiar with—familiar to the point of forming muscle memory.

His mind was simultaneously deep in thought over this important question.

But after thinking for quite a while, he couldn't come up with any definitive answer.

As the set of swordsmanship concluded.

Morgan stopped to catch his breath and reached for his waterskin, but just as he was about to drink, a realization struck him.

There was no need to overthink this problem.

Because he couldn't change anything at all.

All he had to do now was master the White Crow Swordsmanship and Archery enhanced by the system as quickly as possible.

Then, he would kill as many Orc as he could to gain Soul Power, strengthen himself, and grow powerful.

As for everything else, he would let nature take its course and play it by ear.

If the Expedition Team's journey went as smoothly as shown in the plot, he would enter the Lonely Mountain with them.

If things didn't go smoothly, if the plot took a sudden turn or he encountered a major danger—a danger that threatened his own life—Morgan would withdraw from the Expedition Team without a moment's hesitation.

He had never been the type of person to risk his life for anyone or anything.

And there was no one and nothing worth that sacrifice.

Having figured this out, Morgan stopped dwelling on it.

He gulped down a large mouthful of water.

Then, he picked up his longsword and resumed his training.

The exhaustion from last night's battle and the night-long flight had long since been dispelled by the warm currents of the multiple enhancements.

Come to think of it, this was a trump card for survival.

Imagine if two people were locked in a fierce battle until they were both drained, and he suddenly triggered an enhancement on himself.

He would be back at full strength in an instant—a total nightmare for any enemy.

Hmm, I must save some Soul Power for the next enhancement, Morgan thought to himself.

As for his current physical state, it had never been better.

At the temporary camp, Morgan was training alone a short distance away.

The members of the Expedition Team were already used to it.

Over the past month or so, Morgan had trained his Archery alone like this several times.

Having seen it before, no one found it strange.

Though this was the first time he had trained after such a grueling night of fighting and fleeing.

The dwarves whispered among themselves for a moment before losing interest.

Only Morgan's unofficial student, Kili, watched his "teacher" from afar, feeling a sudden urge to join in the training.

But feeling the fatigue and weakness in his own body, he decided against it.

Bilbo leaned against a dead tree stump, puffing on his pipe.

Thinking back to the battle last night, his heart still felt unsettled.

For over a month, even though he couldn't bathe often, couldn't eat delicious breakfasts and dinners on time, couldn't sleep in a soft, warm bed, and couldn't get a good night's sleep without snoring, Bilbo had endured it all.

He had originally thought that this was what an adventure was—hard and tiring, but worth it for the long journey and the beautiful scenery he had witnessed.

However, the appearance of those ugly, vicious, and hideous Orc last night had completely shattered Bilbo's imagination.

It made him realize for the first time what a real adventure was.

In a corner of the camp, inside a dilapidated, abandoned house, Gandalf and Thorin Oakenshield were in conversation.

"We had only just entered the Orc's territory when we were discovered."

"This cannot be a coincidence."

"Thorin, besides your family, who else did you tell about this expedition?"

Gandalf turned his head, looking at Thorin Oakenshield with a grave expression as he asked.

"No one!" Thorin Oakenshield shook his head.

"It cannot be such a coincidence. Who exactly did you tell?" Gandalf didn't believe him and pressed again, his voice deep with anger.

"I haven't told anyone else, I swear!" Thorin Oakenshield replied solemnly.

Even when the group had disagreed about Bilbo joining the team, Thorin Oakenshield had never seen Gandalf this angry, so he asked, "What exactly is going on?"

Seeing that Thorin Oakenshield didn't seem to be lying, Gandalf didn't press further but replied in a low voice, "It is very likely that you are being hunted!"