They were piled together, emitting a scent of old paper, dried ink, and a faint hint of herbs.
Musa carefully placed these notes on the table in front of Ian, with a dull "thud." He gently patted this stack of books that carried countless efforts, his voice calm yet undeniably forceful, "Your Majesty, these... are the culmination of my life's study."
"And all my recorded sketches of the known areas of that underground Soviet engineering structure, along with some of my speculations about its spatial anomalies... they're all here."
"Now they are all yours."
The old man actually chose to provide the reward first.
Ian was completely stunned, looking at the stack of notes before him that could be said to be priceless, then looking up at the calm Musa, finding himself momentarily speechless.
This reward... No, this can no longer be called a reward; it is the crystallization of a researcher's lifetime of wisdom!
"Mr. Musa… You…" Ian was rarely moved and couldn't help but remind, "You're giving these to me now? When we haven't even signed any contract? Aren't you afraid... I'll take these and just leave, not fulfilling my promise?"
It really defies logic. Such precious knowledge, casually paid in advance like this? What kind of trust does this require, or perhaps... what kind of desperate gamble?
Musa looked at Ian's genuinely astonished expression and instead showed a faint, somewhat transcendent smile. He shook his head, his gaze profound:
"Afraid? Of course, I've been afraid. But, sir, I choose to believe. I believe someone who, in an era devoid of magic, relies not on bloodline nor external items, but solely on their understanding and persistence in magic to achieve a legendary rank, possesses a character and pride that far surpasses those who would break promises."
"Your promise is more trustworthy to me than any magic contract." He paused, his gaze sweeping over that stack of notes, a complex expression flashing in his eyes, finally turning into relief: "Moreover... even if, I mean just in case, you really 'run away,' so what? These knowledge, if left with me, would ultimately become dust with my death, or be burnt as waste paper by some descendant who doesn't recognize their value."
"I place them in your hands, a living legend, and perhaps they can bloom with unimaginable brilliance. At least... I have already given everything in seeking answers. I... have tried my best." Towards the end, his voice gradually sank, revealing an unmistakable exhaustion.
It was not only physical fatigue but also immense mental drain from long years of fruitless pursuit. Entrusting his life's work seemed to also extract part of the strength that had sustained him.
Ian observed the old man's eyes, mixed with trust, faith, exhaustion, and a hint of relieved complexity, feeling solemn within. He stood up, not saying anything overly impassioned, merely bowing slightly to Musa, indicating he would undoubtedly solve the mystery for him.
Confident in his own ability.
Ian had always been self-assured.
He wasn't creating an unfamiliar realm for the first time.
Musa nodded, as if even conserving the energy to speak, only using his gaze to express gratitude and trust.
Seeing the old man's fatigue grow heavier, almost leaning against the edge of the table, Ian knew it was time to leave. He carefully stored that heavy stack of notes into his magic backpack—the backpack's surface shimmered briefly, incorporating this massive treasure vault into its expanded internal space.
These things.
Are indeed far more precious than magic potion materials.
They might have vanished into the river of time had Ian not come, a final note unique to a wizard's wisdom, containing a story about "love."