He had no clue about how fast he was absorbing Heaven and Earth energy. And while he felt stronger, he had no way to gauge that feeling. He had been pretty sedentary at the end of his prior life. While he felt like his sickness had abated, he never knew when it would strike.

Speaking of strike, he also knew no martial arts. He never studied them growing up, preferring to read away his days. Before he could learn to power his strikes with Qi, he had to learn how to properly strike.

Time to explore, to find civilization!

The woods behind him felt dangerous, like the trees were plotting against him. So he walked up and almost over the small hill in the opposite direction. At the top, there was a meandering path, two wagon bodies wide. He could tell because a small caravan was going to the right.

As he watched the people deal with life on the road, he realized that while he could see them, they couldn't see him. It wasn't indifference, even the guard dogs' attention drifted right past him.

The Duck must have arranged a safe zone for him, but would it stay if he left or would it burst? He had to assume it would burst. He saw a mile marker right across from his spot, mile 13.11 - a half marathon. Once he knew from where and which distance, he could always try to see if this was a safe haven,

He heard a murmuring of "Soon son..." in the crowd of people. Assuming they were going towards the start of the markers, he wanted to join them. He had to keep on taking risks. He asked for adventure, not safety.

The crowd of people seemed to not be with the caravan of wagons. Some of them had huge bundles on their backs and there had been some half-empty wagons. Perhaps safety in numbers?

In any event, he slowly and quietly joined the throng of people in the back. He quickly blended in as the dust kicked up by the wagons coated both his body and his throat.

Chapter 5: The March, or the Road to Nowhere, wait, Somewhere, but no Rainbow

Arthur marched on and saw the mile markers decrease. He still had no clue he wasn't reading Arabic numbers. The walking rabble had quickly accepted him. He wasn't aggressive and he hadn't made any demands.

Suddenly they heard the crisp sounds of whips striking the beasts of burden. The wagons darted off, leaving the walkers in a cloud of dust.

The guy next to Arthur exclaimed, "No good, there must be bandits a head and they ran to Quaizmoe!" The man's little boy started whimpering - he must have been all of 5 or 6.

"Daddy, don't let the bandits get me!" he blubbered.

"Son, be brave, they can kill us, but they can't dishonor us." he comforted his son.

Arthur felt he had to help, "They'll chase the wagons - more loot is to be had!"

The father recalled that this old guy had joined them out of the blue - perhaps he was with the bandits? He started to steer his kid away from the stranger. Suddenly the gang popped up - either the wagons escaped or they were after something with the walkers.