After doing his best to cover the tracks of his movement, Mo Hong began to examine his current condition.
Hmm, four limbs intact, torso whole, no obvious wounds.
My head feels a bit strange—well, whatever, why worry about that when the skull is already exposed?
Judging by the large hole in the center of the breastplate, the fatal injury should have been a pierced chest.
But because of my transmigration, my physical state has been restored.
Fortunately, it’s a healthy start.
However, there is still one problem…
Mo Hong tried to take off the armor he was wearing.
The rust-covered armor was clearly no longer usable.
Currently, only the lining of the armor was barely usable for Mo Hong; otherwise, he would have been the first transmigrator to run around with a bare butt.
…That would be somewhat offensive.
Great, oripathy really didn’t let him off.
Mo Hong sighed and poked the black crystals hidden beneath the armor.
Clearly, the Originium crystals and his body had become one.
Hey, don’t say it, it actually looks kind of good.
Mo Hong gave a helpless, bitter smile and shook his head; this could be considered finding joy in sorrow.
Without a doubt, he was an Infected.
But more important than that was how to survive for now.
Starting in a battlefield ruin, with any luck, he should be able to find usable equipment.
Judging by that child, there should be a village nearby.
But, I’m a Wendigo!
How could a Wendigo of unknown origin possibly integrate into a village?
At the thought of his identity as a Wendigo, Mo Hong felt a headache.
The best way forward for now was to hide near the village and see if he could get some information from there.
Several days passed.
Mo Hong lurked around the village.
Based on his observations so far, the village had about thirty to forty residents.
There was little young labor; women, children, and the elderly were the main population, and their race was mostly Ursus.
Thanks to the linguistic instincts of the original body’s owner, or perhaps the language perks of being a transmigrator, Mo Hong basically confirmed that he was currently within the borders of the Ursus Empire.
The Ursus Former Emperor Vladimir has not yet ascended the throne.
Ursus’s current development has reached a bottleneck.
Furthermore, the Ursus people’s attitude toward the Infected is quite extreme, so wanting to get help from them is basically a pipe dream.
In other words, now should be the best time to leave Ursus.
Once the Four-Nation War breaks out and Vladimir takes the throne, it will be too late to leave.
As a Wendigo, the best choice was naturally Kazdel.
At this point in time, the Wendigo race should not have left Kazdel yet.
As long as he could return to the tribe, he might be able to secure a period of stable growth.
…Probably.
Although he didn’t know the details, it seemed like Kazdel also had its share of significant problems…
But even so, it would still be better than staying in Ursus.
Now that the basic strategy had been decided, the next step was to consider how to implement the plan.
The difficulty lay in the fact that Mo Hong didn’t know the location of Kazdel, nor did he know if his abilities could support him in reaching it.
As a Wendigo, his physical fitness certainly wouldn’t be poor.
The physical capabilities of a Wendigo are among the top tier even among the superhumans of Terra.
It was just that he was only an ordinary human in the past, and he was completely unfamiliar with such a tall and powerful Wendigo body.
One could say their compatibility was non-existent.
While it wasn’t a major problem, he did need to start adapting from scratch in the short term.
Heh, luckily I don’t have to start getting used to the body by crawling.
Otherwise, that scene…
tsk tsk tsk, it would be simply unbearable to watch.
With no other choice, Mo Hong could only adapt to his unfamiliar body while full of expectation as he tried out any Originium Arts he might possess.
Please, that’s magic!
Regardless of anything else, whether I have it or how strong it is, who wouldn’t want to try something that only exists in fiction!
Magic on the continent of Terra is called Originium Arts, a type of spell cast using a substance called Originium.
Generally, releasing Originium Arts requires a casting medium like a staff, but as a Wendigo, Mo Hong felt he should know a thing or two.
After continuous attempts, great, Mo Hong was certain.
Regarding Originium Arts, he couldn’t say he knew nothing, but at the very least, he was powerless.
Although he could roughly sense the existence of Originium Arts, it felt like something was missing.
After a few days of adaptation, Mo Hong discovered that his body didn’t seem to feel hunger.
True, why would a dead person need to eat?
Although the principle was unclear, the problem of food was at least solved.
One must know that although the territory of Ursus is vast, most of it is permafrost, and food is not easy to obtain.
“It should be about time.”
Mo Hong, wearing the beggar-version armor he had cobbled together from the ruins a few days ago, crouched behind some obstacles on the hillside, sneakily watching the entrance of the village.
According to the information Mo Hong had managed to overhear over the past few days, a merchant caravan would come to the village today for supplies.
As long as he could slip into this caravan, Mo Hong’s journey through Terra would officially begin.
Before long, a convoy drove into the village.
“*Ursus profanity* Long time no see, Village Chief.”
A scruffy middle-aged Ursus man stepped down from the lead vehicle, clearly the leader of this merchant caravan.
“Roman, you bastard, what did you bring this time, and how long do you plan to stay with us?”
A rather serious-looking middle-aged Ursus man walked out from the crowd; he appeared to be the Village Chief here.
“Same as usual, three days. As for the goods, we have everything. You know the rules.”
Roman casually waved at the Village Chief, then picked up a bottle of strong liquor.
He began downing the alcohol while directing the caravan to unload the goods.
The Village Chief felt helpless about this, shook his head, and turned around to organize the villagers.
Mo Hong, on the hillside, took everything in.
His size was too large, and his appearance was too distinct; it was definitely impossible to join the caravan openly.
He could only track the caravan secretly and follow their route out.
Three days passed quickly.
Roman’s caravan finished resupplying and prepared to leave.
In the shadows, Mo Hong packed up the things he could still use: the beggar-version armor, a cloak found in the ruins, a tattered ‘Tetanus Blade,’ as well as two fairly sturdy throwing spears and a shield that was half-broken—it was a purely post-apocalyptic wasteland style.
After dressing fully, Mo Hong followed the departing caravan and began his journey through Terra.