Audrey Miller is really tough; otherwise, how could she handle some of the rough and uncouth men in the village? Her younger brother probably isn’t bad either.

After saying goodbye to Raymond Craig, Logan Smith turned onto the path leading to his own home.

After walking for a while, he saw a few men approaching from the opposite direction.

The leader was in his prime, not very tall—less than 1.7 meters—wearing a white robe, with short black hair.

He had an imposing air, his features could only be called decent, the tip of his nose slightly hooked, and in his gaze toward Logan Smith's blue eyes was undisguised disgust and malice.

This was none other than the parish priest of the “Eternal Blazing Sun” Church stationed in Cordu Village, William Bennett.

“I’ve been waiting for you for a while,” William Bennett said in a deep voice. “Did you deliberately bring those outsiders to the church?”

“I thought you were sleeping inside,” Logan Smith forced an explanation as he quietly stepped back.

He recognized that standing next to William Bennett was his younger brother, Paul Bennett. This guy was just over thirty, well-built, domineering, and liked to bully the villagers.

The others were thugs who followed him and the parish priest.

Seeing Logan Smith retreat, William Bennett gave Paul Bennett a look.

Paul Bennett grinned viciously and stepped forward:

“You little bastard, come over here and meet your daddy Paul Bennett!”

Before he finished speaking, he sped up and lunged at Logan Smith, and the other thugs did the same.

In a rural place like Cordu Village, reasoning doesn’t command respect or bring apologies; only direct and forceful action earns awe. William Bennett knew this very well and was used to handling things this way. So, once he confirmed that those outsiders were brought to the church by Logan Smith, he decided to catch the kid and give him a good beating—beat him so badly he wouldn’t be able to get out of bed for a month, beat him until someone compensated him.

Of course, he had to avoid Audrey Miller.

As for the law, all he needed to do was mention it to the administrative officer and territorial judge, Benedict Foster. The city’s sheriff wouldn’t bother coming all the way to the countryside to investigate a mere fight.

And since Benedict Foster was an outsider, unless there was a major conflict of interest, he wouldn’t offend a locally born priest like himself.

What made William Bennett feel lucky was that those outsiders hadn’t spread the news about his affair with the administrative officer’s wife, Mrs. Phillips; the other party didn’t know about it yet.

They were fast, but Logan Smith was even faster. As soon as Paul Bennett opened his mouth, he turned and sprinted away.

He was very familiar with the nature and style of this group led by the parish priest.

Once, a villager had reported to the “Eternal Blazing Sun” church in the city, saying that William Bennett not only had multiple mistresses but also embezzled the congregation’s offerings to the “Eternal Blazing Sun,” bullied others in the village at will, and acted nothing like a clergyman. Later, one afternoon, that villager somehow fell to his death.

Thud, thud, thud!

Logan Smith ran so fast he stirred up a gust of wind.

“Wait for your daddy!” Paul Bennett shouted as he chased, surprisingly fast as well.

The thugs followed closely behind.

Bursting out of the path, Logan Smith didn’t flee along the main road but dashed straight into the nearest house.

The family was preparing lunch in the living room, which doubled as a kitchen, when they suddenly saw someone rush in.

In a flash, Logan Smith darted around them and climbed out the window at the back of the kitchen.

By the time Paul Bennett and the others rushed in, the homeowner had come to his senses, stood up to block them, and asked:

“What are you doing?

“What do you want?”

“Out of the way, old man!” Paul Bennett snarled, shoving the man aside, but this still cost them a bit of time.

By the time they reached the window and climbed out, Logan Smith had already run into another small lane.

After chasing for a while longer, they completely lost sight of Logan Smith.

“Damn stray dog!” Paul Bennett spat a wad of green phlegm onto the roadside.

……

Outside the semi-basement two-story building.

Logan Smith caught his breath, then nonchalantly opened the door and went inside.

“One, two, three, four, two, two, three, four…” A rhythmic chant reached his ears.

Logan Smith looked toward the open space on the other side of the kitchen and saw Audrey Miller with her blonde hair tied in a ponytail, wearing a linen shirt and tight white trousers, dark short boots made of lambskin, jumping up and down, sweating all over.

—The custom in Cordu Village was that most of the first floor was the kitchen, the core of the whole home. Cooking was done here, meals were eaten here, and guests were entertained here as well.

Working out again… Logan Smith was long used to such scenes and wasn’t surprised at all.

Audrey Miller often did all sorts of strange things and wouldn’t say why even if asked.

At least exercising was a good thing, and it looked pretty nice too… Logan Smith moved closer and quietly watched.

After a while, Audrey Miller stopped, bent over, and turned off the black battery-powered tape recorder.

She took the white towel Logan Smith handed her, wiped the sweat from her forehead, and instructed, “Remember to practice fighting this afternoon.”

“Reading and fighting practice? Aren’t your expectations for me a bit too high?” Logan Smith complained casually.