Muttering to himself, Logan Bennett felt extremely awkward. Having transmigrated here, he had inherited nothing but the ability to understand and speak the local language—no memories at all. If he responded incorrectly, he might easily be mistaken for someone possessed by a demon. Of course, in a sense, the current Logan Bennett really had had his soul taken over by a demon.

Fortunately, at that moment, a middle-aged man standing nearby patted the plump aunt and soothed her, “Eliza Clark, little Evans has just recovered and must be very weak. Don’t disturb him. Evan Parker, help your mother, let’s go home together.”

This middle-aged man was very thin, his back slightly hunched, with short golden hair streaked with gray. The marks of time were etched on his face, but one could still faintly see the handsomeness of his youth.

But in Logan Bennett’s eyes, this middle-aged uncle was like an angel with a halo of pure white, an angel who had rescued him from embarrassment and anxiety.

“Eliza Clark Auntie, I’m already fully recovered, just a little dizzy,” Logan Bennett carefully chose his words, so as not to give himself away.

The little boy Evan Parker, who had dragged Logan Bennett to see the witch burning, half-supported his mother and made a face: “Big brother Logan Bennett isn’t the kind of coward who dies from getting sick once. Only you still think he’s a little kid who needs looking after.”

Aunt Eliza Clark wiped her tears: “Little Evans, seeing you get better puts my mind at ease. It’s all the fault of that damned, evil witch who’s already gone to hell.”

Supported by Evan Parker, Aunt Eliza Clark slowly walked forward, muttering, “When she first moved into the house next to yours, she was so quiet and beautiful, so gentle and elegant. I even thought that if little John Smith could marry such a girl, it would be the Lord’s blessing. But, but she turned out to be a witch, and even went to the graveyard to steal corpses to perform evil magic. Luckily, the Lord’s glory shines on everything—there were Inquisition sentinels in the graveyard at the time, and they caught her right away. Otherwise, if she’d finished preparing her evil magic, who knows how many people in our Arden District would have died…”

Walking behind with the middle-aged uncle, Logan Bennett pieced together what had happened from Aunt Eliza Clark’s rambling. The witch had been caught by the church’s sentinels while stealing bodies from the graveyard. As her neighbor, he had also been summoned by the church for questioning. The church might have used some kind of divine magic in the process, and while clearing the real Logan Bennett of suspicion, they had also caused him some mental or physical harm, resulting in a serious illness and death—thus allowing Logan Bennett to possess the body.

Seeing Logan Bennett remain silent, the middle-aged uncle patted Logan Bennett’s shoulder and quietly comforted him, “Eliza Clark is always like this, just pretend you didn’t hear her.”

Logan Bennett didn’t know what to say, so he could only nod.

The middle-aged uncle looked at Aunt Eliza Clark’s back and sighed softly, “Ah, back in the day, Eliza Clark was a pure and passionate beauty. But ever since she had little John Smith, it’s like she was cursed by a demon—she changed into this in just a year.”

He looked full of life’s regrets, his gaze deep, then paused: “I can’t win an argument with her anymore.”

Having just transmigrated and witnessed the power of divine magic firsthand, Logan Bennett was deeply shaken and in a state of inner turmoil. He could only force a smile and didn’t answer directly, not even knowing how to address this uncle.

Perhaps the uncle was too lost in his memories and didn’t control his volume. Eliza Clark snorted, “Joel Harris, you, the idealistic and passionate bard who came all the way to Alto to pursue your musical dreams—aren’t you just a drunkard now?”

Joel Harris gave an embarrassed laugh: “Alto is the city of sacred song. Every day, countless young people come here to chase their musical dreams, but how many actually succeed? Eliza Clark, besides, ever since little John Smith started training, haven’t I quit drinking?”

Aunt Eliza Clark glared back at him: “Thank the Lord for His protection. At least you know our hopes rest on John Smith and Evan Parker. If little John Smith hadn’t trained every day, how could he have been chosen by Sir Wayne to receive formal knight training at his manor? If he can awaken the ‘Divine Grace’ in his blood and become a true knight, he could be granted a title by the duke and become a respected noble.”

The stern look made Joel Harris shrink his shoulders, but Eliza Clark soon noticed Logan Bennett’s absent-mindedness: “Oh, sorry, little Evans, Auntie didn’t mean to bring this up. You’re talented too, it’s just… just that you didn’t start training from a young age…”

Realizing she was only hurting Logan Bennett more, Eliza Clark quickly shut her mouth and signaled Joel Harris with her eyes to speak.

Joel Harris burst out laughing and patted Logan Bennett’s shoulder again: “How could our little Evans be so fragile? He’s the man who’s going to inherit his Uncle Joel Harris’s dream of becoming a musician.”

Still unsettled, Logan Bennett could only force a grin: “Yeah, my dream is to become a musician.”

Seeing that Logan Bennett seemed fine, Eliza Clark resumed her rambling about all sorts of trivial matters, which actually helped Logan Bennett gain a better understanding of the city he was in.