Witch Training Manual: My Water Magic Is Wrong

the next day.

Emma woke up just as dawn broke.

She rubbed her eyes, sat up in bed, and found that Ella was no longer beside her. The blankets were neatly folded, and the pillows were placed upright, as if no one had ever lain there.

She still overslept.

Ella had already eaten before she got up. Of course, it wasn't just breakfast that she was full…

Emma yawned and walked out in her slippers.

She walked to the kitchen doorway and peeked inside.

Vera was busy at the stove; the water in the iron pot had just boiled and was bubbling away. Ella stood beside her, holding a bunch of scallions and picking them.

"elder sister."

Ella looked up.

"woke up?"

"Hmm." Emma rubbed her eyes. "Where's Master?"

"In the backyard."

Emma turned and ran to the backyard.

The air in the backyard smelled of morning dew. On the stone platform by the flower bed lay the shears used last night, and a few withered branches that had been cut were still piled on the ground, not yet cleaned up.

Then she stopped.

Wayne stood by the well in the yard, his gray coat open and the sleeves of his undershirt rolled up to his elbows. He had just washed his face, and water droplets were dripping down his chin.

Standing next to him was Mimi. She was dressed in a black and white maid outfit, the skirt just reaching her knees, a white apron tied around her waist, and a simple headband. The skirt was a bit tight, cinching her waist very narrow, with curves in all the right places.

Mimi clearly adapted to the role of a maid very quickly.

Emma's eyes widened.

She ran over quickly, hugged Wayne's waist, and pressed her whole body against him.

"Owner!"

Wayne looked down at her.

"Um."

"Who is she?" Emma pointed at the woman, her tone carrying the aggrieved feeling of a child whose toy had been taken away.

Wayne's voice was calm.

"This is the new church maid, Mimi."

Mimi bowed slightly.

"Hello there."

Emma ignored her.

She buried her face in Wayne's waist, her voice muffled.

"Master, aren't we enough?"

Wayne didn't say anything, but reached out and ruffled her hair.

"You little rascal."

Emma's ears turned red, but she hugged him even tighter.

The panel appeared before Wayne's eyes.

[Frosttown - Latest News]

Mayor Wilford received an anonymous tip this morning that "a bounty hunter squad from the Northern Continent has infiltrated Frosttown, intending to harm Bishop Wayne." Wilford immediately mobilized all the town's guards to surround the inn at the foot of East Mountain. Thirty guards, twelve archers, and the Diaz mercenary group, totaling over sixty men, completely surrounded the inn.

[Note: Wilford was delighted. Extremely delighted. He spent the entire morning repeatedly checking the security of the encirclement, personally walking around the hotel three times, carefully inspecting every window and every alley. His thoughts were simple: You saved me four times, now it's my turn.]

[Note 2: Wilford's mindset begins to change. He becomes your sword, blocking all who dare to attack.]

At the foot of Dongshan Mountain in Hanshuang Town, in front of the hotel.

Wilford was wearing a brand new leather armor today, with a short sword at his waist and an iron helmet on his head, the brim pulled low, covering most of his face.

He stood directly opposite the hotel entrance.

Behind him were thirty guards, twelve archers, and Diaz's mercenary group, totaling more than sixty people, who surrounded the inn three times.

Wilford cleared his throat.

"Listen up, you people inside!"

He took a deep breath and raised his voice an octave.

"You're surrounded! If you know what's good for you, come out yourself, or I'll come in and arrest you!"

There was no sound from inside the hotel.

Wilford frowned, and just as he was about to call out again, the hotel door opened.

A figure walked out from inside.

She wore a deep purple dress, her three braids draped over her shoulders, and she held a black cat in her arms. The cat's eyes were green, narrowed to slits in the morning light, and it lazily yawned.

Hena stood on the steps, looking down at Wilford.

Wilford gripped the dagger tightly.

"You're the leader of that wandering caravan?"

Hena did not answer.

Her gaze swept across Wilford's face, then over the guards, archers, and mercenaries, before finally settling back on Wilford's face.

"Mayor."

Wilford paused for a moment.

How did you know I was the mayor?

"Your demeanor," Hena said calmly, "gives you the air of a town lord."

Wilford's lips curled up slightly, but he quickly suppressed it. "Don't try to get close to me! Tell me, what are you doing in Frosttown?"

Hena stroked the cat in her arms.

The cat purred.

"Mayor, I think you've misunderstood."

"Misunderstand?"

"We are not some wandering caravan," Hena said calmly. "We are believers."

Wilford's eyes narrowed.

"believer?"

"A devout believer." Hena's gaze softened. "We heard about Bishop Wayne's deeds back in the Northern Continent. He single-handedly healed witches, sheltered refugees, and protected the entire town during the demonic tide. How could we not come to pay homage to such a good man?"

Wilford opened his mouth.

"We have no other intentions." Hena pulled the cat closer to her. "Our main purpose in coming to Frosttown is to experience divine grace. That's all."

Wilford looked at her.

He couldn't quite put his finger on what was wrong.

But the woman's gaze made him uncomfortable.

"You say you're a believer?"

"Yes."

"How can you prove it?"

Hena didn't rush to answer.

She glanced down at the cat in her arms. The cat opened its eyes, its bright green pupils staring at Wilford for a couple of breaths before closing its eyes again.

Hena looked up.

"Mayor, I don't need to prove anything."

Wilford's brow furrowed even more.

"No proof? Then you can just say whatever you want?"

"I was planning to visit Bishop Wayne at church today," Hena said calmly. "Since the mayor is here, why don't we go together? With you watching over me, nothing can go wrong."

Wilford remained silent.

he was thinking.

What this woman said seems to make sense.

If she is truly a believer, then bringing over sixty people to arrest her would only make him look bad. If she is not a believer, then going to church with her would allow Bishop Wayne to expose her, and she wouldn't be able to escape.

"OK."

Wilford loosened his grip on the dagger.

"I'll go to church with you."

Hena nodded slightly.

"Thank you for your kindness, Mayor."

She walked down the steps, holding the black cat in her arms, her skirt fluttering gently in the morning breeze.

Wilford followed behind.

Lancelot suddenly walked out of the hotel at that moment.

He wore paladin armor, but no helmet, revealing his young face. Gregory followed behind, along with several other paladins, filing out in single file.

Wilford stopped in his tracks.

He turned his head and looked at Lancelot.

His gaze lingered on Lancelot's armor for a moment.

Cross emblem.

You read that right.

That's the Vatican's symbol.

Wilford's eyes narrowed. He had seen this kind of armor before, in the Vatican's catalogues. The standard equipment of paladins, the style of the armor, the pattern of the coat of arms—it was exactly the same as the one worn by the man before him.

"Are you a paladin?"

Lancelot looked at him.

"It used to be."

"once?"

Lancelot placed his hand on his chest.

"We have renounced our religious membership and no longer serve the Royal Capital Church. Now we serve only Hena... and Lady Shurasa."

Wilford's brow furrowed even more.

"Had their religious affiliation?"

"Yes."

Why?

Lancelot remained silent for a moment.

"You might not believe it, but the seven of us were sent out by the Vatican on a mission. On the way, we were ambushed by a gang and almost lost our lives. It was Ms. Shurasa who saved us."

"plot?"

"Yes." Lancelot's tone remained unchanged. "We've dealt with those human traffickers. We're free now."

Wilford didn't believe it.

But he didn't ask any further questions.

It wasn't that he didn't want to ask, but Hena had already walked more than ten steps away with the cat, and he had to follow.