Witch Training Manual: My Water Magic Is Wrong

Three days passed quickly.

Today is the day the Witch Cult departs.

Before dawn, before the fog had fully dissipated in Frost Town, there was already activity on the streets. Not loud noises, but rather the kind of subtle, scattered sounds—footsteps, wheels, and hushed conversations—mingled with the morning mist, surging in from all directions.

The Witch Order was among the first groups to relocate from Frosttown.

They had been rooted in Frost Town for over a decade, accumulating wealth far beyond what outsiders imagined. Over a decade of management, over a decade of stockpiling, over a decade of covert development—all of it was packed up and taken away on this day.

They had their own independent caravans.

It wasn't something we put together temporarily; we've been raising it all along.

The caravan was small, with about twenty wagons and forty or fifty people. All the caravan's employees were of slave origin, bought by the religious order from childhood and raised in the caravan, learning to drive, find their way, read, and do accounting.

They don't know who they are working for.

All they knew was that their master was a very wealthy merchant who lived far away and never appeared in the caravan. All instructions were relayed through a middleman. The contract was a soul contract, as strict as it could be.

But one could sense from the words of the soul contract that the employer was not a stingy person. Wages were never delayed, food, clothing, or other necessities were never skimped on, and there were even extra bonuses during holidays. It was much better than working for those nobles outside.

So they can work with peace of mind.

It doesn't matter who the employer is.

The carriages set off from the foot of the hill and headed south along the main street. More than twenty carriages lined up in a row, their wheels rumbling over the stone pavement, the sound carrying far in the quiet morning.

The morning air was chilly and there weren't many pedestrians on the street, but some people stopped when they saw the caravan turning onto the main street from the foot of the mountain.

"This is... the Anville caravan?"

"The second largest caravan in Frost Town. Look at that flag, the double-headed eagle emblem of the Anville family."

"Why did they leave so early?"

"Haven't you heard? The kingdom has issued a relocation order, and Frost Town is on the first list of towns to be relocated. The kingdom will be sending people next month, and the whole town will have to move."

"But they're not coming until next month, why are they leaving now?"

"They are large merchant caravans with their own routes. They leave early, arrive early, and settle in early. By the time we commoners slowly move along with the kingdom's people, they have already opened for business in new places."

"That's true."

"It seems the kingdom's relocation order is genuine."

"It seems the world is about to change."

The first few carriages of the caravan stopped in front of the church.

The coachman reined in the horse, which snorted and stamped its hooves on the stone pavement, exhaling hot air from its nostrils.

The carriage curtain was lifted.

A man stepped out of the carriage.

He wore a dark gray noble robe with a silver brooch at the collar, engraved with the double-headed eagle emblem of the Anville family.

He looked sickly.

The caravan manager came forward, bowing and folding his hands in front of him, his expression a mixture of respect and nervousness.

"Lord Anthony..."

The onlookers whispered among themselves.

"Is this the owner of the caravan?"

"Anthony...why does that name sound so familiar?"

"Oh! I remember now, he's Baron Antony. I didn't expect him to look like this."

The whispers grew louder as seven or eight women followed Anthony into the church.

"I heard that he paid a high price to book the entire church today, to buy the morning prayers for this morning."

"No wonder a man with so many women is so weak."

"Shh! Don't talk about nobles so presumptuously, or you'll have your teeth knocked out."

Anthony didn't stop walking; the hem of his robe fluttered gently in the morning breeze as seven or eight women filed in behind him.

The church doors closed behind them.

Wayne was waiting in the church foyer early on.

He was the only one in the front hall.

He stood beside the podium, holding no scriptures, just standing there, his gaze fixed on the direction of the door.

I saw the man in the lead.

Wayne smiled slightly.

"Miss Christina, you've arrived."

The man paused for a moment.

He looked surprised.

On that pale, sickly face, the corners of his mouth slowly turned up, and the smile spread from the corners of his mouth to the corners of his eyes.

"Oh?" Her voice changed, from a deep male voice to a clear and gentle female voice. "Mr. Wayne recognizes me?"

Wayne walked down from the podium.

A person's appearance may change, but their scent and soul will not.

Christina's smile deepened.

"Mr. Wayne is indeed no ordinary person."

Christina stopped pretending. Her figure twisted in the air, her dark gray noble robe transformed into a deep purple dress, and her sickly male face reverted to her delicate female features.

The seven or eight women behind her gradually returned to their original appearances. Among them were Emily, Tilulu, Dora, and others.

The reason they turned into strangers is inseparable from Christina's fourth-tier ability—collective appearance bestowal, which changes the appearance of those around her while altering her own.

Christina stepped forward.

"Is everything ready?"

Wayne didn't say much.

He untied a storage bag from his waist, flicked the opening with his finger, and the bag opened. With a gentle swipe of his finger, bottles of magic potions flew out of the bag and landed neatly on the ground.

Rows and columns.

More than three hundred bottles covered half of the front hall floor.

"Three hundred and sixty bottles." Wayne fastened the storage bag back to his waist. "Not a single bottle more, not a single bottle less."

Christina's gaze swept over the potions, her fingers twitching slightly inside her sleeve. She crouched down, picked up a bottle, looked at it, and then smelled it.

"The quality is even better than the previous batch."

"After reaching the fourth tier, the purity of water magic has increased," Wayne said calmly. "The potion's effects are better than before."

Christina stood up and looked at Wayne, speaking earnestly.

"Mr. Wayne, you've worked so hard these past few days! Not only did you have to rush to make so many potions, but you also had to help the sisters cleanse the curses time and time again."

That's right!

For the past three days, besides making potions, Wayne has been repeatedly helping the witches cleanse their curses.

Emily's small group, in particular, came and went repeatedly. They seemed to enjoy cleaning the petals of their own curses.

Wayne smiled.

"It's my duty. After all, you paid me accordingly, didn't you?"

Christina didn't respond.

She quickly put the potion into her bag.

After the last potion went into her storage bag, Christina pulled out another storage bag and threw it at Wayne.

"There are five hundred gold coins inside," Christina said casually. "The extra ones are for my gratitude to the goddess."

Wayne weighed the storage bag in his hand and then tucked it into his sleeve.

May your journey be smooth and may the goddess bless you.

The voice just fell.

A figure rushed out from behind Christina, threw herself into Wayne's arms, wrapped her arms around his waist, and buried her face in his chest.