Witch Training Manual: My Water Magic Is Wrong

After Srian left, Wayne's lips curled up slightly.

It wasn't an accident that the storage bag was blown away by the wind.

Wayne deliberately loosened it.

From the moment he appeared, his water element had already silently spread into the surrounding air. Wind mages are skilled at manipulating air currents, but the more skilled they are at manipulating air currents, the easier it is for them to overlook other things mixed in with the air.

Srian thought he was in control of the situation.

In fact, from the moment he stepped onto this battlefield, every breath he took was inhaling the magical particles that Wayne had mixed into the water elemental.

The recipes for those potions are not complicated.

Two muscle relaxants, one nerve paralyzer, plus a little of his own concoction of an inhibitor specifically targeting the magic circuit.

Individually, none of these three ingredients are particularly potent. However, when combined and continuously absorbed into the body in a highly diluted state by water elements, even a fifth-tier archmage could potentially be paralyzed.

Wayne stood there, watching Srian's figure disappear into the woods, then let out a soft breath.

"Those potions... I wonder how effective they are."

He muttered something to himself, then walked towards the tornadoes that were still spinning in place. The wind walls spun rapidly, emitting a low rumble, and the grass on the ground was torn and twisted.

An ordinary fourth-tier warrior would probably not even dare to approach, but he simply adjusted his breathing and covered his entire body with battle aura.

Then I stepped inside.

Unlike ordinary fourth-tier warriors, Wayne's physical strength is two levels higher than that of warriors of the same tier. This is the result of long-term tempering with magical potions, and it is also the source of his confidence in intercepting a fifth-tier archmage alone.

Wayne walked about three miles and then slowed down.

In the clearing ahead, Sriyan lay curled up on the ground, motionless. His robes were covered in dirt and fallen leaves, and his breathing was faint, as if he had truly been paralyzed.

Wayne did not approach immediately.

He stopped about thirty paces away from Sriyan, looked at the huddled figure from a distance, and then popped up the panel.

[Srian - Current Status]

[Status: Muscle paralysis, blocked magic circuits, and significantly reduced mobility. Consciousness remains.]

[Note: He's faking it. He's indeed quite affected by your potion, but far from being completely incapacitated. He's clutching a compressed wind elemental rune in his right palm; if you come within ten steps, this rune will explode in your face.]

[Note 2: He thought his acting was flawless; the wild animal's instincts told him you were coming closer. But he forgot one thing: hunters don't hold their breath when they're playing dead.]

Wayne stood thirty paces away, looking at Srian's curled-up body on the ground, and his lips twitched slightly.

Playing dead.

They're putting on quite a show.

His breathing was weak, his body remained completely still, and he didn't even blink. If the panel hadn't betrayed him outright, an ordinary person might have actually gotten within ten steps.

Wayne did not approach.

He didn't speak, nor did he move forward.

He simply stood there, calmly pulling a new bottle of potion from his pocket. The glass bottle gleamed in the sunlight, and the liquid inside was a pale yellow color, appearing harmless.

Wayne uncorked the bottle, then aimed it at Srian, flicked his wrist, and the liquid inside turned into a thin stream of water that landed precisely on the back of Srian's neck.

Srilian's body convulsed suddenly, and the wind elemental rune in his palm slipped from his hand and rolled to the ground.

Wayne still didn't come any closer.

He took out another bottle, uncorked it, and once again, from a distance of fifty paces, steadily poured the liquid onto Sriyan's back.

Srilian's convulsions became more intense.

Finally, he couldn't hold back any longer.

He suddenly rolled over, lay on the ground, panting heavily, his eyes filled with anger and humiliation.

"You...you drugged me from a distance...what kind of fighting style is that? If you're so capable, fight me face to face, fair and square!"

Wayne finally started walking, unhurriedly.

"Upright and honorable?"

He repeated the word, then, as if he had heard something interesting, a slight twitch appeared at the corner of his mouth.

"You're at Rank 5, and I'm at Rank 4. You're ranked higher than me, yet you talk to me about fairness and honor. Don't you find that ridiculous?"

Srian had no rebuttal.

Wayne bent down, picked up the wind elemental rune that had rolled to the ground, and weighed it in his hand.

"This thing is well-forged; it must have cost a lot of money, right?"

As he spoke, he casually placed the runestone into his storage bag. Srilian watched his runestone being taken away, his gaze darkening, but he remained silent. He took a deep breath, his tone softening.

"If you spare my life today, I can pretend I've never met you and won't hold it against you. Let me go, and we'll part ways here, never to cross paths again."

Wayne laughed after hearing Srian's words.

"Don't you think this is cool?"

Srian was taken aback.

"After you've tormented someone, you say, 'Spare my life, and we'll leave each other alone,' which does sound quite convincing."

He crouched down to meet Sriyan's gaze.

"But have you ever considered that if I were the one who collapsed today, would you spare my life?"

Srian didn't say a word.

Wayne stood up and dusted off his hands.

"Your name is Sriyan, the chief retainer of the Earl of Bellino's manor. Born a commoner, you climbed to the fifth rank through talent and ruthlessness, and have been working in the Earl's manor for over a decade, securing your position."

Wayne spoke calmly.

"Your first wife ran off with a bard. Your second wife ran off with your apprentice. Your third wife ran off with your Debon..."

Srian's pupils contracted sharply.

He didn't speak. But his eyes changed, from initial anger and humiliation to an indescribable astonishment.

He never mentioned these things in public. No one knew anything about his past.

"Who...who are you?"

Wayne did not answer.

Srian's pupils trembled.

Every word Wayne said struck a chord with the corners of his heart he least wanted to be touched. Those secrets he had buried deep within his heart for years were now exposed to the light of day.

Srilian opened his mouth and questioned.

"How long have you been spying on me?"

Wayne shook his head.

"I haven't been spying on you. This is our first meeting."

Sri stared intently at Wayne, his eyes filled with disbelief. He frantically tried to process his numb mind, searching for a plausible explanation—prophetic magic? An intelligence network? Or some kind of mind-reading technique he'd never heard of before?

None of the answers make sense.

He never spoke publicly about his past. The failures of his three marriages, the true reasons each wife left—even those closest to him in the Earl's household didn't fully know the details. These things shouldn't be known to anyone else.