Witch Training Manual: My Water Magic Is Wrong

Wayne and Alice got off the carriage.

Alice stood in front of the door in a daze for a while until Wayne reminded her that she had arrived home, which brought her back to her senses.

Wayne glanced at her and asked.

Are you still troubled by your friend's situation?

He noticed Wayne's strange look.

Alice woke up immediately.

"Brother, you're right! My friend should find some hobbies! She was just having too much free time, that's why she was overthinking things!"

After saying that, she seemed to have shed a layer of weight, and even her steps became lighter.

The panel popped up at this point.

Alice's Current Decision

[Status: She has decided to revive her hobby. Her greatest hobby is giving others her carefully concocted potions without harming them.]

[Note: You've shown her the right path. She's decided to increase the dosage of the drug; time will tell.]

[Note 2: You closed one door, but completely opened another.]

The two quickly entered the house.

The clothes were also distributed.

Emma was very happy to receive the clothes.

"How beautiful! Miss Alice, is this for me?"

"Yes, your brother picked out a few items for each of you."

Emma hugged the new dress, examining it over and over several times, then turned to Wayne with a big smile: "Master, thank you!!"

Vera, standing behind, was visibly flustered as she took the clothes. She glanced down at the neatly folded dress in the bag; the fabric was soft, the stitching fine—a quality she had never experienced before. Her fingers tightened slightly as she gripped the bag. "My lady… this is too much trouble…"

Wayne waved his hand: "Once we get to the capital, we'll need some decent clothes. You'll be going to all sorts of occasions with me, so you can't dress too shabbily."

Vera opened her mouth, but ultimately hugged the bag of clothes to her chest and nodded gently: "Um... thank you, sir."

On the other side of the capital, inside the stronghold of the old-fashioned papacy.

The news had just arrived that Cecil had officially appointed Wayne as the new head of the Black Order, and the appointment document had been stamped and was in effect.

A young monk stood by the table, his tone clearly puzzled: "Master, the Black Order has been empty for almost three years, and they can't even find a single capable worker. Cecil put that young man who just returned from the border into a place like that—what kind of trouble can he possibly cause?"

The person in the main seat did not answer immediately.

He stroked the chair, then slowly began to speak: "It is precisely because the Black Order is now an empty shell that we should be even more vigilant. An empty shell, without any constraints, without any old grievances to carry out, without any faction to place its members. This kind of place is precisely the easiest to start from scratch, without any restrictions. Cecil chose his student to take over because of this."

The young cultivator paused for a moment, then refuted.

The man at the head of the table continued, "Go and relay my message immediately. Tell the Holy Knights to make some progress in the next few days. Haven't we received intelligence about several witch activities in the capital recently? Have them pick one or two places where they can act, and deal with them cleanly and efficiently, making quite a commotion. I want everyone to see that it is the Holy Knights, not that Black Order that barely exists, that truly upholds the authority of the Papacy in the capital."

The young monk bowed slightly.

"Understood, I'll go down and make the arrangements."

The person in the main seat continued.

"Have the other three witches been identified?"

The disciple bowed and replied, "It's been investigated, Master. Signs of a fierce struggle were indeed found at the scene, and Lucian, the fifth-tier knight of the Dragonblood Knights, is indeed dead. There have been personnel changes within the Dragonblood Knights."

The man continued, "What about the corpses of the three witches?"

The disciple paused, his tone tinged with caution: "The other side of the place where they fought is a cliff, leading down to a deep abyss. We sent people to check the cliff edge; there are obvious signs of a fall, but the demonic energy below the abyss is too dense to search further. If nothing unexpected happens, those three witches are already dead."

The person in the main seat was silent for a moment, then slowly nodded: "Dead men tell no tales, that's fine. Although Lucian is dead, at least those three witches didn't fall into their hands. As long as no one ends up alive with Cecil, this move isn't a complete loss."

The disciple bowed slightly and left the room.

After the door closed, the room became quiet again.

The person in the main seat leaned back in their chair.

The Black Order.

What was Cecil planning by stuffing his student into a place that had been empty for almost three years? Was he trying to use the Black Order as a starting point to rebuild a system free from the constraints of the old school? Or was he simply trying to give the young man a transitional stepping stone, to be transferred to a powerful department once the storm had passed?

He couldn't yet fully grasp Cecil's intentions in this move. But one thing he was certain of was that the young man named Wayne, who could kill a fifth-tier knight at the fourth tier and escape unscathed from the encirclement of three witches, even turning the tables and killing them all, possessed enough strength and composure to put him on the list of people he needed to take seriously.

The person in the main seat muttered to himself.

"It seems I need to find an opportunity to meet this young man."

At that moment, he seemed to be weighing something, then he raised his gaze to the servants below: "Go and make arrangements. Send an invitation to the newly appointed head of the Black Order. Tell him I'd like to invite him for tea."

The servant bowed immediately: "Yes, Master."

Night fell quickly.

Wayne received Carrosso's invitation.

The gist of the message was that, having heard that Bishop Wayne had returned to Beijing to assume his new post, he had prepared a cup of tea and invited him to meet in the private reception room in the backyard of St. George's Cathedral the day after tomorrow, as a token of his hospitality.

Wayne's gaze lingered on the signature. Cardinal Caruso Valentine, one of the key figures in the Old School, and the de facto ruler of St. George's Cathedral.

Carosso's move was indeed unexpected. He had originally thought that given the manpower and reputation the old faction had lost over him, they would at least give him the cold shoulder for a while, or trip him up in formal occasions at the Papacy.

To his surprise, Carrosso not only did not choose to avoid or confront, but instead took the initiative to extend a friendly signal.

But Wayne knew very well that a cunning old fox like him wouldn't invite a young man from the opposing camp for tea for no reason. This meeting the day after tomorrow was definitely not just a simple chat.

Wayne placed the invitation on the table and sighed, "Oh well, we'll deal with whatever comes our way."

He put the invitation in the drawer and didn't think about it anymore. What's meant to happen will happen; instead of worrying beforehand, he should focus on doing what he could do right now.