Witch Training Manual: My Water Magic Is Wrong

The moon is still hanging in the sky.

The sounds from the top of the hill began to increase.

It wasn't just one person.

It involves many individuals.

Wayne stood on the hillside, watching those gray-white figures crawl out of the soil one by one.

One, two, four, eight.

more and more.

On the hilltop, the walkers didn't attack Wilford. They didn't even look at him; they were looking at each other. Grayish-white fingers reached out and touched another grayish-white arm. A bluish-gray face moved closer to another bluish-gray face, as if recognizing someone, or perhaps confirming something.

Then they started.

It was not an attack.

It's a different kind of activity.

Wayne looked away.

Mayfair was moved away as well.

Both of them looked up at the moon at the same time.

Finally, Mayfair couldn't help but speak up.

"Mr. Wayne."

"Um?"

Should we help him?

"I can't help him. The truth is too cruel. I'm afraid he can't handle it."

Mayfair was a little embarrassed at this moment, after all, this was a device he had created himself, and it was hard not to make people suspicious of his intentions.

"Mr. Wayne."

"Um."

"This phenomenon... is recorded in the necromancer's books."

Wayne glanced at her.

"Is there a record?"

"Yes," Mayfair's voice was soft, as if reciting a memorized text, "Undead can exhibit behavioral patterns from their previous lives under certain conditions. If these conditions are related to their reproductive instincts, they will..."

She paused for a moment.

It can simulate reproductive behavior.

Wayne remained silent for two breaths.

"You mean, it's normal for them to have silver parties?"

Mayfair's face flushed red.

"I...I didn't say that."

"That's what you mean."

Mayfair opened her mouth, wanting to refute, but couldn't find a reason to. That was indeed what she meant, but she was too embarrassed to say it aloud.

The sounds from the top of the hill grew increasingly chaotic.

Wilford's voice was mixed in, intermittent.

"Lulu...you...when did you learn so much?"

No one answered him.

"Lulu... slow down..."

Still no answer.

"Lulu...I...I can't take it anymore..."

The panel popped up.

[North Slope Cemetery - Real-time Updates]

[Number of zombies: Over twenty, and continuing to increase. Their distribution ranges from the top of the slope to the entire gentle slope, with density decreasing radially from Wilford's location.]

[Wilford's current condition: confused and physically exhausted. He is still calling "Lulu," but his voice is getting weaker and the intervals are getting longer. He has not yet discovered the truth; this may be the goddess's final act of mercy towards him.]

[Note: This cemetery is the final resting place for many people from Cuiying Street. Over the past two hundred years, no fewer than a hundred have been buried here. They were colleagues in life, and neighbors in death. Tonight, they finally have a chance to exchange their professional experiences.]

[Note 2: If it weren't for Mayfair's drug, Wilford would probably have fainted long ago; fortunately, the drug was very potent.]

No one answered Wilford.

He heard other sounds.

It wasn't just one person's breath, it was the breath of many. Thick, thin, long, short, they surged in from all directions, surrounding him.

The sounds from the top of the hill grew increasingly chaotic.

Wilford twisted his hands behind his back, and the knot loosened slightly from the repeated friction. He pulled off his blindfold.

Under the moonlight, a dozen grayish-blue faces stared at him. Rotting, mutilated, with empty eye sockets, and mouths stretched to their ears.

Some still retained their original features, while others had rotted away to the point where only a skeleton remained with a layer of skin stretched over it. They huddled together, surrounding Wilford.

Wilford's pupils contracted sharply.

He wanted to call out.

His throat felt like it was being choked, and he couldn't make a sound. His eyeballs trembled violently in their sockets, as if they were about to jump out.

Then he rolled his eyes.

In the last second before he lost consciousness, a thought flashed through his mind.

Goddess.

I know I was being a bit absurd.

But at least I've sponsored so many orphans.

You won't give up on me, will you?

No way?

Immediately afterwards, Wilford leaned back and fell straight onto the grass, completely unconscious.

The walkers stopped.

The female zombie closest to Wilford tilted her head and glanced at him. She withdrew her hand, turned around, and looked at her companions behind her.

It's as if it's saying: It's been ruined.

The hilltop was quiet for a moment.

Then the walkers started walking back one by one.

Some crawled back to their graves, some lay down on the spot, and some fell apart halfway there, their bones scattered on the grass, making a rustling sound.

The sound of the soil turning over rose and fell.

In less than a quarter of an hour, the top of the hill returned to calm.

Wilford was left lying alone on the grass, his clothes disheveled, his face pale, and his breathing weak.

Mayfair stood on the hillside, looking at the now peaceful graveyard, and remained silent for a long time.

"Mr. Wayne."

"Um."

"Is he alright?"

Wayne walked over, knelt down, and placed his hand on Wilford's pulse. It was beating a little fast, but still strong. He checked Wilford's eyes; his pupils were normal. He pressed on his chest; his breathing was steady.

"It's nothing. She was just scared and fainted. She'll be fine after a rest."

"That's good." Mayfair paused. "If he wakes up and finds himself..."

He won't find out.

Mayfair looked at him.

Wayne took out a potion to clear memories and poured it into Wilford's mouth.

"This potion will make him forget everything."

Wayne put the handkerchief away.

"He may be absurd, but he funded the construction of the welfare home in Frost Town. Every year, the orphans in the town receive a set of winter clothes, a pair of shoes, and a bag of flour. No one knew he was doing these things, not even his wife."

He stood up and brushed the grass clippings off his knees.

He thought the goddess couldn't see the ridiculous things he did. But he didn't know that the goddess had seen them all.

Mayfair was silent for a moment.

Are you trying to excuse him?

“No,” Wayne said. “I’m just stating a fact. A person can be both a jerk and a good person at the same time; the two things are not contradictory.”

Mayfair looked at Wilford thoughtfully.

"You're right," she said.

These two things are indeed not contradictory.

Wayne placed his hand on Wilford's forehead, and water elemental energy seeped from his palm, flowing down his forehead.

Wilford's face returned to normal after turning pale.

My breathing has become much more stable.

The panel popped up.

[Treatment Report - Wilford]

Treatment included: emotional support and management of the shock.

[Treatment Outcome: Physical strength restored to approximately 60%, with significant psychological calming effect. There will be no aftereffects upon waking, but he may experience nightmares for a period of time. The specific content of the dreams is uncertain, but it is highly likely to be about Lulu.]

[Note 2: He was still talking in his sleep while unconscious. His brain had already deleted the images he shouldn't have seen, retaining only the "pleasure" parts. This is a high-level self-protection mechanism that ordinary people can't learn.]

[Note: He was seen naked hanging from the window of a brothel by the whole town during the day, and at night in the cemetery… It seems the goddess's tests for him were a little more numerous than for others. He is a man worthy of respect.]

[Note: Fortunately, the female walker was largely intact, and Wilford did not suffer too much.]

Just then.

The blood moon hung high in the sky.

Bang!

The soil beneath the old tree was completely blasted open.