Witch Training Manual: My Water Magic Is Wrong

Wayne stopped in his tracks.

The circle formed by the crowd was not large.

You can see what's going on inside through the gaps between the people.

A burly man grabbed a little girl by the back of her neck. The girl struggled desperately, but she couldn't break free from his grip.

"Stealing!" The burly man shoved her forward, making it clear to everyone around, "Caught red-handed stealing my bread!"

The girl fell to the ground, bracing herself with her hands as she slowly got up. She looked to be fourteen or fifteen years old. Her hair was disheveled, and her face was covered in dust. She raised her head, her gaze sweeping over the onlookers' faces before finally settling on Wayne.

It paused for a moment.

Wayne saw those eyes.

Beautiful purple.

The panel popped up.

Name: Emily

[Identity: Outer member of the Witch Cult]

[Actual age: 19 (adult)]

[Appearance: She has a natural ability to stay young and looks like a little girl.]

[Strength: Peak Second Tier (Shadow Witch)]

[Mission: The higher-ups of the Order heard that the new bishop was traveling with three witches, and suspected that he was some kind of pervert who controlled witches for his own amusement, so they sent her to test him.]

[Current Status: Acting. The burly man who grabbed her was an employee on the periphery of the cult; the bread was deliberately stolen; the conflict was deliberately created. She wanted to see how the bishop would handle this situation.]

[Note: She's already cursed you eighteen times in her mind. Those high-ranking members of the cult should just be killed. Making a nineteen-year-old girl act like a fourteen-year-old, and then having her grabbed by the back of the neck and lifted up, is incredibly humiliating.]

After looking at the panel, Wayne's gaze returned to the girl.

Emily.

Nineteen years old.

Pretend to be a child to test him.

A slight smile appeared on his lips.

interesting.

The burly man was still cursing: "You little brat! You dare steal from me? Do you know who I am? Everyone around here knows me, Old Tom!"

Some people in the crowd echoed this sentiment.

"Exactly! Old Tom's bakery has been open for twenty years, who would dare steal from him?"

"Hit her! Break her arm!"

"Send it to the mine owner!"

Emily huddled on the ground, clutching her head, her shoulders trembling.

It shakes very much like that.

Wayne looked at it for two seconds.

His acting skills are indeed quite good.

If it weren't for the panel, he might have believed it too.

Wayne turned and left.

His foot had just been lifted, not yet landed.

I heard hurried footsteps behind me, followed by a thud.

Someone grabbed his leg.

"My lord! Save me!"

Wayne lowered his head.

Emily knelt on the ground, her hands tightly gripping his legs, looking up at him. Her purple eyes were filled with terror and pleading, tears welling up in them, threatening to spill at any moment.

Judging from this situation, she's completely attached to him.

"Please, sir! I didn't steal it on purpose! I haven't eaten for three days! They're going to sell me to the mines! Please save me!"

All eyes in the crowd were on Wayne.

Someone recognized him.

"A new bishop?"

"The good-looking one?"

"Does the church handle this?"

Old Tom walked over, casually crossed his arms, and looked Wayne up and down.

"Are you... from the church?"

Wayne nodded.

"Wayne, Bishop of Frosttown."

Old Tom looked Wayne up and down.

"Your Excellency," he grinned, revealing a set of yellow teeth, "are you trying to meddle in other people's business?"

Wayne looked down at Emily, who was still clinging to his leg.

Emily looked up, her eyes brimming with tears, her lips trembling; she looked utterly pitiful.

If it weren't for the control panel, he might have actually believed it.

"How much did you steal?"

Old Tom paused for a moment, then laughed even louder.

"You really want to get involved?" He held out a hand.

"Ten copper coins."

Some people in the crowd booed.

"Just ten copper coins?"

"Old Tom, are you trying to extort me?"

"A loaf of bread is worth ten copper coins?"

Old Tom glared at those men, then turned to Wayne.

"My bread is made with refined flour, using a recipe from the capital. It's very expensive. Ten copper coins, not a penny less."

Wayne looked at him.

Two seconds later, the panel popped up.

Name: Tom Marshall

[Identity: Owner of the bakery in Frost Town]

[Actual age: 38 years old]

[Past: In his youth, he was a wandering mercenary who saved up some money to open this bakery. On the surface, he appears to be an honest and upright businessman, but behind the scenes, he's been doing quite a bit.]

[Mistresses: Two. One lives in the outskirts of the town; she's a widow and has given him a son who is seven years old. The other lives in the east of town; she's a vegetable seller and has given him a daughter who is five years old. There's also a bastard child born to a prostitute; he's already dead.]

[Official wife: Martha, thirty-two years old this year, weighing an estimated over 200 pounds, formerly a witch (earth element, first tier). Due to weight gain causing her magic to spiral out of control, she is now unable to cast spells normally, but possesses immense strength. It is said that in her youth she killed a wild boar with a single slap.]

[Note: Martha is very fierce. Old Tom is terrified of her. Every time he cheats on his wife with someone else, he has to come up with a hundred excuses to cover it up when he gets home.]

Wayne's gaze fell on old Tom's face.

Old Tom felt a little uneasy under his gaze.

"Ten coppers," Wayne said. "I'll pay for her."

Old Tom paused for a moment.

He had initially thought that the young priest would try to bargain with him or use his church status to pressure him, but he hadn't expected the other party to be so agreeable.

"Then... then you can pay me."

Wayne pulled out his money pouch from his pocket.

Old Tom's eyes were immediately glued on.

The money bag was bulging, containing at least dozens of gold coins.

He swallowed hard.

"Your Excellency," he suddenly corrected himself, "I misspoke earlier."

Wayne looked at him.

"Not ten copper coins."

"Ten V-Shields!"

The crowd erupted in uproar.

"Ten V-Shields??"

"Old Tom, are you crazy?"

"Ten Viagra Shields for one loaf of bread? Why don't you just rob someone?"

Old Tom ignored those people.

Wayne stared at him.

Old Tom grew increasingly uneasy under his gaze, but the money pouch was simply too tempting. He gritted his teeth and steeled himself.

"Give it to me if you want, or get lost. I can send this brat to the mine and sell him to human traffickers for a few bucks."

Old Tom's eyes were glued to his money pouch, his Adam's apple bobbing. Ten Viking shields were enough for him to sell bread for three months.

"Will you give it to me or not?" he asked again.

Emily was still clinging to Wayne's leg, her face buried in his calf, her shoulders shaking. But in her heart, she had already cursed the director of this play a hundred times.

That cult leader is really something, she can't even find a reliable one. They agreed on ten copper coins, and now she's suddenly raised the price to ten Viggoths. How is this supposed to go on?

And where did that old Tom's hand go when he grabbed her? I'll definitely find a chance to chop his hand off later.

She cursed inwardly, tears still streaming down her face, and looked up at Wayne with a pitiful expression.

"My lord... please, please don't worry about me... ten Vite Shields are too many... I... I'm not worth that much..."

Lillian couldn't hold back any longer.

How can you be so shameless?

She took a step forward and glared at old Tom.

"Ten Vigen Shields for a loaf of bread? Are you trying to rob someone? They just said ten copper coins, and now the price has increased a hundredfold?"

Old Tom glanced at her sideways.

"Little girl, mind your own business. Is it any of your concern?"

"I……"

Lillian was about to say something when Wayne raised his hand to stop her.