Witch Training Manual: My Water Magic Is Wrong

Wayne squatted in front of the stall, holding the dark red vine in his hand, examining it over and over several times.

The vine is dry, and the scale-like patterns are still relatively clear, but there are several cracks, and the color is not pure enough.

The condition is so-so.

But it is indeed Dragon Blood Vine.

The stall owner was a thin old man wearing a greasy leather coat, squinting at Wayne. Seeing Wayne looking at him closely, he grinned, revealing a few yellowed teeth.

"This person... is from the church, right?"

Wayne looked up at him.

The old man glanced at the badge on his chest.

"It's rare to see church members at a flea market." He leaned back and tapped his fingers on his knee. "That thing, a twenty-dimensional gold shield."

Wayne put the dragon blood vine back on the stall.

"fifteen."

The old man paused for a moment, looking Wayne up and down as if he were getting to know him all over again.

"sixteen."

"fifteen."

The old man smacked his lips, picked up the dragon blood vine, and waved it in the light.

"Look at the color, the texture, this..."

"It's cracked," Wayne said. "The color is off; it's been over-exposed to the sun. The medicine's effectiveness will be reduced by at least 30%."

The old man opened his mouth, but swallowed his words.

He put the dragon blood vine back on the stall and remained silent for a few seconds.

"...Fifteen it is."

Wayne counted out fifteen Viking shields from his purse and placed them on the stall. The old man shoved the money into his sleeve as quickly as if afraid Wayne would change his mind.

Wayne put the dragon blood vine into his arms and stood up.

After taking two steps, I heard the old man's voice behind me.

"Oh, um... Your Excellency the Bishop."

Wayne turned around.

The old man huddled behind the stall, glancing around before lowering his voice, "If you want more of this, I have some more."

Wayne looked at him.

"besides?"

The old man nodded.

"Dragon blood vine is something most people don't need, and it's hard to sell. I've bought several plants, and they're all sitting in my warehouse." He paused, "If you're really interested, the price is negotiable."

Wayne was silent for two seconds.

"How much Curry has left?"

The old man stretched out one hand, his five fingers spread wide.

"Five."

Wayne looked at him.

The old man added, "The quality is better than this one; they're all freshly picked and haven't been over-dried. If you want them, I'll charge you twelve per plant."

Wayne did not answer immediately.

The panel popped up.

[Name: Old Hunter]

[Occupation: Flea market general merchandise vendor]

[Actual age: 63 years old]

[Past: In my youth, I was a herb gatherer, spending thirty years in the Frost Mountains. Later, I injured my leg and could no longer climb mountains, so I opened this stall, specializing in buying and reselling mountain products.]

Current status: Short of money. His granddaughter is sick and needs money for medicine.

[Note: The five dragon blood vines he mentioned are real, and their quality is indeed better than this one. He wasn't lying to you; he just wanted to earn more money to treat his granddaughter's illness.]

[Note: His granddaughter's illness is not an ordinary one; it's a backlash of magic. She's an unawakened witch with a special constitution, requiring an awakening potion to cure her. However, he doesn't know this and believes it's a common ailment.]

After reviewing the panel, Wayne's gaze returned to old Hunter.

"Five plants, all of them."

Old Hunter's eyes lit up.

"real?"

Wayne nodded.

"But not now."

Old Hunter paused, his smile freezing on his face.

Wayne continued:

"Bring your granddaughter to church tomorrow."

Old Hunter was even more stunned.

"My granddaughter?"

Wayne looked at him.

"The goddess is guiding me. Your granddaughter is sick and needs the right treatment. Only I can give her the right guidance."

Old Hunter opened his mouth, but no words came out.

He had never told anyone that his granddaughter was sick. So many people came and went at this stall, yet he never uttered a word about it. This person was clearly new to Frost Town; how did he know?

Moreover, his granddaughter's illness was incurable by the doctors in town. They tried countless medications and spent a fortune, but nothing worked.

Can this young bishop cure it?

"Sir..." Old Hunter's voice trembled slightly, "How did you know my granddaughter was ill?"

Wayne looked at him.

"The goddess knows everything."

Old Hunter was stunned.

He had lived most of his life, spending thirty years gathering herbs in the Frost Mountains, witnessing too much life and death, and was no longer a devout believer. He never cared that the priests who came to the church died one after another, or even two after another;

But now, this newly arrived bishop has revealed the truth about his granddaughter in a single sentence. Could it be that there truly are people in this world blessed by God?

"My lord," his voice trembled even more.

"You...you really can cure my granddaughter?"

Wayne did not answer directly.

"Bring her with you tomorrow."

Old Hunter nodded vigorously.

"Come! I definitely will! I'll take her first thing tomorrow morning!"

Wayne nodded and turned to leave.

After walking a few steps, I heard Old Hunter's voice behind me.

"My lord! That... Dragon Blood Vine!"

Wayne turned around. Old Hunter peeked out from behind the stall, his face beaming.

"I'll keep those five plants for you, for free! You can have them all if you cure my granddaughter!"

Wayne looked at him.

"Let's talk about it after he's cured!"

Wayne continued walking forward.

The flea market stalls stood side by side, selling all sorts of things. He slowed his pace, his gaze sweeping over the miscellaneous items.

He stopped in front of a stall.

The stall was piled high with all sorts of junk—rusty candlesticks, chipped scrolls, blackened icons, and other odds and ends whose original purpose was unclear. They all belonged to the church.

The stall owner was a thin, middle-aged man, huddled in a tattered chair. When someone stopped, he lazily raised his eyelids.

"Just browsing, everything is good."

Wayne ignored him.

His gaze fell on a book.

The book was old; the leather cover was worn so badly that its original color was no longer visible, the corners were curled up, and there were several obvious tears. It was haphazardly piled among a bunch of miscellaneous items, with a rusty incense burner on top of it.

Wayne reached out and picked up the book.

The text on the cover was mostly blurred, and only a few letters could be barely made out.

"Exorcising... Evil... Saint..."

The words in the middle are completely illegible.

He opened the cover and could barely make out what it said.

"This scripture is kept in the Holy City Cathedral. All exorcisms and exorcisms can be performed according to this scripture. Those who uphold this scripture must be devout and must not make any mistakes. Those who disobey will be punished by God."

The signature was an unfamiliar name, and below it was the Holy See's emblem of glory.

The panel popped up at this point.

【Item Name: Exorcism Bible (Fragment)】

[Date: Approximately 120 years ago]

[Origin: One of the first relics donated by the Vatican when the Frosttown Church was first built. It was later collected as an important scripture by successive bishops. After the demonic tide destroyed the church, the scripture was lost and, after changing hands several times, ended up in the flea market.]

[Note: The contents of this holy book may save your life in a critical moment. Or they may not. But it's better than nothing.]

The decay of the Frosttown church is a testament to this.

He looked up at the stall owner.

"How much is this book?"

The stall owner glanced at the book in his hand and casually said:

"Five Viking Shields"

Wayne didn't haggle.

He counted out five gold coins and placed them on the stall.

The stall owner was taken aback.

He had expected the young priest to haggle, like those adventurers who came to hunt for bargains, trying to drive the price down to the lowest possible level. Unexpectedly, the priest didn't even haggle and gave it to him directly.

"You...aren't you going to haggle?"

Wayne looked at him.

"It's worth the price."

The stall owner opened his mouth, but couldn't utter a word.

Wayne tucked the holy book into his pocket and turned to leave.

After walking a few steps, I heard the stall owner's voice behind me.

"grown ups!"

Wayne turned around.

The stall owner paused for a moment, then took out three coins from the five and handed them back to Wayne.

"I used to be religious, but I'm not anymore, but this book... two gold coins will suffice."

Wayne bowed slightly.

"The goddess will surely bless you, and the church will always welcome your return."