Witch Training Manual: My Water Magic Is Wrong

When the church was mentioned, Wilford's wife looked at the butler.

The butler shrank back, feeling stared at.

"Madam, I... I just said it offhand..."

Wilford's wife ignored him and turned to her husband.

"Wilford, what do you think?"

Wilford remained seated in his chair.

He certainly knew the church's reputation.

Judging from the outrageous acts of the previous owners, it's clear they were all involved in scandalous affairs: bathing in holy water, patronizing five girls in one night, and running off to Cuiying Street to solicit prostitutes without paying, only to be chased and cursed by the madam for three blocks. Each one was more outrageous than the last, and each one met a quicker end.

And then there's the capital. The king is an idiot, and the pope is said to have some strange quirks. The entire church, from top to bottom, is rotten to the core.

How good can a young, new bishop be?

But Thomas, who had been working as the church doorman for the past few years, had been keeping an eye on things for him. From the messages Thomas sent back, this newcomer was indeed quite different. He didn't gamble, seduce, steal, or rob; he cleaned the church spotlessly and even hired a few young girls as maids. Yesterday, he even took in the old man's granddaughter, saying he wanted to treat her illness.

Thomas had a good opinion of this person.

Wilford pondered.

"That bishop, we could give it a try."

……

In the evening, the church door was forced open from the outside.

Thomason's voice came in first:

"Your Excellency! Is Your Excellency the Bishop here?"

Thomason's voice came from the front, tinged with an unusual panic. His footsteps hurried through the main hall, and as he pushed open the side door, Thomason's face appeared in the doorway, panting heavily.

"Sir, someone is injured, and it's very serious."

Wayne put down the medicine bottle in his hand and walked quickly to the front hall.

Seven or eight people, all residents from the foot of the mountain, were gathered around the church entrance, dressed in faded old clothes. Among them, a thin woman knelt on the ground, holding a boy of about eight or nine years old in her arms. The boy's face was as white as paper, his lips were blue, and his chest barely rose and fell. There was a depression in his left ribcage, clearly indicating a broken bone.

The woman was trembling all over, tears streaming down her face, and she kept repeating the same sentence.

"My lord, please, save him..."

The man standing next to him, presumably the child's father, was wringing his hands helplessly, wanting to touch the child but not daring to, his eyes reddening.

Wayne crouched down and placed his fingers on the boy's pulse.

weak.

Very faint.

But it's still jumping.

"How did you get hurt?" he asked.

Someone in the crowd spoke up.

"It was a horse kicking him. He was walking peacefully down the street when suddenly a horse charged at him and knocked him flying."

"Whose horse is it?"

No one answered.

Wayne raised his head, his gaze sweeping over the faces of those people. Some lowered their heads, some looked away, and some hesitated to speak.

An older man finally spoke.

"Yes... it's the mayor's son. Young Master Wilford."

The person next to him tugged at his sleeve, but the man shook it off.

"What are you afraid of? I'm telling the truth! It was young Master Wilford's horse! It hit someone and ran off without even stopping! So many people on the street saw it!"

Some people in the crowd echoed this sentiment.

"Yes, I saw it too."

"Riding a black horse, running incredibly fast, completely oblivious to whether there were people on the street."

"Young Master? Does the mayor's son get to just hit people like that?"

The most urgent task is to save the children.

Wayne did not press the matter further.

He unbuttoned the boy's collar, revealing a sunken chest. The injury was serious; at least two ribs were broken, one of which was protruding inwards, likely damaging his lung.

The woman's crying grew louder.

"Can you save him, sir? Can you save him?"

Wayne did not answer.

He raised his hand and placed his palm on the boy's chest.

The water element begins to circulate.

The first step in the repair is to reposition the broken bone.

Wayne gently pressed his fingers along the collapsed area, and the boy twitched in his unconscious state. He used his elemental powers to lift the broken bones and push them back into place inch by inch.

The woman's sobs were stuck in her throat.

The surroundings were so quiet that only the sound of breathing could be heard.

After the ribs were repositioned, the lungs came into play. Water seeped into the alveoli, gradually dissolving the stagnant blood, allowing it to dissolve into the bloodstream, and then be expelled through circulation. The boy's breathing began to deepen, the bluish-purple color on his lips slowly faded, and his pale face finally regained some color.

Someone in the crowd gasped.

"He's alive..."

"It really came to life..."

"Amazing..."

The woman's knees buckled, and she knelt on the ground, her forehead hitting the stone floor with a loud thud.

"Sir, thank you, thank you so much..."

The boy's breathing became more and more steady, his chest began to rise and fall rhythmically, and the sunken area had returned to its original shape.

Wayne released his grip.

He pulled a small porcelain bottle from his pocket, uncorked it, pinched the boy's chin, and poured the medicine down his throat. The pale green liquid slid down his throat, and the boy's Adam's apple bobbed.

"This is for treating internal injuries," Wayne said. "After you get back, have him lie down and not get out of bed for three days. On the first day, he can only drink thin porridge; on the second day, he can eat soft foods; and on the third day, he can eat normal meals."

The woman nodded frantically, trembling and unable to speak.

The people around fell silent for a moment, and then a flood of praise poured out like water from a burst dam.

"Your Excellency the Bishop is truly a miracle doctor!"

"This child looked like he was about to die, but the adults managed to save him!"

"In all my years, this is the first time I've ever seen such skill!"

"Goddess, please bless me! Goddess, please bless me!"

Emma leaned close to Ella's ear, her dark eyes sparkling, and whispered, "Look, sister, Master is amazing."

Ella didn't speak, but the corners of her mouth were turned up, her eyes were curved, and she stared unblinkingly at Wayne's back.

Some people in the crowd began to wipe away tears, some clasped their hands together and prayed towards the church, and some pulled the people next to them and said, "I will come to church from tomorrow onwards." Several older women had already made plans to come for worship first thing tomorrow morning.

"Whom should a bishop like this be letting down if he doesn't come to church?"

"Exactly! If the previous ones had been even a tenth as good as Lord Wayne, I wouldn't have gone three years without stepping into a church."

"Come together tomorrow, and invite Aunt Green from next door too."

The boy's father stood beside him, still unsure what to do with his hands. He rubbed them for a long time before finally taking a step forward, his voice so low it sounded like it was being squeezed out of his throat.

"Sir...that money..."

He swallowed hard, his face turning bright red.

"Can we take a break?"

The house is really..."

Wayne waved his hand.

"No need to rush. When you have your own, then you can repay the Goddess's grace."

The man's lips trembled, his knees buckled, and he kowtowed repeatedly.

"Alright, take the child back and raise him/her first."

The man stood up, nodding frantically, and bent down to take his son from his wife's arms, holding him carefully as if he were a fragile object. The woman got up from the ground, followed her husband, and after a few steps, turned back and bowed deeply to Wayne.

The family of three disappeared into the twilight.

The crowd hadn't dispersed yet.

Some people started walking out, looking back as they went, while others stood still, as if they still had something to say. A middle-aged man in a gray cloth shirt took a step forward and rubbed his hands together.

"Your Excellency, will the church be open tomorrow? I would like to attend services."

Wayne looked at him.

"Open. There is morning prayer every day."

The man nodded and stepped back.

Someone immediately chimed in.

"Me too."

"And me too."

"I'll go back and tell my wife we'll come together tomorrow."

Amidst the cacophony of voices, Wayne's voice wasn't loud, but everyone heard it clearly.

"The doors of the church are always open to those in need."

The crowd finally dispersed.

The church entrance fell silent, with only twilight and the evening breeze remaining.

Lillian stood at the bottom of the steps, her red cloak billowing slightly in the wind. She watched the direction the people had left in, then glanced at Wayne's retreating figure, her lips moving as if she were speaking to herself.

"I knew it! How could someone like Mr. Wayne be a bad person?"

Emma moved closer to her without her noticing.

"Sister Lillian, what are you saying?"

Lillian snapped out of her reverie and smiled.

"It's nothing."