Witch Training Manual: My Water Magic Is Wrong

Vincent was taken aback.

"at home."

"Bring it over here."

"Why are you bringing it over here?"

"Autopsy." Wayne's voice remained flat. "I'm a priest, not a doctor. Your brother died, and you came to me. Fine, follow church rules. Autopsy, determine the cause of death. If it was indeed caused by the church's medicine, we'll pay whatever compensation is due. If not..."

He paused.

"You have defamed the clergy. According to the Wiggins Law, you shall be flogged twenty times and imprisoned for three months. If you are not from Wiggins, then follow the rules of the church. To blaspheme the temple and slander the servants of God, according to Book VII, Chapter 3 of the Canon, you shall kneel for three days, be flogged thirty times, and be expelled from the territory."

Vincent's face turned pale.

It wasn't the thirty strokes of the cane he was afraid of, but the "autopsy." His brother was perfectly fine; why would he need an autopsy? An autopsy would expose the truth.

"What gives you the right to perform an autopsy?!"

"I am the bishop of Frosttown." Wayne's voice wasn't loud, but every word was clear. "In this territory, the Church has the right to investigate any case related to the temple. Your brother was treated at the church and took medicine prescribed by the church. According to the canon, this is the Church's business."

He took a step forward.

"Either bring the body here and I'll examine it myself. Or you can go to the mayor's house and file a complaint, and have Wilford send someone to investigate. Or..." He paused, his gaze sweeping over the men behind Vincent.

"Get ready to be punished!"

Vincent's lips moved, as if he wanted to say something, but he didn't. The people behind him exchanged glances, and some took a half-step back. The people attending the service at the church entrance began to whisper, their voices not loud, but every word seemed to reach Vincent's ears.

"Really? His brother is really dead?"

"I saw Gru selling goods in his shop just a few days ago."

"Yes, I was talking to him, and we were doing fine."

"Isn't that just an attempt to extort money?"

"I knew it! How could His Excellency the Bishop possibly kill someone with his medical skills?"

Vincent's face went from white to red, then from red to pale. He took a step forward, his hand on the short knife at his waist. "You're a priest, what are you pretending for? Do you think I don't know what the previous bishops were like? Holy water baths, five girls in one night—is there a single good person in your church?"

Wayne looked at him.

"Are you finished speaking?"

On the other side, Emma peeked out from the side door and saw the man holding the knife, flames erupting from his palm. Ella tugged at her sleeve, shook her head, and pulled her half a step behind the door.

Vincent squeezed out a few words through clenched teeth.

"So what if it is?"

He straightened his back a bit and raised his chin, as if he had finally found the right posture.

Do you know who's behind me?

Wayne didn't respond.

Vincent waited.

After waiting for two breaths, the question "Who is it?" still didn't come.

He gripped the hilt of the knife for a moment, then released it. His voice grew louder, as if the name itself gave him confidence.

"Dias. Leader of the Frosttown Mercenary Group. The merchants in this town have to pay insurance premiums every month. The church is no exception. Previous bishops all paid them. You're new here, so you need to know the rules."

"Mr. Diaz said that Frost Town has its own rules. As an outsider, if you want to establish yourself in town, you have to follow the rules. The premium is paid monthly, fifty Viking Shields each month. Once you pay, you're guaranteed safety. If you don't pay..."

He glanced around the church.

"Whether this church can operate smoothly is another matter."

The voices at the church entrance fell silent for a moment.

Some lowered their heads, some took a half step to the side, and some stole a glance at Wayne before quickly looking away. Among those attending the service, several people's expressions changed. It wasn't fear, but the instinctive shrinking that comes with hearing a certain name.

The panel popped up.

Leader of the Diaz Frosttown Mercenary Group

Early life: An orphan who lacked maternal love from a young age. He was adopted by a wet nurse at the age of three. The wet nurse was a kind person who fed him with her own breast milk. After the wet nurse passed away, he developed a lifelong habit of drinking milk.

[Current quirk: He suffers from a Freudian complex and enjoys drinking milk. Not in the ordinary sense. Rather, he's outspoken and straightforward… He has widows of all ages in town, who pay him monthly and come whenever he calls. He calls this “Nai Nai” because it gives him a sense of security.]

[Note 2: To integrate into the upper echelons of Frosttown, he once role-played with Mayor Wilford, calling him "Mother." Wilford was drunk at the time and remembered nothing the next day. But Diaz remembered it; he remembered it for three whole years, always taking a detour whenever he passed the mayor's mansion.]

[Note: If this secret is discovered, he will go completely insane. Not the kind of madness born of anger, but a breakdown driven utterly by shame.]

After looking at the panel, Wayne remained silent for a couple of moments.

Another extraordinary person.

Is Frost Town a place that specifically shelters these kinds of people? The mayor plays cosplay, the mayor's daughter plays with forbidden items, the mayor's son likes men, and the mercenary leader drinks milk.

He withdrew his gaze and returned it to Vincent's face.

"Fifty pieces a month?"

Vincent straightened his back a little more and raised his chin, as if he had finally waited for the question he was supposed to ask.

"What? You don't want to pay?"

Wayne closed his eyes.

The church entrance fell silent.

Three breaths.

Wayne opened his eyes.

"The gods just gave me inspiration."

Vincent squinted.

"What inspiration did you draw?"

"You are burdened with sin." Wayne's voice wasn't loud, but everyone on and off the church steps could hear him clearly. "It's heavy. If you don't repent, divine retribution will come."

Vincent paused for a moment, then laughed. He laughed so hard he bent over, took his hand off the hilt of the knife, clutched his stomach, and burst out laughing.

"Divine retribution?" He looked up, a smile still on his face, two lines appearing at the corners of his eyes. "What divine retribution? You, a priest, are just playing tricks?"

He took a step forward.

"Where is divine retribution? Where are the gods?" He spread his hands, looking left and right as if searching for something. "I can't see them! Can you make them come out and show me?"

No one spoke at the church entrance.

Vincent raised his voice a little.

"You won't pay compensation, you won't admit your debt, what kind of divine retribution are you trying to scare me with? Do you think I'm some peasant who can be easily fooled with a few words?"

He raised his hand and waved it behind him.

"Someone come here."

The men behind him took a few steps forward. Two of them were holding knives, one was carrying a wooden stick, and the other was empty-handed, but his knuckles were cracking.

"Give me this church..."

Vincent didn't finish his sentence.

Wayne moved.

He didn't chant any spells, make any hand seals, take out a cross, or sprinkle holy water. He simply took a step forward, swung his right fist from his side, and smashed it right in the center of Vincent's chest.

Vincent was sent flying backward, his back slamming into the stone slab below the steps, sliding a good ten feet before coming to a stop.

Wayne lifted his robe.

"I am the divine punishment sent down by the gods."