Witch Training Manual: My Water Magic Is Wrong

The Demon Tide Bell rang.

When the sound arrives.

Wayne was drying medicinal herbs in the yard.

Emma squatted beside the stone bench, imitating Wayne as she picked the leaves one by one and placed them in the bamboo tray. Ella helped her, moving a little slower than her sister, but picking the leaves more carefully.

The bell tolled from the north of the town.

It wasn't the kind of clock that chimes rhythmically, striking repeatedly and carrying far.

Emma stopped.

"Master, what's that sound?"

Wayne raised his head and looked in the direction of the north of the town.

The panel popped up.

[Frosttown - Demon Tide Warning]

[Triggering Reason: The mayor's nephew, Bernie, is on duty at the clock tower with another guard. Today is his third day on duty. Bored, Bernie leans on the railing looking north. He sees a pair of underwear flying in the sky, so he pounces on the iron bell. His uncle once said, "If something seems wrong, ring the bell; better to ring the wrong one than to miss it."]

Bernie Wilford, the mayor's nephew

[Note: He's just here to gain experience. He's not very bright. The town mayor arranged for him to be listed as a janitor at the watchtower; after six months, he can get a sinecure in the capital.]

[Note 2: His greatest hobby isn't guarding the tower, but stealing women's underwear that's hanging out to dry. He takes out the rubber bands, makes a slingshot, and smashes people's roofs. In the past three days, he's already smashed seven roofs in Frosttown. Yesterday, he smashed the window of Ent's bakery; Ent chased him for two blocks but couldn't catch him.]

Wayne understood everything in an instant.

One family with three supreme figures.

Damn it, I've been transported to a "cultivation" world.

Soon, Thomason came running from the front yard, one of his shoelaces untied, and he didn't bother to tie it. His face was pale, not the kind of paleness from sun exposure, but the kind of paleness from blood draining from the face all at once.

"My lord! A demonic tide! A demonic tide is coming!"

Wayne looked at him.

"I see."

Thomason gasped for breath, his voice trembling.

"Sir, you must leave quickly. The people to the north have already started retreating up the mountain; if you don't leave now, it will be too late."

Wayne didn't move.

Thomason panicked and reached out to tug at his sleeve.

"My lord! You have no idea how powerful the demonic tide is! Two years ago, three villages in the north were razed to the ground, and dozens of people died in the town. The church... the bishop in front of the church died in that demonic tide!"

Wayne pulled his hand away.

"You go first."

Thomason was stunned.

"grown ups……"

"I'll be there shortly."

Thomason opened his mouth, as if to say something, but seeing Wayne's expression, he swallowed his words. He took half a step back, gritted his teeth, turned and ran outside, but turned back after a couple of steps.

"My lord, you must keep up!"

After saying that, he ran away without looking back.

Chaos broke out outside the courtyard.

The streets were packed with people.

Some ran up the mountain, some ran home, and some stood still, unsure where to go. A woman ran past the church entrance carrying a child who was crying in her arms, and she cried too. An old man chased after them, too tired to run any further, stopping to catch his breath after every few steps.

Mag the blacksmith ran over from the opposite side, carrying a hammer. When he saw Wayne standing on the steps, he slowed down.

"Your Excellency! What are you still doing here?"

"It depends."

Mag was getting anxious.

"Look what's going on! The demonic tide is coming!"

This is no joke! Like that time two years ago…”

"I know."

"Knowing that, why aren't you running?" Mag's voice rose, his voice, honed in the blacksmith's shop, booming. "What can a priest like you do? Can chanting sutras kill a monster?"

Wayne did not answer.

Mag stamped his foot, picked up his hammer, and ran off. After running a dozen steps, he turned back and shouted something.

"Sir! Run up the mountain! Don't go north!"

There are fewer and fewer people on the streets.

Occasionally, someone would stop and offer a few words of advice.

Seeing that Wayne didn't move, he shook his head and ran away again.

"She's gone mad, she must be mad."

"I told you this church was cursed! Anyone who comes will die, two people coming will both die!"

"What a pity, she's so good-looking."

"What's the use of being good-looking if you're dead?"

Wayne refused everyone's offer of help.

Emma and Ella peeked out from the side door.

Two little heads sat up and down, Emma on top, Ella on the bottom. Emma's eyes were bright, her face showing no fear, only excitement. Ella's expression was more complex than her sister's; her lips were pursed, and her brows were slightly furrowed, but she didn't seem to be running away either.

"Master," Emma called out.

Wayne turned his head.

"Um."

"Aren't we going to run?"

"I won't run."

Why?

Wayne glanced at her.

"Because it's unnecessary."

Emma blinked, as if processing those words. Then she smiled, revealing two small tiger teeth, her eyes curving into crescents.

"Then I'll stay too."

She ran two steps forward, stood next to Wayne, looked up at him, her pale red eyes full of light.

"Wherever my master goes, I will go."

Ella emerged from behind the door. She didn't speak, but simply walked to the other side of Wayne, stopped, and put her hands behind her back.

Lillian jumped out of the side door.

She changed her clothes; instead of the red dress she wore that morning, she put on a light leather armor. The armor was a bit small, an old piece she had from two years ago, and it felt tight against her body.

She stretched her shoulders.

"Mr. Wayne, aren't you leaving?"

Wayne glanced at her.

"And you?"

"Me?" Lillian smiled.

"I've been waiting for this day for so long!"

As she spoke, Lillian pressed her hand down to the ground.

A crack appeared in the ground, and rubble surged upwards from it, as if an invisible hand was pushing the earth upwards from the ground. A clay giant rose from the crack, first its head, then its shoulders, and then its entire upper body.

Its three-meter-tall body is made of mud and gravel, as rough as a child's clay figurine. But it can move; when it raises its arms, gravel falls from its shoulders, hitting the ground and kicking up a cloud of dust.

Emma stared at the giant-like thing, her mouth agape.

"Wow……"

Ella gripped the hem of Wayne's robe.

Lillian stood at the feet of the clay giant, the flames still dancing in her palm. She looked up at her creation, a smile playing on her lips.

"Mr. Wayne, how's my clay giant?"

Wayne stared at the giant and remained silent for a moment.

"Not bad, but let's put it away!"

Lillian paused for a moment.

"What?"

"Put it away." Wayne's voice wasn't loud, but every word was clear. "There's no need."

Lillian frowned.

"Why? The demonic tide is coming! The people in the north are fleeing for their lives! I can help! My clay giant can hold off the demonic beasts!"

"There is no such thing as a demonic tide, it's fake."

Meanwhile, halfway up the mountain.

Soldiers and adventurers on the mountain are rushing downhill, while ordinary residents are desperately running uphill.

"Make way! Make way! Everyone make way!"

An adventurer carrying a bow leaped down the hillside, shattering a stone slab upon landing. Shards of stone landed on the leg of an old man nearby. The old man cried out in pain, but the adventurer didn't turn around and continued plunging down the hill.

Someone in the crowd running up the mountain cursed:

"Why are you running! The demonic tide hasn't arrived yet!"

One of the soldiers rushing downhill replied:

"By the time we arrive, it will be too late!"

The chaos lasted for about fifteen minutes.

Then, the message came.

The message didn't come from the north slope; it came from the south. The mayor's office sent a servant, who rode on horseback, squeezing through the crowd while shouting, "Make way! Make way! It's a message from the mayor!"

He reined in his horse halfway down the slope and shouted at the top of his lungs, "The demonic tide is a hoax! The watchtower gave a false alarm! Everyone can go back now!"

After shouting this, he turned his horse around and squeezed back.

The crowd fell silent for a moment.

Then, a torrent of curses poured out like water from a burst dam.

"Fake?"

"False alarm?"

"Damn it, who rang the bell?"

"I ran down the mountain, tripped and fell, scraped my knees, and you're telling me that's fake?"

"I ran up the mountain, then halfway up and back down; my legs felt like they weren't my own anymore!"

"Who rang the bell? Find him!"

"Come out! I'm going to kill him."

The cursing grew louder and louder, and some people started spitting on the ground, while others threw the bundles they were carrying on the ground.

The news spread quickly. The one who rang the bell was Bernie, the mayor's nephew, the Bernie who wasn't quite right in the head, the Bernie who liked to steal women's underwear to make slingshots.

The cursing gradually subsided.

It's not that they've stopped criticizing, it's that they're afraid to criticize.

The mayor's nephew—cursing him is cursing the mayor. In the territory of Frost Town, cursing the mayor is not a wise choice. Some muttered, "If only I had known it was him," and then shut up; some shook their heads, sighed, and turned to walk back; some said nothing, picked up their things, and left.

The crowd began to disperse.