Witch Training Manual: My Water Magic Is Wrong

As Wayne stepped into the hall, all sound fell silent.

The long table was filled with people, more than twenty in total, ranging from teenage girls to mature women in their early thirties, all their eyes fixed on him.

Christina, seated in the main seat, nodded to him.

"Mr. Wayne, please make yourself at home."

Emma peeked out from behind Wayne, her pale red eyes sweeping over the women's faces. She leaned close to Ella's ear and whispered, "Sister, they're all looking at the master."

Wayne sat down in the empty seat to the right of the head of the table. The two little ones sat on either side of him. Once Emma was seated, she began to look around. Ella sat upright with her back straight, but her fingers were constantly twisting on her knees.

The panel popped up.

【The Witch Cult - Membership】

[Number of attendees: Twenty-three. Ages range from fourteen to thirty-five, primarily second-tier witches, with four third-tier witches, twelve first-tier witches, and six unawakened prospective members.]

Their first impression of you: You're good-looking. This is a unanimous assessment, without any disagreement.

[Note: They plan to devour you. Not literally, but in a different way. In their eyes, you are not a priest, not a bishop, not a servant of the goddess; you belong to them, to the witch alone.]

[Note 2: But they were terrified. These women were usually fearless—killing monsters, fighting nobles, and going against the Church. Yet, when it came to this kind of thing, they were all incredibly timid. They saw this party as their first real-world experience.]

[Note 3: There was medicine in your food.]

The dishes were served one after another.

The first course was roast suckling pig, its skin roasted until crispy and glistening with oil, the aroma of the meat mixed with spices wafting around the long table.

The second dish was stewed venison. When the earthenware pot was opened, steam rose up, and the meat chunks trembled slightly in the thick sauce.

The third course was cream of mushroom soup, with white noodles sprinkled with finely chopped parsley, and its presentation was no less impressive than that of high-end restaurants in big cities.

Christina rose from her seat of honor and personally rearranged the positions of each dish. The roast suckling pig was pushed in front of Wayne, the stewed venison was moved to his right, and the cream of mushroom soup was placed to his left, making it easy for him to reach.

"There's nothing good in the mountains," she said casually. "It's all homegrown and raised by ourselves. It can't compare to the restaurants in town, so please make do with what you have."

"Mr. Wayne," her voice was soft, but the entire hall fell silent, "this glass of wine is a toast to you on behalf of the Frosttown Witch Cult."

Wayne picked up his glass and waited for her to continue.

"You've done a lot these past few days in Frost Town," Christina said, her gaze fixed on his face. "You cured the witch's curse, provided free medical care to the town's poor, and didn't accept any money, gifts, or even a word of thanks."

She paused, a slight smile playing on her lips.

"We've lived in Frosttown for so many years and have seen several bishops. To be honest, none of them are like you."

Some people nodded on either side of the long table, while others glanced at Wayne furtively before quickly looking away.

"So this glass is both a thank you and a tribute." Christina raised her glass higher. "To Mr. Wayne."

"To Mr. Wayne."

Wayne picked up his glass and took a sip.

The moment the wine enters the mouth, the water element automatically begins to circulate, and what you swallow is purified wine, as clean as mountain spring water.

"Good wine," he said.

Wayne put down his wine glass, and the food was handed to him.

Christina placed a piece of venison in his bowl. "Try it, it was hunted in the mountains and stewed all morning."

Lynette leaned over from across the table, scooped a spoonful of cream of mushroom soup, and poured it into the small bowl in front of him.

"The soup is good too, drink more."

Then came the left, the right, and the opposite side. Chopsticks reached in from all directions, and bowls and plates of roast suckling pig, stewed venison, cream of mushroom soup, toast, pickled mushrooms, and cold wild vegetables piled up in front of him like a small mountain.

Emma watched from the side, her eyes wide open.

"Master, you're very popular."

The panel popped up.

[Special Report on the Witch Cult's Feast]

[Number of dishes: Twelve. Eight of them contain special ingredients, including but not limited to aphrodisiac herbs, love potion pollen, and virility-enhancing root powder. Dosage: Three times the normal potion recipe.]

[Note: They were worried the medicine wouldn't be effective enough. Christina personally oversaw the process, adding the ingredients for every dish herself. Her exact words were: "If we're going to try it, let's try it thoroughly."]

[Eight people were aware of this situation. Christina, Lynette, and six other witches. Among the six, some were married, some were unmarried, some were experienced, and some had solid theoretical knowledge. What they had in common was: they wanted to give it a try.]

[Note: These potions, concocted by a certain witch, have no effect on women.]

The wine was good, the food was good, and the people were good. If it weren't for the line of words on the control panel clearly hanging in front of him, Wayne would have thought he had a rather pleasant meal.

OK OK.

Is this how you treat your benefactors?

He put down his fork.

"Mr. Wayne, what's wrong? Is the food not to your liking?"

Wayne's gaze moved from Christina's face to Lynette's face, and then from Lynette's face to the faces of the women on both sides of the long table, looking at them one by one, unhurriedly.

"The food was excellent," he said. "The wine was excellent too."

"only……"

"But then I suddenly remembered something."

Christina's brow twitched almost imperceptibly.

"What is it?"

Wayne put down his glass, leaned forward, and placed his hands folded on the edge of the table.

Christina tapped her finger lightly on the wine glass.

"What is it?"

Wayne looked at her and smiled.

"The goddess has just given me an insight."

A moment of silence fell over the long table. Some put down their chopsticks, some picked up their wine glasses and then put them down again, and some secretly glanced at Christina's expression.

"The goddess said," Wayne's voice was unhurried, "that she also wants to try this meal today."

Christina's smile remained unchanged, but she stopped tapping her fingers.

"So... what does the goddess think of the taste?"

Wayne glanced down at the bowl of cream of mushroom soup in front of him, picked up the bowl, took a sip, and put it down.

"It tastes good. It's just...too nourishing."

The long table became even quieter.

Christina's hand rested on the edge of the table, her five fingers flat and motionless.

"Mr. Wayne is joking."

"I'm not joking." Wayne's voice was still the same, neither too loud nor too soft, as if he were saying the weather was nice today. "The goddess just said that you're too kind. It's her first time treating us, and you've used so many nice things. She's quite embarrassed."

He paused.

"Especially that herb, powder, and root powder. The goddess said that in all her years, this was the first time she had ever seen someone treat her to such a... thoughtful meal."

Someone at the long table started coughing.

It wasn't a real cough, but the kind of cough you desperately try to suppress after choking. A young witch sitting at the very end of the long table had a flushed face and her shoulders were trembling.

Christina's smile was still on her face, but she went from being "at ease" to "sitting on pins and needles."

"Mr. Wayne," she said, her voice still steady, "I don't quite understand what you mean by 'grass' and 'powder'."

"not understand?"

"not understand."

Wayne looked at her and nodded.

"Perhaps the goddess is mistaken."

Then Wayne started eating the dishes.

The instigators' hearts pounded.

Desire began to surge from my stomach.