Witch Training Manual: My Water Magic Is Wrong

When Shurasha was pinned to the ground.

Many thoughts flashed through her mind.

She recalled her mentor's words during her first year in this line of work: "In our line of work, you'll have to pay the price sooner or later." She had imagined the way she would be caught by the kingdom, imprisoned, and hanged at the city gate. She never imagined it would be like this.

"Shulasa said to Lance."

Aren't you afraid of retribution?

Lance smiled.

"Retribution?" He repeated the word, as if savoring its irony. "You've been in this business for six years, how many people have you kidnapped? How many have you sold? How many have you abused? And you're talking to me about retribution?"

He stopped laughing, his face remaining expressionless.

"Your retribution is me."

Shurasha's pupils contracted sharply.

It's not fear.

It was an indescribable feeling, like someone had tapped her on the chest. It didn't hurt, but the shock made her whole body tremble.

[Shulasa - Current Status]

[Heart rate: soaring from normal, adrenaline is accelerating. This isn't a fear response, it's an anticipation response. Her body is much more honest than her mind; while her mind is still thinking "Oh no, oh no," her body is already thinking "It's finally here."]

[Additionally: She kept telling herself she was sick. But despite the self-criticism, she was still excited. Her mind was battling her body, and her body never lost.]

……

Frosttown, the backyard of the church.

Wayne was squatting next to the stone table sorting medicinal herbs when the panel popped up without warning, almost hitting him in the face.

[Kant Border Valley Camp Battle Briefing]

[Shurasa Gang Capture Progress: Completed. After the Six Holy Knights' seal was broken, they swiftly took control of the entire camp. All thirteen gang members were captured; none escaped. The capture process took less than half an hour, faster than they usually eat a meal.]

[Note: Bondage techniques involve a high degree of artistry. Lance's bondage is professional, with knots tied with just the right tightness, ensuring the rabbit cannot escape without injuring the skin.]

[Note 2: Xiulasa's true state: Excitement. She'd been a human trafficker for six years, always the one inspecting others' goods. Today, it was someone else's turn to inspect hers, and she found herself actually a little expectant. Not the kind of expectation of "hoping to be treated gently," but the kind of expectation of "finally someone can..." In her six years in this line of work, she'd never met a man who understood her so well. She kept berating herself for being crazy. But despite the self-criticism, she was still excited.]

[Also: She was pondering a question. These six people had now signed a pact with the devil and were no longer considered members of the church. So what were they? Freelancers? She was seriously considering a possibility: developing these six into long-term partners. Not superiors and subordinates, but equals. She even had a name for the new group in mind: "The Six Holy Knights and the Thirteen Disciples." Sounds pretty formidable.]

The medicinal herbs in Wayne's hand stopped in mid-air.

Freelancers? The Six Paladins and the Thirteen Disciples?

What's going on in this woman's head? Her hideout has just been raided, she's tied up like a dumpling and sitting against the wall, and instead of thinking about how to escape or how to beg for mercy, she's thinking about a new name for her gang?

Is this Kant's professional ethics?

He lowered his head and continued sorting the medicinal herbs.

When Thomason rushed in, he almost tripped over the threshold. He steadied himself by holding onto the door frame, but his shoelaces came undone, and one foot stepped on the strap of the other, causing him to stumble forward half a step before finally regaining his balance.

"My lord! My lord! Something terrible has happened!"

Wayne put down the herbs he was holding.

"What is it?"

"The mayor...the mayor is in trouble!"

Wayne looked at him.

"What happened?"

Thomason opened his mouth, but no words came out. He took a deep breath, then another, swallowed it, and then looked up.

"The mayor, he..."

"What's wrong with him?"

"He's stuck."

Wayne frowned slightly.

"Is it stuck?"

"Stuck...stuck in the window railing on the second floor of the Rose Courtyard on Emerald Street." Thomason finally finished the sentence.

Wayne fell silent.

Mayor Wilford, the highest-ranking official in Frostham. A man of considerable stature, with a wife, children, a butler, servants, and the highest position and greatest wealth in town. He was trapped in the window bars of a brothel.

"Stuck in the railing?" Wayne confirmed.

"Stuck in the railing." Thomason nodded. "Rose Courtyard on Turquoise Street, the south-facing window on the second floor, iron railing, between two iron bars. His head was outside, his body inside, stuck at his waist."

"How did it get stuck?"

"It's said that..." Thomason lowered his voice by half an octave, "It's said that he was trying to crawl out from the inside, and halfway through, someone came, and he panicked and got stuck."

Wayne closed his eyes.

Goddess above, your followers are enduring absurdity that no one their age should have to bear.

"What's going on now?" He opened his eyes.

"There's a lot of people gathered at the entrance to Rose Courtyard," Thomason said. "The mayor's wife has already gone there with a few servants, trying to pry open the fence. They can't, the iron bars are too thick. And they're afraid of hurting the mayor, so they don't dare to use brute force."

He paused, then added.

"The mayor isn't wearing pants."

Wayne closed his eyes again.

"Not wearing anything?"

"Nothing was on. From the waist down, nothing was on. Just hanging outside the second-floor window, legs dangling in the air, swaying back and forth."

Wayne took a deep breath.

"So you want me to go?"

“Sir, you are the only priest in town,” Thomason said. “These kinds of things… need to be handled by someone respectable. The mayor’s wife said that you must go and rescue the mayor; she will agree to any conditions.”

The panel popped up at this point.

[Frost Town, Green Oriole Street, Rose Courtyard - Live Footage]

[Wilford's current status: stuck in the second-floor window railing, upper body outside the window, lower body inside. Posture: head down, hanging upside down at approximately a 45-degree angle. Duration: over 15 minutes.]

[The crowd of onlookers: approximately forty people, and the number is increasing. Cuiying Street has never been so lively; even itinerant vendors selling sedatives have come with their carts, saying, "This is a rare opportunity; even if I don't sell anything, I'll take a look."]

[Note: This was the most serious Waterloo of Wilford's political career. Not because he solicited prostitutes, but because he got stuck. Soliciting prostitutes isn't news in Frosttown, getting stuck is. Especially since he was stuck without his pants on.]

[Note 2: The location he chose was very deliberate; it was a south-facing window on the second floor of Rose Courtyard, directly overlooking the busiest section of Emerald Nightingale Street. Normally bustling with people, it was exceptionally crowded today. Hanging there, he was like a living, breathing male model, showcasing a side of the mayor unknown to the entire town.]

[Note 3: His wife, Celine, was experiencing complex emotions. Not anger, not shame, but a sense of relief, a feeling of "it's finally here." She had been waiting for this day all these years—waiting for him to get into trouble, waiting for him to embarrass himself, waiting for him to ruin himself. She even felt a slight urge to laugh, but as the mayor's wife, she couldn't. She was struggling to hold it in.]

Wayne opened his eyes.

"Let's go."

Thomason was taken aback.

"Sir, are you really going?"

"Go and see, after all, he is also a believer in the goddess."

Wayne stood up, straightened his clothes, pulled down his cuffs, and picked up the scripture from the table, tucking it under his arm. The scripture was old, but holding it in his hand, he looked somewhat like a priest.

Thomason followed behind him.

"Sir, what are you doing carrying these scriptures?"

"Reciting scriptures."

"Chanting scriptures?"

"The town mayor is hanging on the window of a brothel; if he's not chanting scriptures, is he reciting recipes?"