Miss Witch's Forbidden Book Secret

"Huh? Chef? Are we leaving too?"

"Otherwise what?" Klitzer scoffed. "Stay here and wait to be surrounded and annihilated by the Ministry of the Interior?"

"But before I leave, I can teach that little mouse a lesson. I'll guide you on how to perform the rituals of curses and prophecies, which will teach you something real."

The two young men were instantly overjoyed.

Klitsch plunged his knife into the stake, gazing in Holly's direction, and licked his lips, saying, "Bring me Ibn Musa's Holy Grail, yes, the yellow one. I'll demonstrate the basic rituals of the curse."

Chapter 249 Klitzer's Failure

A curse is a ritual, and naturally it has its own procedures.

The ritual prepared by Klitzer was quite simple, merely a simple ritual to poison the enemy. The materials required were nothing more than the venom glands of snakes and scorpions, a few pieces of arsenopyrite and chrysotile, and high-purity stibnite given by Santis, the Hand of Transformation—which was also the most valuable of these materials.

However, the prophets had a more unique understanding of the role of rituals. This simple ritual was just a framework, and as long as Klitschko wanted to, he could continue to add to it, such as adding other curses like suffocation, festering, limb amputation, dizziness, etc. to this poisoning ritual.

After carving the ritual instructions with a ceremonial knife, the two young men, Sayyid and Tarfa, brought out the yellow Holy Grail.

The Holy Grail looked more like a large earthenware jar with a base. He then took the yellow Holy Grail and filled it with a whole jar of hot, milky-white grease, and instantly a plume of white smoke rose up.

Finally, Klitzer threw a gold ball as thick as a finger into the grease.

That's when the cut he made on Holly's calf came in handy.

Flesh and blood are the essence of the spirit. Extraordinary beings can judge the strength of a person's spirit by examining their flesh and blood. If one is skilled in this, such as a prophet from the Palace of Wisdom, one can even determine a person's path, their specialties in rituals, and even what dreams they have had recently.

As a Sequence 5 prophet, Klitzer was not able to determine what Holly was dreaming about, but he could still track Holly using the blood beads.

He held the Holy Grail, picked up the cleaver, and with a "sizzle," plunged it into the grease. Blood droplets exploded, and a street scene spread across the grease's surface. Holly's figure was speeding down the street.

Klitzer licked his lips, drew his cleaver and threw it onto the stake. He sat down in his armchair and said to the two young men, "Come here and control the ritual to cast a curse on her."

"Huh? A curse? Chef, is it us?"

"Who else could it be but you?! Run faster!"

Said and Tarfa hurriedly ran over with various ritual materials, and trembled as they looked at the oily sheen.

What's going on?!

Just a moment ago there were only street scenes and shadowy figures, but then suddenly a giant wolf appeared, along with a large flock of crows!

This is terrible! Crows, whether in the sky or among irises, are not a good omen. Not to mention that all the crows suddenly looked up as if they had seen the two of them, which was quite unsettling.

Sayed cautiously said:

"Chef, there seems to be something in the Holy Grail..."

"Throw the poison glands in first."

Klitzer frowned and said, "Throw the poison glands! Can't you hear me? Are you deaf? Are you dawdling around waiting for the oil to cool down so the ritual will fail?! Did I teach you this ritual just to waste this pot of lard?"

"Yes, Chef!"

If the chef says there's no problem, then there must be no problem!

The two young men exchanged a glance, calmed down slightly, and threw the poison glands inside.

Sure enough—the flock of crows scattered, the giant wolf turned into a shadow, and only a little girl appeared, looking rather uncomfortable.

This is probably the true form of the ghost from earlier.

Said felt a little sorry for the child; he looked even younger than his niece. It was a pity that he died so young...

Boom boom boom!

The kitchen door was pushed open, and a waitress called out, "Chef! Two guests have ordered three plates of meat and two plates of smoked bacon."

Klitzer frowned and said, “Here it comes—Talfa, Said, keep throwing ore into the Holy Grail. I’ll go chop up the meat and get some smoked bacon.”

This prophet is dedicated.

Love what you do.

Whether it's being a spy or smoking bacon.

If this were working at the Ansu Foreign Ministry, Ms. Bernice would probably be moved to tears. To have gone to a foreign land and buried herself in spy work for five years and still be able to do it so flawlessly without betraying the country, she would surely be awarded a medal by the Queen herself upon returning to Ansu.

Said and Tarfa quickly continued throwing in ore—this time it worked.

As soon as the ore was thrown in, all the crows flew into the sky, their shadows vanishing without a trace. Only the girl, writhing in excruciating pain in her abdomen, her face deathly pale, stumbled a few steps while leaning against the wall, and then began to cough violently.

"Wow!"

Holly covered her mouth, but couldn't hold it in any longer. Dark red vomit poured out of her mouth, and as her lower abdomen convulsed violently, a strong stench wafted out.

Said could practically smell the stench. He exchanged a glance with Talfa and whispered, "So, the ritual was a success, right?"

"I guess so... Hey, why is the oil bubbling again? Didn't we put out the fire?"

"I can't reach it!"

Said looked down at the Holy Grail with a bewildered expression. The fire had long been extinguished, and the oil had cooled down, but now it was bubbling up again.

Glug glug~ Glug glug!

"Chef! Something's wrong! Something's wrong!"

Klitzer heard a commotion behind him and frowned as he turned around. The next moment, he saw a fountain of hot oil shooting into the sky, accompanied by several squeaking sounds. Klitzer's expression changed drastically.

The silvery-white spirit raven, bathed in scalding oil, flew out of the Holy Grail with cunning eyes and landed on the bacon cabinet, staring at him.

Spirits in the deep sea!

Moreover, his strength seems to be no weaker than his spirituality!

The soul's strength was higher than his, meaning the water where this spirit resided was deeper than his deep-diving distance—otherwise, this crow wouldn't have been able to fly in so easily without him noticing.

Of course, this is only one of the reasons why he didn't foresee the crows' arrival; another reason is—

Upon seeing the oily sheen on Shrike's body, Klitzer almost immediately burst into a tirade: "Sayyid! Talfa! What are you two good for? Didn't you even react when the ritual was being watched?!"

Sayed, feeling wronged, said, "You're taking smoked bacon."

"You bastard—"

Before Klitsch could put down his cleaver to perform the ritual, the shrike spread its wings and leaped down from the cupboard, its beak swooping down to peck at Klitsch's eye.

If the opponent wasn't the Prophet, the Shrike wouldn't have come.

Sequence 5! It usually avoids Sequence 6 for fear of messing with the younger ones and getting the older ones in the process. It doesn't even want to touch Sequence 5. Moreover, the Sheathless Blade and the Alchemist, both Sequence 5, can even fight it to a standstill.

But prophets are different. Prophets of the first number are seeds of spirituality. While their spirituality is powerful, their physical bodies are far weaker than alchemists who constantly use enhancement potions on themselves or unsheathed blades that have honed themselves into weapons of the world.

In an instant, Klitzer felt a sudden, intense pain that made his body stiffen. He immediately covered his eyes, and his legs trembled violently as several streams of blood flowed from between his right hands.

Slowly moving his fingers away, Klitschko's right eye was completely blind, nothing but darkness.

As for the right eye, to onlookers, the eyeball appeared completely ruptured, with the nerves behind it swaying as if it were about to fall out of its socket.

But the crow had long since disappeared.

Apart from the spilled grease and drops of blood on the ground, the place was empty, as if nothing had happened.

The intense pain was followed by a sudden surge of anger.

He was actually tricked by that little mouse that was running away in a panic!

Said said tremblingly, "Chef, then we..."

Klitzer gritted his teeth and said, "We've been spotted... Prepare the ship, we're leaving tonight! I'll write a letter to that Durant later. We've been discovered, we can't keep entangled with them. Let Durant buy us some time. I'll send someone to deliver the message; if he can hold us off for half a day, I can protect him to the Heavenly Kingdom or the Empire!"

"That ceremony..."

The two clueless young men trembled with fear.

Klitzer glanced coldly at the two men. "Forgot about you two idiots? Go get me some smoked bacon."

Chapter 250 Let's escape first, family!

Holly was taken to the hospital in a wheelchair.

She was injured when she was cursed, right in the observatory area, not far from the hospital. Marn had just sent Jeremiah, who had come to visit her, away from the hospital a dozen minutes earlier.

After all, this guy wasn't injured at all, and he was about to speed back to the hospital in his wheelchair.

During this time, Marn honed his driving skills, becoming adept at cornering, drifting, accelerating, and sprinting, and sped along in his wheelchair.

So, Brother Marn happened to run into Holly lying on the roadside. When he realized it was someone he knew, he was shocked and immediately got out of his car, put Holly in her wheelchair, and took her to the hospital.

The hospital nurse on duty saw the great inventor, who had been diagnosed with a comminuted fracture less than three weeks ago, suddenly stand up and push his wheelchair violently on the ground. She was so frightened that she made the sign of the cross three times, wondering if she had encountered a ghost.

Jeremiah, who had just left, smiled silently in the carriage.

Just as Jeremiah arrived back at the chapel of the St. Pantheon University, Interior Minister Milke arrived shortly after.

Interior Minister Milke was a slightly balding, overweight middle-aged alchemist, dressed in a well-fitting black tailcoat, top hat, and small glasses, and walked in with a cane with a gold-plated ivory handle, clattering along in the process.

This Minister of the Interior was quite accomplished in metal transmutation when he was young, but unfortunately he did not achieve much after taking on an important position and became an unremarkable leader.

Upon seeing Jeremiah, Milke said with a serious expression, "Master, Lady Metyl from the Castle District came to talk to me for a while."

"Isn't that great? It allows for better communication between superiors and subordinates."

Jeremiah smiled and nodded, then rose and picked up the kettle in front of Ulrich, who had turned to stone, and placed it on a heated iron plate to warm the water.

"President, that's not what I meant. You should understand. It's about the investigation order from a while ago—I don't want to make a big deal out of it. I know about Durant's situation. It was the Montreal family who asked me to cover up the scandal for him. It was actually just a bribery case; he himself had little to do with the potion."

"To be honest, he's quite capable and knows the rules, but his character is terrible. I'm not defending him, but there are very few people capable of governing Mist Moon. The others either don't know the rules and boundaries and act recklessly, or they're too incompetent to coordinate relations between the two parties..."

Milke kept rambling on and on.

His meaning was actually quite clear—Jeremiah had basically been taking over the role of the great idol from Ulrich for the past few years, and Milke had come to Jeremiah several times seeking his support, but Jeremiah had always just smiled and remained silent.

Silence is a form of support.

He naturally thought the same thing this time.

Jeremiah brewed a pot of black tea, poured a cup of tea in front of Milke, and interrupted, "Milke, you're right about some things. But have you forgotten? Durant's behavior itself is what you call reckless and ignorant of rules and boundaries. Try handing things over to someone new."

"But......"

Milke was taken aback and was about to speak.

“Have some tea. It’s not good if the tea gets cold.” Jeremiah interrupted again, laughing, “Milke, back when the civil war was raging, you came here hesitating and asked me if you wanted to start your own rebellion.”

"I told you back then not to be afraid of change."

"The answer is the same now. Rexar may have made the right decision back then, and I still support him. Unfortunately, the division has already occurred and cannot be bridged. All I can do now is to continue the true path of the moth. Change is not necessarily a bad thing. Let what should change change, and let what should remain unchanged remain unchanged. This is the core of alchemy."

Jeremiah poured another cup for Ulrich, then raised his cup and sipped slowly.

Milke let out a long sigh.

Jeremiah said, "Forget about Durant. Santis has arrived in Mistmoon City. Organize a deal with his tentacles."

"Wait, Dragon Hunter Santis?!"

Milke had been a little disappointed, but hearing the name instantly swept away his previous mood, and he immediately became alert.

“Yes. That Sequence 4 Imperial Antimony Sorcerer, their intentions are probably related to potions. Santis has already taken most of the potions out of the city, but there is still a batch of potions and some of his tentacles left in Mistmoon City. You need to deal with the tentacles.”

Jeremiah shook his head and said, “Our system is very unhealthy right now. The sorcerers who should be becoming extraordinary beings are instead serving as bureaucrats, and even wiping out a few Imperials is a huge hassle. The council is absolutely necessary.”

"I understand! I will fully support you in this matter."

Milke's face hardened, and he said seriously, "What about the potions in the city?"

"I can leave it to my enthusiastic junior."

"Furnessa Bonaparte? She is...?"

"It's a personal relationship. There's no need to bring it up."

“I understand.” Milke’s expression softened slightly, and he asked, “Is Santis going to issue an arrest warrant?”

Jeremiah rose, poured out the remaining tea from the pot, and scooped out the tea leaves. With his back turned, he said, "No need. Once he escapes, it will be very difficult to catch him. Just keep the southern counties on high alert. The biggest obstacle now is figuring out the resurrected targets of those potions."

No sooner had he finished speaking than a guard ran in from outside the chapel, reminding him, "President! There are people outside who wish to pay their respects to you."

Jeremiah was slightly surprised.

This isn't his usual time of day. And it's the dead of night; aside from Milke, who knows his whereabouts, the only other person who would know he's in the chapel is someone who's spent the entire day at the university. Who would be so foolish as to do something like this?