On the second floor of the study, Olovice closed the window and drew the curtains. Just a moment ago, the witch lady had said something inexplicable and then flew away. Through his teacher’s stories, he had learned a few things about the witch lady.

“So, Lady Grace is a witch you have watched over since she was a child?” Olovice found a soft woolen blanket from the cabinet and draped it over his teacher’s legs. He poured some fresh sunflower tea for his teacher and then sat back on the high-legged wooden chair opposite the desk.

“Yes,” Father Andre took a sip of the warm tea and continued, “Her mother, the previous Black Swamp Witch, Lady Mona, left to pursue the truth of magic shortly after giving birth to her. Before she left, she entrusted me with taking care of Grace. Oh, let me think, Grace was only four years old at that time.”

“Lady Mona trusted me a lot. I presided over Grace’s baptism at birth. I am her godfather and even gave her her name,” Father Andre reminisced. “Grace was so adorable back then, not as temperamental and awkward as she is now.”

“You know, Olovice,” the old priest sighed deeply, “when I discovered that damned salamander hiding near Moon Lake, my heart almost stopped from fear. I was very worried it would harm Grace.”

“And Grace actually wanted to deal with it on her own,” Andre felt both a headache and anger towards the disobedient witch. “That’s too dangerous.”

“May I ask how old Lady Grace is?” Olovice inquired.

“She just turned eighteen this year,” Father Andre, who was very familiar with the little witch he had raised, replied. “In five months, it will be her birthday month.”

“Perhaps the witch lady is going through her adolescence,” Olovice said gently. “You know, just like when we humans reach a certain age or stage, we always want to break away from adult or family attention to prove our maturity. At this time, they need more personal space and will do all sorts of impulsive things.”

“If the early growth trajectory of witches is similar to ours, then the witch lady has just come of age. Her mind and body are undergoing significant changes. Don’t worry, teacher, this is normal.” Olovice used a scientific approach to ease his teacher’s worries.

After listening, Father Andre was convinced by his student. He said, “Alright, Olovice, you’re right, but she still shouldn’t do dangerous things.” The usually reticent old priest couldn’t help but talk more when it came to the little witch he had raised. “She’s still a child. Although she’s grown up now and doesn’t need me anymore, I know Grace is very lonely. She needs a friend.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll visit Grace in the forest often,” Olovice said with a smile, listening to the old priest’s concerns.

“Olovice, you’re a good kid too,” Father Andre was extremely satisfied with his student, not understanding why Grace didn’t like Olovice.

Olovice picked up the cold tea that the witch lady hadn’t touched and took a sip. The taste was a bit bland. Maybe next time, he could add a little more honey to the sunflower tea so that it would taste better whether hot or cold. He murmured, “Doesn’t Lady Mona correspond with Miss Grace?”

He thought that concern and greetings from a mother would surely be better than from a stranger like him.

“When Grace was little, Mona often wrote letters. But as Grace grew up, the letters became fewer. Her blood flows with wind and adventure, unable to settle down. The last correspondence was five years ago. She was in an expedition team called the Blood Hat, seemingly exploring a mysterious ancient ruin with her teammates,” Father Andre said worriedly. “Mona didn’t tell me where the ruins were. To be honest, Grace and I have always been worried about her. The outside world is not safe.”

“Grace has always wanted to go out and find her mother, but she’s so young, and her strength is only that of an apprentice witch. How could I be at ease?”

Olovice understood Father Andre’s fatherly heart and comforted him, “Maybe Lady Mona will write in a few days. Don’t worry too much.”

Father Andre coughed and asked another question, “Is the salamander’s body stored properly?”

“I placed it in the Spiritual Room in the church basement,” Olovice replied.

“When you have time, dissect it and extract its spiritual essence. Many potions can use the salamander, especially the Hell Black Fire potion, whose main ingredient is the salamander’s brainstem. Its venom is also a secondary ingredient for many potions, so you can collect it,” Father Andre said, patting the blanket on his legs.

Olovice blinked and hesitated, “Teacher, shouldn’t we hand it over to the Montpelier Church?”

Father Andre chuckled, “Originally, I thought about handing it over to Bishop Ulrich. The salamander is a treasure, after all, a mid-level magical creature. Giving such a gift to him, Bishop Ulrich should be able to guess our intentions, especially since I’m about to retire.”

“But then I thought,” Father Andre changed his tone, “Letania is remote and unknown. No graduates are willing to come here. Maybe he’s worried about finding someone to take over Letania Church. It’s better to keep the salamander for you to use.”

“Thank you, teacher,” Olovice said, touched, knowing his teacher was doing it for him.

“Reading about it in books is one thing, but you need practical experience,” Father Andre said, taking out his revolver and spinning it. “Just like when I first fired a gun, I couldn’t hit the target.”

Olovice’s eyes lit up with interest as he looked at his teacher’s gun. “Teacher, can I touch it?”

Father Andre removed the magazine and handed the gun to his student. “Be careful, this is the demon-slaying gun issued by the main church.”

Olovice held the brass-colored revolver. It was clear that although Letania was very backward, the outside world was developing rapidly, entering a new era.

There were newspapers, steam trains, guns, and banks…

Several silver bullets were carefully placed on the table. Father Andre taught his student church knowledge, “Ordinary churches only allow those at the church steward level to have demon-slaying guns. But in the church’s Inquisition and Black Knight Tribunal, each person has one, along with various magical weapons and restricted items. In short, under the light of the Holy Light, the days of the demons are not easy.”

Olovice picked up a bullet. The silver bullet felt cold and heavy in his hand. The bullet head was engraved with a complex magic circle, faintly glowing, filled with a strong aura of light. This holy spirit power, modified by the array, was no longer gentle. Once it encountered an evil aura, it would be like cold water hitting a hot oil pan.

It was highly effective against black magicians, demons, magical creatures, witches, and wraiths.

Because light rules the world!

At this moment, Olovice suddenly understood some words in the Bible.

“When you become a priest, you can apply to the higher-ups for your own demon-slaying gun,” Father Andre said, pointing to the gun’s handle, where his name was engraved.

“I’m looking forward to that day,” Olovice said, returning the gun to his teacher.

When Olovice returned to his room, he was holding a book about the dissection of magical creatures. He read it straight through until dawn.

Olovice rubbed his slightly sore eyes and yawned. The magical creatures of this other world fascinated him so much that he couldn’t help but read all night.

Olovice opened the door and walked to the bathroom at the end of the hallway.

The bathroom was not large. After taking care of his morning routine, Olovice washed his face with cold water. The young man in the mirror wiped the water droplets off his face with a towel, finally feeling a bit more awake and refreshed.

After brushing his teeth, Olovice knocked on his teacher’s door and found it ajar, so he pushed it open.

“Teacher.”

Mr. Briel was treating the old priest’s wounds. He withdrew his hand and looked at Olovice as he entered. “Olovice, you’re just in time. I think your teacher could use a communion.”

“Alright, I’ll prepare it right away.” Olovice observed his teacher’s wound, which had improved since yesterday. The wound had scabbed over, indicating that the healing from the Patriarch of the Natural God Religion could rival advanced Holy Light healing.

When Olovice went upstairs again, he was carrying two breakfasts.

One for his teacher and one for Mr. Briel.

“Olovice, I heard from Andre that you’re going to dissect the salamander?” Mr. Briel said. “I happen to be free at the church, so maybe I can offer you some technical assistance.”

Olovice was delighted. “Thank you very much, that’s exactly what I need.”

Father Andre watched them with a smile.

“Hehe, no need to thank me. Consider it payment for my freeloading these past few days,” Mr. Briel laughed.

After quickly finishing breakfast, Olovice took Mr. Briel to the church basement. Through the confessional, he heard Sister Hiran singing hymns.

Entering the Spiritual Room in the basement, Mr. Briel said, “First, put the salamander on the table.”

Olovice put on a mask and gloves, cleaned the table, and placed the salamander on it. The table was usually used for making potions and holy water, but the salamander was too large, so only most of its body could fit on the table, with its lower limbs and tail resting on the floor.

Olovice adjusted the salamander’s position for better operation, glancing to the left at the “Magic Creature Dissection Diagram,” which was already open to the salamander page. The book clearly illustrated the salamander’s skeleton and introduced its various organs.

“First, you need to skin the salamander. Be careful not to let its blood splash on your skin, especially your eyes,” Mr. Briel said, taking out a pair of crystal glasses from his pocket. “Use these.”

Olovice was about to thank him.

“No need to thank me,” Mr. Briel waved his hand. “Thanking back and forth is too troublesome.”

Olovice put on the glasses, his blue eyes behind the lenses as clear as a sunny sky, making even the ordinary old-fashioned round glasses look a bit more elegant.

“Do you have dissection scalpels?” Mr. Briel asked.

“Yes, they’re the ones my teacher used before,” Olovice said, pulling out a set of knives wrapped in black leather from a drawer and laying them out beside the corpse.

“Great, let’s begin.”

“The skin on the salamander’s head, back, and tail is very tough. I don’t recommend going head-to-head with it. You can start with the slightly softer abdominal tissue, which is also their weak point,” Mr. Briel said as he watched Olovice flip the salamander over. “Now, pick up the large dissection knife, feel its weight, and find the right spot.”

Olovice followed the instructions, pressing his gloved fingers on the salamander’s abdomen, searching for the best place to make the incision. His long eyelashes quietly lowered.

Mr. Briel, leaning on his cane, continued, “Don’t feel pressured. It’s normal for your hands to be unsteady or to find the wrong spot during your first dissection…”

Before he could finish, the sound of a sharp tool piercing flesh was heard. Olovice, holding the large dissection knife in his right hand, accurately inserted it into the weak point of the salamander’s abdomen. Thin blood threads slowly flowed along the knife onto the table.

Mr. Briel looked at the spot and, after a moment, said, “Perfect.”

Olovice’s eyes curved slightly with a smile.

Mr. Briel focused on the young man, noticing that his deep blue eyes remained clear and gentle, like the warm breeze of a summer day.