Chapter 143
So this is what they mean by the legend: “When others slander you as having super-strong attack power, it’s best if you really do.”
Jiang Jitang didn’t know how many mini-games the system had “absorbed” this time, but now there was even an Extreme Witch Makeover. Curiosity piqued, he eagerly decided to participate.
“Accept the task.”
Entering the game instance felt similar to entering a task world, though the dizziness was stronger this time. But the nausea wasn’t from vertigo—it was from standing in the fish market, facing a fish vendor wearing a headscarf.
It was a husband-and-wife team: the woman prepared the fish, the man sold them.
The woman expressionlessly chopped off a fish’s head, scraped out the innards with a knife, and slammed the fish onto the board, staring blankly at him.
The heads and innards were swept into the trash heap at the side of the stall. Flies buzzed wildly; foul water flowed beneath, while wet, fat rats scurried around. The stench of rot was everywhere.
Jiang Jitang gagged, but noticing others were watching, he kept quiet.
Fish markets were full of stalls like this. The fish looked fresh enough, recently killed, but seafood begins to smell in half a day. And the piled trash was far more than a day or two’s accumulation.
He mimicked some better-dressed people, covering his nose with a handkerchief and tiptoeing (they were in heels).
Others returned to their business, ignoring him.
The sewage on the ground had hardened into a tar-like substance, sticking to his shoes as he walked.
He could visualize how the pus from rotting fish heads and innards had gathered, dried, evaporated, and re-gathered, eventually forming this gelatinous mess.
Breathing this air could shorten one’s lifespan—Jiang Jitang couldn’t endure it any longer and prepared to leave. But out of the corner of his eye, something shiny caught his attention.
Curious, he walked over and saw a glowing card stuck into a rotting fish head atop a trash mound. Remarkably, it was unstained.
He picked it up: a game item. The front showed a cartoon of a rag and broom, the back had instructions.
Cleaning Card: Clean your house. Maintain hygiene—a proper witch cannot have a filthy house.
A cleaning card in a trash heap? Perfect—this mini-game understood sarcasm.
Previously, he worried the task required him to assist Miss Naxi, slandered as a witch, to transform fully, meaning he’d need to collect many “Extreme Makeover” items in town. But no hints for such items? Eight hours in a large town could be tedious.
Now he wasn’t worried—the card was a clue.
After circling the fish market without finding another card, he guessed each location held only one item and left. He expected the area outside to be cleaner—“cleaner” it was, but not much.
A clump of excrement fell from above, striking a man who merely waved his filthy black umbrella and walked on. Jiang Jitang stepped back involuntarily.
Suddenly, the fish market seemed almost preferable—at least nothing was being thrown downward.
The three-meter-wide road, originally for carts, was flattened under thick, hardened feces. The roadside water channels were clogged with garbage; rain could turn this into a cesspool.
Had this mini-game merged all the filth in history? Jiang Jitang silently shouted.
Even the joy of exploring a large map vanished; only the pain of “living among excrement” remained.
Thankfully, the street was short. Amid feces and vomit, he found the card he wanted:
Bathroom: A fully independent restroom. A witch should not live among excrement.
No wonder the taboo was “clean.” Maintaining hygiene meant one could be a witch. Jiang Jitang realized—he was a magician, essentially a male witch.
Beyond this street, a river surrounded the town like a magical barrier. He neither could nor wanted to cross it.
“So filthy.” Jiang Jitang muttered yet again. Even someone from a medieval magic world, who had lived in slums, found this unbearable.
The black stagnant river floated gray foam and suspicious debris. Approaching, the stench intensified, along with mosquitoes and crawling rats.
Some locals were dumping trash directly into the river. Could there be a card here too? He felt uneasy.
Pinching his nose, he walked along the riverbank. He saw floating corpses, maggot-infested feces, and finally a new card atop an unknown animal’s remains.
Bath: A witch should maintain hygiene, cleansing her body with clean water and soap.
Assuming this was the only card in the moat, he continued, discovering a second card at a sewer exit—a sleek black cat.
Black Cat: A witch’s home cannot harbor filthy rats, under any circumstance!
With the black cat card, he moved on, reaching the rear yards of commoner residences. There, women washed clothes in buckets filled with a strong ammonia smell.
Curious, he asked what they were doing.
An older woman explained: the liquid was fermented urine, used to clean stubborn stains.
Jiang Jitang’s Adam’s apple moved—he hadn’t expected such a strong answer. But recalling that midstream urine is sterile and could be used in extreme water scarcity, he thought: washing clothes with fermented urine… absolutely not!
But such extreme details hinted a card nearby. Looking in the buckets, he saw none—then spotted a woman scooping from a sealed vat. Fermented urine, clearly.
On the lid, he found the card:
Clean Long Dress: Wash with clean water, sun-dry. A witch does not wear garments washed in urine.
The card emphasized contrast to the filthy environment—truly, a witch (male or female) should maintain hygiene.
Grabbing the card, he hurriedly left the “laundry area.”
Later, wandering the town, he collected more cards:
Fresh Floral Bouquet from a perfumery.
Natural Healthy Cosmetics from a makeup shop using lead-based face masks.
Gentle Treatment from a doctor favoring bloodletting.
Power of Knowledge from a jewelry shop.
Every card was a sarcastic commentary on the town’s disastrous environment. The witch’s ideal image: young, healthy, clean, knowledgeable, and close to nature.
After exploring the entire town, he collected enough cards and approached the soldier-guarded house of Miss Naxi.
He scaled the backyard wall, walked through overgrown weeds and dusty, abandoned floors, and found Miss Naxi in the attic.
She was different from imagined—gentle, plain, robust, and full of life, like a strong village woman. Yet she was treated as a monster, chained in a room filled with excrement, rats, and insects. Her cheeks looked like withered apples, blood in her nails, eyes red from sleeplessness.
Clearly, she had been punished—they wanted her to admit using evil magic when treating civilians, destroying her healing reputation and aura.
Of course, this was Jiang Jitang’s speculation; only Miss Naxi, the king, and the clergy knew the truth.
“Use ‘Cleaning’.” He played a card.
After the glow, trash and grime disappeared. The room felt spacious, sunlight streaming through the windows, dampness and mold gone.
“Use ‘Natural Style Renovation’.” Another card.
The room transformed again: waxed floors, arched windows, decorative ceramic jars, dried flowers, potted plants. A set of walnut furniture, elegant and natural, appeared.
He used more cards: Wild Garden, Clean Stream, Lovely Apple Tree, etc. From inside out, the house looked like a fairy tale.
Now, only Miss Naxi, still shackled, clashed with the surroundings.
“Use ‘Citizen Rights’.”
The shackles, symbols of feudal oppression, vanished. She touched her wrists, still bruised from the metal. Small birds flew in, perching on the windowsill curiously.
“Use ‘Bath’.”
Opaque bubbles cleansed her body; she was tidy again, though scars remained.
“Use ‘Gentle Treatment’.”
Wounds and bruises healed; her pale face regained color.
One card after another, she transformed from a controlled monster to her true self—a healthy, vigorous woman with bright, soft eyes, rosy cheeks, and strong arms.
She wore a deep blue long dress, her long braid resting over her chest, holding a black cat, slightly bowing:
“Only after losing did I realize the beauty of having. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. So, what are your plans?”
She looked out the window:
“I will become a true witch. I will exercise my rights as an independent citizen. I will open the door to knowledge, cleanse my body, arm my mind. I will pursue strength, truth, and the unknown tomorrow. I will step out into the wind and storm. From today, there is no Miss Naxi the physician—only Naxi the witch.”
“Good luck.” Jiang Jitang glanced at the countdown. “I should go now.”
It hadn’t been eight hours yet, but he felt staying was unnecessary. She was mature and rational, capable of handling everything herself.
“Farewell.”
“Farewell, traveler from afar.”
