Chapter 38

“No, these two schools aren’t suitable for you.”

Unconsciously, Euphelia’s impulsive nature surfaced, and she immediately opposed her daughter’s choice.

“Where’s it unsuitable? I think it’s perfect—I spent ages deciding. Mother, don’t forget you promised me freedom.”

Dorothy refused to back down.

She was merely informing them, not negotiating; she’d said herself that her life was hers to control, and she hated having others meddle in her future.

“That was Sophieilia holding back, not your strength earning my approval—don’t you know your own level?”

“I don’t care. I won, didn’t I? Are you, a Peak Witch, going back on your word?”

“You’re wasting your talent...”

“I’ll use my talent however I want. The witch world won’t collapse if I’m gone—there are far more talented people out there. What’s wasted about it?”

“I still disagree.”

“I don’t need your agreement.”

The atmosphere between mother and daughter grew tense once more.

Trapped between them, the Angel Witch felt exhausted but had no choice—Sophieilia had to speak up again to mediate.

“Teacher, Miss Dorothy, could you both calm down for a moment?”

To better quell the rising fury of both women, she infused her words with Word-Spell power.

In that voice, like celestial hymns, the mother and daughter fell momentarily silent.

Dorothy was genuinely affected by the Word-Spell; Euphelia felt slight regret for her harsh words and thus took the opening to relent.

The Dragon Witch felt restless inside. She truly wanted to bond with her daughter, nurture their relationship. She knew these fights were meaningless—they only re-froze their fragile reconciliation. But what could she do? How could her daughter be so willful? Why did every decision land squarely on her triggers?

The Dragon Queen, accustomed to ruling her household with absolute authority, had never endured such injustice in her life.

Though the two had sat back down after their argument, their glares still clashed across the space between them.

“Why can’t you just talk things through? Conflict always stems from misunderstanding. Teacher, Miss Dorothy, why not each explain your perspective? Maybe once you speak openly, you’ll understand each other.”

Sophieilia helplessly continued mediating between these two equally stubborn women.

“Then, Miss Dorothy, you first—why do you want to enroll at Brust College? And why choose...”

“Emmm... Mechanical Civil Engineering. As far as I know, it’s a brand-new major, launched just these past two years—very obscure.”

As Student Council President, Sophieilia knew well about all matters in the Witch Academy—but even she hesitated slightly when mentioning Dorothy’s chosen major.

Wasn’t that major only established a few years ago? It combined automated puppet technology with civil engineering, but it had always been unpopular—very few students enrolled. Sophieilia had only heard of it, never studied it.

As for Sophieilia’s mediation, Dorothy was still somewhat angry.

Ugh, what even is this? I just want to be a Research Witch—why the disdain? Do you Armed Witches think you’re so superior? Without Research Witches handling logistics, you war-mongers would’ve starved to death long ago. Everything you eat, wear, use—wasn’t it all made by Research Witches?

But what can you do? Witches are inherently a warlike race. The social norm favors Armed Witches. Aside from those who genuinely love research, most who become Research Witches are failures who couldn’t make it in the Armed path.

And the two women before her—Euphelia and Sophieilia—were both Armed Witches, and among the elite of the elite, the absolute pinnacle of society. For them to see Research Witches as hopeless was only natural.

Sigh. A scholar arguing with a soldier—reason falls on deaf ears.

But Dorothy herself didn’t see it that way. She truly wanted to become a Research Witch.

First, she simply disliked fighting. Magical net duels were fine as games, but real combat hurt—badly. You could die.

People die when killed. Witches die too. Why not do something peaceful instead of constantly brawling?

Second, she genuinely loved research. In her past life, she was a shut-in because she was addicted to games, novels, and anime. But in this life, her shut-in nature came from obsession with uncovering the secrets of magic—she loved studying magic’s principles and creating entirely new spells.

As for why she chose Brust and Newist? Because both schools were top-tier.

Among Witch Academies, rankings mattered—and both schools she picked consistently ranked in the top five.

Brust College specialized in alchemy and architecture; Newist focused on potions and livestock cultivation.

To others, these sounded prestigious. To Dorothy, they screamed “infrastructure” and “farming”—her soul’s DNA vibrated at the sight.

After careful consideration, she reluctantly gave up Newist’s farming path and chose Brust’s infrastructure path.

No matter the world, real estate always made money—and Dorothy needed money.

Her life goal was set: to become a Witch Lord.

The fastest, best way to become a Witch Lord? Become an Armed Witch, go to the front, conquer new lands—win territory, and you own it.

But since Dorothy didn’t want to fight and conquer, her only option was to buy. Spend money. Burn cash. Use wealth to purchase other witches’ territories.

Witch territories could be bought and sold—it was normal. Even witches had rich and poor. Some wastrel heirs squandered ancestral lands. Wealth didn’t last beyond a few generations—it was natural.

Large lords were stable, but small territories like Haiyuedao, where Dorothy grew up, were fragile. They relied entirely on the lord’s strength. If the lord died and the heir hadn’t matured, decline was swift.

Often, fallen Witch Lords sold their lands out of desperation. Dorothy’s current goal: earn enough to buy one.

This wasn’t a small sum. She’d checked market prices: the smallest Witch territory cost roughly one “small goal” in Witch gold coins.

Witch currency was clichéd—still copper, silver, and gold coins, base-10 system.

But unlike ordinary metal coins, Witch coins were forged from refined supernatural materials: refined copper, mystic silver, and true gold. These three metals stored magic power exceptionally well, and their coin value matched the magic energy they contained.

One copper coin stored exactly one mana. One silver coin held ten mana. One gold coin held one hundred mana.

Because magic was omnipotent, these coins held immense value. To Witches, they were merely currency—sometimes used as magic batteries when drained, or thrown into spells as material to boost power.

But to other races, Witch coins were called “Universal Coins.” With enough, you could even cast a Wish Spell.

Thus, their actual purchasing power was astronomical. A typical three-person Witch household spent about one gold coin per week. A human family could live a year on one.

And under these conditions, a “small goal” of Witch gold coins...

It was a number that would terrify Dorothy. Compared to it, her past dream of saving for a house was laughably trivial.

So she had to find a way to earn money—and in her mind, real estate was always the most profitable.

Fine. In this Witch world, she’d become the next real estate tycoon.

But could she convince her mother of this reason?

Ha. Forget it. To someone like Euphelia, this humble dream would seem like a lack of ambition, a failure to aspire.

Knowing her mother’s nature, Dorothy feared that if she spoke it aloud, Euphelia would just throw money at her again.

Sigh. Do all parents and children, in every world, have this gap?

What she truly wanted wasn’t money—it was a home she built herself, bit by bit, from nothing. Something earned wasn’t meaningful if it was bought. Can’t you stop corrupting my dream with dirty gold?

Dorothy sighed. Though she’d almost given up hope, she still gave the mediating Angel Witch face—she spoke honestly.

Isn’t it said that speaking openly leads to understanding? Let’s see if you truly can.

After speaking in one breath, Dorothy crossed her arms and quietly watched the reactions of the two beside her.

Go ahead. I’ve spoken. Now you can throw money to insult me. I won’t take it, of course.

Across from her, teacher and student stared at each other. They had never in their lives worried about money—they couldn’t comprehend Dorothy’s mindset.

Especially Sophieilia was utterly baffled.

The Angel Witch wanted to ask: Miss Dorothy, are you bored out of your mind? If you want a territory to play house, just ask your teacher. She wouldn’t refuse you. After all, everything she owns will be yours one day. Why go through such a roundabout path?

Ugh. Such naive thinking—typical noble girl. You don’t know how cruel the world is. You’re throwing away easy resources for the sake of some childish, pointless pride. It’s laughably stupid.

But the teacher won’t agree. Thank goodness it’s Miss Dorothy—if anyone else said this, the teacher would’ve already punched them.

The Angel Witch’s lone strand of hair twitched as she mentally scoffed.

She confirmed again: she and this noble girl were fundamentally incompatible.

But then something stunned both Dorothy and Sophieilia: the Dragon Witch, whose face had been equally dark, fell silent for a long while. Just as they expected her to explode, she exhaled heavily—and nodded.

“I think I understand what you mean, Dorothy.”