Chapter 46: Welcome to the Witch Academy

To normal witches, spatial teleportation is merely an instant event—their sluggish senses register almost nothing beyond it, no more strange than taking a single step forward and naturally moving a little farther—what’s there to find odd?

But for Dorothy, a witch with temporal-spatial aptitude, her hyper-sensitive perception and unique physiology allow her to sense far more during teleportation.

Though this isn’t entirely a good thing, for Dorothy’s pitifully weak power means she cannot choose what to receive or reject—she can only passively accept everything.

Thus, a flood of information surges into her mind at once, yet her strength and knowledge are still insufficient to digest or comprehend these temporal-spatial insights—so the excess piles up in her skull, leaving her with a sensation of boiling brain matter, dizziness, and blurred vision, as if her entire body had been tossed into a washing machine and spun violently.

She still remembers her first teleportation as a child—she nearly died on the spot, then spent weeks bedridden at home before recovering; luckily, she’s a witch, with fierce vitality—even as a cub, her physical resilience surpasses that of adult members of ordinary races, or she might not have survived.

But as Dorothy’s power grows, this condition gradually improves—at least now, ordinary teleportations affect her no more than a mild case of motion sickness; she can endure it with a little patience.

Yet the journey from Haiyuecheng to the Witch Academy isn’t some petty city teleportation—it’s a super-long-distance teleportation...

So when Long Zhi and Angel Witch, teacher and student, opened their eyes after the teleportation ended, they turned to see Dorothy lying on the sofa like a lifeless salted fish, eyes rolled back.

Dorothy, deceased.

Teacher and student: “........”

Angel Witch gasped in alarm, thinking the teleportation had malfunctioned and the young mistress had suffered some accident—she raised her hand to cast dozens of holy light healing spells at once, but Long Zhi stopped her.

“Stop, Sophilia. It’s useless. Let her lie there for a while. It’s painful, but this helps her.”

Peak Witch’s insight is no joke—for a powerhouse like Euphelia, even without temporal-spatial talent, her strength is sufficient to force time and space into submission through alternative means.

This is the principle: master one method, and all methods become clear.

Thus, with just one glance at her daughter’s condition, Euphelia understood what had just happened—it was nothing serious, merely “overeating” and suffering from “indigestion,” no real danger.

Though she could instantly remove her daughter’s pain and wake her up, there was no need—this self-digestion process benefits Dorothy, allowing her to passively deepen her understanding of temporal-spatial mysteries.

Long Zhi merely gestured, drawing her daughter’s body toward her, then placed the girl’s head on her thigh and gently stroked her forehead to soothe the painfully contorted expression.

Euphelia looked down, watching her daughter’s furrowed brows gradually relax under her touch—and for the first time, the usually domineering and stern face of the Dragon Witch softened into a faint smile.

She had once imagined this very scene, years ago when she was still carrying her daughter—she’d dreamed of being a gentle mother, holding her tiny child each night to sleep, spending more time with her, watching her grow day by day.

But she never imagined that when she saw this daughter again—the one she bore after five years of pregnancy—she had already grown up in the blink of an eye.

Though she couldn’t help feeling a quiet regret at having missed witnessing her daughter’s growth, it was fine this way—she had grown exceptionally well, healthily.

That was enough.

And she would not miss her daughter’s even more distant, brilliant future—she would witness it all herself.

Beside her, Angel Witch watched the tender mother-daughter moment quietly, especially when she saw the soft, contented smile on her teacher’s face—a sight she’d never witnessed before—and her gaze dimmed with melancholy.

Then she looked at the foolish young mistress, sprawled on her teacher’s lap, enjoying a knee-pillow experience she herself had never known—and Angel Witch’s lips curled.

Hmph. This young mistress really is insufferable. We’re naturally incompatible.

Sorry, Teacher—I should’ve been under the carriage, not in it.

Inside the carriage, one side was warmth, the other, sour lemon.

Outside the carriage, a world of splendor unfolded—beyond the wildest imagination of mortals.

This was a world for young witches, where innocent, naive student witches gathered, bringing youthful vigor and boundless enthusiasm.

This was a world for seekers of knowledge, where learned scholars and truth-chasing seekers met, their ideas and wisdom colliding, filling the place with endless possibilities.

This was a world for dreamers—beings from countless realms, yearning for progress and rejecting mediocrity, using every means possible to come here, chasing only the elusive opportunity of their dreams.

The luxurious carriage emerged from the teleportation gate, and as it entered the harbor, they saw, at the entrance to the vast urban complex ahead, glowing, massive characters.

“Welcome to the Witch Academy—where vitality, knowledge, and dreams converge. May you set sail from here toward your own colorful future.”

“Ugh... damn teleportation aftereffects.”

The sleeping witch jolted awake—Dorothy sat upright.

But the lingering warmth at the back of her head puzzled her—this time, it hadn’t been as painful as before; she’d even had a decent dream while unconscious.

Then she looked around, dazed.

Oh no... not this again—another unfamiliar ceiling and room?

Did I get reincarnated again?

This thought suddenly popped into her still-foggy mind—she immediately looked down at her lower body in alarm...

Tsk...

Seeing the two towering mounds blocking her view, Dorothy’s lips twitched in disappointment.

Ha, laughably, she couldn’t see a damn thing.

All that excitement for nothing—never mind.

She thought this with boredom, but then her expression changed sharply.

Wait—wasn’t I always binding these two mounds with sealing bandages?

Her gaze swept over—there, on the nightstand, lay a tangled heap of sealing bandages.

She looked down at her clothes.

Damn, unfamiliar pajamas.

Shit—has my pure, chaste body been violated?

As she tugged at the sheet, wallowing in self-pity, the door opened—and a pure-white angel stepped in.

“Good morning, Young Mistress. You woke up right on time, just as Teacher said.”

ps: Volume One ends