Chapter 80: What Is the First Productivity?

The scene returns to Dorothy.

The next morning, after a silent night, Dorothy struggled to get out of bed.

In her previous life, she would have stayed in bed until lunchtime, but now that she’d been given a second chance at life, she didn’t want to waste it again.

So in this life, she consciously adjusted her daily routine, cultivating healthy habits.

She wasn’t the type with iron willpower, so she relied on habits to constrain herself, using inertia to keep moving forward.

Once such habits were formed, a person would naturally continue following them, propelled by past routines.

It was a useful way to discipline oneself—its only flaw being that once broken, picking it up again became incredibly difficult. (This is true; don’t ask me how I know—I used to be a full-attendance type four years ago, too, damn it.)

Of course, this fragile method could only work temporarily, but Dorothy soon found a way to fight her terminal laziness.

We must use laziness to fight laziness.

Why do people love to stay in bed?

Because lying down is comfortable, the blanket is warm, the new clothes in the closet are cold, putting them on is a hassle, and after getting up, you still have to wash up…

In short, who likes hassle? These annoying tasks are always better delayed until you can’t delay them anymore.

But think carefully—it’s just procrastination. After all, in the end, you still have to do all those annoying tasks anyway. That’s not laziness; that’s just laziness for nothing.

So, what should a real lazy person do?

Obviously, find a way to make those annoying tasks no longer annoying.

If only someone could iron my clothes, dress me, wash me, and serve me meals without me lifting a finger—then I wouldn’t need to stay in bed.

That’s what Dorothy thought.

Even her own mother probably wouldn’t have the patience to coddle a lazy adult like that. The only person who’d serve you this thoroughly would be a professional maid after your money. And a maid that dedicated…

Forget it. Broke people don’t deserve this.

So humans are out—but humans can’t do it, magic can. Magic is omnipotent, after all.

So, while the brief burst of diligence fueled by habit hadn’t expired yet, Dorothy began intensely studying magic, pouring all her energy into figuring out how to use magic to eliminate every tedious chore in her life.

Naturally, the difficulties piled up. Countless times, she thought, “Forget studying, let me just slack off for a bit.” But after weighing whether a moment of slacking felt better than a lifetime of slacking, she gritted her teeth and kept going.

She believed that once everything in her life became simple, she would surely defeat her laziness.

Yeah, I’ll fight laziness to the end—for the sake of being able to slack off for the rest of my life.

With this belief, Dorothy spent years trapped in an endless spiral: “So tired… I just want to slack off.” “Shut up. Think about why you’re tired, then figure out how to make yourself less tired.” “But thinking is tiring too.” “Then find a way to make thinking less tiring.”

Fortunately, her inspiration talent was high. Each time she pondered, inspiration suddenly struck—and the magic knowledge she’d memorized but never understood would spontaneously activate under that inspiration, and as it moved, she began to comprehend it.

So she often marveled, “So that’s how magic works,” while jotting down the spells she’d concocted in her head.

And even more absurdly, when she tried them out, she was stunned to discover these self-invented spells actually worked—and not only worked, but worked well.

This discovery amused her.

Dorothy still remembered her first self-created spell, made when she was one and a half years old.

At that time, her father Adam hadn’t met his stepmother Anne yet; father and daughter wandered through the mortal world, living in misery.

Back then, Dorothy didn’t understand why her cheap dad kept dragging her around. Now she guessed he was fleeing Long Ma’s pursuit.

Too young to have anything fun to do, she spent her days boredly flipping through her dad’s spellbook.

Witch children are born knowing things, so Adam wasn’t particularly surprised by Dorothy’s unusual intelligence.

After all, compared to prodigies who could cast high-tier magic the moment they were born and blow their parents away, her daughter’s slight cleverness wasn’t strange—just a bit smarter than average.

Even during that nomadic life, Adam often actively taught Dorothy various knowledge, and the spellbook, more precious to a mage than life itself, became little Dorothy’s toy.

Dorothy spent six months learning the common witch language, then another year mastering the basic mage curriculum (witch toddler primer) from her father Adam.

Then, relying on that minimal magic knowledge, she invented her first self-created spell: the “Lazy Person Dressing Spell,” later known as the “Witch’s Dressing Spell.”

The next day, she invented the “Lazy Person Hygiene Spell.”

The third day…

During that period, delighted by how fun inventing spells was, Dorothy churned out new spells at a rate that would shame a sow—adding one new spell per day.

And in this constant process of spell creation, all the basic magic principles she’d merely memorized were fully digested.

Then she began pestering Adam to teach her advanced magic, but Adam, busy earning money for her diapers and formula, had no time to play with her daily. Eventually, with no other option, he bought her a witch toddler magic book (witch version of a smartwatch?).

That was Dorothy’s first magic book—her current spellbook evolved from it, though long since so heavily modified it was unrecognizable.

Honestly, that toddler book was terrible. Though it connected to the Magic Web, it was locked in “teen mode”—Dorothy couldn’t access the adult witch world at all, only a few toddler forums.

A self-proclaimed adult like Dorothy couldn’t possibly tolerate hanging out with real toddlers, so she headed straight for the book’s only unrestricted feature—the Magic Web Library.

The first time Dorothy entered the Magic Web Library, she was as ecstatic as a mouse dropped into a rice warehouse—but soon she despaired: the library gave no free books to freeloaders. Every book cost money.

Fortunately, it didn’t charge witch gold, but a virtual currency called Library Points. This relieved young Dorothy—she didn’t have to beg her dad for cash, and besides, he was always broke. How could a high-tier mage be this poor? Mages were usually rich, weren’t they?

But as an adult in mind, Dorothy wasn’t the type to constantly beg her parents. She figured she could support herself.

And according to the Magic Web Library’s rules, submitting a new spell earned you points, and if someone bought your spell, the proceeds went to the creator.

Seeing this, Dorothy sighed in relief.

What are we waiting for? I’ve got more self-created spells than I know what to do with.

So Dorothy registered an account on the Magic Web Library under the name “Forest Witch” and uploaded all her Lazy Series spells, renaming them the Witch Series.

Even then, she thought no one would buy spells from a one-year-old witch. She figured her spells were too simple, too crude—like doodles by a toddler.

Besides, creating spells seemed so easy—even a one-and-a-half-year-old witch like her could do it. Surely adult witches could do better?

They must have superior spells. No one would buy hers.

So after receiving the reward points for uploading her new spells, Dorothy happily went searching for affordable magic books to study. She felt she urgently needed to recharge.

Lately, inventing spells had become harder. No matter how high her inspiration, knowledge was still fuel—without it, even a skilled cook couldn’t make a meal.

After devouring her new magic book and preparing a fresh batch of invented spells to upload, she was stunned to find her account’s points had skyrocketed.

And when she checked, her Lazy Spells had climbed to the bestseller list.

Dorothy was shocked. She thought the world must be insane—why would so many people waste their points buying doodles from a one-and-a-half-year-old witch?

Curious, she read the buyer reviews.

The first few comments were normal, just as she’d expected—adult witches sneered.

“Who the hell made this zero-tier spell? Useless.”

“To be fair, it’s useless. Dressing and washing? You’ve got hands. Why use magic?”

“Who’d waste precious points on this?”

“Only a fool with too much money.”

…

But these normal comments didn’t last long. Soon, things went off the rails.

“Sorry, master, I take back what I said yesterday. Witch Teacher, you’re a god. This is the most practical spell I’ve ever seen.”

“Worthless one bows to the master. My vision was too narrow. I never imagined not lifting a finger could feel this good.”

“Master, update fast. Take my points.”

“Yes, I’m that fool with too much money. Master, I want more.”

“Recommended by a friend. I declare: a new annual divine spell has been born.”

“If Witch Teacher doesn’t top this year’s divine spell rankings, I won’t read them.”

…

Watching the review sentiment flip completely, Dorothy had another epiphany.

I’m not the only lazy one. The whole world is.

From that day on, Forest Witch began her Magic Web massacre—the birth of a new generation’s academic powerhouse.

But over the years, not all her spells were created for laziness.

Now, thinking of her upcoming second real-life battle, Dorothy sighed, opened her spellbook, and revealed a series of spells she’d uploaded to the Magic Web Library but never sold.

The Fairy Duel King Series.

These spells were born from years of Magic Web duel experience.

Though few in number, each was a killer technique she’d used to dominate the Magic Web dueling arena.

Why didn’t she sell this series?

Pfft. Her entire Magic Web domination relied on this exclusive technique. Selling it would be exposing her weakness.

If she ever sold them, it’d be after she’d developed Duel King 2.0.

“Sigh. I just wanted to be a quiet research witch. These combat spells are so unharmonious. But no choice—for the evaluation, for the rank points, today I, the Magic Network Duel King, the Philosophical Fairy, must return to the scene.”

Dorothy sighed, thinking this would probably cost her another disguise.

… Shitty witch, brooding…