I Became a Witch and Started an Industrial Revolution

There was no hatred without reason, and no love without cause—where there was cause, there would be effect.

The surrounding students watching the scene burst into wild applause, shouting loudly in praise. Senior Qin waved toward the crowd, then slipped away quietly after accomplishing her feat.

Curtis opened his mouth, wanting to say something. But when he instinctively sensed the crowd, six or seven out of every ten people carried fluctuations of magical elements, forcing him to shut his mouth helplessly.

Facts spoke louder than words.

In the Alliance, every student who could make it into a university was a proud talent in the eyes of their hometown elders.

The moment the admission letter arrived, the entire village—young and old—would mobilize. Those with money contributed money for tuition, those with food brought provisions for meals. The local committee would even come knocking to ask about needs and grant bonuses.

Before departure, the village elders would hold your hand and tell you to study hard, to repay the country in the future, and to benefit your hometown. Upon entering university, you would receive teaching subsidies, along with good housing and meals.

In your pocket was living money pieced together bit by bit—one coin from this person, one coin from another. Your backpack was stuffed with food forcibly given by relatives and neighbors: from Second Aunt’s family, Eldest Uncle’s family, Aunt Wang next door, Er Gou from the village end, and many more.

Familiar and unfamiliar faces alike formed a collective, placing tangible, real things into your hands—for a hope whose outcome was uncertain.

They sowed the cause, gambling on an unknown result.

The moment they stepped into the school, he believed that each of them carried the conviction that they could bring better change to the Alliance and create a better life for its citizens.

Soldiers would charge into battle shouting slogans for the Alliance and its people, risking their lives without hesitation. Even at the moment of death, they firmly believed their sacrifice was worthwhile.

Young rural cadres would go into fields and mountains, understanding real needs and pain points, striving to bring change—and they too believed their hardship was worthwhile.

Future great mages would apply what they had learned to more areas of public welfare, creating better living conditions for the collective.

As long as the collective operated with the goal of considering all people, and thoroughly implemented public welfare, it could foster an environment of collective altruism strong enough to influence—even reshape—individual self-interest.

It was like being on a battlefield where supplies were cut off, water scarce, and food lacking. At that moment, you held a single apple. Around you stood a group of people—some injured, some not. Unfortunately, you were the most severely wounded and the most likely to die.

But you weren’t dead yet. You still had physiological needs.

Your throat moved, but your dry mouth couldn’t even produce saliva. Then, that apple appeared before you. It didn’t end up in the mouth of the strongest soldier, as expected—but instead, it was placed at the lips of the weakest—you.

Everyone knew you were the least useful. Even if you ate it, you wouldn’t create much value. Giving it to the strongest would maximize its worth. Yet no one questioned the decision.

Because no one knew if the next fragile person would be themselves. Whether they would become the one abandoned.

And with the simplest action, he told everyone: that would not happen.

If the world truly followed the law of the jungle completely, then those with extreme aggression would have ruled the world long ago.

Survival of the fittest was instinct—but what made humans human was the humanity cultivated and instilled afterward.

Strength and weakness were dynamic. Humanity was enduring.

To exchange sincerity for sincerity—“everyone for me, and I for everyone”—would only become reality when it moved beyond hollow slogans.

As long as the moral system and propaganda system had not completely collapsed—

As long as people had not been alienated—

No one would think all of this was something they inherently deserved. The past had already taught their elders, through bloody lessons, that hard work did not guarantee fair returns.

“Fair” returns meant the exploiter’s share would be reduced—so how could they ever willingly give you fairness?

Your effort was expected. Your reward depended on the lord’s mood. However much he gave you—that was your worth. And you dared to have opinions?

That was why the power of the collective was needed—to tell him: No! Damn you!

Mitia—no, Senior Qin—slipped out of the academy gates. At a street stall, she bought a starch sausage coated heavily in chili powder and took a bite, narrowing her eyes in satisfaction.

Finally, she was eating junk food from her past life again!

It hadn’t been easy—behind the scenes, she had secretly released recipes, promoted large-scale cultivation of chili and cumin, and driven down their prices.

After devouring several in a row, she finally left under the vendor’s strange gaze, rubbing her stomach. Even then, she was still fantasizing about the taste of fried potato chips.

Truth feared no debate. The more it was debated, the clearer it became—because truth was a science constantly adjusting and correcting itself, capable of absorbing all beneficial systems and ideas and continuously evolving.

Any method that contributed to achieving the final goal could be embraced.

Were gods invincible? Then so be it. After all, the ideal wasn’t to eliminate the gods.

And since so many powerful individuals could emerge even under semi-feudal kingdoms—

Then as long as the foundation of a universal welfare system didn’t suffer structural collapse, the collective would more easily produce even more powerful individuals.

“Preserve heavenly principle and eliminate human desire?” No—just replace lower desires with greater ideals.

The strong born from the collective would naturally become its guiding force. They would inherit part of the collective’s public authority and steer this great ship.

At their level, ordinary desires were already within easy reach. There was no need to continue distorting themselves by sinking into the empty mire of endless desire.

She didn’t oppose comrades enjoying themselves. She didn’t even care if someone indulged in multiple partners. Personal pleasure rarely shook the foundation of a nation. As long as development moved in a positive direction, even skimming some money privately would often be tolerated by the public.

But one thing was absolutely forbidden—distorting the grand direction.

Do not try to turn public into private. Do not try to give every dog in the village an official title.

She wouldn’t mind spending a little time to knock down, with a single finger, the crooked structure someone had spent decades building.

Personal desire was endless. If one couldn’t even restrain that, they were unfit to hold power. They were better off living honestly as ordinary citizens—at least that way, they wouldn’t drag their entire family line to ruin.

Just as Mitia lifted her foot, she staggered slightly—something heavy had landed on her back.

Funika sniffed lightly, breathing near her ear. “Sister, sister, you smell so good~”

Mitia sighed and crouched slightly. “Get down. We’re on the street.”

“Hehehe...”

Funika didn’t linger, obediently climbing down. As soon as Mitia stood back up, she pounced into her arms and rubbed against her.

Mitia looked down. Funika had disguised herself as well—wearing a female high school uniform, her demon horns hidden, and her slightly purple short hair giving her a rather pure and cute appearance.

Of course, that only applied when she didn’t speak.

The moment she opened her mouth, it felt like she had been injected with two bottles of high-concentration pink potion—completely absurd.

Using her height advantage, Mitia draped an arm over her shoulders and continued walking. “So, how does it feel going to school?”

“Mm... it’s okay, I guess. There’s just a lot I don’t understand. I made the homeroom teacher cry.”

Mitia: “...What did you say to make someone cry?”

“You smell so good.”

“Alright, alright, I get it. Be serious.”

“I was being serious. I said you smell so good.”

Mitia: “......”

“You said that in front of the whole class? Impressive. Looks like I need to introduce an anti-same-sex harassment law. Not locking you up is my failure.”

“Don’t, don’t!”