450 [Sustainable Depletion Fishing]

Shangyang High School, south Teaching Building, top floor of the fourth floor.

The nameplate for the Pure Cultivation Class hung beside the classroom door. A single-digit number of teachers and a double-digit number of students had gathered there.

Don led He Zhao over, along with the other two students, a boy and a girl, from Class 3-1, arriving late.

"Sorry to keep everyone waiting."

He said he was sorry, but the expression on his face never changed from beginning to end. Aside from that one sentence after he arrived, there was no telling what exactly he felt sorry about.

"It's fine, it's fine."

The group of teachers piled on smiles and waved their hands again and again, saying it was no problem.

"You may all leave. Leave the rest to me."

"Of course, of course."

The eight or nine familiar-looking teachers turned and went downstairs without the slightest hesitation, clean and efficient, with no intention of staying behind to exchange a few more pleasantries. From the looks of it, they probably knew the Pure Cultivation Class was very special, and that the Pure Cultivation Class's homeroom teacher also had some special identity and status.

Otherwise, why would they all act so meek and timid, even more scared than when they usually made a mistake and ran into the principal?

"Everyone, go in."

Don opened the classroom door, and the seventeen people filed in one after another.

The furnishings inside the room were very simple. There were no desks, chairs, or benches, only a dozen or so meditation cushions. In addition, there was a projector that looked quite expensive, and a screen hanging on the wall.

"Sit."

After saying that, the middle-aged uncle with a scar over his left eye plopped himself down directly on the cushion at the very front.