Mirai walked down the street and watched the Japanese girls for a while. He found that they were nowhere near as open as they were in those little movies, making him feel deceived.
Sadly, I casually found a hotel with a good environment. After entering the room, I shut the door, threw myself onto the bed, and drifted off into a groggy sleep.
However, while Mirai left the school and slept peacefully at the hotel, Dawn Redwood School was far from calm.
Not long after Mirai left, the other two vice principals arrived at the school with two martial arts instructors.
Of the two instructors, one was a man much like Mirai—nearly seventy years old, dressed in a traditional Chinese outfit, carrying a purple clay teapot in his hand, and walking with steady steps. He did not look like a specially appointed teacher at all, but rather like an old master who had run a martial arts school during the Republican era.
The other was a muscular man covered in sinew. Standing beside the old man in traditional Chinese clothing, he looked thoroughly out of place.
Nevertheless, both men treated the students and the other teachers at the school with great seriousness.
Though the old man appeared insignificant, he had been specially invited by the vice principal. He undoubtedly possessed something unique about him. Dressed like a recluse, he gave off an unfathomable air.
Moreover, it was said that the old man had come this time only because the vice principal's father had some friendship with him. Otherwise, he would never have come at all.
There was no need to judge by appearances. The students felt an unusual sense of security from the man's muscular body.
After seeing the martial arts instructors invited by the two vice principals, the students