Building 601 East, spell class classroom.
The classroom door is closed, blocking out the frigid chill outside.
The north wind howls outside the window, causing the glass to tinkle, reflecting the young wizards' trepidation in the room.
Dressed in a gray uniform, a small elf carries a hot pot of tea, sliding down from the ceiling, flapping its wings and landing on the lectern, silently filling the professor's cup.
Old Yao picks up the cup, takes a sip, and sighs contentedly.
"Nothing beats the taste of the classroom tea." The professor strokes the teacup in his hand, strolls around the podium leisurely, and rambles on, " I've become so used to the school that anywhere else feels unusual... even the taste of water doesn't seem right."
Below the stage, the young wizards of Astronomy Class 08-1 finally put aside their sorrowful moods, widen their eyes, and exchange glances. The information Professor Yao hinted at sparked everyone's interest.
