The afternoon sun slanted down as the elders of each tribe returned home, all deeply satisfied.
At the same time, they took with them the females who had come to learn new skills.
Luna had finally woven a small piece of silkworm cloth, light as cicada wings, smooth and soft as a cloud.
Looking at that tiny bit of silk she'd woven with her own hands, her heart brimmed with a sense of achievement.
She glanced at the ten baskets of silkworm threads by her side and let out a helpless sigh.
This was just the beginning—her dream of a silk empire was still at least 108,000 miles away.
Still, with silkworm thread in her hands and the first piece of cloth successfully woven, she could take the next steps slowly now.
No need to rush.
She carefully put away that piece of silk cloth, then went back to weaving.
The weaving skills taught by the Golden Silkworm King were truly handy; things went much smoother now. Her fingers darted across the loom, but her thoughts wandered far away.
