Let go of that monster girl!

The mine rat raised its head and glanced at Morren, though it didn't quite understand how the Baron planned to resolve the issue of the price of one hundred buttons.

But they still chose to believe, and their round ears stood up slightly.

Suddenly, a cheer came from afar, and a rat girl rushed out from the depths of the mine, holding a small piece of light red cloth high in her hands.

"These shredded mushrooms can really be made into a 'buziwa'!"

The piece of cloth was only the size of a handkerchief, with a rough texture and uneven thickness, but it was indeed made from threads spun from mycelium.

The surrounding rat girls swarmed around her, with seven or eight rats encircling the rat girl holding the cloth.

Each mouse stretched out its little hand, wanting to touch the piece of mycelial cloth.

"Teach me how to squeak!"

"I want to weave cloth too!"

"Can this be used for dyeing?"

To combat general inflation, simply increasing the total volume of goods in the market can alleviate it.

In the future, the resources in Aishan will only become more and more abundant.

Of course, Morren was watching the group of excited, jumping rat girls in the distance.

The rats' sugar supply does indeed need to be controlled a bit.

Hehehe.

Capital is born into the world, and every pore of it is dripping with syrup.

Chapter 97 The Aristocratic Demeanor of Sulfur

In a corner of the workshop.

Three mice were squatting on the ground, one of which had a thin mycelium-like rope wrapped around its hand.

The left hand spreads its fingers, and the flower rope forms a hexagon between the fingers.

The middle one extends two little fingers to hook the intersection, and with a flick of the wrist, the shape transforms into a butterfly with sharp edges.

The third mouse stared wide-eyed for a long time before sticking two fingers inside.

With a sudden pull, the mycelium threads all tangled into a mess.

The three mice cried out at the same time, trying to untie the rope.

At the other end of the workshop, six of the most primitive foot-operated spinning machines are lined up in a row.

The mouse girls stepped on the pedals with their little feet, one hand twisting a ball of mycelium into a thick strip, and the other hand smoothing out the spool of thread.

The mycelium coils tighter and tighter, gradually forming a uniform fine yarn.

Every now and then, the mouse girl would raise the mushroom thread roll high and stare at it intently with wide eyes.

The entire workshop was filled with a faint, earthy smell.

Once the spinning wheel was full, the mouse girls carefully took the yarn roll off and held it in their hands, turning it over and over to feel it.

It rubbed against my cheek, and my round ears twitched comfortably.

"Wow, what a beautiful piece of cloth this will turn into!"

The spun mycelium thread has a natural light red color, and when the fluorite shines through it, it has a soft, dark pink hue.

Twisting it between your little fingers, it feels smooth and delicate, almost indistinguishable from the finest silk.

But the toughness of this roll of fine yarn far exceeds that of any silk.

After all, the raw materials are all taken from the toughest ligaments and joints of the fungal behemoth, and those fibers can withstand millions of tons of tensile force when the behemoth is alive.

Its fire resistance is also excellent; the rat girls tried roasting a piece of fungal yarn over a campfire, and it didn't even leave a scorch mark.

The hills never produce cotton, so there isn't even a single loom in the territory.

But looms are nothing new; anyone who has seen one can make one.

Sulfur brought a round piece of fungal wood from the fungal wood workshop, picked up a saw, and cut straight down along the marked line.

Amidst the flying sawdust, her short white hair was covered with pale yellow dust, her red eyes focused intently on the saw cut, her wrist movements steady and swift.

She placed the cut boards on the workbench and trimmed them little by little with a carving knife and a mallet.

A neat array of parts gradually appeared on the workshop floor.

The frame, reed, warp beam, cloth roller, pedal linkage, and a whole bunch of small tenon joints of various shapes.

Each part was marked with a number using charcoal pencil.

Molen squatted down and counted them; there were more than forty parts, which was much more than he had expected.

The principle of a loom is quite simple.

The warp threads are arranged longitudinally on the loom and their opening and closing are controlled by the heald frame.

Each time you press the pedal, one set of meridians rises while the other sinks, forming a diamond-shaped channel in the middle.

The shuttle carries the weft thread through the channel, and then the reed is pushed forward to press the weft thread firmly, and this process is repeated.

The principle is simple, but the structure is surprisingly complex.

In particular, the linkage mechanism between the heald frame and the pedal is prone to tangling if there is even a slight deviation.

The carpenter mice gathered around sulfur and began assembling it according to her instructions.

The first time, the two mouse girls installed the heddle frame backwards, and when they stepped on the pedals, all the warp lines ran in the same direction.

Sulfur, expressionless, dismantled and started over.

The second time, I was on the right track, and after I finished assembling it, there were three extra parts on the ground.

The rat girls looked at each other, none of them able to say where to put the three things.

Sulfur took a deep breath and then dismantled it.

The third time, it was finally installed. Sulfur stepped on the pedal twice, and the heddle frame rose and fell alternately, with the warp threads opening and closing smoothly.

The assembled mushroom wood loom stood in the center of the workshop. The frame was as tall as a mouse, and the pale yellow mushroom wood surface was polished smooth and shiny.

It was much the same as the looms that could be seen everywhere in the kingdom, with only one improvement.

The shuttle's channel was changed to a fungus wood slide rail, with a set of small spring plates fixed at the end of the rail.

The sulfur threaded the fungal yarn through the eyelets on the heddles one by one, completing the uploading process efficiently.

She sat on the low stool at the loom, stepped on the pedal, and the heddle frame rose.

The shuttle shoots out along the slide rail, hits the left spring with a click, then is stepped on again and pushed, the warp threads intersect, and the shuttle bounces back.

The whole process was smooth and seamless.

The mouse girls all gathered in front of the loom, their dozen or so round eyes following the shuttle as it swayed from side to side.

His head also swayed from side to side.

Its tail also swayed from side to side.

"So fast, so fast."

"It can run by itself!"

"If only mining trucks could bounce back like that, we wouldn't have to push them."

In a short while, the sulfur wove into a wide strip of cloth, which hung down from the roll of cloth, shimmering with a soft, pale pink hue.

This is a flying shuttle loom; the name sounds pretty cool.

But it's basically just adding a spring to the shuttle of a traditional loom.

This eliminates the step of the weaver bending over and manually threading the shuttle through the warp threads; instead, it is directly springed to the other side.

This small improvement directly increased the spinning and weaving speed by 400%, and the maximum width of the fabric also nearly doubled.

Therefore, in many situations, the thought process is the most important thing.

The famous spinning jenny is actually just twisting eight yarn spools together vertically; it requires no technical skill whatsoever.

But this small improvement directly increased spinning efficiency to 800%, and even ushered in the beginning of the Industrial Revolution.

The mouse girls swarmed forward, eagerly reaching out to touch the new fabric, their little hands rubbing and kneading it.

"It's slippery."

"It's a hundred times more comfortable than my blanket!"

Sulfur retrieved the cloth from the rats and gently stroked the pale red fabric with his hand.

"This fabric is incredible."

"It's not much worse than the royal silk that the royal family commissioned from the East."

Molen asked curiously:

"Have you ever seen royal silk?"

Sulfur didn't reply, but instead picked up a small carving knife from the workbench.

Her grip was unique; she pinched the end of the handle with her thumb and forefinger, lightly touched the spine of the blade with her middle finger, and slightly raised her little finger.

Molen recognized it; it was a very standard gesture for using a spoon at an aristocratic table.

Sulfur twirled the carving knife between his fingers, his tone calm yet tinged with arrogance.

"Boss, do you really think rune masters are little mice that hide in caves and mine?"

"No matter what, we are a tool that is carved and inlaid with gold."

Molen pulled a sugar cube from his pocket, his face displaying an expression that said, "You tell me a story, I'll give you candy."

In general, this should be followed by a deeply moving and touching story.

Sulfur's eyelids twitched.

"When I ran away, I did make up a few tragic stories for my future employers."

"But after coming to this place, I feel like I can read Jeffrey Chaucer's books as jokes."

She glanced sideways at the mice who were happily playing with the mushroom cloth.

The little ones wore cloth on their heads as capes and chased each other.

The mice certainly didn't know Jeffrey Chaucer, but Molen did.

This gentleman's most famous work is "Dead," a story about an elderly angel who, after her entire family dies, lives out her days with a snow cow.

"Then why are you staying here?"

As sulfur threaded a new round of warp yarns onto the loom, it answered softly:

"This isn't the place I like..."

The low hills have no cotton, no weavers, and naturally, no tailors.

Fortunately, the leatherworker rats of Dessert Hill have been dealing with animal hides for many years, so their basic sewing skills are quite solid.

Several leather mice sat around a fluorescent lamp, with cut pieces of fungal cloth spread out in front of them.

They moistened the thread with their mouths, held the extremely fine needles in their small hands, and stitched away with hidden needles, one stitch at a time.

"Should we add a pleat to the neckline?"

"Add more, add more! It would be such a waste not to add pleats to such good material!"

"I think the cuffs should be tightened a bit; loose sleeves make you look less energetic."

"But the sleeves of aristocratic formal wear should be wide, have you ever seen an aristocrat wearing narrow sleeves?"

"I've never seen a nobleman before!"

Finally, all the parts were completed in turn, and the leatherworker mice gathered together.

Align the sleeves with the body of the garment, sew the skirt hem and waistband together, and piece them together one by one.

Sulfur held up the dress with both hands.

The pale red fungal cloth shimmered with a warm glow under the fluorite lamp.