Twilight hues tinted the sky, and a gentle golden breeze whispered through the air.
Without realization, another year had slipped into deep autumn, reaching the end of the eleventh year of the Immortal Yuan Calendar. Inside Phoenix Mountain, all was as usual, verdant and misty, clear and tranquil, peaceful as an ink wash landscape.
In the courtyard, Gu Yu, wrapped in light rosy twilight, introduced the situation simply and objectively.
Sitting opposite him, Long Qiu faced the distant mountains shrouded in the dusk. The twilight slid over his shoulder, scattering the autumn reflections in her eyes, bursting into a mosaic of colorful ripples.
"So, what now?"
She asked, "You suspect that the Golden Silkworm's spirit has been eroded by the fragments?"
"It's not a suspicion, but a certainty. Its change is too rapid, illogically so. Previously, I just thought it had natural intelligence, but now, there's a convincing reason."
"What do you plan to do?"
