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... t fully heated, eight weaving machines lined up in the workshop, and the air carried the scent of coal ash and lubricant.
Dozens of craftsmen had already lined up neatly, standing in the spacious and bright weaving workshop.
They all wore uniform gray-blue artisan robes, with the sun emblem of Red Tide sewn on the hems.
Some looked excited, some looked around frequently, and some couldn’t help but clench their hands.
"The Lord is here!" someone whispered.
...
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