Yu Xing felt that the scene was strangely familiar.
He didn't meet the statue's gaze. Instead, he took in everything around him as quickly as possible.
Jars and bottles were piled beside the offering table, their lids tightly shut. There were plenty of identical jars in River Witch's Tower, and they all carried an eerie aura.
The tablecloth and the offering table itself were mostly rotten, retaining little more than their shapes. Somehow, they still more or less served their purpose; at least they hadn't crumbled into a heap of fragments.
The statue sat upright on a lotus pedestal. Its outstretched petals conveyed a solemn majesty, lending the three- or four-meter-tall clay figure an air of divinity. Even its gaze held no trace of ghostly energy, and it gave off no pressure.
A prayer cushion lay before Yu Xing.
Of course, he didn't kneel. After confirming that the others were temporarily unharmed, he slowly raised his gaze to the statue's clothing.
It appeared to be wearing a red robe.
The statue sat cross-legged, its robe carved into layer upon layer over its lower body. One bare foot emerged from the hem and rested on a lotus petal.
Its upper body was draped in wide sleeves. One hand was raised before its chest in the gesture of Guanyin, while the other rested lower against its abdomen, palm up, holding a round, bulging black object.
The clothing must once have been brightly colored, but most of its color had faded with age, leaving only faint traces. Yu Xing could just make out the red, but not the details.
Above that was the statue's face.
Its handsome features had been carved so lifelike that it clearly looked like a young man. Its long, slender eyebrows and half-lidded eyes tempered the impression of youth,