He possessed a rare treasure but had no martial strength—an easy target for trickery and outright plunder.
That was the ancient family's script.
Yet in private, Feng Xiu, Han Che, and Uncle Zheng all felt a trace of puzzlement over Third Master's motives.
As a minor boss in the gray underworld, Third Master had played with many women and seen even more treasures. Why was he so obsessed with the ancient family's heirloom?
The three of them were somewhat curious as well.
At that moment, the instant the black cloth was lifted, this treasure was enough to stir anyone's heart!
What appeared before them was a humanoid statue!
"What is this?!"
Feng Shouzhuo froze.
The statue depicted a middle-aged man standing proudly, with an air that could swallow mountains and rivers. He wore bright armor, shoulder guards, and a beast-faced belt around his waist.
His features were resolute, his thick brows like blades. Though his eyes were half-closed, they carried an innate air of disdainful majesty.
Three long strands of beard hung beneath his chin, carved so vividly they seemed to sway in the wind.
At his feet lay two strange creatures.
A white tiger with a pair of wings, its body severed in two, sprawled across the ground. Its jaws gaped in fury, unwilling to close even in death.
A green dragon lay coiled upon the ground, its head severed and rolling off to one side. Its dragon eyes were wide open, its whiskers drooping.
The man in the statue stood with his left foot on the green dragon's head, his posture lofty and contemptuous. His left hand rested on his sword hilt, while his right hand was half-clenched, as though gripping a halberd or spear.
The statue stood there quietly, its dark bluish-black surface gleaming with a faint,