As Yang Qing pointed behind them, Bu Er and the others turned around and saw that the stone statue, which had originally had its back to them, had turned to face them at some point.
But even though the statue had turned around, they still could not make out its face.
It was as though a thin mist shrouded the statue, leaving its features hazy and indistinct.
Though they could not see its face clearly, the oppressive aura emanating from the statue still sent a tremor through their hearts.
It was as though what stood before them was not a stone statue, but a living person.
And that person held the power of life and death over them.
The statue had merely turned around without moving a single step, yet Yang Qing and the others already felt their movements growing restricted.
"Right now, we have only two choices. One, retreat. Two, break off one of this statue's arms."
"But retreat is no longer an option," Yang Qing told the others gravely. "We can only move forward."
Yang Qing motioned for Bu Er and the others to look at the statue, and they noticed a thin thread connecting one of its arms to the stone sword at its waist.
It looked as though the statue could draw the sword at its waist simply by raising its hand.
And they could clearly see that the thread was indeed trembling little by little, tugging at that arm and drawing the stone sword out inch by inch.
"This statue is alive."
As Bu Er and Jiang Zhizhou stared at the stone statue before them, a strange feeling welled up in their hearts.
As martial artists, they keenly sensed waves of killing intent emanating from it.
Like hidden currents beneath the sea, they surged toward