Wood shavings flew in the air as the divine statue came to life in the backlight.
The old craftsman had been content with carving Buddha statues, but after a while, he suddenly turned his head, looking at a handsome young man with a sword at his waist, who also had a hint of wariness on his face.
"Are you interested in the statue?" the old man with white hair lightly moving, asked with a smile.
Zhao Rong shook his head, "I have no knowledge in this craft, I can only admire from afar. Your sculpting skill is outstanding, and I suppose your swordsmanship must be even more so."
The old man wiped a strand of sawdust from his face, revealing a hint of surprise.
He then instantly understood Zhao Rong's intention and immediately felt disinterested:
"You're so young, yet your eyes are quite discerning, why so heavy-hearted? Do you think everyone who wields a sword has malicious intent toward you?"
"I've been sculpting statues for many years; there's no need for such suspicion."
