A smug, corpulent feline, its bloated belly bursting from a constricted Tang suit, lounges insolently with legs crossed, reclining against an ornate rifle. Its gnarled, branch-like fingers clutch the weapon with deceptive ease, while razor-sharp steel pipe whiskers glint with cold precision. Every wrinkled fold of its fur, every disdainful curl of its lip, is rendered in hyper-detailed realism—an image so visceral it practically reeks of arrogance.