The woman, who seemed to exude an air of unapproachability, glanced at the greasy man and said casually:
"This guest, if you want to go in, you can also take the cable car. But there's a fee~"
She clicked her tongue, holding a cigarette between her fingers. After taking a deep drag, she exhaled a thick plume of white smoke, her expression one of satisfaction and indulgence.
Her appearance and demeanor resembled the iconic landlady!
The tourists, upon seeing her puffing away, instinctively frowned and covered their noses. However, two among them reacted differently.
The first was the tour guide, whose smile faltered for a moment when she saw the woman smoking. Though her expression quickly returned to normal, she subtly distanced herself from the smoker.
The second was Ronnel. At first, he didn't think much of it, but a glimmer of suspicion crossed his face as he observed her. His sharp senses picked up an unusual hint of aura in the smoke she exhaled.
"Poison?"
A flicker of green seemed to flash within the white smoke, though it might've been his imagination.
Even so, Ronnel wasn't about to take any chances. Knowing the Matar family's reputation, he doubted they'd be foolish enough to harm tourists outright. Still, he immediately held his breath as a precaution.
The other tourists didn't seem affected, but the greasy man's nose twitched. He rubbed it absentmindedly, dismissing the sensation.
The smoker glanced at him, her gaze sharp but brief. Saying nothing further, she flicked her cigarette butt into the cliff and turned away. Without a word, she disappeared behind the stone gate, which closed with a low rumble.
The air was tense for a moment, then relaxed once she was gone.
The greasy man opened his mouth, seemingly ready to speak again, but his words were cut short as he staggered. He yawned deeply, his eyelids drooping. Then—
"Thud!"
The muffled sound startled everyone. Heads turned toward the source, and what they saw sent a wave of horror through the group.
The greasy man had slumped against the sightseeing car's railing, a serene smile frozen on his face. But that wasn't what terrified them.
Blood was oozing from his eyes, nose, mouth, and ears.
"Ahhh!"
Screams erupted as panic spread among the tourists. One woman clutched her friend, trembling uncontrollably.
"It's hopeless," Ronnel muttered to himself, shaking his head as he glanced at the scene.
The tour guide, unperturbed, calmly stepped forward. She checked the man's pulse before sighing and covering his face with a white towel. Without missing a beat, she pulled out her phone and made a call.
Meanwhile, the tourists huddled together, a mix of fear and morbid excitement in their eyes.
"This is so thrilling!" someone exclaimed, shivering but grinning nonetheless.
"To kill someone so cleanly, without a sound… As expected of a world-renowned family of assassins!"
"I want to come back next time! This place is insane!"
Ronnel raised an eyebrow, his thoughts cynical.
These people are more twisted than me...
He recalled the blood-soaked underground arenas from his past life. Thrill-seekers had always existed, flocking to danger for the sake of excitement. But this? Visiting a notorious family of killers for fun? That was a different level of crazy.
His gaze lingered on the man, now covered by the towel. The image of his final, gruesome moments flashed in Ronnel's mind. He thought of the infamous Zoldyck family, known for their near-perfect assassination success rate and unwavering professionalism.
The Matar family, in comparison, had long been overshadowed by the Zoldycks.
Even though their killing style once bore similarities, the Matar family had been forced to reinvent themselves. They had no choice—how could they compete with the flawless efficiency of the Zoldycks?
Generations of effort had led the Matar family to develop their own distinct approach to assassination. And yet, even now, their reputation couldn't escape the shadow of their more famous rivals...
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