"A big tree attracts the wind. It seems the Matar family's alliance isn't as smooth sailing as they imagined~"
The visitor fell silent, momentarily doubting the wisdom of accepting the Matar family's invitation. However, she quickly shook off the thought.
"Forget it. Since I've come this far, leaving abruptly would be inappropriate given our prior cooperative relationship. Besides, I've already accepted their appearance fee. Might as well sit back and enjoy the show~"
With that, she glanced around the area. Failing to locate the guide or receptionist, she suspected they might have already met their end. Unfazed, she turned toward the suspension bridge and began crossing, her destination clear.
As time passed, her arrival went unnoticed by most, but the news she carried sent shockwaves through the Matar family.
Baituo, the Matar family's head butler, stood grimly over the lifeless bodies of four housekeepers at the far end of the suspension bridge. His expression was dark with anger.
"Preoccupied with forming alliances and guarding against external organizations, we overlooked other threats sneaking in uninvited," he muttered, his tone icy.
One of the remaining butlers ventured cautiously.
"Could someone have infiltrated disguised as an assassin?"
Baituo's lips curled into a humorless smile.
"That much is obvious. But what difference does it make~?" His anger simmered down, replaced by cold calculation.
"Inform all affiliated organizations and families to heighten their vigilance. The fact that these intruders could so easily take lives on our territory is not only a provocation to the Matar family but also a blatant insult to the families present here."
He paused, his gaze sharpening. "Let them know their guests are just as vulnerable. If anyone is killed under our roof, it will tarnish not only their reputation but ours as well."
Baituo's voice dropped to a menacing growl.
"Make it clear to them: we will not bear this responsibility. Lay the blame on the Westin family's incompetence and lack of proper security."
"Understood, sir!"
...
Elsewhere, Ronnel's eyes snapped open in his quiet resting spot. The news of the attack had spread like wildfire among the six family organizations gathered at Mont Saint-Pierre. In response, everyone became hyper-vigilant, interrogating their own entourage.
Ronnel, too, was subject to inspection, though it barely fazed him. His second grandfather and the two elders merely asked a few perfunctory questions before moving on. The real scrutiny was reserved for his "big brother," considered the family's pillar, and the household butlers, viewed as the most easily compromised.
Sure enough, amidst the chaos, no one paid attention to the unassuming "poor kid" named Karamo. Ronnel chuckled to himself—his second brother sure was pitiable.
Meanwhile, the other family organizations settled down after conducting their own "professional" checks, waiting anxiously for the upcoming meeting.
The hours ticked by unnoticed, and soon it was time for the conference. After a lavish lunch prepared by the Matar family, the guests were escorted by solemn butlers to the grand conference hall.
In a secluded corner of the estate, a man with long hair emerged from a mole-dug tunnel. He stared blankly at the conference building in the distance, his thoughts unreadable.
The Matar family's conference room resembled the Hunter Association's presidential election hall—spacious, grand, and capable of hosting a large crowd. When Ronnel and the others arrived, many seats were already occupied by prominent family members.
The centerpiece of the room was an elevated platform featuring several ornate chairs, a long table, and an oddly mesmerizing purple-blue microphone. Ronnel glanced around, observing the butlers lining the perimeter.
Though they exuded confidence, their strength seemed... unimpressive.
Dressed in black suits, white shirts, and purple-blue ties, their attire screamed tradition.
This family really has a thing for purple and blue, huh? Ronnel mused silently, before the sound of a door opening pulled his attention.
At the entrance stood a man with striking purple-blue hair, walking with an exaggerated swagger that almost rivaled Hisoka's. The man's air of arrogance was palpable, his flamboyant movements making Ronnel cringe inwardly.
'No wonder this family loves purple and blue so much—it's in their DNA,' he thought, noting the natural hue of the man's hair. It was akin to the Zoldyck family's iconic silver locks, a mark of exceptional lineage.
The meeting commenced, and Ronnel remained watchful, mentally cataloging every move. The Matar family was clearly flaunting their power and style, but arrogance could be a double-edged sword. As the middle-aged man with purple-blue hair took center stage, Ronnel's instincts told him the real game was just beginning.
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