Schiller nodded, not particularly surprised. He had wondered before why a transnational drug trafficking organization would give every member the same tattoo. Wasn't that like using real-name registration while committing crimes?
It had been fine when they were only dealing drugs, but now they clearly wanted to lie low in some city. At a time like this, such distinctive tattoos brimming with Mexican national flavor were like an agent wearing an ID card around his neck.
But if the tattoos were not something they had wanted, then it made sense. Boarding the Great West Continent and running all over Gotham City—they were probably trying to find a way to deal with the tattoos.
"What can the Ancestor God's curse do?"
"They won't die immediately, but they will die eventually, and horribly." Martin bared his teeth. "The manner of death isn't fixed, but it will definitely be extremely gruesome. No one can escape it."
Schiller nodded. Every member of the Penitent Cartel he had known had died horribly.
"They were desperate long ago. They knew the key to lifting the curse was with me, so they went mad searching for me in Guazhou. I was still young then. There weren't enough sacrifices, and I didn't have power as strong as my mother's, so I could only find ways to hide."
"But once, I slipped up. They tracked me to my hiding place, and I nearly died. The Revolutionary Army saved me."
"To be honest, my mother used to have some connections with the local drug lord." Martin shrugged. "Basically, the drug lord kidnapped his enemies, my mother sacrificed them to the Ancestor God, the drug lord quietly got rid of his enemies, and my mother gained power."
"But I definitely didn't tell the Revolutionary Army that part. Back then, I thought