"I heard the Westalis foreign minister is especially fond of cats. We'll sneak the cats into his temporary residence,
feed them a frenzy-inducing drug, coat their claws with poison, and dust their fur with a colorless, odorless poisonous powder. Ideally, we should coat their tongues with poison too.
Once the drug kicks in, the cat in the foreign minister's arms will scratch him, and the poison, which has no antidote, will kill him instantly.
Or he might inhale the poisonous powder on their fur, or the cats might lick him while he holds them. Those poisons will kill him too."
Richie crouched by the door, confirming that the transmigrator who had become a cat was indeed here.
Listening to what those people had just said, Richie realized they were planning something evil.
He was too weak on his own, so he crouched by the door, afraid to make any rash moves.
Another man inside continued:
"Wouldn't that mean these cats are certain to die?"
The man who had just explained the plan in detail snorted.
"All the better. No survivors, no evidence."
Through the crack in the door, Richie counted one, two, three, four, five, six, seven people. They didn't look like ordinary people. Instead, they were like his mother, radiating murderous intent from head to toe.
Richie still didn't fully understand the situation inside and wanted to keep listening.
"Once the foreign minister dies, the summit between the two countries' leaders naturally won't be able to go ahead. War between the two nations will inevitably break out."
Someone else followed with a sinister laugh. "Then we'll have achieved our goal without lifting a finger!"
Richie crouched at the crack in the door and listened to the whole plan, then backed away in fright.
"A lair. The villains' lair. This