Eh? You want to try the humanoid girl's iron fist too?

In his shock, Vidak suddenly felt a warm sensation in his crotch—his bladder was out of control.

"Damn it! Who are you?"

The trembling voice betrayed the bone-chilling fear.

"Keep your voice down, Mr. Flöhwatz. My companions are with your wife and daughters as well."

Volume 5 Dancing in Shackles: Chapter 49 The Physical Death of the Whole Family

Vidak Vorhovacs stood beside his gold-and-black luxury RV, the sunlight making him squint, sweat trickling down his forehead to his chin, dripping onto his expensive linen shirt and leaving a small damp patch.

The lawn at the equestrian arena was neatly trimmed, and the distant sounds of horses neighing and Clara shouting during training drifted over, but these sounds seemed to come from another world. Vidak's attention was entirely focused on the woman in front of him.

His throat was as dry as sandpaper, his hands were trembling slightly, and the back of his shirt was soaked with sweat, sticking uncomfortably to his skin.

"You bastard! If you knew who I was, you would understand that I could destroy your world with just one phone call."

Dark gritted his teeth, his voice filled with anger, trying to regain some momentum.

"Don't wet your pants before you make any tough statements."

The petite woman in the baseball cap chuckled, then took a small step back, her face full of disdain, as if she had seen through his bluff.

She pulled her baseball cap down low, covering half her face, revealing only her chin and slightly upturned corners of her mouth.

The pistol in her hand was steadily aimed at Vidak's chest. The gun was black, the silencer was screwed on tightly, and the muzzle looked like a bottomless pit. She stood casually, her weight on her left foot, her right knee slightly bent, as if she could move at any moment.

"Now you need to make a phone call."

Who should I call?

"Jonas Krause".

Vidak Vorhovac's Adam's apple bobbed again, as if something was blocking his throat.

The image of Krause flashed through his mind—the man who stirred up trouble in Leipzig's underworld, with wolf-like eyes and a chilling smile.

He swallowed hard, forcing himself to calm down.

"I don't know this person," he said, forcing himself to speak.

The woman took a step forward, slightly raising the muzzle of her gun, her tone full of disdainful mockery.

"Mr. Folhofatz, being a front man must be quite nice. Laundering money for the powerful, your fathers worked for the same people, building a business that others can hardly match."

I understand your clients' true nature; what you think of them...

Your fears far surpass mine—perhaps your friends wield immense power…

"As long as you know."

Upon hearing the word "client," Vorhovacs abruptly interrupted her, his voice rising several decibels as if grasping at a last straw.

But then, the pistol unexpectedly reappeared in sight.

His eyes flickered, and he tried to intimidate her with his status, but when he saw the gun in the woman's hand, he swallowed hard, and his momentum weakened considerably.

"Your friends may wield immense power, but if I were to shoot you in the head with a pistol, they probably wouldn't go to such lengths for a professional manager. However, it doesn't matter to you."

"I really don't know what you're talking about."

Vidak gritted his teeth, sweat dripping from his forehead to the corners of his eyes, stinging his vision. His legs went even weaker, his fingers clenched white against the doorframe, his mind a jumbled mess.

"What a pity." The woman took out her phone and put it to her ear.

She pressed a few keys, and the screen lit up, illuminating her chin with a white glow. Her fingers slid across the screen, as if dialing a number.

"what are you up to?"

"Call your friend!"

"Don't!"

Clara's smiling face, Maggie's back, and the conference room in West Berlin flashed through my mind like a revolving lantern.

“It was your own choice, Mr. Flöhwatz. All I wanted was an introduction.”

"I beg you……"

“Actually, you know that Krause won’t kill you—you manage a lot of assets, and he has a share in them.”

"Why would I want to talk to him? Forget it, I don't want to know. Let me send a text message."

"wise."

The UMP9 was held horizontally across the pistol, and right in front of Folhofatz's eyes, the slide was half-drawn, and with a click, the spent cartridge case was exposed in the chamber, the copper case flashing in the sunlight.

"Take it slow... Be gentle, and don't do anything that might cause a misunderstanding."

Flhofard shakily pulled out his phone, his fingertips swiping across the screen a few times, almost entering the wrong password. He cursed under his breath, wiped the sweat from his palms, and re-entered it.

The screen lit up, displaying a long list of names in his contacts. His finger hovered over "Jonas K.", hesitated for two seconds, and finally pressed it.

He lowered his head to type, his fingers trembling like a sieve, and a line of text slowly appeared on the screen.

"He only meets in person. How did you find me?"

He glanced up at the woman as he typed.

"My wife and daughter's social media accounts, including Instagram, equestrian club accounts, and short video platforms. If I'm lucky enough to escape with my life after today, I'll make sure to set proper privacy settings."

"Grass."

"You learn from your mistakes."

"Who wants to see him?"

The phone vibrated in my wet palm.

“Raphael Lovelace. Tell him that Professor Raphael has something his security friends want.”

"Change what?"

"He understands, just do as he's told."

"He doesn't talk about business, he just uses text messages to arrange a meeting."

"Then let's make an appointment."

"when?"

"Now."

Do you know where he is?

"He will come."

Vorhovacs looked up and examined the man with the gun.

As I continued typing, the message on the screen slowly took shape.

"Tactical dolls can get away with security rules... Well, things made of data can always be found to have vulnerabilities, maybe even IOPs."

"So it's best to do as instructed."

After saying that, UMP9 tapped Vorhovacs on the forehead with the grip of his pistol.

"Hiss... He's replying."

"pay close attention."

"Okay, he agreed."

"See, it's not difficult. Location?"

“Grimma, there’s a bathhouse there.”

"Damn it, why choose a place like this?"

"Safety."

“That’s the only meeting point, which can ensure that no one is carrying weapons, and besides, it’s his territory.”

Folhofalc thought of Raphael Loveles' name and barely managed to suppress the smirk that was creeping onto his lips.

"Your boss can consider it; that place isn't suitable for her."

"besides?"

UMP9 saw the text message that popped up on Flhofard's phone.

"It seems like he wants you to come too."

"Hold!"

“Text your wife to tell her there’s an urgent meeting.”

"Why do I have to go too!"

Vorhovacs held the phone in both hands, frantically pressing the keyboard with his thumbs.

"I want one more thing."

"what?"

"Client list—you know what I mean."

"I'm dead if I hand it over."

"If you don't hand it over, you'll die now."

"No."

Are you going to die or not?

UMP9 coughed deliberately and rearranged his sentences, saying:

"Sorry, there was a problem with the language module just now, but don't worry, the bug has just been fixed, and now you can choose your death method."

Folhofatz's throat tightened. He had forgotten that the woman before him was essentially a robot, and all her emotions were artificial simulations.

He looked up and met the coldest, most ruthless gaze he had ever seen in his life.

There was no emotion involved.

How can a robot have feelings?

nod.