32 had long sensed that the atmosphere was off. He gradually moved closer to Amir, sandwiching Milisen between them.
Soon, a burly figure walked straight toward Amir.
Looking closely, it was none other than the owner of the barbecue stall from earlier. Amir still remembered his seasoning recipe.
Milisen's eyes widened. She understood the situation now—the stall owner, who had just been chatting happily with Amir, turned out to be a bad guy!
The meat skewer in her hand didn't seem tasty anymore.
"Luck is on my side today. Just set up the stall and found a target. Will you hand over your credits, or shall I dig them off your corpse?"
The owner and his surrounding lackeys raised their blasters, pointing them at the three.
This was an organized gang robbery.
Amir swept his gaze around. There were seven people in total: six on the ground and one hiding on the roof as backup. However, this didn't escape Amir's notice, and even if Amir hadn't spotted him, 32 wouldn't have missed it.
"Your barbecue is pretty good. Wouldn't it be better to earn honest money?" Amir finished the last skewer.
He wasn't worried about the meat being drugged. Many people at the stall were eating, and Amir and 32 had watched the grilling process the entire time. The owner hadn't had a chance to tamper with it.
Amir guessed the owner had decided they were worth robbing based on how Amir paid. But he had paid only after receiving the food.
Before confirming a target, the owner wouldn't tamper with the food too much; after all, the stall was a long-term business front.
"Honest work doesn't fill the belly. Don't scare the kid. I advise you to hand over the money quickly."
"Thanks for your kindness," Amir said with disdain. Still pretending to be a decent person at a time like this.
After speaking, Amir crouched down and looked at Milisen. "Remember your training?"
"Mm!" Milisen nodded excitedly.
These people were regulars at murder and robbery. Amir felt the Force within the owner turning pitch black—a precursor to killing.
This group of robbers clearly had no intention of letting the three go; the current conversation was just probing.
The moment he stood up, Amir exchanged a glance with 32.
32's robe slid backward onto the ground, revealing his mechanically forged body. From his back, three mechanical arms extended flexibly, automatically locking onto the three men beside him.
Amir ignited the green lightsaber in his hand. Not to be outdone, Milisen took out her exquisite lightsaber and ignited the blue blade.
The moment 32 shed his robe, the robbers made their move. Red blaster bolts erupted from seven directions simultaneously.
Amir, his lightsaber already active, blocked all attacks from the four men in front of him. Adjusting the angle in a fluid motion, he deflected the bolts.
He had practiced directional deflection countless times; it had become muscle memory. In just a single exchange, the three opponents were caught off guard, hit by their own reflected blaster bolts, and fell to the ground, lifeless.
In an instant, only the stall owner holding a blaster pistol remained.
The smart guns on 32's back fired simultaneously. The targeting restrictions of the Smart Tactical Backpack didn't exist for 32. With just a thought, he could quickly select targets, and the three guns on his back delivered precise strikes immediately.
Including the sniper on the roof, the three enemies to the rear were instantly killed by 32. He hadn't even moved his feet.
Milisen stepped in front of 32, deflecting any stray bolts that might have hit him.
The stall owner never expected this. Two young people with a child—theoretically the easiest targets—had wiped out his men in the blink of an eye.
His massive muscles could no longer provide him with a sense of security. The owner retreated trembling, firing his blaster pistol wildly without aiming.
Just as Amir was about to make his move, a young woman appeared behind the stall owner. She suddenly raised her hand and grabbed the owner by his hair. The already panicked man was so terrified he collapsed to the ground.
"This person is good material. It's better if he's alive. Can you give him to me?" the woman said.
Hearing this exquisite-looking woman say something so unsettling, Amir didn't know how to answer for a moment.
32 suddenly leaned in close to Amir and said, "She is like me. A cyborg."
Amir's eyes widened. He hadn't noticed at all. Or rather, at first glance, he had assumed she was a real human, so he hadn't probed with the Force.
32 had discovered it only because of his unique optical sensors.
The woman delivered a heavy blow to the back of the owner's head, knocking him out easily. Then she spoke, "You must be Kahraman's friends. Your skills aren't bad. These scumbags deserved to die long ago. Thanks for dealing with them for me. But you shouldn't use lightsabers so casually here; I don't want an Imperial Inquisitor showing up at my door."
Amir knew who she was. "Joan Hurtado?"
"Yes, that's me." Joan's tone held a faint impatience, as if she were just dealing with official business. "Follow me."
"Where is Kahraman?" Amir asked.
"He interrupted my experiment, commandeered my laboratory, rummaged through my research results, and then sent me to pick you up. Heh, if it weren't for the fact that you brought a lot of money..."
She was certainly an honest person.
With someone leading the way, the journey became easier. Amir continued to talk with Joan; he was very interested in this unconventional scientist obsessed with researching fully simulated androids.
"Kahraman told me about you, but he didn't mention that you modified yourself."
"Hehe, he didn't know. I only did it recently. My old body was affecting my research, and I don't have the longevity of Kahraman's species."
Amir suddenly thought of something and looked at Joan. "Who performed the surgery for you?"
She hadn't gone to Kahraman for the modification surgery.
"Did you want Kahraman to turn me into a lump of iron like that?" Joan pointed at 32. "Forgive me, but I can't appreciate that aesthetic. Fortunately, I learned his techniques. My assistant and I were able to complete the surgery."
Amir had nothing to say; there was no need to argue about differences in aesthetics.
But it had to be said, the body Joan had created for herself was nearly perfect in every aspect. Both her figure and appearance were top-tier. And seeing how she dragged the two-hundred-pound stall owner with one hand, the performance of this body was also excellent.
Most importantly, when she moved, one could actually see the traces of muscle movement beneath the skin. The bones, blood vessels, and tendons were indistinguishable from a real person's.
Amir admired this greatly. From this body alone, one could see the depth and precision of Joan's research.
Amir was full of confidence about this trip.
. . .
After the group left, a dirty child ran out of the alley. He came to one of the corpses, stared for a long time, and then suddenly smashed all the wooden skewers in his hand onto the dead man's head before wailing loudly.
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