Feng Dahai sat across from the representatives of the Marching Ant Company, looking visibly annoyed. Not because of them—but because of his own losses. The underground robot fights had cost him eight million.
He had assumed he could win big through robot fighting. Instead, he got thrashed, and now his robot was broken and had to be sent back for repairs. In a panic, he'd tried to stir up media attention about supposed "quality issues." That backfired too—now the Marching Ant Company was offering him a full refund.
After reviewing and signing the return agreement, he handed it back to the company rep, Liang Huiling. "When will the money be transferred?"
"Please wait a moment." Liang Huiling gave a polite smile, turned on her laptop, and began entering Feng Dahai's information along with a photo of the signed agreement.
Barely two minutes later, a notification chimed from Feng Dahai's phone.
"Your payment has been processed. Thank you for supporting our product." Liang Huiling and her colleague offered a final courteous nod, packed up their briefcases, and exited the villa.
As soon as they left, Feng Dahai let out a smug chuckle.
"Stupid Marching Ant Company."
With a full refund, he could buy a new robot, saving himself both the repair cost and waiting time. He'd even uncovered a trick at the robot fighting ring—teaching robots combat skills and sending them to fight guaranteed wins, provided the technique was solid.
Clearly, the others hadn't caught on to this yet. He still had a chance to win his losses back—and maybe even rake in a fortune.
He logged onto the Marching Ant Company's website and started placing an order for a new robot. He entered his ID, clicked submit, and—
Nothing.
He stared at the screen. Denied?
He clicked again. Same result.
Again. Still denied.
Frowning, Feng Dahai opened the online customer support chat to find out what was going on.
"Sir, I'm sorry," the representative replied after checking, "your information is listed under the company's service denial list."
"Denial of service? Why?! Do you know who I am?" he snapped, furious.
"I'm sorry, sir," the reply came. Then the line went dead.
Blacklist!
He instantly understood—he had been blacklisted by the Marching Ant Company.
Face flushed with anger, he grabbed his phone with a clenched jaw.
Outside the Free Club, three police officers sat inside an unmarked van. Two men and one woman—all focused on the laptop screen showing live surveillance footage.
Tonight was their operation.
Their unit had been monitoring the Free Club for a long time, but until now, they'd lacked solid evidence. Most of what they had was circumstantial, not enough to act on.
That changed yesterday, when they received an anonymous email. The attachment contained irrefutable evidence—full documentation of the Free Club's illegal activities.
"The rich really know how to play," said the officer with thick-rimmed glasses, scrolling through the footage. "Robots have only just come out, and they're already making them fight each other. Unreal."
"Put that on TV, and ratings would explode," said the dark-skinned officer beside him. "These kinds of robots used to be science fiction. Now they're real. Marching Ant Company is terrifying."
"Should've gone into showbiz," the woman with short hair and a headset joked, grinning.
Suddenly, the van door opened. Their commander stepped in, and the air immediately turned serious.
"Status?" Bao Zhong asked, slipping on his headset and glancing at the monitors.
"All clear so far," replied the officer with glasses.
"Good. Everyone stay sharp."
This was the largest coordinated raid of the year. Bao Zhong intended for it to be flawless.
As he issued the order, officers stationed around the building tensed, waiting for the signal. The quiet night air seemed heavier, even the insects hushed.
"Proceed as planned. Execute."
The moment he spoke, the operation was set in motion.
Sirens blared. Police vehicles surrounded the Free Club entrance. Teams of armed SWAT officers poured through the doors.
Inside, in the club's luxurious office, Sun Qicheng sat with a glass of red wine, watching the night's robot fight schedule on his monitor.
The new robot fighting matches had drawn in huge crowds. Business was booming—this month's profits had doubled from last year.
Little did he know, it was the robot fights that had doomed him.
A split second later, sirens pierced through the club. The wine glass trembled in his hand.
"Boss!" a scantily clad woman burst into the room, panic on her face. "Police! Dozens of them! They're storming the club!"
"Don't panic!" Sun Qicheng barked. "Stall them. I'll get the basement cleared."
The woman nodded and ran out. Sun Qicheng quickly initiated a hard disk format, wiping the incriminating files. Then he grabbed the intercom.
"Old Dao, get everyone—"
"Freeze!"
Before he could finish, a SWAT team burst into the room. Rifles aimed at him. Within seconds, he was pinned and handcuffed.
By the next morning, the news exploded.
"Donghai Public Security Cracks Down on Freedom Club—Major Sweep of Illegal Activity."
It was the largest raid since New Year's and was being hailed as a huge success.
But there was one unusual detail among the items confiscated during the operation—four robots.
At the press conference, every reporter zoomed in on that point.
"Secretary Bao, can you clarify—are these robots linked to the criminal activity?" one journalist asked, eyes gleaming with curiosity.
Robots were hot news right now—any scandal involving them would draw massive attention.
"When we entered the premises," Bao Zhong replied, "robot fights were actively underway in the club's basement. We are still investigating the full scope and implications."
"So you're saying the robots may be involved in criminal activity?" another reporter pressed.
"We are treating them as part of the investigation," Bao Zhong said calmly. "We'll provide a full report when we're ready."
It was the first time robots had ever been implicated in a criminal case. Online, headlines went wild:
"Robot Crime?!"
"Marching Ant Robots Seized in Police Raid!"
"Are AI Assistants Turning Against Us?"
"Trouble, trouble," Zhao Min muttered, tapping the table. Li Lingfeng stood across from her, waiting for instructions.
Now everything made sense—the unusual robot breakdowns, the strange combat data. So this was what Chen Mo had meant when he said they'd "find out soon."
No wonder he wasn't worried.
Still, the story had shifted. It wasn't just about robot quality anymore—it was about robot crime.
Four Marching Ant robots had been caught at a crime scene. Even if they hadn't committed a crime themselves, the association was enough to stir up public fear.
"Release a statement," Zhao Min ordered. "Clarify that the damages were caused by external force and not by product flaws. Emphasize that our robots are not designed for or capable of criminal activity."
"Understood," Li Lingfeng nodded and left the room.
Zhao Min walked to the window, her brow furrowed.
Since the robot's debut, one wave of trouble had followed another. None of it fatal to the company, but each issue was a fresh annoyance.
Just as she was lost in thought, Xiao Yu opened the door and stepped in.
"Zhao Jie, someone from the Quality Inspection Bureau is here."