Don't You like Little Dogs? Now that I'm Taking Liberties, You're Suddenly Reluctant? - Chapter 13

Inside the dim confinement room, the adjutant’s face remained expressionless as he looked down at the men on the floor as if they were already dead.

“Beasts should know their place. Don’t spend your days thinking you can use someone to climb your way up…”

Crocodile’s teeth chattered. He tried to struggle, but the ropes only bit deeper into his flesh. He hissed out, “Adjutant! We—we were wrong! Spare me this once! It was… it was them! They couldn’t stand the kid either!”

He was still trying to push the blame onto the others.

Even at a time like this. Ah… honestly…

“Pitifully stupid,” the adjutant chuckled lowly before lifting his eyes to the other bound men.

Hearing Crocodile’s words, the others immediately erupted into a chorus of terrified curses and pleas. “Bullshit! Crocodile, you’re fucking lying through your teeth!”

“Adjutant! It was him! He’s the one who laid hands on the boy! We didn’t—”

“Mercy! We’ll never do it again! Crocodile forced us!”

The adjutant seemed not to hear the chaotic wailing. He simply came to a halt in front of Crocodile and leaned down slightly. With a black-gloved hand, he tilted Crocodile’s chin up, forcing the man to look him in the eye.

“It seems… no one intends to answer my questions properly.” The adjutant’s voice remained flat, bordering on regretful.

In the next second, he lifted his foot and slammed the hard sole of his combat boot down on Crocodile’s fingers, which were tied behind his back.

“AAAGH—!” A piercing scream instantly drowned out all pleas and curses.

The others fell abruptly silent. Their faces turned as pale as paper as they watched the scene, their bodies trembling uncontrollably. One of them even lost control of his bladder.

The adjutant ground his heel down slowly. He listened to the faint sound of bones snapping and Crocodile’s pitch-shifting wails with an unchanging expression.

“Now,” he released his foot, his voice cold enough to freeze blood. “Who wants to be the first to speak to me properly?”

“AAAAHH! It hurts! It hurts so much! I was wrong… I was wrong! Let me go!!!”

Inside the room, Crocodile’s screams continued to echo, the air thick with the smell of blood and the stench of waste.

The remaining men huddled in the corner, shaking like leaves in the wind, not daring to breathe. The look they gave the adjutant was one of primal terror.

The adjutant pulled out a clean handkerchief and methodically wiped away non-existent dust from his gloves, as if he had just stepped on an annoying insect. His gaze swept over the bloodless faces of the team members.

“So,” he began, his voice terrifyingly steady. “Who started it? Who followed along? And ‘Cheetah’… what was his stance?”

“It was Crocodile! It was all Crocodile!” one member blurted out, nearly sobbing, his words incoherent. “He was the first to kick Pei Ye! He’s the one who incited us! He said… he said the brat was a curse!”

“Yes! Yes! It was him!”

“Brother Cheetah tried to stop it! He cursed at Crocodile! But… but we didn’t listen…” another member added, tears and snot streaming down his face in his haste to distance himself. “We were… we were afraid of dying back then… Adjutant, please spare us! We really know we were wrong!”

The adjutant listened quietly, his face showing no emotion, his fingertips merely tapping against his leather gloves. These confessions aligned with the results of his preliminary investigation.

“And Cheetah?” he asked.

“Brother Cheetah… he wanted to go back and save him later, but the door was blocked… he beat Crocodile on the way back… he hasn’t spoken since…” someone answered shakily.

The adjutant nodded, seemingly satisfied. He tucked his handkerchief away, his gaze falling back onto Crocodile, who was twitching from the agony, not even daring to moan too loudly.

“It seems the primary culprit is clear.” The adjutant’s tone was almost gentle, but the content chilled them to the bone. “As for the rest of you…”

His eyes swept over the men who were still desperately begging for mercy.

“Accomplices and bystanders are equally unforgivable.”

He didn’t spare them another look as he turned toward the door. Two of his trusted confidants standing outside bowed immediately.

The adjutant’s cold voice decided the fate of everyone in the room: “Clean it up. Leave no trace.”

“Yes, sir!” the two men replied expressionlessly, closing the door behind them.

The heavy iron door cut off the sudden eruption of desperate wailing and pleading from within.

Walking down the cold corridor, the adjutant pulled off his gloves and took out an internal comms device.

“Cheetah,” he said directly once the line connected. “Come to my office.”

The other end was silent for a few seconds before Cheetah’s low, exhausted voice came through: “…Yes, sir.”

The adjutant put the device away, his face still unreadable. Clearing out the trash was the first step; next, he had to evaluate which tools were still functional.

This was how the organization operated—efficient and ruthless.

His duty was to ensure that this massive execution machine, with Jiang Si at its core, continued to run smoothly and permanently.

The ward in the medical department was filled with the sterile, cold scent of disinfectant.

Pei Ye was recovering quickly. His extraordinary will to live and physical constitution had pulled him out of the critical phase in record time.

However, he remained as silent as ever. Aside from cooperating with the treatment, he spent most of his time staring out the window or at the door, like a small dog waiting for its master to claim it.

When the door was pushed open unceremoniously, his eyes lit up for an instant, only to dim and turn wary when he saw who it was.

Wind Hawk, with an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips, leaned over with a grin. Ignoring Pei Ye’s immediate tension, he reached out and pinched the edge of a healing wound on the boy’s arm.

“Tsk, recovering well, aren’t you, little monster?”

Wind Hawk’s grip wasn’t light. Pei Ye winced from the pain but didn’t make a sound, merely staring at him with dark, heavy eyes.

“Stop teasing him.” Goshawk leaned against the doorframe, tossing an apple in the air. “Fourth Brother said this one belongs to our team now. It’ll be a hassle if you break him.”

Wind Hawk shrugged and let go, instead ruffling Pei Ye’s hair into a mess. “Hear that? I’m covering you from now on. But the First Division doesn’t keep dead weight. Kid, get up and start training as soon as you’re healed.”

Pei Ye pursed his lips. He ignored the part about being “covered” and focused only on the key information: “…Master’s orders?”

“Who else?” Wind Hawk arched an eyebrow. “You think just anyone can get into our team?”

He leaned down, his red hair brushing against Pei Ye’s cheek. His voice dropped, filled with playfulness and a dangerous kind of testing. “To get you over here, Fourth Brother cleared out every piece of trash in the Fourth Team. Happy?”

Pei Ye’s pupils contracted imperceptibly.

Cleared out… all of them? The ones who wanted him dead…

A cold, bloody warmth surged through his heart without warning.

It was Master. Master settled the score with all the traitors for him.

He lowered his lashes to hide the intense emotions swirling in his eyes and gave a small, light nod.

Wind Hawk seemed to find the reaction boring and straightened up with a pout. “No fun.”

Goshawk walked over then, placing the apple on the nightstand. His voice was flat, as if stating the most mundane fact. “Since you’re joining us, let me tell you about the First Division. Counting you, there are six of us now.”

He counted them off on his fingers. “Me, Goshawk, Captain. Him, Wind Hawk, Vice-Captain—my younger brother. Then there’s a demolition maniac, code-name ‘Viper.’ Male. His temper is more volatile than TNT. Another is ‘Ghost,’ female, excels in stealth and assassination—she’s a shadow.”

He seemed to recall something and added, “Oh… and there’s one more out on a mission, ‘Bloody Slaughter.’ Male. You’ll see what a real meat-grinder looks like when he gets back.”

Finally, he looked at Pei Ye again. “As for you, you’re last. From now on, you’re ‘Sixie’ (Little Six).”

Pei Ye nodded to show he understood. Sixie… what a strange name.

Seeing that he accepted it quickly, Goshawk continued his explanation. “When other teams go out, survival is the priority. Our team is different.”

His eyes were devoid of any ripple of emotion, as if he were discussing the weather. “The mission is above all else. If necessary, you throw your life into the gap. We are the fastest, sharpest, and most reckless blade in Fourth Brother’s hand. Do you understand, Sixie?”

“I understand,” Pei Ye replied softly.

There was no fear in his dark eyes. Instead, he seemed drawn to the extreme cruelty of those words, a faint, dark fire beginning to burn within him.

“Sixie”—the name felt like a form of recognition, a way to distinguish him completely from the “trash” that had been cleared out.

“Good.” Goshawk seemed satisfied with the reaction. “Get well fast. The team is busy; we don’t have time to keep checking on you.”

With that, he gestured to Wind Hawk, and the two of them left the ward one after the other.

The door closed, and silence returned to the room.

Pei Ye slowly picked up the apple and gripped it tight. The IV needle in the back of his hand looked prominent due to the force of his grip.

It was the chance Master gave him. Master truly saw him.

This is wonderful.