Don't You like Little Dogs? Now that I'm Taking Liberties, You're Suddenly Reluctant? - Chapter 16

A simple territory reclamation mission in the West District, originally assigned to the Third Division, had gone sideways. The opposition had prepared an ambush with heavy firepower; the Third Division lost over a dozen men and was now pinned down inside an abandoned shopping mall.

With no other choice, the Third Division sent a distress signal to headquarters.

The First Division was ordered to provide emergency support and “clean it all up.”

This was Pei Ye’s first real mission with the First Division.

The rain intensified. Power was out inside the abandoned mall, leaving it in total darkness save for emergency lights and the occasional flash of lightning tearing through the night sky. The echoes of gunfire, explosions, roars, and screams reverberated through the vast building, mingling with the metallic scent of rain and heavy blood.

“Sixie, stay on me.”

Wind Hawk’s voice had lost its usual playfulness, replaced by a cold, sharp edge. “Ghost on the left flank, Viper clear the path with explosives on the right. Cang Jun, hold the rear. Move fast!”

There was no unnecessary chatter. The five of them were like blades merging into the darkness silent, swift, and lethal as they cut into the battlefield.

Pei Ye followed closely behind Wind Hawk. His heart hammered against his ribs, not from fear, but from a high-voltage thrill of excitement. His grip on his gun was steady, his eyes sharply scanning every corner where an enemy might hide.

“Two o’clock, second-floor corridor. Two targets,” Ghost’s voice came through the micro-comm.

Almost simultaneously, Wind Hawk and Pei Ye raised their weapons. The soft thud of silenced shots rang out, and two shadows in the distance collapsed.

“Clear,” Wind Hawk said briefly, continuing forward.

They were like precision killing machines, efficiently neutralizing resistance along the way. Viper’s explosives tore through cover at exactly the right moments to create chaos; Ghost’s assassinations silently removed sentries in the shadows; Cang Jun controlled the overall situation with tactical commands and suppressive fire. Wind Hawk and Pei Ye acted as the spearhead, advancing rapidly.

Pei Ye was completely immersed in the rhythm. He mimicked Wind Hawk’s movements, applying everything he had learned in training: shooting, moving, finding cover, and covering gaps in the formation. He even instinctively parried a flanking ambush aimed at Wind Hawk, his dagger slicing the attacker’s wrist in one clean, decisive motion.

Wind Hawk spared him a glance. He said nothing, but in the ensuing moments, he seemed to leave a bit more room for Pei Ye to take the lead.

They soon located the remnants of the trapped Third Division and the enemy leader behind the ambush, a fat man hiding in a reinforced office.

“Blow it open,” Cang Jun ordered.

Viper grinned and stepped forward to set the charges.

“Wait!” Pei Ye spoke up suddenly.

He had noticed that the ventilation duct interface above the office was loose, and there was a faint chemical smell in the air, distinct from the scent of gunpowder. “A forced breach might ignite the flammables piled inside, taking out the whole floor.”

Viper paused, frowning. He leaned in to sniff the air and cursed. “Dammit, you’re right. Lucky fat pig.”

“Then what do we do?” a surviving Third Division member asked, his face smeared with blood and ash, his voice trembling.

Cang Jun’s gaze shifted to Pei Ye. “You tell us.”

Pei Ye took a deep breath and spoke quickly. “The vents. I can go in from above and neutralize or eliminate the target from the inside. I’ll need a frontal feint to draw their attention.”

Cang Jun stared at him for two seconds before nodding. “Approved. Ghost, cover him. Wind Hawk, make some noise at the front.”

The plan went smoother than expected. Pei Ye’s lean frame slipped easily into the ventilation duct, navigating his way above the office like a shadow. Below, the fat leader was screaming frantically into a radio, flanked by only two bodyguards.

Pei Ye didn’t hesitate. He dropped from the ceiling like a leopard. The cold gleam of his dagger flashed as he precisely slit the throat of one guard, while his other hand pressed a gun against the second guard’s jaw and pulled the trigger.

Thud! Thud!

The leader was paralyzed with terror. Just as he tried to raise his weapon, Pei Ye’s dagger was already pressed against his carotid artery.

“Clearance complete,” Pei Ye whispered into the comm, his voice calm and level.

The office door was blown open from the outside, and Wind Hawk and Cang Jun walked in, eyeing the corpses and the leader who had just soiled himself.

Wind Hawk gave a low whistle. “Nicely done, Sixie.”

Cang Jun nodded to Ghost, who stepped forward and expressionlessly finished off the now-useless leader.

Mission accomplished. On the drive back, the atmosphere relaxed slightly. Raindrops drummed against the car windows. Viper tossed a can of energy drink to Pei Ye. “Nice nose, kid. You should learn demolition from me next time.”

Pei Ye caught the drink but didn’t open it. He simply muttered, “Thanks, Brother Viper.”

Wind Hawk slung an arm around his neck, ruffling his hair vigorously. “Not bad, not bad! You didn’t embarrass the First Division! Those moves back there you’ve got a bit of my style in you!”

Even Cang Jun, who had been resting with his eyes closed in the passenger seat, spoke up calmly: “Tactical choice was correct. Reaction time: passing grade.”

Pei Ye lowered his head, rainwater dripping from the tips of his hair. No one saw the extremely slight, almost imperceptible curve of his lips. A cold, certain sense of satisfaction enveloped him. He had done it. He had earned his recognition.

Though this was only the beginning.

The next day, the weekly rankings were updated. Pei Ye’s name jumped to 89th.

This time, the internal chatter within the organization grew louder, but the skepticism was replaced by a touch of wariness. People were truly beginning to remember the name “Pei Ye” of the First Division. It wasn’t because he was favored by Jiang Si, but because of his proven, undeniable strength.

In the days that followed, life slipped into a cycle of training and missions. Pei Ye’s overall ranking continued to climb, eventually stabilizing at 70th. This felt like an invisible barrier standing between him and the top-tier monsters. He knew he needed a catalyst perhaps a more brutal battle, or some form of qualitative metamorphosis.

The atmosphere at the garrison would occasionally turn subtly tense, especially when Cang Jun received certain communications or when Wind Hawk grew uncharacteristically quiet while fiddling with his custom daggers. Even Viper’s usual cursing while handling explosives would quiet down.

Pei Ye could sense they were waiting for something. Or rather, someone.

Then, on a night of torrential rain, he returned, the mysterious, missing member of the First Division: “Bloody Slaughter.”

The sound of heavy, mud-caked combat boots stepping onto the metal floor of the base entrance was exceptionally clear, drowning out the rain outside. The footsteps were slow but steady, each one carrying a heart-stopping weight, as if treading directly on one’s chest.

Wind Hawk, who had been sprawled on the sofa playing games, sat up instantly, his eyes brightening. “He’s here.”

Ghost, who had been cleaning her sniper rifle in the corner, looked up. Even Cang Jun, who had been on a video call with the adjutant in the inner room, walked out and leaned against the doorframe. Viper poked his head out of his demolition lab and whistled. “Yo, our meat grinder finally decided to come home?”

Pei Ye was just coming out of the training room, wiping sweat with a towel. Sensing the unusual atmosphere, he instinctively stopped and looked toward the entrance.

An incredibly tall figure walked in, nearly filling the entire doorway. He wore a black tactical vest soaked in rain and smeared with dark stains, revealing arms covered in a tapestry of old and new scars. He radiated an intense, mingled scent rain, earth, gunpowder, and a nearly clotted smell of blood that hit like a physical wave even from a distance.

The man casually dropped a massive, bulging military rucksack onto the floor with a heavy thud. Something hard and heavy collided inside. From the edge of the bag, a dark red, viscous liquid began to seep out, slowly forming a small puddle on the floor.

“I’m back,” the man said flatly.

There was no emotion in his voice. He sounded like a dead man.

This was Bloody Slaughter. The final piece of the First Division.