Don't You like Little Dogs? Now that I'm Taking Liberties, You're Suddenly Reluctant? - Chapter 17

Bloody Slaughter’s gaze swept across the room with excruciating slowness. He offered a slight pause for Wind Hawk, Ghost, Viper, and Cang Jun his version of a greeting. Finally, his eyes landed on Pei Ye.

The gaze lingered. Pei Ye felt an invisible pressure crash down upon him cold, viscous, and carrying a physical scent of gore that nearly choked the air from his lungs. It wasn’t simple killing intent; it was something more primal: a total, absolute indifference toward the existence of life.

“The new brat?”

Bloody Slaughter’s voice was horribly raspy, as if his vocal cords had been shredded by coarse sandpaper. Every word carried the texture of rusted iron.

“Mm-hmm. The little dog Fourth Brother picked up. We call him Sixie,” Wind Hawk piped up with a grin, seemingly immune to the blood-soaked pressure. “He’s our prized rookie now. Already 70th on the overall rankings.”

Bloody Slaughter’s cloudy eyes stared at Pei Ye, showing no reaction. He took a single step toward the boy.

As that foot hit the floor, every muscle in Pei Ye’s body coiled to the breaking point. He entered a defensive stance by pure instinct. He felt like he was being eyed by a prehistoric apex predator; cold fear crawled up his spine, but deeper down, a triggered ferocity flared up, a desperate urge to strike back.

Bloody Slaughter took another step. He was now less than three meters away. His towering frame cast a shadow that completely swallowed Pei Ye. The smell of blood was suffocating.

Suddenly, without warning, he raised a massive hand—stained with dried blood and grime—and lunged for the top of Pei Ye’s head. The movement didn’t seem fast, yet it carried a sense of unavoidable weight.

Pei Ye’s pupils shrank. I can’t dodge it!

His brain screamed a warning, but his body felt stiff under the crushing pressure. Just as the hand was about to touch his hair, Pei Ye jerked his head to the side. Simultaneously, his right hand shot out like a lightning bolt. He didn’t block; instead, he lunged to precisely grip the pressure point on Bloody Slaughter’s wrist.

It was the only effective counter-attack he could conceive—trying to use leverage and vital strikes to force the giant to pull back.

Clap!

His fingers successfully locked onto the man’s wrist. It felt as hard as solid iron. The pulse beneath was steady and powerful, entirely unaffected by the strike. Bloody Slaughter’s movement didn’t even falter.

However, the massive hand did not descend. It stopped in mid-air, inches from Pei Ye’s temple.

Within Bloody Slaughter’s cloudy eyes, something flickered something so fast it was almost impossible to catch. Perhaps it could be called a microscopic spark of surprise?

He withdrew his hand and shifted his gaze away from Pei Ye, as if he had lost all interest. He turned toward Cang Jun and said in that raspy voice, “Hungry. Is there food?”

Without looking at anyone else, he strode toward the kitchen, leaving behind a single, spreading bloody footprint and a trembling Pei Ye, whose heart was racing and whose back was drenched in cold sweat.

Wind Hawk sauntered over and slapped Pei Ye hard on the shoulder, laughing heartlessly. “Not bad, Sixie! You actually dared to hit back! And you didn’t get your skull crushed on the spot!”

Viper snorted. “Looks like the Butcher is in a good mood today.”

Ghost, at some point, had lowered her head again to continue wiping her gear as if nothing had happened. Cang Jun watched Bloody Slaughter’s retreating back, then glanced at Pei Ye, saying flatly: “He’s acknowledged you.”

Pei Ye slowly unclenched his fists. His palms were slick with sweat. He understood that the move just now wasn’t really an attack it was a test. Bloody Slaughter was testing his limit, his courage, and his most instinctive reaction to absolute suppression.

To shrink back would be to be ignored or perhaps crushed. But to resist, even if it was as futile as a mantis trying to stop a carriage, earned him a sliver of “recognition” in this bloody world.

It was a twisted logic built on power and survival. Pei Ye now understood the essence of the First Division even more deeply. With the Butcher’s return, the temperature of this crucible had spiked, becoming more dangerous and far more real.

He looked toward the kitchen, where the giant figure was roughly rummaging for food. Pei Ye’s eyes grew calm again, but deeper.

At the very top of the overall rankings, there were always six mountains standing tall. Bloody Slaughter was undoubtedly one of the most oppressive among them. But Pei Ye no longer felt pure terror. Instead, it was replaced by a cold, eager urge to fight.

Time flew by in a blur of training and the occasional live mission.

Pei Ye grew at a staggering rate. His combat techniques became increasingly ruthless and precise, his marksmanship stabilized at the top tier, and his stealth and demolition skills sharpened daily. He gradually grew accustomed to the First Division’s rhythm, even beginning to understand their seemingly mad but highly efficient way of thinking.

His relationship with the team became subtle yet stable. He would help Viper organize his chaotic explosives armory; he would silently set a cup of hot coffee next to Ghost while she stared out the window (even if she usually didn’t drink it); he engaged in high-intensity sparring with Wind Hawk that pushed his limits; and he executed every one of Cang Jun’s orders perfectly, learning the deeper tactical intent behind them.

He was still the same silent, dark-eyed Pei Ye, but his core had become harder and colder. His loyalty and obsession with Jiang Si never wavered; if anything, it grew more intense as his strength increased. He was getting closer to his goal.

During this time, Jiang Si never contacted him directly, nor did he ever visit the First Division’s garrison. But Pei Ye knew that Master knew everything through the adjutant’s reports. That was enough. He just had to do better.

His overall ranking rose steadily through mission after mission. 50th… 32nd, 19th.

After he successfully completed a high-difficulty solo assassination and brought back the target’s data chip perfectly intact, his ranking jumped to 11th.

This rank touched the true inner circle. Those ranked above him were all legendary monsters or veterans of the organization whose hands were soaked in blood.

And he was only sixteen years old.

That night, Pei Ye stood on the roof of the garrison, gazing at the blurred silhouette of the city center in the distance. Jiang Si’s penthouse was in that direction. The cold wind whipped his black bangs, revealing a pair of eyes that were calm but burning with a dark fire.

He thought of how weak he was when he was first picked up, the betrayal of the Fourth Division, the tedious rehab in the medical department, the fear of first entering the First Division, and the first spark of recognition…

The road was still long. The top ten and even higher was his goal. The First Division was his whetstone, and he had earned its respect. But it wasn’t enough. He had to become strong enough to cut through all obstacles, return to his Master’s side, and secure that position with absolute value.

He looked down at his palms. A layer of thin calluses had formed from years of gripping guns and training. These hands would seize more and destroy more for his Master.

Growth wasn’t about becoming warm; it was about grinding the cold blade until it was even sharper. He was no longer the orphan hiding in a corner begging for attention. He was the vicious hound raised by Jiang Si, the blade tempered by the First Division of Skeleton.

The youth turned and walked off the roof, his silhouette merging into the deep darkness of the garrison. His steps were steady and silent, like a true predator.

His past had been abandoned; his future would exist for one person alone.