Demon Dog Troops

As the fleet passed overhead, Ye Lan saw the graffiti painted on the hull of the ships—a ferocious three-headed dog.

This creature was known as the Demon Hound, the Hellhound, or “Cerberus,” its name taken from the mythical beast that guarded the gates of the underworld.

The Cerberus Unit was one of the formal armies under the Human Alliance.

Its battle achievements were as renowned as those of the Alpha Unit and the Dragonfang Special Forces.

In his previous life, the unit Ye Lan led—the “Argos” Unit—had once crossed paths with the Cerberus Unit during a military exercise.

But after that exercise, Ye Lan immediately blacklisted them from future cooperation.

The reason was a fundamental difference in command philosophy.

The Cerberus Unit’s tactical doctrine was ruthless, precise, and unscrupulous.

That unscrupulousness extended not only toward enemies, but also toward themselves.

They would willingly sacrifice their entire fleet just to accomplish an impossible mission.

Like a savage wolf pack, even when faced with an unbeatable opponent, they would bite and never let go, even if it meant their own destruction.

“What’s that symbol? A dog with three heads?” Su Lixiao also noticed the graffiti of the Cerberus, tilting her head in confusion.

She knew nothing about the insignias or names of the major human units, but Ye Lan was an expert in this field.

Before Ye Lan could explain, however, an irritating voice cut in.

“That’s the Cerberus Unit.”

Of course, Ye Lan and Su Lixiao weren’t the only ones in line.

A bespectacled young man, acting overly familiar, walked over.

From the young man’s attire, Ye Lan could tell he was either rich or well-connected—a spoiled aristocrat here to polish his resume at the military academy.

He had to admit, though, the boy’s taste in women was decent.

There were plenty of pretty girls sightseeing in line.

At a time when biotechnology was advanced enough to edit genes, ugliness hardly existed anymore.

Still, no matter how advanced cosmetic surgery might be, it always stripped away something natural.

Su Lixiao, however, was a true beauty untouched by artificial alteration.

With a self-assured smile, the glasses-wearing boy edged closer to Su Lixiao, throwing Ye Lan a scornful glance.

Ye Lan’s blood pressure immediately rose—he hadn’t endured such disdainful eyes in a long time.

A pampered brat polishing his image at the academy—did he even understand that bullets have no eyes? That death shows no mercy?

“Cerberus?” Su Lixiao repeated.

But the name alone told her nothing.

Her puzzled expression naturally invited someone to explain further.

The boy’s eyes gleamed with pride.

Adjusting his glasses, he spoke in a deliberately lofty tone.

“That’s right. The Cerberus Unit is the pride of our Empire. Under General Smith’s command, it has earned glorious achievements.

You must be a new student at Soul-Slaying Academy! What a coincidence. Why don’t we exchange contact information? I could tell you more stories about them…”

As the boy droned on without pause, Su Lixiao felt both amused and irritated.

She wasn’t stupid—she knew he was treating her like one.

What she wanted to hear was Ye Lan’s explanation, not the chatter of some stranger who appeared out of nowhere.

But out of politeness, she didn’t interrupt.

Instead, she subtly nudged Ye Lan.

Of course, Ye Lan immediately understood—she wanted him to silence the boy.

Ye Lan knew the guy was just showing off in front of a pretty face, trying to look superior.

Normally, Ye Lan wouldn’t stoop to argue with such a child.

But since it was Su Lixiao’s request, this was different.

The boy, oblivious to their silent exchange, continued speaking passionately.

“I really admire the Cerberus Unit. Every member of it is a legend.

I dream of joining them one day—so I can bask in glory and make ordinary people look up to me.”

At this, Ye Lan’s face darkened.

What had started as a matter of petty rivalry now struck a nerve.

“Shut up. Don’t say another word.”

Ye Lan had intended to be civil, but now he gave no courtesy.

“What? You dare speak to me like that?”

The boy had already looked down on Ye Lan’s plain attire.

Now, even more indignant, he snapped, “What did I say that’s wrong? If you want fame, joining Cerberus is the best way!”

“Just for fame? That’s all? How shallow.”

Ye Lan stepped forward, his tone sharp and pressing.

“You speak of the Cerberus Unit as if it were your family’s property. Do you think you can simply walk in if you please?”

The boy retorted, “I never said that! Joining Cerberus is my dream. Who wouldn’t want to be remembered in history?”

Ye Lan asked coldly, “Do you even know where their so-called glory comes from in this time of peace?”

“From space pirates, from alien races, of course! Don’t you know anything?” the boy snapped back, thinking Ye Lan was just a fool.

Ye Lan pressed further.

“In this so-called time of peace, do you know what Cerberus’s casualty rate is?”

The boy froze.

He opened his mouth, but no words came out.

Casualty figures weren’t secret, but media rarely publicized them, so most people ignored or were unaware of the truth.

Ye Lan said, “If in your eyes you only see their glory, only imagine your own honor and wealth, then you are unworthy to even speak their name.”

“The Cerberus Unit’s casualty rate—even in peacetime—reaches 59.9%.

And that’s only counting personnel.”

His words carried a chilling weight.

A unit with nearly sixty percent losses.

The glasses-wearing boy, who had dreamed of joining them, now looked shaken.

He stammered, “Impossible… you’re lying! How could it be that high?”

Ye Lan looked at him with pity.

“Whether I’m lying or not—others know the truth.”

In his previous life, Ye Lan’s Argos Unit had lost to Cerberus in their “exercise.”

Cerberus had destroyed his flagship, winning the mock battle.

But the cost had been catastrophic—an even trade of blood.

Cerberus nearly annihilated its own fleet just to secure the win.

Argos, though stripped of its flagship, retained much of its strength, elite forces, and chain of command.

They still had the potential to rise again.

During humanity’s prolonged war with the swarm, even with mass conscription, recruitment could never keep pace with losses.

Cerberus’s overly aggressive tactics caused needless sacrifices.

That was why most units adopted the Dragonfang Special Forces’ guerrilla tactics.

Ye Lan’s doctrine was the same—expand results while preserving as much strength as possible.

Against a numerically superior foe, he relied on mobility, multi-front engagements, and localized advantages to minimize losses.

But in the final, decisive battle of Kunotis, when faced with a suicide mission that no one dared volunteer for, it was the Cerberus Unit that stepped forward.

By then, they had only a thousand soldiers left, and one last “Cerberus-class” battlecruiser.

Ye Lan, as supreme commander, wanted to preserve them—he couldn’t bear to send them to certain death.

But every last one of them volunteered, unstoppable in their resolve.

Cerberus was annihilated.

Yet they tore a gap in the swarm’s defenses, paving the way for humanity’s victory at Kunotis.

Though their philosophies clashed, Ye Lan owed Cerberus a debt.

He would never allow their sacrifices to be forgotten beneath empty boasts.

“Do you know what lies behind their glorious record?

The blood of soldiers!

Nightmares that pampered heirs like you can never imagine!”

Ye Lan roared these words.

The shout silenced the crowd around them.

He was restraining himself, trying to hold back his killing aura.

But not all of it could be contained.

The one who felt it most was, of course, the boy standing before him.

The aura exploded with Ye Lan’s roar, plunging the boy into icy terror.

His limbs froze, his body paralyzed as though dropped into a frozen abyss.

“Who’s making a scene?”

The commotion drew the attention of the starport guards.

[Elevator Car No. 8 Remaining Seats: 2]

Luckily, at that very moment, the conveyor belt carried Ye Lan and Su Lixiao to the elevator entrance.

Two seats remained.

Before the guards could arrive, Ye Lan grabbed Su Lixiao’s hand and pulled her into the car, avoiding further conflict.

No one noticed the hidden surveillance camera in the shadows, quietly recording everything that had just happened.