52: Chapter 52 Cerberus: A War Machine of Absolute Obedience

As Chen Feng's voice fell, he pressed a green button on the wall next to the gate.

A series of complex mechanical unlocking sounds came from inside the heavy, circular alloy gate. Gears engaged and disengaged, and pressure valves let out a dull hiss. Accompanied by a slight vibration, the massive door, over a meter thick, slid silently to the side.

Behind the door was not a blinding light, but a vast, slightly dim space.

Clark squinted as a gust of dry air, smelling of dust and gunpowder, rushed toward him. He saw the scene inside, and his pupils couldn't help but contract.

It was a simulated urban street block.

Broken, sandy-yellow walls, abandoned cars riddled with bullet holes, debris scattered on the ground, and even a two-story building that looked half-blown apart. The details of the entire scene were terrifyingly realistic, as if a piece had been cut directly from a war-torn region in the Middle East and forcibly stuffed into the basement of this building in the center of Los Angeles.

“A full-scale tactical training ground.” Clark's voice was low; he recognized its purpose at a glance. “Quite the undertaking.”

He had seen plenty of training grounds, from Marine Corps simulated landing sites to Delta Force CQB training houses, but none like this, built three levels underground at a 'biopharmaceutical company.'

Chen Feng didn't respond to his exclamation, only leading him to the edge of the training ground. A transparent wall rising from the floor separated them from the field; the material looked like the bulletproof glass used at bank counters, but it was at least five times thicker.

“Marcus.” Chen Feng tilted his head toward the large Black man behind him.

Marcus said nothing, stepping toward an airtight door. He took off his tactical vest, wearing only a black, tight-fitting combat suit, and walked into the training ground alone.

Clark watched Marcus's back, his brow furrowing slightly.

One person? What was he demonstrating? Fighting techniques?

Just as the thought occurred to him, he saw Marcus raise two fingers to his mouth and blow a simple, sharp whistle.

The whistle echoed through the empty training ground.

The next second, a sudden change occurred.

From the shadows of the streets, from behind abandoned cars, and from the doorways of dilapidated buildings, black shadows emerged silently.

There were eleven in total.

They weren't human.

They were dogs.

No, to describe them as 'dogs' was practically an insult.

Each one was massive, with a shoulder height nearly a meter tall, almost equal to a small calf. They were pitch black without a single stray hair, and the muscles beneath their skin were clearly defined, filled with a sense of power like sculptures. They moved silently, the pads on their limbs seemingly absorbing all sound, their pace and stride perfectly synchronized, like a ghost legion walking out of hell.

The eleven beasts formed a loose semi-circle, surrounding Marcus, and then stopped.

They all raised their heads, staring coldly at their 'master' with steel-gray irises. Deep within their pupils, a faint red glow looked particularly eerie in the dim environment.

Throughout the entire process, there wasn't a single bark or redundant movement. There was only absolute, suffocating silence and obedience.

General Clark's spine stiffened the moment he saw these creatures. He had campaigned his whole life and seen countless military and police dogs, but none could compare to the monsters before him.

These weren't living creatures at all; they were cold machines of war.

“Type B-01E, I call them ‘Hellhounds.’” Chen Feng's voice chimed in at the right moment. “The basic template is a genetic fusion of a Doberman and a certain type of large mastiff, optimized through over thirty iterations.”

Clark didn't speak, his eyes fixed on the field.

He saw Marcus raise his right hand in a downward pressing gesture while uttering a single word.

“Sit.”

Within three seconds, all eleven Hellhounds sat in unison, their movements so synchronized they looked like computer-generated effects.

Marcus then made a forward-waving gesture.

“Scatter. Formation Delta.”

The eleven Hellhounds moved instantly. Without a hint of confusion, they scattered in all directions at a speed difficult for the naked eye to track, working in pairs to cover each other and quickly occupying key positions on both sides of the street. One jumped onto the roof of a scrap car to keep watch from above; two slipped into the shadows of buildings to block the flanks. The entire process was seamless, with tactical proficiency so high it would make any special forces commander's skin crawl.

Clark's pupils suddenly constricted.

It wasn't that he didn't understand; it was that he understood too well!

These complex tactical maneuvers—cross-covering, sector searching, and high-low coordination—were things an elite squad with years of training and chemistry could barely manage. Yet now, a pack of 'dogs' had perfectly executed them with just a hand gesture and a simple command.

What did this mean?

It meant their brains had been modified to understand and execute complex tactical instructions!

“Their obedience is extremely high; they are biologically locked to only follow commands from specific individuals.” Chen Feng explained from the side like a dutiful salesman. “Absolute loyalty. No betrayal, no fear, no questioning.”

Clark finally couldn't help himself. He turned his head, his voice somewhat dry. “How many... how many commands can they understand?”

“Over three hundred common tactical phrases, and they can be expanded through later training.” Chen Feng answered nonchalantly.

Clark's heart tightened suddenly.

Just then, mechanical sounds came from the floor of the training ground as ten humanoid dummies, wearing Kevlar bulletproof vests and holding simulated rifles, slowly rose from different positions.

Marcus stood where he was, expressionlessly raising his right hand, then snapping it downward.

“Attack!”

The moment the command was given, eleven streaks of black lightning shot out!

Their startup speed was extreme, with almost no acceleration process, reaching top speed instantly. Clark only saw a blur as the eleven Hellhounds turned into eleven lethal black streams of light, pouncing on the dummy targets.

Their objectives were very clear; not one attacked the torso or head of a dummy. Instead, they all lunged for the dummies' right arms, which were holding the rifles!

*Crack!*

*Rrip—*

A succession of ear-piercing tearing sounds rang out.

The sturdy simulated rifles were easily knocked away. The hard plastic wrapping the arms and the internal metal skeletons were instantly shredded and torn apart under their terrifying bite force, as if they were made of paper!

The entire attack process, from command to finish, took less than ten seconds.

All ten dummy targets were 'killed.' Every arm holding a gun was completely destroyed, without exception.

Silence returned to the field.

The eleven Hellhounds completed their mission. Without lingering or tearing at the 'corpses,' they immediately returned to Marcus's side and sat back in formation, as if that bloody and efficient hunt had been nothing more than an ordinary pre-meal stroll.

Clark stood before the bulletproof glass, motionless.

His face was slightly pale, not from fear, but from a massive shock rooted in his professional instincts.

As a four-star general, his mind instantly completed an evaluation.

Speed: Short-distance burst speed exceeding seventy kilometers per hour, far beyond human limits.

Aggressiveness: Precise, efficient, no wasted attacks.

Obedience: Perfect, comparable to a computer program.

Coordination: Surpassing elite human squads.

If such a squad were deployed in urban warfare or a jungle... no, even if they were just sent on a decapitation mission to storm a headquarters...

It would be a one-sided slaughter.

“General, how does it feel?” Chen Feng's voice pulled him back from his thoughts.

Clark slowly exhaled. He didn't answer Chen Feng's question but instead asked the one he cared about most: “What about the cost?”

No matter how powerful a weapon was, if its manufacturing cost was comparable to gold, it was just an expensive toy.

Chen Feng held up one finger.

“The cloning and cultivation cost for a single unit is less than ten thousand dollars.”

*Hiss—*

Even though Clark had seen his share of storms throughout his life, he couldn't help but suck in a breath of cold air at this moment.

Less than ten thousand dollars!

This number exploded in his mind like a heavy bomb.

How much did it cost the U Federation to train a qualified special forces soldier, from recruitment to training to equipment? More than a million dollars? Yet this thing—a biological weapon with combat power comparable to an elite infantryman—cost less than the tire of a military Humvee!

What did this mean?

It meant... mass production!

Using an endless, fearless, and absolutely obedient biological legion to overwhelm human flesh and blood.

At this moment, Clark finally understood why that old fellow Weber had used the phrase 'subverting cognition' to describe this demonstration.

This was more than subversion; it was practically announcing the arrival of a new era of warfare!

He looked at the excessively young Chinese youth beside him, a deep sense of wariness appearing in his eyes for the first time.

This man wasn't holding some new weapon; he was holding a Pandora's box capable of upending the global military balance.

Chen Feng looked at the ever-changing expressions on Clark's face, feeling very satisfied.

This was exactly the effect he wanted.

If he didn't grind Clark's decades of military common sense into the dirt, how would the man willingly open his wallet?

He smiled slightly.

“General, don't be so nervous.”

“This is just our entry-level product, mainly used for area control, security patrols, and swarm charges.”

As Chen Feng spoke, he turned and pointed toward the deeper part of the passage.

There was another, even heavier alloy gate, covered in white frost and low-temperature pipes.

Above the gate, a serial number was marked in striking red font.

[B-03 Quarantine Zone]

Chen Feng's voice, tinged with a hint of playfulness, echoed through the cold underground passage.

“Next, I will show you... our company's advanced products for ‘special infiltration’ and ‘targeted elimination.’”