I Transmigrated Into The Secret Husband Of The Zerg Marshal - Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Appeasing the Female Insect

A distinct crack appeared on K47’s perpetually granite face. He looked like he wanted to speak but didn’t know where to start. Finally, he simply tucked the report back into his uniform, stood at rigid attention again, and became a silent stone.

I felt incredibly satisfied. What is a technical barrier? This is a technical barrier. You Zergs can use spiritual power, but I can run an anti-virus! Different professions, but the logic is universal!

Just as I was basking in self-congratulation, the tightly sealed metal door hissed open for the third time.

Arnold walked in.

His face didn’t look good. He was in casual clothes instead of his military uniform, but his stride still carried an air of relentless solemnity, like he had just come from a high-intensity meeting, his brow furrowed with fatigue. His gaze swept past K47 and me, falling directly onto the virtual screen of the control panel.

K47 immediately stepped forward, saluted almost stiffly, and reported: “Marshal, His Excellency Chen Jiuliu’s first training session has concluded. The data… has been uploaded.”

He paused specifically on the word data, his tone full of the helplessness of: Boss, just look at this thing yourself; I can’t explain it.

Arnold’s gaze lingered on the screen for a full ten seconds.

I held my breath, subtly observing his expression.

He first frowned slightly, seemingly confirming the authenticity of the data. Then, his brow gradually smoothed, and the gray-blue in his eyes looked like melting ice.

He turned, his gaze settling on me. It was no longer the look of inspecting merchandise or observing a lab mouse. His expression was complex: astonishment, scrutiny, but more than anything, a satisfaction similar to a client finally seeing a Party B deliver a perfect solution that exceeded expectations.

“Well done,” Arnold said, his voice lower than usual and slightly warmer. “It seems you are very clear about your primary task.”

I nearly spat out a mouthful of old blood.

Good grief. I’m fighting for my life here to prove my value is beyond that of a mere stud, and in your eyes, all this effort is just me being proactively enthusiastic about getting my body ready to bear your child?

Arnold’s lips curved slightly. “K47,” he turned to the granite man, “Customize the training field for His Excellency Chen Jiuliu and, based on this efficiency, re-evaluate the conditioning cycle, striving to shorten it by 30%.”

“Yes, Marshal!” K47’s reply was forceful, and he looked at me with a newfound reverence.

Just then, Arnold’s personal Zerg terminal on his wrist vibrated gently. He raised his hand, and a light screen unfolded before him.

He took the call, and his face instantly reverted to its previous coldness.

“Speak.”

After that, I couldn’t hear anything. Only his occasional vague responses of “Mhm,” “Oh?” and “Good,” echoed in the training room.

Finally, the communication ended.

Arnold put away the light screen, sighed, and his brow furrowed tightly. In that instant, I saw a heavy, almost overflowing exhaustion on him. But the fatigue lasted for less than a second before being suppressed by his iron will.

“Accelerate His Excellency Chen Jiuliu’s training.”

With that, he strode away without looking back, his tall figure disappearing behind the door.

I stood there stunned, my mind in a whirl. What was all that? It didn’t connect with anything I had experienced!

I turned to K47, flashing my most amiable, most harmless smile: “Coach K47, is the Marshal… very busy with military affairs lately? Sounds like he’s run into some big trouble?”

K47’s stern face was expressionless: “Your Excellency Chen Jiuliu, you only need to focus on your physical conditioning. You need not concern yourself with other matters.”

So official. That answer was exactly like the one our company’s administrative staff would give when asked about the year-end bonus.

“Don’t be like that,” I scooted closer, trying to hook my arm over his shoulder. I found he was as unyielding as an iron plate and awkwardly withdrew my hand, appealing to his reason: “Look, I’m now the Marshal’s… key protected asset, right? His mood directly affects my working environment and indirectly influences my gene quality. As the saying goes: know yourself and know your enemy, and you’ll fight a hundred battles without danger. The more I know about the Marshal’s work, the better I can cooperate with him, wouldn’t you agree?”

K47 stared at me in silence, his expression suggesting: Keep trying to BS me.

“Your Excellency,” he finally spoke, his tone carrying a sense of: Please don’t make it difficult for me, the working Zerg. “My duty is to ensure your health and safety. I am completely unaware of the Marshal’s schedule and work after our handover.”

Well, dead end.

I was escorted back to my luxury prison by K47.

I looked out at the unrealistically peaceful starscape through the window, but my heart was anything but calm.

I, Chen Jiuliu, a programmer, hated bugs and black-box operations the most. And my current life was operating inside a huge black box.

Arnold brought me here, signed a ridiculous confidential marriage agreement, fed and housed me well, upgraded my room, and supervised my “sleep training,” all for the sole purpose of producing the most genetically superior offspring. This reason sounds sufficient, but now it seems a bigger picture is lurking behind it.

Why would a Federation Marshal, busy dealing with border wars, be so desperately eager to breed an heir, even going so far as to pick up a weakling Male Insect from a desolate star?

It’s illogical.

Unless the heir itself possesses some strategic value beyond mere succession that I don’t know about.

Or, there is something wrong with Arnold himself.

This thought flashed like lightning, instantly cutting through the fog in my mind.

I jumped up from the chair and paced back and forth in the room.

I absolutely couldn’t remain this passive. Being caged, fed, and having everything perfectly arranged is not a good feeling. I’m not a canary, and I’m definitely not some prize stud.

I need to figure out what Arnold Augustus is truly planning.

I, Chen Jiuliu, must take the initiative.

My gaze swept across the room, over the seemingly flawless walls, and finally landed on the food delivery robot that had independent access to the room every day.

As a programmer, I know that any system, as long as it has a port for external interaction, has an opportunity for penetration. There are no secrets that can’t be found.

And that robot is my port.

I walked up to the massive floor-to-ceiling window, my palm resting on the cool, simulated screen.

Arnold, my Client A. You thought giving me a window would satisfy me with the view?

No.

I will gain administrative access to this “window” and use it to hack into all the electronic devices in this house to find out your true intentions for keeping me here.

Male Lord, please prepare to fulfill your Second Obligation.

Me: ?

Oh, it’s the system. I thought you had died.

Arnold is about to enter his most severe spiritual frenzy.

Male Lord, please fulfill the Second Obligation: Appease your Female Insect.

I froze in place, my brain’s firewall instantly breached by these two lines of system prompts.

Second Obligation?

Appease your Female Insect?

What kind of intergalactic joke is this! Me, appease him? With what?

Should I use my F-level physique as a human punching bag for him to punch a couple of times to calm down, or should I hold my thermos and sing him Three Lucky Treasures?

WARNING: Detected Marshal Arnold Augustus’s spiritual threshold has fallen below the safety line. A large-scale spiritual sea disorder is present. Probability of entering an irreversible berserk phase is estimated at 95%.

Male Lord, please immediately fulfill the appeasement obligation, or this agreement will pursue responsibility for Party A’s death.

I: “…”

Holy moly, that sounds like if my boss suddenly died on the job, the company would hold me responsible for not giving him CPR!