Transmigrated into a Redemption Novel as a Disciplinary Bug - Chapter 5

Such faint sounds would be utterly imperceptible to a human body, but only the insect race’s extraordinary hearing allowed him to catch these noises.

The other side of the wall was indeed the female insect’s cell.

He knew the “nanny room” was close, but being this close still exceeded his expectations.

Carlos felt a prickling discomfort on his back, immediately straightened up, wrapped his arms around his knees, and curled into a ball on the bed.

The ceiling overhead was stained with black and yellow smears, messy and blurred, just like his disordered thoughts now.

Give in, there’s no need to save anyone.

Meddling never leads to good outcomes. The first to die are always the kind-hearted people, he knew that best.

Moreover, his life now depends entirely on the system, like a clay Buddha crossing a river. He can’t even save himself, so why talk about anything else?

Even if he intervened, he was just a tasker who stumbled into the book. Everything was the predetermined fate of that character in the book; he couldn’t and wouldn’t change anything.

Carlos tightened his arms, leaned his head against his elbow, and gazed toward the window in the adjacent room.

Tap, tap.

Raindrops sporadically hit the window ledge, gradually forming a curtain of rain from a few drops at first. The rain struck the window glass and also beat against Carlos’s heartstrings.

This was the first rain he experienced in the insect world, and likely the last.

He didn’t like rain. When he was young, rainy days meant the heavens would weep, and his home would flood.

Unconsciously, Carlos pressed his head against that wall again.

The sounds from the other side came through unchanged, the wall emitting hollow, rumbling noises. Chains tightened and loosened, flesh striking the wall produced friction sounds, along with unbearable moans.

When there were no insects around, the female insect on the other side of the wall wasn’t made of steel either. It felt pain and struggled too.

On gloomy rainy days, wounds and various hidden injuries become more piercing and unbearable. Humans are like that, and perhaps insects aren’t exceptions either.

Time passed, and the rain grew heavier. The movements of the female insect on the other side of the wall became increasingly faint, eventually fading into silence, only the sound of electricity continuing incessantly.

Had it passed out?

The cramped bed made breathing increasingly difficult for him, so Carlos simply rolled off the bed and sat in the corner of the wall, but his palm felt a muddy sensation.

He never expected this dormitory to be such a shoddy construction—even the wall seams leaked.

He reached out and grabbed, it was all blood. Thin traces of blood seeped from the wall seam beneath his feet, crimson, fresh, and even retaining a slight warmth.

For the first time, Carlos realized so clearly that the life of the female insect on the other side of the wall was fading away.

Sitting there motionless, he had no sleepiness at all and stayed awake all night.

【Host, rest a bit. You need to sleep well to muster enough energy for tasks.】

Seeing Carlos’s eyes wide like bronze bells, the system worried about the host’s mental state,

【To get the protagonist to the state described in the plot, you still have a lot of work to do!】

Wait, ‘described state’?

Without doubting it, Carlos immediately accessed the original book, scanning ten lines at a glance, flipping to the description of the protagonist’s first appearance.

【The female insect’s face was brutally pressed against the ground, kneeling with both knees like the most despicable lowlife, his snow-white hair sullied into the dust. His wings, under a special technique, could only lie limp on his back, devoid of any muscular beauty, forever unable to fly. The body conditioned by potions also prevented him from insect transformation, posing no threat to male insects—a toy matured to perfection…】

Carlos ignored the unspeakable words in the passage and focused on the key information.

Limp wings, inability to transform, etc.

“So, if it matches these descriptions, it’s considered ‘qualified’?”

【In principle, yes, and the host’s actions must not deviate from the original character (ooc).】

The system judged his behavioral state based on these words. As long as he didn’t violate the key points mentioned in the book and could satisfy the descriptions, how he did it depended entirely on his “interpretation.”

As the actual executor, there was plenty of flexibility in how he carried it out.

He was already a deceitful impostor, a cunning trickster, so fooling one more wasn’t a big deal.

Just deceiving someone—oh, wait, the system wasn’t even human. It was effortless, so why not?

Carlos immediately asked, “Then tell me, how could I discipline him without unlocking the chains earlier?”

It seemed like a valid point, and the system suddenly felt dizzy.

“This indicates a problem with your behavior detection system. You should report the error immediately.”

【Ah?】

“Don’t ‘ah’ me. I’m considering your interests. If the behavior detection function fails and causes the task to be incomplete, you’ll be implicated too, right? In future tasks, I’ll provide explanations to assist the monitoring system.”

Though it felt a bit odd, what the host said seemed reasonable.

After Carlos’s “kind reminder,” the system grew even more confused, increasingly convinced that the host was right, and hurriedly reported this “bug.”

Daylight broke through, clouds parted, and mist cleared.

Carlos tidied himself up briefly and pushed open the dormitory door with light steps.

“System, have I ever told you that I’m actually quite rebellious?”

What he was told to do, he wouldn’t do; what he wasn’t allowed to do, he’d insist on doing.

【?】

No, it was more like having a spine of defiance.

Rebelling recklessly without consequences was foolish; rebelling subtly and succeeding was defiance.

From now on, anything was possible.

“Let’s go, time to start work.”

It was time to test his hypothesis.

–

The cell had no windows, with no distinction between day and night.

At six in the morning, an unwavering biological clock woke Zelan.

The electric torture had stopped.

A bit of electricity couldn’t really harm female insects, especially military ones, but the accumulated strain over days had already breached his body’s defenses. Now, the electric torture was like pouring salt on wounds.

After a night of electric torment, Zelan repeatedly fell unconscious, only to be jolted awake by the current again and again. His body had reached its weakest state.

He struggled to open his eyes and survey the surroundings, but unexpectedly noticed a faint light near his feet.

Originally, it was just a crack in the wall, letting nothing through. But now, it seemed as if someone on the other side had dug it wider.

The long-awaited sunlight fell on his ankles, bringing a slight warmth. This was also the first time in recent days that Zelan so clearly realized he was still alive.

As long as he lived, there was still hope.

He closed his eyes and began assessing his current physical condition.

Although there was a stinging pain in his wing sac, his wings were still intact.

For a military male insect, wings were the most crucial weapon on the battlefield—not just for flight. Once hardened, they could rival laser swords, capable of slicing through the fiercest star-beasts and even metal.

A wingless military male insect on the battlefield was no different from a cripple hobbling on crutches both were disabled insects with severely diminished combat capabilities, destined to be devoured by star-beasts sooner or later. The lucky ones would simply retire early.

The forced insect transformation two days ago had drained too much of his energy, and now Zelan’s physical functions had significantly declined in every aspect.

When a male insect suffered severe trauma, their body would activate a protective mechanism, forcibly entering a state of frenzied insect transformation.

However, this defensive state was not inexhaustible. Once the body reached its limit, the insect’s hardened armor would gradually soften until it lost all offensive and defensive capabilities.

It was precisely when he lost consciousness that he had severely injured the first two disciplinary insects.

Having fallen into such a state, he needed to conserve his strength and wait for the right moment to strike back and escape.

The blood trickling down his face interrupted his thoughts.

The wound on his face had worsened. Even without a mirror, Zelan knew he was disfigured.

In the insect race, it was always the male insects who courted the females. Only with good looks, supreme power, and wealth could a male insect gain the favor of a female.

For a male insect, disfigurement was tantamount to permanently losing the right to court.

But in Zelan’s eyes, this was nothing at all.

His senses remained intact—he could hear, see, and smell. That meant it wasn’t the worst-case scenario.

Moreover, his jaw had been restored, allowing him to speak again.

Zelan’s mind once again recalled the disciplinary insect from yesterday.

A stark contrast of black and white.

Clad in black, with the rare black hair and black eyes among the insect race.

The disciplinary insect’s eyes held no emotional fluctuations, as if what stood before him was not an insect slave but some lifeless toy or object. Something to be recklessly played with and discarded once broken.

Every movement was devoid of joy or sorrow, steady and composed, without the slightest hesitation or tremor. It was clear he was a ruthless veteran.

Come to think of it, after he had injured two disciplinary insects in a row, the newly assigned one was unlikely to be a pushover.

At the trading post, all insect slaves were toys awaiting sale. Before being sold, every toy would endure inhuman torture and discipline.

A new day was about to begin.

Zelan understood that what awaited him was even more unbearable torment. He needed to find a way to endure.

With this thought, Zelan lowered his head and coughed lightly, trying to spit out the congealed blood in his throat. But despite his efforts, he couldn’t muster any strength.

Click.

The cell door opened, and a pair of black leather shoes appeared in his line of sight.

Black uniform trousers and a matching shirt—the standard, cold uniform of the trading post. The all-black color scheme ensured that even if the disciplinary insect accidentally stained it with blood, it wouldn’t be noticeable.

It was the same disciplinary insect from yesterday.

The moment Carlos pushed open the door, he locked eyes with the male insect in the cell.

Pretending not to notice, Carlos slowly approached.

After a night of electric torture, the male insect before him appeared even weaker and more haggard, though not drastically different from the day before.

This allowed Carlos to feel a bit relieved, as the electric torture had been caused by him, making it a completely unjust disaster for the female insect.

Before coming here, he had specifically reviewed the insect discipline manual online and even searched for “88 Essential Techniques for Insect Discipline.”

It must be said that the insect race is quite open in certain aspects. He had only tried searching without much expectation, but the first search result that popped up was exactly this.

The various terms and methods inside were almost enough to warrant full censorship, similar to things like “what tools can be used to open the female insect’s reproductive cavity more quickly,” etc. On Blue Star, it could almost rival “The 18 Techniques of Ah Wei,” even reaching the level of pornographic material.

Carlos shook off the chaotic thoughts in his mind and prepared earnestly for today’s task.

Discipline work follows a fixed process. Due to the high combat capability of female insects, if treating an insect slave as a toy that needs to be dismantled, then one must start with the toughest parts and break them down one by one.

This sequence perfectly corresponds with the specific descriptions in the original book.

Wings, insectified armor blades, innate strength—destroying these one by one allows one to slowly turn the female slave’s body into a pool of spring water, molding it into the form desired by the male insect.

Carlos glanced toward the female insect’s back—that was the first step.

Destroy the female insect’s wings.