Transmigrating into the only holy female in the interstellar world, the orcs who have no descendants

Adjutant Troy hurried into the room, followed by a man in a black hood. The dim light made the man appear particularly shadowy, and the hood fell deeply over his face, revealing only his stern chin and tightly pursed lips.

Luo Xi's expression remained calm, but she was already aware of something. She didn't call anyone else, leaving Ling Yuan to accompany her. She stood quietly in the center of the room to greet the two visitors. The light cast a soft shadow on her profile, but it couldn't hide the solemnity between her brows.

Troy saluted and spoke directly: "Ms. Rosie, there are some things that are not convenient to talk about over the phone. We came to see you as soon as we returned to inform you in person..."

Despite being fully prepared, Rosie still felt a sinking feeling in her heart. Her gaze passed Troy and settled on the black-robed man. She spoke in a low voice, "Kyle... didn't come back, did he?" She narrowed her eyes slightly, peering directly into the man's face through the shadow of his hood. "Or rather, the one who came back wasn't Kyle."

Troy's face flashed with surprise for a moment, but he quickly relaxed. He understood. As the Marshal's partner, how could Rosie not recognize the real thing? She knew Kyle better than anyone else, and any slight anomaly would be hard to miss.

Ling Yuan remained silent, his red eyes calm as he glanced at the newcomer with a composed glance. His fingers twirled slowly within his sleeves, as if toying with an invisible wine glass. His gaze seemed to possess substance, as if to penetrate the hood and gaze upon the true face beneath.

The male, seemingly feeling oppressed, finally reached out and removed his hood. As the hood slipped away, a face nearly identical to Kyle's was revealed. Luo Xi and Ling Yuan exchanged glances, a flicker of shared doubt in their eyes. Despite their similar appearances, something subtly off was off.

Then, the man took off his coat, revealing a slightly childish face. Rosie squinted her eyes, vaguely remembering this face—it was the lieutenant who often appeared beside Kyle, whose name seemed to be...

"Hello, Ms. Rosie," the man said respectfully, "I am Fred, the Marshal's messenger."

Troy stepped forward and added, "This is a spiritual artifact left behind by the Marshal—the Fool's Cloak. It allows one to disguise themselves as the Marshal, but at best it can only fool those who are one rank higher."

"Fred is at level six, and the council has an eighth-level Norsia. If they face off head-on, they might be exposed." Troy's tone was heavy, his brows furrowed.

Rosie fell into deep thought. This matter was of grave importance. If handled improperly, the consequences would be disastrous, especially with those enemies, usually suppressed by Kyle, eyeing them covetously. This potential risk was like walking on the edge of a knife.

For a moment, the atmosphere in the room was solemn, and everyone was thinking about how to deal with the situation.

At this time, Ling Yuan finally spoke, his tone relaxed but with a hint of amusement: "Why not just change someone else?"

Troy hesitated. "I've considered this, but this person must be trustworthy and at least a rank seven. There are only a handful of experts above rank seven in the Federation. Anyone who disappears for such a long time will arouse suspicion..."

Ling Yuan chuckled, a sly look flashing in his eyes: "I do have a suitable candidate."

Luo Xi subconsciously asked, "Who is it?"

Ling Yuan did not give a direct answer, but just smiled without saying anything, with a mysterious and unfathomable look in his eyes.

……

Speaker Simba sat in his office, his eyes glancing sinisterly at the holographic image before him, which depicted the final battle in the Chaos Star Region. Beside him, Vice Speaker Luther fiddled nervously with a data tablet.

Simba said coldly, "AI synthesis technology is already flawless, but under the circumstances, there was no way Kyle could have survived. Our people have confirmed that according to our plan, he was alone against the entire Chaos Star Region and the people sent by the Sky. In that desperate situation, even a legendary Saint-level powerhouse would not have survived."

Vice Speaker Luther scratched his head, a look of hesitation on his face. "You said...did Kyle break through to the Saint level?"

Simba's tone was as cold as ever: "Impossible, no one in the interstellar world has broken through to the Saint level in thousands of years."

Luther frowned, his mouth twitching. "But... he's Kyle. The entire galaxy knows he's a genius in cultivation. And, do you remember? The Saint Female who disappeared with the Saint Order has recently reappeared. So, the Saint Order..."

Simba suddenly interrupted him, his voice becoming more and more firm: "Absolutely impossible! The Holy Rank is just a legend. No matter how strong Kyle is, he can't reach that level."

Luther's face showed a hint of hesitation, and his tone was a little shaken: "But the fact is that he has returned, unless... unless someone is pretending to be him..."

Speaker Simba's eyes suddenly lit up, and he leaned forward, staring at Luther closely: "What did you just say?"

Luther was stunned and blinked: "I said Marshal Kyle is back..."

"No, not this one." Simba interrupted him urgently, "The next one."

"Unless... someone is pretending...?"

Simba suddenly stood up and slammed the table excitedly: "Yes! Someone must be pretending to be Kyle! This can't be him!"

Luther opened his mouth wide, as if he was still digesting Simba's words: "You mean... someone is impersonating Kyle?"

Speaker Simba's eyes flashed sinisterly, and a sneer appeared on his lips. "That's right. Let Norsia test him out if there's a chance. I want to see who this 'Kyle' is!"

Luther nodded. Although he still felt a little uneasy, he knew that Speaker Simba had made up his mind. He said no more, but stood up silently and prepared to leave.

Simba's laughter echoed in the empty office, his eyes full of calculation: "We will know the truth soon."

……

The lights around the ring were dim, with only a single, intense beam of light following the two fighters in the center. The audience was seething with excitement. Every time fists clashed with flesh, a frenzied cheer erupted from the audience, as if their blood was boiling with the ferocious fighting.

The bear half-orc swung his fists, his massive fists crashing down on his opponent with furious force. It was a blow imbued with savagery and raw power, his fists crashing down like two boulders. With a dull thud, his opponent was violently thrown back, his body tumbling through the air several times before finally landing heavily on the ground with a grunt of pain.

The opponent struggled to get up, but his body was no longer under his control, and he could only lie limp on the ground, unable to move. The bear-orc stood triumphantly in the center of the ring, his face awash with triumph and contempt. The corners of his mouth curled up slightly in a sneer, and his narrow eyes flashed dangerously in the dim light.

He slowly scanned the audience, as if searching for his next prey. Then, he suddenly shouted, "Who else dares to come up?"

His voice was like thunder, and the whole place fell silent. The audience was intimidated by his violent momentum, but then they broke into even more enthusiastic cheers. Someone shouted, "Too strong! No one can beat him!"

The bear half-orc's face lit up with pride as he saw the audience's reaction. His chest rose and fell violently, as if he was still unsatisfied with the fight. His clenched fists trembled slightly, not from exhaustion, but from a desire for more battles, a thirst for stronger opponents.

He yelled again: "Who else?!"

The audience erupted in excitement as a smaller but equally powerful orc leaped onto the stage. He grinned, revealing sharp teeth, and assumed a fighting stance. The audience applauded.

However, after only a few rounds, the new Orc was knocked down by the Bear Orcs in three blows, and fell to the ground, gasping for breath. The entire crowd fell silent, and shock spread across everyone's face.

The bear orc became even more arrogant. He looked around and laughed loudly, "Who else dares to challenge me?"

There was an even louder cheer from the audience.

Someone boasted loudly to a stranger nearby, "This Xiong Wu is so strong! He's already won 29 games in a row. I bet on him to win 30 games in a row. If he wins one more, I'll be rich! Fat rich! With this money, I'll definitely be able to find a female mate!"

"Brother, I'm just like you. I also bet on him to win thirty games in a row. I've put all my wealth on it. Whether he can become rich in this life depends on the next game!"

"Come on, Xiong Wu! Whether I can turn things around in this life depends entirely on you!"

"..."

The cheers from the audience made Xiong Wu even more excited. He patted his chest like an ape-man, roaring and challenging everyone in the audience equally.

"You bunch of cowards, all you can do is yell down there? Come up and fight me, I'm going to beat your heads off! Hahahaha..."

His voice echoed throughout the arena, waking a male orc dozing in the corner. The man rubbed his sleepy eyes, looking rather unkempt, his hair disheveled and his clothes wrinkled. He yawned lazily, stretched, and muttered, "How boring..."

A short male orc next to him, with unusually large ears, heard his mumbling and said in surprise, "You're still bored after being beaten like that?"

The lazy and sloppy orc had a pair of white tiger ears and sleepy eyes, as if he could fall asleep at any time.

He staggered towards the ring, and as he approached the ring, the cheers and noises around it gradually decreased in volume.

Until the moment he jumped onto the ring, the audience instantly became silent.

Everyone's eyes followed the lights on the ring and focused on Xiong Wu and the tiger-eared orc.

When Xiong Wu saw this unremarkable guy, his face suddenly darkened. He stared at him fiercely and sneered, "Are you trying to challenge me?"

The tiger-eared orc raised his eyes and glanced at him, his tone indifferent and with a hint of impatience: "You are so noisy, are you disturbing my sleep?"

Xiong Wu was so enraged that he clenched his fists and said through gritted teeth, "So what?"

Suddenly, a golden light flashed, so fast that almost no one could react.

A deep bloody wound instantly appeared on Xiong Wu's face. Blood gushed out from the wound, staining his face red. Xiong Wu roared angrily, "You're looking for death!"

He rushed towards the tiger-eared orc in a rage, swinging his huge fists, trying to crush him into powder. But the tiger-eared orc was as nimble as a cat, easily dodging every attack with a faint playful smile on his face.

The audience began to whisper, and someone frowned and said, "This person seems a little familiar, I think I've seen him somewhere..."

The person next to him nodded and said, "Yes, you said exactly the same thing to that beautiful B-rank female yesterday."

The orc who had spoken just now shook his head: "Don't be ridiculous, I really think I've seen this person somewhere."

The tiger-eared orc seemed a little bored with Xiong Wu's attack. He attacked in a somewhat lazy manner, and suddenly dodged, standing half a body length away from Xiong Wu's side. His fist hit Xiong Wu's abdomen heavily, and the dull sound even drowned out the noisy noise of the audience below.

Xiong Wu's strong body was like being hit by a sledgehammer. The huge impact force knocked him to the ground and he could not get up again.

The audience erupted in shock. Suddenly, the orc who had spoken slapped his head and exclaimed, "I remember! He's the white tiger half-orc Norsia from the alien realm, an eighth-level beast warrior!"

The entire audience erupted in deafening cheers, but Norcia acted as if he hadn't heard them, still looking half asleep. He stretched lazily and staggered offstage, mumbling as he walked, "So boring, so boring! Is there no one who can fight?"

His figure disappeared into the crowd, leaving behind a scene of shocked and whispering audiences.

……

Ling Yuan stood by the window, watching Xixi sleeping soundly in bed through the faint moonlight. Her face was serene, as if she had nothing to worry about. However, Ling Yuan's heart was filled with turmoil.

He thought to himself: Sissi must know Marshal Kell's whereabouts. She has her own little secrets, which he has long noticed. Although Marshal Kell should be safe now, the current situation is very unfavorable for Sissi.

Ling Yuan sighed, picked up the interstellar communicator, and decided to contact Xingyu. Xingyu was one of the few people he trusted. After dialing, the communicator rang a few times but was quickly hung up. Ling Yuan shook his head helplessly and sent a text message: "Xingyu, are you free to come over for a few days? I need your help with something here."

As expected, Xingyu's reply came quickly, and he refused very bluntly: "I won't go."

Ling Yuan looked at these three words and couldn't help but smile bitterly. He knew Xingyu had always been shy and had severe social anxiety, but the current situation really needed his help. He thought about it and sent another star message to the guardian priest Smodor: "Can Xingyu come over for a while? I need his help with something."

Soon after the message was sent, the reply from the guardian priest of Smodor arrived, equally straightforward: "It will be delivered in three days."