The Beloved Guide Was Forced in a Love-Rival Shura Field - Chapter 19

That faint lavender glow—the one that had saved Lu Ming and stunned the entire academy—did not vanish immediately.

It scattered into countless specks of glittering light, like a swarm of reluctant fireflies, circling Ning Ning with tender intimacy. The motes brushed through his silvery hair, skimmed across his pale cheeks, and only then, little by little, threaded themselves into his body.

The violent, gunpowder-like tension in the air was washed clean, replaced with the fresh, green scent of grass after rain.

The surrounding students stood frozen, dumbstruck. Their eyes on Ning Ning were those of mortals beholding a living god.

Lu Ming was still on one knee, sweat plastering his fringe to his face, muscles beneath his combat uniform trembling faintly. He lifted his head—those eyes that moments ago had burned red with bloodlust now brimmed with reverence, almost devout awe.

He stared at Ning Ning as though he were a dying man in the desert, at last handed a drink by a deity himself. That gaze burned, scorching, overflowing with unmasked loyalty and dependence.

He parted his lips, but his throat was too dry to form sound. All he could do was look up, carving the fragile, beautiful figure before him deep into his very bones.

Ning Ning shifted uneasily under that stare. He instinctively retreated half a step, heel knocking against a stone, his body swaying.

That slight movement snapped him out of the daze of recent shock. Looking down, he realized his arms were empty—the medical kit had slipped from his grasp and fallen to the ground.

His eyes slid from Lu Ming’s handsome face—now restored but marred with fervor—to the hand braced against the earth. Long, elegant fingers were torn and bloody, knuckles raw from pounding the ground in madness.

Ning Ning’s brows creased ever so slightly.

This S-rank sentinel, larger and stronger than him by nearly twice, had been a beast ready to tear him apart only moments ago. Now he knelt, obedient as a trained hound.

The contrast was staggering.

Uncertain, Ning Ning asked softly, “You… are you alright?”

Lu Ming jolted, as though it had never crossed his mind that a “god” would speak to him first. He still couldn’t form words—he only nodded, over and over, with such force it bordered on comical.

Seeing that made Ning Ning even more worried.

He crouched quickly, fumbling for the fallen supplies. Picking up a high-grade repair spray, he hesitated, then held it out, his voice soft and laced with genuine concern he hadn’t noticed himself:

“Your hand is bleeding a lot… you should spray this first.”

Those beautiful violet eyes were clear—no fear, no disgust, just simple worry.

Lu Ming’s breath stuttered.

He didn’t reach for the spray. Instead, he drank in Ning Ning’s face from this close, gaze greedy. The porcelain-white skin, the lips pressed tight with nervousness—deadly.

He shot out his uninjured hand, but just before his fingers brushed Ning Ning’s sleeve, he froze.

He didn’t dare.

He was terrified that the lingering stench of blood and frenzy on him might defile this god before him.

At last, in a rasping whisper nearly swallowed by his throat, he forced out two words:

“…Alright.”

The word had barely left his mouth when a scorching gust of wind blasted from behind!

A towering shadow appeared almost like teleportation, the heat radiating off him near enough to sear skin.

Xiao Lin had arrived.

Without a word, his face storm-dark, he scooped Ning Ning up from the ground—movements brooking no refusal. He cradled Ning Ning against his chest, grip so fierce it was as though he meant to fuse him into his very bones.

In the next heartbeat, the searing, domineering pheromones of an SSS-rank sentinel in runaway heat surged outward, enveloping Ning Ning head to toe like a suffocating net.

The scent was polar blizzards mingled with blazing wildfire—violent, invasive.

Ning Ning was too stunned to cry out. His nose filled with Xiao Lin’s overpowering scent, heat muddling his mind.

“Come with me.”

Xiao Lin’s voice rumbled from above, hoarse as though scraped raw, each word weighted with barely restrained desire.

“Marshal!”

Another voice cut in, clear and sharp. Gu Qingfeng had arrived without warning, ghostlike, planting himself squarely in Xiao Lin’s path.

The perpetual mild smile he wore was gone, leaving only ice. His gaze flicked to Ning Ning—face blanched in fright within Xiao Lin’s arms. Though his tone seemed calm, every word was rigid steel:

“You’re not in the right state. Don’t touch Ning Ning. Hand him to me.”

“Move.”

Xiao Lin’s eyes glowed with a terrifying golden light—the telltale sign of spiraling out of control. He never once glanced at Gu Qingfeng, gaze fixed solely on the one in his arms, as though holding the half of his life he had lost and finally reclaimed.

The air congealed, thick and dangerous.

“ROAR—!”

A thunderous snarl erupted, shaking eardrums. A massive wolf, fur molten gold, materialized at Xiao Lin’s side.

Its four legs dug into the ground, muscles bulging with explosive strength. Golden flames blazed in its eyes as it fixed on Gu Qingfeng, a growl rumbling like an earthquake, heat waves scorching the air.

Even its breath was blistering—stone beneath its paws sizzled. The sheer energy radiating from it sent lower-ranked students collapsing, pale and trembling.

At the same moment, another aura spread.

A snow-white nine-tailed fox appeared soundlessly behind Gu Qingfeng. Unlike the wolf’s blatant fury, this fox was quiet—depthless.

Its obsidian eyes were like starless midnight. Nine vast, fluffy tails swayed lazily, rippling invisible waves of mental power. Cold, surgical precision emanated from it, a force sharp enough to slice into minds, freezing air itself and grinding will to dust.

Gold against white. Heat against cold.

Two apex forces clashed in the narrow space.

Air screamed as it tore apart, an invisible storm detonating from the collision, sending onlookers shrieking and scrambling back.

Caught in the epicenter, Ning Ning could barely breathe.

He could feel Xiao Lin’s searing hunger, a volcano on the verge of eruption, ready to burn him to ash and fuse him into his very soul.

【System 89】: Host! Host! Quick! Calm him—just like you did with Lu Ming! Your mental power can do it! If this continues, they’ll tear this planet apart!

The system shrieked in his mind.

Ning Ning’s thoughts were a fog. With no idea what else to do, driven by instinct and the system’s urging, he pressed a trembling hand to Xiao Lin’s burning chest.

He released his own mental power, reaching for Xiao Lin’s spiritual sea.

Lavender light shimmered, specks of stardust blooming from his palm.

But the instant his power brushed Xiao Lin’s, it was as though a feather had fallen into a tornado—swept away at once by a fiercer, more tyrannical current!

If Lu Ming’s mindscape was a tsunami, then Xiao Lin’s was a wasteland ravaged by golden lightning and storms.

Ning Ning’s gentle, soothing power was a droplet falling into boiling oil—

A vicious sizzle, consumed and evaporated instantly!

“Mm—!”

Xiao Lin groaned, clutch tightening brutally around Ning Ning until his bones ached.

That foreign, pure sweetness hadn’t quelled his heat—it had detonated it. Like the strongest catalyst, it snapped the last string of his reason.

The standoff with Gu Qingfeng forgotten, Xiao Lin moved.

Clutching Ning Ning, his figure blurred, vanishing toward his private quarters nearby.

BANG!

The heavy metal door slammed shut behind him, the sound sealing off Gu Qingfeng’s storm-dark face.

Outside, Gu Qingfeng stood rigid before the locked door, his aura colder than Siberian winter.

He did not pound or shout. Instead, with terrifying composure, he raised his wrist terminal and dialed an encrypted number.

When the call connected, his voice was icier than a polar gale:

“I require the highest royal authorization. Reason: ‘The safety of an imperial treasure-class guide is under threat.’ Target: forcible intervention into Marshal Xiao Lin’s private domain. Immediately.”

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