The Beloved Guide Was Forced in a Love-Rival Shura Field - Chapter 24

Before setting off, Xiao Lin insisted on making a trip back to the Ning residence.

Ning Ning, carrying the fluffy Cloudbeast in his arms, was puzzled, but obediently followed him home.

In the courtyard, Ning Zhenhai was slowly trimming flowers and plants. When he saw the two of them step down from the hovercar together, his face immediately lit up with that kind of “My child has finally grown up” smile.

“Marshal, please, come in, come in.”

Xiao Lin took off his crisp military coat and draped it smoothly over his arm, revealing the black combat shirt beneath that clung to his strong frame. His broad shoulders and narrow waist exuded an oppressive aura. He handed Ning Zhenhai a lavish-looking gift box, his deep voice respectful, as a junior should be:

“Uncle, just a small token.”

Ning Zhenhai chuckled as he accepted it, his gaze flicking between Xiao Lin and his son.

The Empire’s Marshal’s dark-golden eyes were practically glued to Ning Ning, as though he could see straight through him. That undisguised focus and tenderness were so intense, even an old hand like him felt his face heat.

Ning Ning fidgeted under the gaze, shifting uneasily, and whispered an explanation:

“Dad, we’re… going to the Archives to look up some information.”

“Go on then,” Ning Zhenhai waved his hand, giving Xiao Lin a meaningful pat on the shoulder. “With the Marshal there, I’m at ease.”

The corners of Xiao Lin’s lips curved ever so slightly, a smile faint but steeped in satisfaction.

The hovercar glided smoothly toward the Empire’s central district.

The interior was spacious. Ning Ning leaned his little head against the cool glass, pretending to be absorbed in the scenery flashing past outside, still hugging the Cloudbeast tightly.

But he knew—those eyes beside him never left.

Though Xiao Lin appeared to be resting with his eyes closed, whenever Ning Ning shifted even slightly—whether to adjust the Cloudbeast or change posture—his long lashes trembled faintly, like radar, tracking every movement with precision.

At some point, the cabin’s thermostat had been set to 26 degrees. That was Ning Ning’s favorite temperature—not one degree higher, not one degree lower.

A large, well-defined hand slid into view, setting a steaming cup of milk tea neatly into the holder beside him.

Ning Ning took small sips. The sweet fragrance slowly spread through the confined cabin.

Xiao Lin opened his eyes.

Those dark-golden irises were fathomless. He watched Ning Ning’s cheeks puff slightly as he drank, like a tiny hamster storing food. His Adam’s apple bobbed involuntarily.

Suddenly, he leaned in.

“!”

Ning Ning jumped, body jerking back until his shoulder blades thudded against the window.

The crisp, faint scent of gunpowder that clung to the man enveloped him instantly. It was an overwhelming field—the domain of an S-class Sentinel. There was no escape.

“Wh-what are you doing…” Ning Ning’s heart pounded wildly, almost leaping from his throat.

Xiao Lin didn’t answer.

He simply reached out, calloused fingertips brushing against Ning Ning’s mouth. He gently wiped away a tiny smear of milk he hadn’t even noticed himself.

The gesture was slow, meticulous—almost obsessive.

That roughened fingertip grazing the soft skin at the corner of Ning Ning’s lips sent a tremor through his whole body.

“Don’t be afraid.”

Xiao Lin’s voice was hoarse and low, like calming a frightened little animal. Yet in his eyes swirled an inescapable possessiveness, as heavy and unyielding as ink, threatening to devour.

Withdrawing his hand, he unconsciously rubbed his fingertips together in the shadows, savoring the memory of that impossible softness.

Ning Ning ducked his head sharply, his ears and cheeks burning scarlet.

He pretended to fuss with the Cloudbeast in his arms, but his heart was hammering uncontrollably.

This kind of tender, suffocating care, woven seamlessly into everyday life—it was more lethal to him than any forceful declaration of love. It was like a gentle, inescapable net, luring him deeper, leaving no room for resistance.

“The Imperial Forbidden Archives are the Empire’s most dangerous tomb of knowledge,” Xiao Lin’s steady Marshal’s voice cut back into Ning Ning’s thoughts.

“Within lie every secret since the Empire’s birth—war crimes, royal scandals, and… records polluted by spiritual corruption beyond science’s grasp.”

He turned, his gaze serious, dark-golden eyes locked on Ning Ning.

“Once inside, stay with me. Don’t leave my sight. Not even a step. Do you understand?”

Ning Ning nodded meekly, sensing the gravity in his tone.

The hovercar descended before the towering Imperial Archive Center.

The white domed structure gleamed beneath the sun. Officials and scholars hurried about, hovercars streamed in luminous trails overhead. This was the Empire’s brain of knowledge, pulsing with ordered vitality—so unlike the oppressive word “forbidden.”

But when Xiao Lin led Ning Ning toward a remote side entrance, all the bustle seemed to fall away, as though cut off by an invisible wall.

Here was only a shadowed passage. Two guards in crimson uniforms stood at the gate, rigid and expressionless, exuding psychic pressure far beyond ordinary elites.

“Marshal.” One stepped forward, saluting crisply. His voice rasped like grinding metal:

“By Imperial Law, Article Eleven: No unauthorized personnel may enter the Forbidden Archives, Section A. Especially not…”

His eyes swung to Ning Ning, sharp and distrustful. “…a Guide.”

Xiao Lin said nothing.

He simply laid his palm naturally against Ning Ning’s back, firm, protective, possessive.

Then he raised his gaze. The flat, emotionless look in his golden eyes carried such crushing weight, the veteran guard felt it seize his very soul.

“He is under my protection.”

The words were soft, even calm.

Yet wrapped in the absolute authority of the Empire’s Marshal, and the suffocating dominance of an S-class Sentinel.

Cold sweat broke instantly on the guard’s brow. He knew without doubt—if he dared utter refusal, the man before him could shred his spirit into pulp in a breath.

Swallowing hard, he stepped back and unlocked the heavy alloy doors with his clearance.

With a groan of metal, the gates closed behind them, sealing out light and sound.

A sharp, metallic tang—like ozone laced with dust and crystal energy—hit them at once.

The corridor stretched into silence. Blue-glowing data crystals floated like spectral tombstones, each holding memories the Empire had buried and denied.

Danger clung to the very air.

Instinctively, Ning Ning edged closer to Xiao Lin.

Following System 89’s guidance, they reached the deepest chamber.

Xiao Lin summoned a virtual screen, his slender fingers flying over a stream of codes, finishing with iris and psychic verification.

【Authorization Confirmed: Imperial Marshal Xiao Lin.】

【Unlocking Highest-Level Classified Files…】

An ancient archive began to unfurl.

【Ning Clan – Lineage Codename: Guardians of the Moon God.】

【Duty: To guard and seal the “Zerg Queen” Core.】

【Note: As recorded in Eldoria’s ancient texts, once every thousand years, when the stars align, a “Moon God” will be born into the Guardian clan. Their psychic force bears supreme power of purification and command—capable of quelling the Zerg tide, and perhaps… ending the war itself.】

Ning Ning stared blankly at the words, his heart pounding furiously.

Guardians of the Moon God? Zerg Queen?

What did all this mean?

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a crystal sphere resting on a separate pedestal.

Clear as glass, its interior held countless drifting lights—like a galaxy shrunk into a breathtaking miniature.

An irresistible pull radiated from it, like a mother’s call, like a soul’s echo.

His body moved before his mind.

“Ning Ning, don’t touch it!” Xiao Lin barked, instantly aware.

Too late.

As though bewitched, Ning Ning’s hand reached out.

The instant his fingertips brushed its icy surface—

BOOM!

A universe exploded in his head.

Fragments of visions, shrill screams piercing his eardrums, mournful hymns vast as eternity, sorrow deep enough to freeze the soul—an unstoppable flood of information slammed brutally into his mind.

“Uhh—ahhh…”

A broken groan escaped his lips. His violet eyes went blank, their brilliance snuffed out. His body went limp, collapsing backward.

“Chirp! Chirp-chiirp!!”

The Cloudbeast shrieked in panic, fur bristling, patting frantically at his pallid cheeks. Useless.

“Ning Ning!”

A roar tore the air.

No longer the Marshal’s calm voice—this was raw, ragged, panic-stricken.

For the first time, Xiao Lin’s icy composure shattered utterly.

He lunged forward, catching the burning, limp body before it hit the ground, clutching it fiercely against him.

His arms tightened until veins stood out, as though trying to embed the fragile treasure into his very bones forever.

“Ning Ning! Wake up! Look at me!”

He pressed his forehead against Ning Ning’s fevered brow, his golden eyes contracting violently, flooded with a fear he had never shown another soul.

“Ning Ning!!”

His broad palm cupped Ning Ning’s face, stroking desperately, trying to call him back with his warmth.

The boy’s body burned like fire, skin flushed unnaturally red, his breath so faint it threatened to vanish any second.

At that moment, Xiao Lin’s heart felt clutched in a giant fist, torn to shreds.

A cold tide of terror drowned him whole.

The one he cherished like a jewel, the one he would give everything to protect—here, in his arms, his life-force was slipping away.

He was losing him.

That realization snapped the last thread of the Marshal’s reason.

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