The Beloved Guide Was Forced in a Love-Rival Shura Field - Chapter 28

That exchange student’s jacket, carrying the clean scent of soap pods, sat on Ning Ning like an ill-fitting net—abrupt, out of place.

The moment Xie Lin’s dark-golden eyes landed on that jacket, they sank, like the depths of the sea before a storm.

He said nothing.

His response was to sit down directly in the empty seat beside Ning Ning.

That seat was narrow—it was where Xia Yu had just been sitting. Xie Lin’s towering frame of over 1.9 meters squeezed right in, the stiff, sharply cut fabric of his uniform pressing against Ning Ning’s softer clothes with an uncompromising force.

The Marshal’s aura—cedar and cold metal—surged out like a silent tidal wave, instantly sweeping away that mild fragrance of soap, leaving not a single trace behind.

Pressed into his side, Ning Ning instinctively shrank inward, half his small body tucked into Xie Lin’s arm. He felt like a tiny creature herded into the territory of a massive wolf.

Before Ning Ning could even wonder about it, Xie Lin reached out with a gloved hand, long fingers wrapping around the book in front of him—The Illustrated Guide to Ancient Spirit Beasts.

He flipped through a few pages, seemingly skimming, though his gaze lacked focus. Then with a crisp snap, he shut the book flat, face unreadable.

The sound wasn’t loud, but it made several nearby cadets who were sneaking glances jolt in fear.

“If you want to know these things, ask me directly,” Xie Lin said, his deep voice like the lowest note of a cello, rumbling right against Ning Ning’s ear with a tone that brooked no argument. “What’s written in books is often wrong.”

Before the words had even settled, he leaned forward slightly, bracing one arm on the desk, his tall body forming a cage as he reached across Ning Ning to pick up the cup of herbal tea Xia Yu had just set down.

The movement closed the circle completely, his shadow and aura enveloping Ning Ning entirely.

Caught inside his arms, Ning Ning tilted his delicate face upward, violet eyes wide with puzzlement.

Why does the Marshal seem so strange today?

Xie Lin acted as though he hadn’t noticed the boy in his embrace. He touched the cup’s wall with his fingertips, brows tightening almost imperceptibly.

“Cold.”

Just one word.

Then, with Xia Yu still within sight, Xie Lin rose without hurry, strode to the waste chute nearby, and tilted his wrist.

Crash—!

The cup of tea, along with its ornate mug, shattered as it hit the disposal unit, the sound sharp and final.

His movements were efficient, almost clinical, as though handling some lethal contaminant. Not a hint of hesitation.

Only after that did he return and sit down again.

His gaze finally dropped onto the jacket Ning Ning was still wearing.

Those dark-golden eyes churned with possessive obsession so strong it nearly solidified. Yet when they turned to Ning Ning, the force was restrained, reshaped into a deep, suffocating concern.

“Take it off,” he said.

“Huh?” Ning Ning blinked in surprise.

Xie Lin didn’t bother repeating himself. He moved.

Long fingers pinched the collar of the exchange student’s jacket. Unlike the ruthless motion with the teacup, his movements here were slow, deliberate—carrying a subtle disdain that felt almost insulting—as he peeled the garment off Ning Ning’s shoulders bit by bit.

As if it carried some filthy, unseen stain.

Without sparing it a glance, he tossed it to the floor. With a sharp nudge of his boot, he kicked it into the farthest corner, as though even touching it further would soil him.

The air froze solid.

The silence pressed heavier than any words.

In that suffocating atmosphere, Xia Yu’s polite smile had completely stiffened. He could no longer maintain even the thinnest veneer of dignity. He could feel his own mental sea being squeezed, torn at, by an overwhelming, domineering pressure, making every breath difficult.

And in that moment, he understood—this wasn’t jealousy.

This was the most primal, savage beast, using scent and dominance to declare absolute ownership of its mate.

“Marshal… Your Excellency,” Xia Yu croaked, voice dry. Forcing himself to bow slightly, he stammered, “I just remembered something urgent, I won’t… won’t disturb you and Senior Ning Ning.”

He all but fled.

Xie Lin escorted Ning Ning back to his dorm.

At dusk, their shadows stretched long on the ground, overlapping, inseparable. Xie Lin walked on the outside, his tall frame shielding Ning Ning from passing cadets, enclosing him in an impenetrable cocoon of safety.

“That jacket.” Xie Lin finally spoke, tone unreadable.

“Mm?” Ning Ning still hadn’t recovered from earlier events.

“Don’t wear other people’s clothes again.” His words were calm, but carried the weight of command. “If you’re cold, come to me.”

Ning Ning blinked. Though he didn’t understand why, he still nodded obediently. “Oh… okay.”

The Marshal just doesn’t like things that belong to others, right? Yes, that must be it.

They were nearly at the dorm building when Xie Lin suddenly stopped.

Puzzled, Ning Ning turned back to look at him.

“Don’t move.” His voice was calm, but his eyes were terrifyingly deep. “There’s something on your shoulder.”

His large hand pressed gently on Ning Ning’s right shoulder—exactly where Xia Yu’s jacket had fit snugly earlier, where Xia Yu’s fingers had briefly brushed.

The touch was light, like brushing away invisible dust.

But his palm burned hot, heat seeping through two layers of fabric, scorching into Ning Ning’s skin. His thumb moved slowly, insistently, over the boy’s small shoulder blade, rubbing again and again with unmistakable possession.

Once.

And again.

As though erasing fingerprints from flawless jade—purging every trace of another’s touch, before branding it anew with his own unique warmth.

Along with the motion, a stream of his crisp spiritual energy seeped into Ning Ning like liquid mercury—ruthless, absolute—scouring away the faint remnants of Xia Yu’s aura and replacing it wholly with his own.

“All done.” He withdrew his hand at last, though his palm curled slightly out of sight, savoring the lingering sensation of that delicate warmth.

Ning Ning noticed nothing.

He only felt a cozy heat spread from where Xie Lin had touched him, familiar and reassuring, like a small heater in winter, chasing away the evening chill. It made him want to nuzzle closer.

Meanwhile, at the Imperial Second Prince’s estate—

Gu Qingfeng’s black eyes glinted cold as he stared at the intel on his terminal.

Beside Xia Yu’s flawless student file, a bright red stamp screamed: IDENTITY FORGERY.

He had invoked the highest level of royal authority, digging into the academy’s raw admission records.

There was no such “Xia Yu.”

“How interesting…” Gu Qingfeng tapped his fingers rhythmically on the table. Instead of anger, a cold, amused curve touched his lips.

He wasted no time connecting to a top-level encrypted channel.

The hologram lit up with Xie Lin’s cold, “don’t bother me” expression.

“Marshal Xie,” Gu Qingfeng greeted smoothly, voice warm, laced with just enough concern. “Forgive the intrusion. I simply came across something… amusing. It may relate to your little Guide.”

He deliberately emphasized your and little Guide, watching with satisfaction as Xie Lin’s brow furrowed.

Gu Qingfeng transmitted the forged file and drawled, “It seems a wolf in sheep’s clothing has slipped into the academy. I worry for Ning Ning—he’s so innocent. If someone were to trick him…”

At that exact moment, Xie Lin’s communicator chimed sharply—an S-level emergency call from Huo Ze.

Expressionless, he accepted, pulling Huo Ze into the three-way channel.

Huo Ze’s usually composed face was taut with urgency and a flicker of grim excitement.

“Xie Lin! Gu Qingfeng? Perfect, you’re both here!”

Without preamble, he shared a twisted, chaotic waveform—spiritual fluctuations like cryptic runes. “My A-rank lab was infiltrated! They bypassed three layers of physical defense and seven spiritual barriers—the target was Ning Ning’s core database!”

Words spilled fast: “Luckily, I’d set a trap. They left empty-handed, but I caught their spiritual signal! This frequency—I’m certain the intruder is inside the First Military Academy right now!”

On the screen, Gu Qingfeng’s falsified file aligned perfectly with Huo Ze’s captured hostile spirit-wave.

Two puzzle pieces clicked together.

For a moment, the three men—each perched at the apex of Imperial power—fell silent.

Information had already fused, storm-like, between them.

A flawless but fake exchange student.

A shadow who could infiltrate the Empire’s core labs.

And one target—Ning Ning, held on the tip of all their hearts.

That night, in the exchange students’ dorm—

Xia Yu stood before the window, daytime gentleness stripped away, leaving only shadowed malice.

He activated a hidden communicator. A rasping voice asked, “Progress?”

“Preliminary trust gained,” Xia Yu murmured. His hand drifted to his right shoulder, where Xie Lin’s scorching touch seemed still to linger, searing his nerves. “But Xie Lin… his vigilance is extreme. He’s even more of a guard dog than the rumors say.”

“Good. Keep approaching the target. No matter the means, you must uncover the secret of the ‘Moon Wheel.’”

The transmission cut. Silence reclaimed the room.

Xia Yu raised his hand, staring at his palm, expression complicated.

He thought of Ning Ning’s pure violet eyes, so defenseless.

Of the boy’s dazed obedience when held in Xie Lin’s arms.

Of that untainted, pristine aura—so clean it made one want to defile it.

Something foreign stirred in the depths of his spirit sea: restless, hungry, unwanted.

That damned charm ability…

Frustration flared, violent and raw. Yet beneath it, an anticipation crept in—an eagerness for the next time he’d see that prey named Ning Ning.

But he didn’t know—every stray heartbeat, every wavering thought, was being faithfully recorded by a hidden micro-probe in his room, relayed in real time to Gu Qingfeng’s terminal.

“Heh.” Gu Qingfeng chuckled softly as he watched the wavering emotional graph. “Little wolf cub… already losing control?”

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