The Beloved Guide Was Forced in a Love-Rival Shura Field - Chapter 33

The shrill alarm sirens tore through the night sky like they were splitting it open, echoing through every corner of the First Military Academy.

Inside the dorm room, the sacred moonlight halo slowly dimmed, as though it had exhausted all its energy, and finally vanished completely. The air still carried a faint trace of something cool and clean, like the after-scent of moonlight.

Ningning’s legs gave out, and he nearly collapsed, trembling uncontrollably. He lowered his head, staring blankly at his empty hands, then at the three black-clad men sprawled stiffly on the floor, their life or death uncertain. His mind was a total mess.

【Help, what did I just do?! That counts as self-defense, right? It has to, right?!】

【These guys look worse off than me… Am I going to jail for this? System, say something! You gave me the cheat, where’s the after-sales support?!】

Just as his panic spiraled, the door suddenly exploded with a deafening boom, as if some siege beast had rammed straight through it from outside!

The shattered doorframe and splinters blasted outward, and a towering figure wrapped in a storm of rage surged in like a hurricane.

Not the enemy.

That familiar aura—an oppressive sentinel presence that somehow also made him feel safe—it was Xiao Lin.

The Empire’s Marshal hadn’t even had time to change out of his combat gear. Black military boots stepped onto the soft carpet without a sound. His gaze, sharp as poisoned blades, swept over the wreckage and the unconscious assassins, before locking—unyielding, piercing—onto the pale, trembling boy in the center of the room.

In that instant, his golden eyes contracted to pinpoints.

The fading moonlight still lingered faintly, a thin veil of sacred radiance cloaking the boy. Silver curls fell in messy disarray, making his little face look almost translucent. Those beautiful violet eyes shimmered with tears of shock, like a small animal bullied by a storm, so fragile it seemed he would shatter at a touch.

Xiao Lin felt as if an invisible hand had seized his heart—and crushed it to pieces.

Almost teleporting, he vaulted across the wreckage and reached Ningning’s side.

He asked nothing. He simply wrapped his long arms around the trembling body and yanked him tight, so fiercely there was no space left between them. The embrace was crushing, as though he wanted to press the boy into his chest, into his very bones, never to part again.

“Ugh!”

Ningning almost choked, his face buried against the man’s burning chest.

【I— I’m being strangled! Is this guy saving me or trying to murder me?!】

The overwhelming scent of Xiao Lin enveloped him instantly. Cold gunpowder, sharp steel, mixed with that unique undertone of wood that belonged only to him. The embrace was hard, almost bruising, yet its heat drove away every last shard of Ningning’s fear.

He was stunned by the sudden hug.

【But… why… does it feel so safe…?】

One arm locked tightly around Ningning’s slim waist, declaring absolute possession. The other, however, was achingly gentle—cradling the back of his head, broad palm almost covering his entire nape. Calloused fingertips stroked again and again through his soft hair, as if to confirm, over and over, that the boy was real, alive.

The motions were tender, yet brooked no refusal.

“Are you hurt?” His voice was low, hoarse, every word dragged from his throat, edged with barely restrained madness.

Ningning instinctively shook his head. His body betrayed him, leaning in, cheek pressed against that solid chest, clinging to its warmth and strength.

【I’m fine… but those guys on the floor aren’t. My bad, but I’m not taking the blame!】

Xiao Lin’s gaze slid past him to the unconscious assassins. In his golden eyes, a storm of killing intent erupted. Every shiver of the boy in his arms was a hammer blow to his chest.

Self-loathing for failing to protect, and fury beyond reason, churned his mental sea. The dark-gold wolf within had long since awoken, pacing restlessly, growling bloodthirsty threats, ready to tear apart anyone who dared lay a finger on his treasure.

And yet, his touch on Ningning grew even gentler, as if cradling the rarest porcelain in the world.

Then a mild, almost falsely gentle voice floated from the doorway, shattering the moment.

“Ah, it seems I still came a step too late.”

Gu Qingfeng entered with two stern-faced royal guards at his back. Dressed in immaculate finery, his perfect smile never wavered. He walked into the blood-soaked assassination scene as though he were arriving fashionably late to a banquet.

His gaze drifted lightly across the pair locked in embrace, his serene smile unchanged, though a flash of icy glint flickered in his eyes, too subtle to catch.

Ignoring Xiao Lin, he crouched beside one unconscious assassin, examining him like a piece of art.

“Tsk. Special mental-shield coating—blocks all scans under S-rank. And this…” He tapped the man’s wrist device with his gloved finger. “A directional micro-explosive. Military tech, isn’t it?”

Finally, he lifted his gaze, meeting Xiao Lin’s thunderous face, his voice soft, full of concern:

“Oh dear, Marshal Xiao—your military’s fine toys, turning up in Ningning’s dorm? This security lapse… really makes one worry for him.”

Xiao Lin’s arms tightened protectively around Ningning. The air pressure around him plummeted, suffocating.

Unfazed, Gu Qingfeng rolled up the man’s sleeve, revealing a complex wrist device. His tone was admiring, tinged with regret:

“And here—a self-destruct module. Once the mission fails or they’re captured, it obliterates the mental sea instantly. Not a trace left. Truly… clean and efficient.”

Every word was a sugar-coated dagger, stabbing straight into Xiao Lin’s deepest wound—his failure to protect.

Footsteps thundered in the hall.

The academy’s headmaster—an elderly man with white hair but bright eyes—rushed in with a troop of instructors and guards. But when they saw the scene—the Marshal of the Empire clutching a shaken guide, the Second Prince smiling enigmatically—everyone froze, breaths caught in shock.

Xiao Lin finally loosened his grip a fraction, but still kept Ningning firmly shielded at his side, his body a wall against prying eyes.

He lowered his gaze to check on him—and froze.

The boy’s violet eyes, once blurred with tears, now gleamed with a strange, mesmerizing light. In their depths, tiny stars seemed to rotate, dangerous yet captivating.

Ningning himself was stunned.

【Wait, what the hell? I can “see” their status bars now?!】

In his vision, above Xiao Lin’s head floated a blood-red tag: [Fury · Protective Urge MAX]. Above Gu Qingfeng… only a wall of [???], pixelated like heavy censorship, impossible to read.

【Xiao Lin’s basically a red-named boss now—danger level: purple-red! And Gu Qingfeng?! Why’s he all censored like a forbidden file?! System firewalls this strong?!】

“I—” Ningning opened his mouth, but Xiao Lin silenced him with a single finger pressed to his lips.

“Don’t be afraid. Don’t think about anything.” His golden eyes were abyssal, brimming with obsessive protectiveness only Ningning could understand. “I’ll handle everything.”

【Big guy, careful! Don’t get so worked up you ‘handle’ me along with the enemies!】

Gu Qingfeng rose smoothly, brushing at imaginary dust. He didn’t look at Xiao Lin, but instead at the trembling little fluffball—the cloud beast peeking out from the corner. With a sigh, he said softly:

“The little one did its best to warn you. So obedient.” He praised gently, then added with a hint of regret, his gaze flicking meaningfully to Xiao Lin: “But alas, it’s only a pet. Limited in ability. Not like your dark-golden wolf, Marshal—renowned, able to crush danger in its cradle.”

“Such a fright Ningning suffered tonight. What a pity.”

This skillful mix of praise and subtle mockery was the peak of tea-artistry.

Even Ningning couldn’t help silently applauding.

【Masterful! That’s tea-brewing level nine! One sentence, praises my pet, jabs Xiao Lin’s wound, and shows his tender care for me. Well played, Your Highness!】

Xiao Lin’s face was beyond grim.

The air froze to ice. Even the headmaster could hardly breathe, drenched in cold sweat.

“My matters do not require Your Highness’s concern.”

Xiao Lin ground out the words, refusing to waste more breath. He bent down—and with a startled gasp from Ningning—scooped him up entirely.

A standard princess carry.

Before the stunned audience, he strode past, his most precious treasure in his arms. His voice was quiet, but carried the weight of an unchallengeable order:

“From this moment, this place—falls under my command.”

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