The Beloved Guide Was Forced in a Love-Rival Shura Field - Chapter 55

But Ning ning clearly saw a trace of playful anticipation in his deep, bottomless peach-blossom eyes.

He was waiting.

Waiting for Xiao Lin’s reaction.

“No need.”

Xiao Lin’s cold voice, like frozen steel, instantly shattered the false peace that the attendant officer had been trying to maintain.

He stepped forward. His tall, imposing frame was unwavering, like an insurmountable wall, completely blocking all the attendant officer’s gaze aimed at Ning ning.

“He stays here.”

The man’s tone was calm, not even loud, yet it carried an unchallengeable authority, born from absolute power.

For the first time, the smile on the attendant officer’s face stiffened slightly, but it quickly returned to normal. He bowed slightly, lowering his posture further, yet his voice remained firm: “Marshal, this is His Majesty’s will. The Emperor also has Ning ning’s well-being in mind…”

“I said—” Xiao Lin interrupted him slowly, enunciating each word like a hammer, his dark-golden eyes now surging with a terrifying, destructive storm, “He. Stays.”

In extreme fear, the instinct to survive overpowered everything else.

Ning ning nearly scrambled off the bed.

He didn’t even care that he was still in thin pajamas, his bare feet stepping onto the cold floor. Like a frightened little animal finally finding shelter, he stumbled forward and clutched onto Xiao Lin’s rigid uniform.

He hid his small, trembling body entirely against the man’s broad, sturdy back.

Xiao Lin’s back was solid and warm, shielding him from all disturbing gazes. The familiar, domineering yet crisp scent of cedar enveloped him tightly, like the strongest barrier, instantly calming the fear that had been on the verge of exploding.

This gesture from Ning ning, though small and even somewhat clumsy, acted like a spark that ignited the volcano of possessiveness Xiao Lin had long harbored.

He could clearly feel the small body trembling behind him.

He was scared.

He was seeking help from him.

He chose him.

This realization made Xiao Lin’s blood boil instantly. A feeling, hard to describe, blending supreme satisfaction and overwhelming rage, surged through him.

Satisfied by the dependence, enraged that anyone could make him this scared.

At this moment, Xiao Lin felt that to go against the entire empire for this little creature, who relied on him as if he were the whole world, was nothing.

Xiao Lin slowly turned, his cold gaze no longer looking at the attendant officer, but like two ice-forged swords, fixed mercilessly on Gu Qingfeng, who remained silent with a faint smile.

The gaze seemed to say: Is this your intention? Trying to take him from me?

The playful glint in Gu Qingfeng’s eyes faded slightly.

Finally, Xiao Lin’s gaze returned to the attendant officer, representing the highest imperial authority.

This time, the cold aura surrounding him, reaching its extreme, unmasked, a tangible killing intent, crushed toward the man like a landslide or tidal wave.

“He is mine.”

The Marshal’s voice was quiet but weighty, each word heavy as if forged from blood and steel, striking everyone in the room’s hearts.

The attendant officer’s expression completely changed.

Under the unreserved release of an S-level top sentinel’s pure mental pressure, cold sweat the size of soybeans appeared on his forehead, his legs trembled uncontrollably, and breathing became incredibly difficult, as if an invisible hand had choked his throat.

He had no doubt that if he said one more word, the man known as “the Spear of the Empire” would not hesitate to snap his neck on the spot.

At this moment, imperial authority and military power clashed in the most direct, most ruthless manner—all for a seemingly fragile silver-haired boy.

In the end, the representative of the imperial authority was forced to retreat, thoroughly defeated.

“…I…I understand.” The attendant officer forced the words out of his throat, bowing deeply, not daring to meet Xiao Lin’s eyes, burning with hellfire. “I will…report your…decision to His Majesty truthfully.”

Having said this, he almost fled like a condemned man granted a pardon, stumbling as he quickly left the suffocating bedroom.

Just before closing the door, his seemingly panicked gaze accidentally met Gu Qingfeng’s.

That look was loaded with meaning.

Gu Qingfeng’s expression remained calm; he elegantly and slowly set down the delicate porridge bowl, as if the thrilling confrontation had been nothing more than a trivial interlude.

He stood, smoothed the meticulous edges of his white uniform, and softly said to the little silver-haired figure still hiding behind Xiao Lin: “It seems the Marshal can take good care of you; now I am at ease.”

“I won’t disturb you. I’ll come see you tomorrow.”

With that, he turned gracefully and left, his composure completely contrasting with the tense atmosphere, as if he hadn’t been the one observing the drama moments ago.

The bedroom door closed softly.

The suffocating aura finally began to dissipate.

Xiao Lin turned and saw Ning ning, still like a frightened little animal, clinging tightly to his uniform, face pale, the dreamlike purple eyes still lingering with fear and moisture, looking pitiful beyond words.

The fury in Xiao Lin’s heart melted instantly.

He bent down silently and, with hands accustomed to guns and killing, awkwardly and cautiously lifted the barefoot little one and placed him back into the warm bed.

Then, with his large hand, he gently ran his rough fingertips through Ningning’s fluffy, soft silver hair, a touch tinged with a care even he hadn’t realized.

His voice was hoarse and low, carrying a calming power like never before.

“Don’t be afraid.”

He paused, dark-golden eyes fixed on the one in his arms, speaking each word solemnly, as if making a vow:

“I’m here.”

Deep within Buckingham Palace, the Emperor’s chamber.

The light was always dim, the heavy smell of medicine mixed with the stench of a failing life, suffocating.

The attendant officer knelt on the cold floor, head bowed low, narrating in the plainest tone everything that had happened at the Marshal’s residence.

Silence, like death, hung in the air; only the faint ticking of medical devices and the wheezing breaths from the frail body filled the room.

“Did he…really say that?”

After a long pause, the old Emperor’s hoarse voice emerged, faint as a dying thread.

“Yes, Your Majesty.” The attendant officer’s voice trembled. “The Marshal personally said…‘He is mine.’”

“Heh…”

A sound, like air escaping, came from the sickbed.

The attendant officer mustered courage to slightly open a slit of his eyes, and came face-to-face with a terrifying gaze. The old man, nearing the end of his life, his face lined with wrinkles and spots, revealed an extremely greedy smile; his cloudy eyes flashed with an alarming light, like a dying man in the desert finally seeing an oasis.

This chapter emphasizes the absolute loyalty and possessiveness of Xiao Lin, the vulnerability and dependence of Ning ning, and the quiet, yet perceptive, presence of Gu Qingfeng, while showcasing the power struggle between military and imperial authority.

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