The Beloved Guide Was Forced in a Love-Rival Shura Field - Chapter 71

That piercing, agonized scream stabbed into everyone’s eardrums like a red-hot iron rod.

Communications were cut off, and the screen went completely black—a color representing death.

The courtyard fell into an instant, terrifying silence.

The tense, life-or-death atmosphere that had dominated moments ago was completely washed away by the dense stench of blood emanating from the edge of the starry expanse.

The wind stopped; the air seemed to solidify.

Everyone froze, unable to move.

Ning Ning’s mind went blank.

Instinctively, he clutched the front of Xiao Lin’s uniform, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the fabric so tightly it could tear.

The burning inferno, the charred face, the final desperate scream… it was all too real—so real that a chill ran through him, and his blood seemed to freeze.

The body holding him stiffened instantly.

Xiao Lin’s broad chest stopped rising and falling; even his breath seemed to halt.

Ning Ning could feel it clearly—the muscles beneath the uniform hardened like stone, so tense that even through the fabric it hurt to touch.

The dark golden eyes, which had just rekindled with light upon their reunion, now sank deep and cold like an abyss frozen for millennia.

The Seventh Star Region.

It was his territory.

The officer whose face had been burned in the communications feed was one of his soldiers.

A deeper, colder anger and guilt than what he had felt during the framing for treason now silently burned in his heart.

Yet he did not move.

He simply held the trembling boy closer, with a near-obsessive force that seemed to want to meld the child into his very bones, as if releasing him for even a second would let the harsh world snatch away the only light left.

“Heh.”

A faint, ambiguous laugh broke the deathly silence.

It was Gu Qingfeng.

The surprise on his face had vanished, replaced by a complex, almost intoxicating light in his bottomless eyes.

There was the weight of the Empire’s crisis, but even more, the thrill and certainty of a top-level strategist seeing an unexpected opportunity in a game of chess.

He did not look at Xiao Lin, nor acknowledge the imperial silence looming in the void.

His gaze, like twin precision searchlights, passed through everyone and greedily fixed on Ning Ning.

“A new-type variant…”

“Mass-scale psychic manipulation…”

“A summons…”

Gu Qingfeng whispered the keywords from the report, the curve of his lips growing more pronounced, as if he had discovered an unparalleled treasure.

He stepped forward; the polished mask of civility could no longer hide the predatory edge of a top-tier hunter.

“Father, Marshal,”

He inclined slightly, demeanor still composed, yet his words brought the atmosphere down to an icy low once more:

“It seems we have something more urgent, more important than the three-hundred-year-old agreement… something we must discuss immediately.”

No sooner had he spoken than the golden projection representing the Emperor finally stabilized after being forcibly cut off.

The elderly Emperor’s face reappeared, still marked by illness, but now there was no trace of indulgence toward his sons’ petty rivalries—only the absolute cold and authority of a ruler.

“Xiao Lin.”

The Emperor’s voice was quiet, yet like a knife tempered in ice.

“Lift the blockade on the capital. Your fleet will return immediately to the Seventh Star Region.”

Xiao Lin’s tall figure did not move. He merely lifted his eyes coldly, meeting the Emperor’s projection without the slightest deference.

Return?

And leave Ning Ning here, in the hands of these ravenous wolves?

Dream on.

It was as if the Emperor saw through his thoughts; his gaze shifted to Ning Ning in Xiao Lin’s arms.

Sharp, appraising, without warmth—it was the look one gives an artifact that can determine the fate of a nation and be sacrificed at any moment.

“Gu Qingfeng,” the Emperor’s voice rang again. “You will escort Ning Ning back to the palace immediately. The Empire needs him.”

A verdict, final and unquestionable.

Earlier, the confrontation had been over Ning Ning’s “ownership,” over personal attachment.

Now, with this sudden threat of annihilation, Ning Ning’s identity shifted in an instant from a coveted “lover” to the “cure” that could save the Empire.

Gu Qingfeng’s eyes glinted with a subtle triumphant smile. He inclined slightly, voice soft:

“Yes, Father.”

He turned, taking a step toward Ning Ning.

He intended to personally bring his “divine creation” back into the golden cage he had built, one that belonged solely to him.

“Whoever dares touch him—”

A cold, hoarse, blood-stained voice interrupted.

It was Xiao Lin.

Finally speaking, he lifted his head slowly. His dark golden eyes, rationality shattered, burned crimson—pure, primal beastly instinct.

“I will go to the frontlines.”

“He,” Xiao Lin lowered his head, gently brushing Ning Ning’s chilled, sweat-damp forehead with his rough cheek—so tender it seemed he was touching a fragile treasure, “will go with me.”

His voice was quiet, yet like a bomb exploding in everyone’s ears.

The frontlines were a hell of continuous fire.

But he would take Ning Ning with him.

Only under his eyes could he be at ease.

Even if it meant defying the entire Empire, he would shield his boy from all danger.

Such reckless possessiveness left everyone present gasping under its weight.

“Xiao Lin! Insolent!” the Emperor’s projection roared in anger, the light flickering with his fury.

Gu Qingfeng halted; his smile faded. He looked at Xiao Lin as if facing an insane madman:

“Marshal, the frontlines are no place for games. Ning Ning’s body… do you intend to lead him to his death?”

Every word sounded righteous, claiming care for Ning Ning. But it was clear—this contest had returned to its starting point.

Only now, the battlefield had expanded from the Marshal’s backyard to the Empire’s entire survival.

And Ning Ning remained the only, decisive pawn.

At this moment, no one noticed that Ning Ning, tightly held in Xiao Lin’s arms, trembled uncontrollably.

His small face was as pale as paper; his beautiful purple eyes were full of fear and confusion.

[System 89: Warning! High-intensity psychic signal detected! Source unknown! Host, your mental sea is being… interfered with!]

Ning Ning had no strength to respond.

For just a moment ago, as the deathly black screen flickered, he had seemed to hear a faint yet clear… call in the depths of his mind.

A voice impossible to describe in words—like countless wailing spirits, or some ancient presence across the starry sea whispering to him.

It was greedy, hungry, and terrifyingly… alluring, as if it wanted to consume him entirely, from inside out, flesh and bone.

“Ugh…” Ning Ning groaned painfully, sunken eyes spinning with nausea.

He shivered violently, instinctively burying himself deeper into the burning, solid embrace beside him.

He did not know what was happening.

All he knew was that something far more terrifying than even this madman was targeting him.

And in this moment, the only safety he could feel was this man holding him, willing to oppose the entire world for him, a barrier against the malice from deep space.

The confrontation in the courtyard continued.

Imperial authority, military power, strategists.

The three forces, due to the sudden military crisis, formed a strange and fragile balance.

The Emperor dared not provoke his strongest Marshal.

Xiao Lin could not both protect Ning Ning and defy the Empire.

Gu Qingfeng could not act against Xiao Lin under his gaze.

No one could dominate.

Yet all knew the key to resolving the problem lay among them.

The small boy, held by the Empire’s Marshal with his life—a single cure.

The only hope.

The only… divine being.

What was the next step?

Silence reigned, three parties scrutinizing each other for weaknesses.

Finally, a court attendant representing the imperial household carefully broke the deadlock through the unstable projection:

“Your Majesty… Marshal, Second Prince.”

“The frontline situation is urgent, but… Ning Ning’s safety is of utmost importance.”

“In my opinion, we should… sit down first and negotiate a foolproof plan?”

He proposed the only possibility:

Negotiation.

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