The Beloved Guide Was Forced in a Love-Rival Shura Field - Chapter 79

Gu Qingfeng’s words, cold and sharp as a knife, pierced the dead silence of the flagship’s bridge like a poisoned icicle.

“We’re escorting the Empire’s only ‘Beacon,’ and we’ve just walked straight into a trap carefully set for you.”

Ningning still huddled in Xiao Lin’s arms, his entire body trembling, not yet fully calming down.

He could clearly feel how tense the chest holding him was—like a block of ancient, instantly frozen iron. Xiao Lin’s pheromones still enveloped him possessively, shielding him from the malice outside, yet unable to contain the almost boiling, tightly suppressed rage and murderous intent radiating from the man.

That rage was partly directed at Gu Qingfeng’s mockery, partly at an unknown enemy, but more than anything—it was directed at himself.

Ningning buried his face even deeper, not daring to look at Xiao Lin’s expression.

He knew the Marshal was scared.

If he hadn’t rushed in immediately… the consequences would have been unimaginable.

Amid this suffocating standoff, the calm, steady voice of the pilot broke the silence over the flagship’s broadcast system.

“Report to the Marshal: approaching the Seventh Star Domain forward base, ‘Fortress Shield’ Starport. Requesting landing instructions.”

Xiao Lin took a deep breath, as if summoning every ounce of strength to suppress the storm of rage within him. His dark-golden eyes contained no trace of the violence that had just surged through him, leaving only the lingering fear and care for the precious person in his arms.

With rough fingertips, he gently stroked Ningning’s sweat-damp forehead, his voice hoarse.

“Don’t be afraid. We’re almost there.”

Ningning nodded slightly, moving a little away from him, yet still instinctively clutching at the fabric of his chest.

Following Xiao Lin’s gaze, he looked out through the massive viewport.

Space remained the deep, infinite black, but against this backdrop floated a massive starport, as imposing and solid as a steel fortress.

This was “Fortress Shield” Starport.

However, it was nothing like the bustling, futuristic scene Ningning had imagined, with countless navigation lights flickering.

What greeted them was absolute silence.

The exterior of the starport was scarred, riddled with jagged, hastily repaired marks from weapons fire—ugly, crude sutures across steel skin. The normally busy landing channels were pitch black, illuminated only by a few flickering red emergency lights, casting eerie glows on the wreckage of several destroyed destroyers, drifting slowly like abandoned steel ghosts around the port.

There was no triumphant military music, no welcoming troops.

Only the scars of war and an omnipresent aura of death.

The flagship Dawnlight docked smoothly at its designated private berth.

“Shhh—”

As the airlock opened, a stench of disinfectant, scorched metal, and faintly lingering blood wafted through the air.

Ningning wrinkled his nose at the smell, his stomach churning.

He followed Xiao Lin down the gangway, step by step. Gu Qingfeng casually walked behind them, eyes behind his gold-rimmed glasses observing Ningning’s reactions with subtle amusement.

Once on the starport’s cold metal floor, the oppressive atmosphere only grew heavier.

In the dim corridors, scorch marks and energy weapon burns lined the walls. Personnel in white medical coats and gray maintenance uniforms hurried past, their faces exhausted and numb.

No one spoke. Only the hum of machinery and the echo of hurried footsteps filled the vast corridor, hammering at one’s heartbeat.

It was a stark contrast to the opulence of the Imperial Capital.

Heaven and hell.

Ningning’s delicate, expensive-looking loungewear, soft and bright, looked glaringly out of place here. He instinctively leaned closer to Xiao Lin, the towering figure and sharp presence a lone island of safety in this oppressive place.

Xiao Lin immediately noticed his unease, slowing his pace. His broad hand reached out and firmly grasped Ningning’s cold fingers.

Dry yet warm, calloused from a soldier’s life, it transmitted a firm, soothing strength, as if telling him: I’m here. Don’t be afraid.

Ningning’s heartbeat skipped a beat. His face flushed slightly, yet his hand did not resist. Instead, it found support and gripped tighter.

They passed through the main corridor, about to turn toward the Marshal’s private quarters, when they had to pass by the entrance to the medical area.

Suddenly—

“Ahhhh—get away! Don’t come near me!! Don’t touch me!!!”

A piercing, distorted scream erupted from a door to the medical area.

It was a voice full of absolute terror and pain, as if an invisible monster were devouring the person’s soul, making Ningning’s scalp tingle.

He froze mid-step, heart clenched in icy vice-like grips.

Following the sound, he saw a scene that would be forever etched in his memory.

The spacious medical hall was lined with rows of isolation treatment pods. Most contained struggling soldiers. Some were bound tightly to the beds, yet still twisted and flailed like dying beasts, emitting incomprehensible screams.

Their eyes were wide, pupils dilated, bloodshot, staring blankly at empty corners, as if some unimaginable horror awaited there.

It was the result of a fully contaminated mental sea, soldiers on the brink of psychological collapse.

Ningning’s gaze was drawn to the pod nearest the door.

Inside lay a very young sentinel, barely in his twenties, chestnut hair plastered to a pale forehead with cold sweat. He struggled desperately, emitting ragged, bellows-like noises.

The young, suffering face overlapped in Ningning’s mind with the image of Lu Ming, whom he had once calmed in the training room when nearly losing control.

Same youth.

Same pain.

Same despair.

Ningning’s breath caught.

All along, he had treated himself as just another worker. Entering books, completing tasks, earning points, then going home… everything here had been just a performance, a scene, and even the most realistic NPCs were just data.

But this scene—this was too real.

Too real for his chest, making him shiver.

His previous “finish the mission and clock out” mindset seemed pale and ridiculous before these living, fading lives.

A heavy, sour emotion, entirely new, surged from the deepest part of his heart, almost suffocating him.

This wasn’t a game.

This wasn’t a script.

This was war.

The usual soft, pampered innocence of the golden canary within his delicate features melted away, replaced by a rare, grave sorrow.

At that moment, a warm, large hand covered his eyes, shielding him from the scene.

Xiao Lin’s hoarse voice, still tinged with suppressed anger, spoke close to his ear, each word taut:

“Don’t look.”

The man stood slightly in front of him, like a mountain, trying to protect him from all the cruelty of the world.

Seeing his soldiers like this, Xiao Lin’s anger and guilt boiled like molten rock. But his first instinct was always to protect Ningning.

This blood-stained reality was not meant for Ning ning’s pure eyes.

“Marshal,” Gu Qingfeng’s clear voice came from the side, tinged with a perfectly measured sigh, but his words were like a sugar-coated dagger, striking Xiao Lin’s nerves. “Do you really think that hiding him and covering his eyes makes it disappear?”

Xiao Lin stiffened.

Gu Qingfeng took a step closer, lowering his voice, gentle to the point of cruelty: “He will face it sooner or later. After all, it’s partly because of this ‘Beacon’ of his that things here became like this, isn’t it?”

“Shut up!” Xiao Lin finally snapped, shouting.

He ignored Gu Qingfeng, only wanting to immediately take Ningning away from this place.

Gripping Ningning’s hand tightly, he said in a low voice, “Let’s go.”

But when he tried to pull him, he found he couldn’t.

The person in his arms was rooted to the ground.

Xiao Lin’s hand still covered his eyes, yet Ningning seemed to “see” through the darkness, staring at the young sentinel writhing in pain.

A powerful empathy and uncontrollable impulse gripped his heart like creeping vines.

Save him.

The thought surged, uncontrollable, from Ningning’s mind.

Not because of the mission, not because of the system—it came from himself, from the very essence of Ningning’s soul.

Xiao Lin felt Ningning’s resistance. He furrowed his brows, his tone hardening with an undeniable command, even a hint of a plea he hadn’t realized himself:

“Ningning, listen to me. This isn’t a place for you.”

He wanted to take Ningning away from this cruel land, back to the safe, sterile luxury he had crafted.

Yet this time, Ningning slowly, but with extraordinary determination, pulled the hand covering his eyes away.

Those dreamlike purple eyes were exposed once more.

There was no panic, no softness as before—only a stubborn, sorrowful light unfamiliar even to Xiao Lin.

He fixed his gaze on the young sentinel, on the pain-twisted face, and the unspeakable emotions within him finally found an outlet.

He had to do something.

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