The Beloved Guide Was Forced in a Love-Rival Shura Field - Chapter 8

Ning Ning stared at the two domineering messages flashing on his terminal, his head about to explode.

Both were for 7 p.m. He only had one body—how was he supposed to appear in two places at once?

“Oh my god, Ning Ning, what… what are you going to do?” Lin Yuan also saw the two messages. He leaned in, his eyes flickering with a mix of excitement and worry. “Marshal Xiao Lin and His Highness the Second Prince… this is way too confrontational!”

Although he sounded worried, the corners of his mouth kept twitching upward, unable to hide his glee. In fact, he even had a secret thrill in his heart.

If those two fought even harder over Ning Ning, driving him to utter exhaustion, maybe a normal classmate like himself would stand a chance?

“How about…” Lin Yuan’s eyes rolled, and he lowered his voice with a sly suggestion, “you just say you’re not feeling well, skip both of them, and rest tonight?”

For a moment Ning Ning was tempted. But soon he shook the thought away.

He could escape tonight, but not tomorrow. These two—one wielding military power, the other a royal prince—were not people he could afford to offend.

【Host, this is a perfect chance to self-sabotage!】 System 89’s voice chimed in on cue. 【We’ll go to Xiao Lin first, stay a few minutes, then find an excuse to slip away. After that, we’ll head to Gu Qingfeng! Make them both feel slighted and brushed off! Perfect!】

Ning Ning took a deep breath. The suggestion sounded suicidal, but it was the only workable solution.

He decided to visit Xiao Lin first. After all, physical training could be muddled through. If he acted weak enough, maybe the Marshal would get annoyed and kick him out quickly.

With that plan, at exactly 6:55 p.m., Ning Ning knocked on the Marshal’s office door.

“Come in.”

The deep voice carried through.

Ning Ning pushed the door open—and froze.

This wasn’t an office at all. It was a private training hall, so large it was almost absurd. Rows of gleaming metal equipment he couldn’t even name were arranged with military precision, the air saturated with a cold, powerful scent.

Xiao Lin had shed his sharp uniform and wore only a black compression tank top with camo pants. Sweat trailed down the sculpted lines of muscle, soaking the fabric and outlining impossibly broad shoulders and a narrow waist.

He had just finished an intense session. Heat radiated off him, along with the overwhelming scent of an S-class sentinel’s pheromones.

“Come here.”

His gaze pinned Ning Ning in place, the tone leaving no room for argument.

Ning Ning’s scalp tingled as he stepped forward, feeling like a rabbit caught under a wolf’s eyes.

“Not one of your movements today was correct.” Xiao Lin’s voice was flat, clipped. He pointed to a nearby piece of equipment that looked relatively simple. “Your core is weak. No stability.”

He stepped behind Ning Ning, calloused hand pressing down on his waist again.

“!”

Ning Ning stiffened violently.

That burning palm was like a brand searing straight through his thin shirt, electric heat shooting across every nerve.

“Relax,” Xiao Lin’s voice rumbled low, hot breath brushing Ning Ning’s ear. “Feel it here. Use your core.”

His other hand caught Ning Ning’s arm, pinning him in place against the equipment, caging him completely within his frame.

It was, in form, an instructional posture.

But in reality, it was an embrace.

Ning Ning’s back pressed flush to Xiao Lin’s fevered chest, his lungs filled with the sharp, invasive mix of pine and gunpowder that belonged only to the Marshal.

He’s marinating me alive…

His face flamed scarlet, color spreading down his pale neck and ears. His own heartbeat thudded so loud he was sure the Marshal could hear it.

He smells… good. There’s a faint milky sweetness. His skin’s impossibly soft. His waist—one hand could wrap all the way around. Does he even realize how tempting he is?

The thought struck Xiao Lin hard. His breathing faltered.

As Ning Ning’s body temperature rose with nervousness, his spiritual sea quivered. The moon rabbit inside twitched uneasily, and a faint, sticky-sweet aura leaked out—an irresistible catalyst, igniting the air into something thick and charged.

His wolf-green eyes darkened, hunger flaring.

The trembling body in his arms, the bare line of flushed neck, the soft silver hair brushing under his chin—every detail screamed at him to tighten his grip, to absorb this boy into his very bones, to make him his.

His Adam’s apple bobbed. His hand on that narrow waist clenched tighter.

“Mm…”

The boy whimpered faintly, almost like a kitten, from the pressure on his side.

That sound was a spark thrown onto gunpowder.

Xiao Lin jerked back, releasing him abruptly, retreating a step as if burned.

His chest heaved, veins bulging at his temple. Turning away, he forced his sentinel instincts back under savage willpower.

He could not frighten him. Absolutely not.

“I…”

Ning Ning’s eyes widened at his suddenly dark expression. Panic surged—had he angered the Marshal with his incompetence? His voice carried a thin, hidden note of grievance.

“Marshal, am I… too stupid?”

Xiao Lin dragged in a breath, turned back. His wolf-green eyes were stormy, conflicted. After several seconds, two hoarse words scraped out of his throat:

“No.”

Sensing the tension, Ning Ning seized the chance, blurting an excuse:

“Um—well, Mentor Gu Qingfeng also asked for me, so I… I need to go now.”

Before Xiao Lin could respond, he bolted, nearly tripping over himself in his escape from the suffocating training room.

Left behind, Xiao Lin stared at the door that had slammed shut. Slowly, he raised his hand. His fingertips still remembered the soft warmth of that narrow waist. His wolf-green gaze flickered with raw regret and frustration.

He was losing control.

…

Ning Ning sprinted to Gu Qingfeng’s laboratory, heart hammering wildly.

He knocked. From inside came a gentle, “Come in.”

Pushing the door open, he found Gu Qingfeng standing by the floor-to-ceiling window, slowly removing his spotless white coat. Underneath, a fitted black silk shirt traced the lean, elegant lines of his back and shoulders—graceful, restrained.

“Ning, you’re ten minutes late.”

He turned, wearing his usual harmless smile.

But when his eyes fell on Ning Ning, the smile faded, replaced by a sharp glint.

His senses were keener than most guides.

And he could smell it clearly—the lingering trace of another sentinel’s possessive scent clinging to Ning Ning: pine and gunpowder.

Xiao Lin.

“Where were you just now?”

Gu Qingfeng’s voice remained calm as he advanced step by step, but the warmth in his eyes was gone, replaced by a fathomless darkness.

It felt like a gentle net tightening around Ning Ning—soft, yet suffocating.

“I… I went to Marshal Xiao Lin’s, um, for some physical tutoring,” Ning Ning stammered under that gaze.

“Is that so.”

Gu Qingfeng’s lips curved faintly, but the smile never reached his eyes. “Seems his ‘lesson’ left you rather flustered.”

He raised a hand, brushing through Ning Ning’s silver hair. His fingers lingered lightly, almost casually, against Ning Ning’s temple.

“Your mental sea is in turmoil. Sit. I’ll give you a… deeper examination.”

The words “deeper examination” rolled off his tongue with deliberate emphasis.

Before Ning Ning could protest, gentle yet forceful mental threads wrapped around him.

Gu Qingfeng’s spiritual touch was stronger than before, no longer restrained. It carried command, prying without hesitation into the depths of Ning Ning’s mind.

This time, he wasn’t distracted by the sweet haze that had nearly overwhelmed him before. Steeling himself against the shiver it provoked, he carefully avoided that aura, probing like a scalpel toward the very core.

And he found it.

At the heart of the boy’s spiritual sea, beside the sleeping moon rabbit, faint traces of a nearly invisible violet glow pulsed.

The source of that intoxicating aura that had almost driven an S-class sentinel to madness.

This wasn’t an ordinary B-class spirit at all. It was something from the Empire’s most restricted files—something whispered only in legend. A bloodline born with allure and control—

The Lunar God bloodline.

Shock thundered through him, his calm mask cracking into fervor and possessiveness.

And then—

“Bang!”

The lab’s reinforced alloy door burst open under a savage kick.

Xiao Lin strode in, sweat-drenched tank top clinging to his frame, radiating beast-like ferocity.

His wolf-green eyes burned with wildfire as they locked on Gu Qingfeng—

Specifically, on the hand resting against Ning Ning’s temple.

“Remove your filthy hand.”

Xiao Lin’s voice was dangerously low, each word dragged out with killing intent.

“Or I’ll cut it off.”

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