The Beloved Guide Was Forced in a Love-Rival Shura Field - Chapter 80

Xiao Lin wanted to take Ning Ning away.

Immediately. Right now.

His hand gripped tightly, with a force so strong it nearly crushed Ning Ning’s wrist bones. He only wanted to drag this treasure—one that didn’t belong in this place—out of this hellish world tainted with blood and despair, and place him back into the room on the Morning Dawn—built with top-grade materials and absolutely safe.

There, there would be no screams, no death.

Only him.

Yet, no matter how hard he pulled, the person in his arms didn’t move an inch.

Ning Ning was like a red-hot spike, burning with heat, driven into the cold metal floor.

Xiao Lin’s hand, covering Ning Ning’s eyes, was gently, yet firmly, removed by Ning Ning himself.

Those dreamy purple eyes were exposed again under the dim hallway lights.

There was no longer the fear and softness from the first meeting. Instead, there was a light that made Xiao Lin’s heart clench—a mix of sorrow and stubborn resolve.

His gaze, like iron filings drawn to a magnet, locked onto the young sentinel in the medical area who was on the verge of death.

At that moment, a military officer wearing a white medical protective suit, with the rank of major on his shoulders, quickly stepped out. His face was solemn as he glanced at the electronic record in his hand and quietly gave orders to the two guards at the door:

“Bed 27, mental threshold has fallen below 3%, completely collapsed, irreversible. Prepare to execute… euthanasia protocol.”

The words “euthanasia” hit Ning Ning’s ears like three silent, icy bullets.

His body trembled violently, and even the hand held by Xiao Lin shook.

The young sentinel seemed to have heard the sentence of his own fate. The restraint straps creaked under unbearable pressure as he struggled more violently. He emitted a hoarse, desperate scream, his eyes wide with horror, bloodshot.

He was going to die.

Because of pain, because no one could save him, he was about to be discarded like a broken object.

That realization burned into Ning Ning’s heart like a red-hot iron, making his vision go dark.

“We’re leaving.”

Xiao Lin’s voice rang out again, but this time, it was not merely a command—it carried an undeniable, suppressed force. He didn’t want Ning Ning to see any more; he feared this despair would taint his pure soul.

He tried with all his strength to drag Ning Ning completely into his arms.

“No.”

A voice, faint but crystal clear, came from Ning Ning’s lips.

Xiao Lin froze instantly.

He looked down at the boy beside him in disbelief. This was the first time Ning Ning had used such a clear, unplayful word to reject him.

“Ning Ning,” Xiao Lin’s brows knitted into a tight knot, his voice cold enough to drop ice shards, “listen. This place is not suitable for you.”

“Marshal.”

Nearby, Gu Qingfeng’s soft, jade-like voice sounded just at the right moment, carrying a sigh of pity:

“Sometimes, covering your ears or closing your eyes won’t make problems disappear. Perhaps… we should listen to Ning Ning’s own thoughts?”

His words were like a honey-coated poison needle, precisely pricking Xiao Lin’s tense nerves, painting him as a tyrant who only understood power, not the human heart.

Xiao Lin’s gaze instantly turned cold, like twin ice blades laced with venom, sweeping over Gu Qingfeng. If looks could kill, Gu Qingfeng would have been shredded to pieces by now.

But Ning Ning didn’t pay attention to the undercurrents of the clash.

He broke free from Xiao Lin’s hand.

The hand that had always been warmly and safely held by the man, for the first time, was actively and forcefully freed.

This movement struck Xiao Lin’s heart like a silent slap.

Ning Ning took a small step forward, completely out of Xiao Lin’s protection, standing alone at the entrance of the medical area. He raised his head, his clear purple eyes meeting the stormy, dark-golden gaze of the man.

“Let me try,” Ning Ning said.

His voice was low, even trembling slightly in a way he hadn’t noticed, but each word struck like a drumbeat—resolute and unwavering.

Xiao Lin almost thought he had misheard. He even suspected the mental pollution here had affected his hearing.

“What did you say?”

“I said,” Ning Ning took a deep breath and repeated it, this time loud and clear enough for Gu Qingfeng and the medical officer to hear, “let me try. I… can save him!”

The words “I can save him” were like a thunderclap, exploding in the silent corridor!

The air froze completely in that instant.

The medical officer’s hand, ready to give the order, paused midair, his mouth slightly open in disbelief.

Even Gu Qingfeng, who usually wore a gentle smile, blinked sharply, pupils constricting with an incredulous glint.

“No!”

Finally recovering from shock, Xiao Lin resolutely rejected! His voice was cold and hard, squeezed from between clenched teeth, each word carrying unrestrained fury and near panic.

Let Ning Ning approach a sentinel whose mental sea had completely collapsed and who was about to be euthanized? That was like sending an unarmed civilian into a pool of concentrated sulfuric acid!

Moreover… if Ning Ning’s identity were exposed here, the disaster it would bring was unimaginable. The greedy faces of the emperor and the senate alone could tear him apart alive!

“I know,” Ning Ning nodded calmly, unnervingly so. “But I must do this.”

He reached out, attempting once again to grab Ning Ning’s arm. This time, he intended to use the strongest force to drag this reckless treasure, who dared to challenge his limits, away from this damned danger.

Yet, his hand in midair was once again avoided by Ning Ning.

The clear purple eyes of the boy reflected Xiao Lin’s distorted face, twisted by extreme anger, fear, and exhaustion.

Those eyes no longer carried the usual dependence or softness—only a heavy plea, and an undeniable, sacred determination.

He looked at him, lips slightly moving, whispering in a near-breathy tone that only they could hear, the name buried deep in his heart, never spoken in full consciousness.

“Xiao Lin…”

The man’s body shuddered violently, his outstretched hand frozen midair as if paused.

“…I beg you.”

These two words were like a soft, invisible key made of moonlight, quietly entering the heart of the Imperial Marshal, wrapped in layers of steel and ice, and gently turning.

Click.

Every defense, all reason, all hardness and obsession, collapsed in an instant, shattered to dust.

He suddenly remembered many years ago, how his guide mother, to protect the young him, had looked at his father with the same desperate, resolute gaze, then rushed into the swarm.

He had lost her.

Now, Ning Ning looked at him with that same gaze.

He was about to walk into unknown danger for someone else.

The overwhelming panic, like icy water, immediately engulfed Xiao Lin, almost leaving him breathless.

He looked into Ning Ning’s eyes—this was a light he had never seen before. It wasn’t the light of a caged, pampered canary; it belonged to… something higher, something that made his heart race, terrified yet helpless.

He suddenly realized that he could build the strongest cage for Ning Ning, but he could not imprison this light.

Because this light was meant to illuminate the world.

“Marshal, we must proceed with the protocol!” The medical officer, sensing the wrong atmosphere, forced himself to urge, ready to give the order.

Xiao Lin clenched his fists tightly, knuckles white from the strain, creaking with tension.

After a long, suffocating silence, he finally exhaled, as if using all his strength.

That breath carried frustration, helplessness, and a kind of indulgence he hadn’t even noticed in himself.

He didn’t look at Ning Ning anymore—he didn’t dare.

He feared he might impulsively knock him out and take him away.

Xiao Lin turned sharply, his eyes still surging with boundless anger, fear, and exhaustion, locking onto the stunned medical officer. His voice was hoarse, like sandpaper scraping rusty metal:

“Clear an A-grade isolation treatment room.”

The officer froze. “Marshal, you mean…”

Xiao Lin’s tone carried a bloodthirsty authority that brooked no opposition. He commanded word by word:

“Move that sentinel there. Then activate the highest-level physical and mental shielding. No one is allowed within 100 meters of the treatment room without my order.”

He paused, then added: “Shut down all surveillance equipment. Cut off all external data connections. All of them.”

He had compromised.

But under his absolute control, he would build a temporary, airtight prison for this miracle he could neither stop nor comprehend.

He would watch with his own eyes.

And he would be the first—and the only—warden to guard this miracle.

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