The Beloved Guide Was Forced in a Love-Rival Shura Field - Chapter 81

The air inside the A-grade isolation treatment room was so cold it felt frozen.

White walls, a silver medical bed, and the ring of bluish energy surrounding it—all exuded a chilling sterility, completely devoid of any warmth of life.

On the bed, a young sentinel was restrained, his wild and chaotic mental energy raging like an invisible storm. Even from outside the energy field, it pressed down so heavily that it was hard to breathe.

Xiao Lin stood outside the barrier like a silent statue cast from steel.

Every muscle in his body was taut, his dark-golden eyes locked onto Ning Ning’s fragile back. That gaze seemed like it could pierce through a person, as if in the next instant he would throw caution to the wind, rush forward, and scoop Ning Ning up into his arms to hide him safely away.

He compromised.

This realization pierced him like a red-hot steel rod stabbing his nerves.

He had, with his own hands, placed the treasure he held closest to his heart beside a pool filled with corrosive acid.

“Host, don’t be afraid,” the system 89 spoke gently inside Ning Ning’s mind. “Just focus on… the little rabbit in your mental sea.”

Ning Ning inhaled deeply, feeling the weight of that gaze on his back, almost scorching him. He forced his eyes closed.

Inside his mental sea, the pearl-purple moon rabbit lay quietly, its long ears twitching occasionally.

“Now, try to let its power flow out little by little,” the system guided patiently. “Just like… moonlight reflecting on water, light and gentle, covering everything.”

Ning Ning obeyed.

Carefully, he separated a strand of mental energy thinner than a hair and extended it toward the bluish energy barrier.

There was no resistance.

This was the only channel opened by Xiao Lin using his Marshal authority.

For the first time, Ning Ning’s mental energy touched another person’s mind.

“Boom—!”

In an instant, a violent, filthy torrent of despair and screams surged back through the invisible thread!

It was a world completely broken.

The sky was blood-red, the land charred black. Countless twisted black shadows collided and tore at each other in madness and wailing.

Ning Ning’s face went pale, his body trembling uncontrollably.

It was excruciating.

Just looking at it felt like his own mind was being shredded.

“Ning Ning!”

Xiao Lin roared, panic impossible to hide. Without thinking, he stepped forward, reaching out instinctively.

At that moment, a warm, strangely soothing voice rang through the communicator on his wrist, clear even inside the isolation room.

It was Gu Qingfeng.

“Ning Ning, don’t look at that mess; it’s all just superficial,” he said. “Focus your mind, find his core, the very first mental self hiding in the storm. He… is crying.”

Gu Qingfeng’s words were precise, like a scalpel.

Ning Ning bit his tongue sharply, forcing himself to calm down. He no longer paid attention to the terrifying visions, instead letting the gentle strand of his mental energy probe carefully into the heart of the storm.

Finally, he saw it.

At the center of all the madness and despair, a small, wounded wolf cub huddled into itself, emitting weak, painful whimpers.

It was bound by countless black chains; every struggle made the chains tighten, cutting deeper into its wounds.

That was it.

Ning Ning’s heart clenched, a rush of sympathetic pain and sorrow surging through him.

He stopped hesitating, mobilizing the power of the moon rabbit in his mental sea.

A strand of soft, purple-tinged energy, like cold moonlight, radiated from him. It passed through the energy barrier and, gentle yet resolute, poured into the shattered mental world.

A miracle happened.

The cool moonlight flowed quietly, without thunderous fanfare.

But wherever it passed, the blood-red sky faded into a tranquil deep blue.

On the charred earth, the wailing black shadows dissolved silently, like dust illuminated by sunlight.

The violent mental chaos, capable of tearing everything apart, calmed upon contact with the moonlight, becoming obedient and peaceful.

The entire process was almost sacred in its quiet.

Outside the isolation room, the medical officers and two guards who witnessed it all were dumbfounded, mouths agape as if they could fit an egg inside, eyes bulging.

What had they just seen?

Was this… a god descending?

Xiao Lin himself was stunned.

His dark-golden eyes, accustomed to mountains of corpses and seas of blood, clearly reflected the young boy bathed in gentle light.

He had imagined countless possibilities.

Ning Ning could be injured, could fail, could be counterattacked by the mental energy… He was even prepared to sever the connection in an instant and rush in to save him.

But he never dreamed of this scene.

This wasn’t a fight, not even a confrontation. It could hardly be called treatment.

It was… purification.

It was as if a deity, unable to bear the sight, had reached down to erase the filth.

A wave of pride and self-satisfaction, mixed with a nearly suffocating terror, surged into Xiao Lin’s chest, burning painfully.

Look.

This was his Ning Ning.

A divine being belonging only to him.

But the next moment, the thought was drowned by fear a hundred times stronger than before.

Such a treasure…

Such a miracle…

How could he hide it?

Damn it, how could he possibly hide it?!

Just as the thought surfaced, Xiao Lin’s eyes changed completely. Beyond shock and pride, there was a near-mad obsession, a determination to lock this light away at all costs.

Meanwhile, on the bridge of the Morning Light:

Gu Qingfeng stood alone before the huge monitoring screen, which displayed everything happening in the isolation room.

The eternally gentle smile on his face was gone. Behind his golden-framed glasses, his pupils reflected the tender moonlight, glinting with near-fanatical intensity.

He had seen it.

He confirmed it.

Ning Ning’s value far exceeded his imagination.

He wasn’t merely a key.

He was… the only truth.

To obtain him.

He must act, at any cost, faster than anyone else.

His hand beside him clenched slowly, knuckles whitening with effort.

Inside the isolation room, when the last trace of filth had been purified, the young sentinel’s mental sea had transformed into a calm night sky.

His tensed body relaxed completely, tears sliding from the corners of his eyes as he sighed in satisfied, peaceful slumber.

It was done.

At that thought, Ning Ning could no longer hold on.

He withdrew all his mental energy; his body felt drained, darkness swirling before his eyes.

His body went limp, collapsing backward.

The cold floor he imagined never appeared.

He fell into a scorching, solid, cedar-scented embrace.

Xiao Lin had dashed in without him noticing, fast as a shadow. He caught the staggering boy firmly, his movements filled with relief and utmost care.

He pressed him tightly to his chest, as if trying to meld him into his very bones.

“Ning Ning…”

The man buried his face in Ning Ning’s soft silver hair, inhaling the calming scent of bay laurel, his voice hoarse, trembling in ways he didn’t even realize.

“You…”

He wanted to scold him, to reprimand his recklessness, to tell him how terrified he had been.

But the words that reached his lips were only a single phrase, aching through his very bones.

“…You’ve worked hard.”

Exhausted, Ning Ning couldn’t even move a finger. He buried his face in the man’s firm chest, listening to the familiar heartbeat, feeling the familiar warmth. A great sense of accomplishment and fatigue washed over him.

It felt as though… he had done something truly remarkable.

He had saved someone.

That recognition filled his heart with a warm, unfamiliar power.

The isolation room door opened from the outside. The medical officer looked at the now-sleeping sentinel, then at the boy held tightly in the Marshal’s arms, his voice full of uncontrolled excitement and awe.

“Marshal… his mental threshold is stable! He’s… completely out of danger!”

The officer, flustered, turned to his deputy, issuing orders like a sleepwalker.

“Record… record it… no, wait…”

He looked at the boy’s pale yet breathtakingly beautiful face, suddenly feeling that any written record would be a desecration of the scene before him.

He swallowed and whispered to his deputy:

“Record this… this isn’t treatment, this is… a miracle.”

This “miracle” of light had been ignited in this desperate starport.

It brought hope.

And like a blazing lighthouse in the endless night, it sent the deadliest invitation to all who covet the moon from the abyss.

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