The Beloved Guide Was Forced in a Love-Rival Shura Field - Chapter 84

At the break of dawn, Xiao Lin woke up.

He wasn’t awakened by a nightmare, nor by an alarm, but by a peaceful, unprecedented calm that naturally made him open his eyes.

In his mental sea, the dark-golden giant wolf that had been roaring for half a lifetime lay quietly, its tail lazily swaying, radiating a sense of full satisfaction.

No nightmares, no blood, no mother’s last desperate eyes.

He froze for half a second.

Then, fragments of last night’s memories suddenly surged into his mind—

The small hand that had rested on his forehead, cool and soft.

The soothing energy that seeped into his mental sea, carrying the scent of laurels.

And himself, like a drowning fool, clinging desperately to that hand, muttering incoherently under his breath…

Xiao Lin’s body stiffened instantly. A wave of heat shot up from the base of his neck “boom,” rushing straight to his ears.

He sat up abruptly and looked down—he was still wearing yesterday’s wrinkled uniform. The room was empty; the hand’s owner was long gone.

Yet in the air lingered that faint, sweet, soothing scent that belonged to Ning Ning, a silent proof that last night had not been a dream.

That little fellow…

He saw everything.

He saw the most disheveled, most vulnerable, most unmarshal-like side of him.

An overwhelming sense of shame and a strange, heart-flaming embarrassment swept through him, making the empire’s decisive battlefield marshal feel, for the first time, the impulse to dig a hole and hide in it.

“Knock knock.”

The untimely knock interrupted Xiao Lin’s self-torture.

“It’s me, Marshal.”

It was Gu Qingfeng, as always, gentle and courteous, yet Xiao Lin instinctively furrowed his brows.

“There’s an officer outside. He says it’s extremely urgent and wishes to see Ning Ning.”

The situation escalated faster than anyone anticipated.

Miracles cannot be hidden.

Especially in a starport shrouded in despair and death, a single ray of hope is enough to make those about to drown in hopelessness throw themselves into it recklessly.

The first S-class sentinel who had been healed ran around grabbing everyone’s arms after waking, eyes wide as saucers, shouting that they had seen a god.

“It’s real! My spiritual hell, like a blazing inferno… it just… instantly became a purple night sky! Full of stars! And the moon!”

“The feeling… so peaceful… I’ve never felt such calm in my life!”

Those near-crazed words spread rapidly, from one to ten, ten to a hundred.

Soon, the existence of Ning Ning was known throughout the Seventh Star Domain front-line base.

At first, only a few bold senior officers, guided by Gu Qingfeng, brought their nearly broken subordinates, almost on their knees, to Ning Ning.

“Please… Ning Sir, save him! He’s still young, he has a wife and children waiting for him…”

Faced with twisted faces tormented by pain and bloodshot eyes filled with hope, Ning Ning simply could not say “no.”

He was no longer just the transmigrator who wanted only to complete his mission and go home.

Before him were living, breathing people.

Thus, under the alternating “supervision” of Xiao Lin and Gu Qingfeng, Ning Ning began high-intensity healing work.

In the morning, it was Xiao Lin’s “supervision time.”

The Marshal stood at the entrance to the treatment room, scowling like a door god. He personally enforced rules so strict they were almost obsessive: no single healing session could exceed ten minutes, and after healing one patient, Ning Ning had to rest for twenty minutes.

He would time it with a military-grade stopwatch. Once time was up, his ice-cold gaze would sweep across the room, and through clenched teeth, he would utter two words: “Next one.”

Even the fearless, iron-blooded sentinels behaved like rookies before him, barely daring to breathe, let alone glance at Ning Ning.

During Ning Ning’s rest periods, Xiao Lin would come over, clumsily unscrew a tube of the highest-grade nutrition fluid, and force it to his lips in a commanding tone: “Drink it.”

That posture was less about concern than a fear that this rare, irreplaceable treasure of his might be depleted from overuse.

In the afternoon, it was Gu Qingfeng’s turn.

The Second Prince seemed “more understanding.” He always smiled, soothing the soldiers in line with gentle words.

“Thank you all for your hard work. Please be considerate of Ning Ning; his spiritual energy is precious. We cannot let him overexert himself.”

He would prepare the most comfortable cushions and soft chairs for Ning Ning. On the small table beside him always sat a cup of warm, soothing herbal tea.

He never rushed, never imposed limits; he simply watched Ning Ning every time he finished a purification session and showed signs of fatigue, softly saying, “Ning Ning, don’t push yourself too hard. Your safety is more important than anything.”

That caring posture, that gentle voice, warmed Ning Ning’s heart. He felt the prince was a considerate, kind person.

What he didn’t see was the cold, precise calculation hidden behind Gu Qingfeng’s smiling eyes. He knew better than anyone that Ning Ning’s soft, kind nature meant the more he “indulged” him, the less likely he would refuse, the more he would overextend himself.

And when that light of his was completely drained, that would be the moment Gu Qingfeng—the S-class guide—could intervene and perform the deepest “spiritual guidance.”

Days passed.

Ning Ning grew at an astonishing speed in practice. His control over spiritual energy became increasingly adept, and his purification efficiency rose dramatically.

More importantly, his reputation in the military reached an unprecedented peak.

The looks in their eyes no longer held curiosity or scrutiny—only pure reverence, passionate adoration, and a desire to protect with their lives.

They dared not approach Ning Ning in front of the Marshal or the Second Prince, so they expressed their gratitude in the simplest, most earnest ways.

Every morning, when Ning Ning opened his door, he would find a pile of clumsy yet cute little gifts waiting outside.

—A nameless flower, carefully nurtured with nutrient fluid, blooming fully, placed in an empty energy drink bottle that had been wiped clean.

—A polished bullet casing, said to have survived a fierce battle, believed to bring good luck.

—A roughly drawn talisman on a scrap of paper, amateurish in skill but heartfelt in intent.

—Even a few neatly packaged compressed biscuits and chocolates, saved from their ration allotment.

These items weren’t valuable, some even comical.

But every time Ning Ning saw them, a part of his heart felt full.

He would carefully collect the gifts, placing them neatly in a corner of his room. Then, as he began another day of exhausting “work,” a subtle, calm, gentle smile—one he himself hadn’t noticed—would appear on his face.

Being needed, recognized, cherished.

This feeling, more than any system-issued reward, gave him a sense of fulfillment and… existence.

He seemed to truly begin accepting his identity as the “Moon God.”

Naturally, all of this did not escape the eyes of Xiao Lin and Gu Qingfeng.

Their emotions were extremely complicated.

On one hand, pride for Ning Ning swelled—they loved him, a little sun, shining brightly, deserving of all the love in the world.

On the other hand, seeing the soldiers’ unreserved admiration, pure love, and possessiveness for Ning Ning twisted their hearts like venomous vines, impossible to shake.

Jealousy.

The agony of watching their rare treasure be coveted and admired by countless others, unable to hide him away again.

That evening, after Ning Ning finished purifying the last severely contaminated spiritual sea of a soldier, he was nearly drained of his last ounce of strength.

As he stood, the world went black, spinning uncontrollably; he swayed and nearly collapsed.

“Ning Ning!”

“Careful!”

Two figures rushed to him almost simultaneously, one from the left, one from the right.

Xiao Lin caught his staggering body, holding him tightly in his arms. For the first time, his usually cold, rigid face displayed unmasked panic and regret. His arms trembled; his lips pressed into a pale line.

Gu Qingfeng’s gaze, meanwhile, was precisely fixed on Ning Ning’s ashen, bloodless face.

He knew that his opportunity had arrived.

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