Secret World: I Became a God Through Lies

Chapter 199 The First Dish of Greedy Feast Street
Hunger doesn't start in the stomach.
Instead, it begins with a heartfelt yearning for the unknown.

The dim yellow lights trembled under the sky like the faint glow of a diseased iris, illuminating a street that seemed to be made of corpses and dreams.

The air is filled with the aroma of charcoal grilling, the sweetness of cream, and the fragrance of vanilla jam.

The enticing aroma was tinged with an undetectable stench of blood and decay, like a sugar jar concealing corpses.

Greedy Feast Street unfolded eerily and slowly before their eyes.

Twenty-six food tables were neatly arranged on both sides of the stall, each with its own unique style:

Booth B-5 is a floating Japanese-style hand-rolled sushi boat, while booth S-13 resembles a Western-style banquet table dripping with blood.

Some of the stalls even resembled makeshift morgues, with silver trays covered by unidentified cloths, through which the outlines of limbs could be vaguely seen.

None of the stall owners were alive.

They were all puppets.

They are dressed in chef's robes, holding cleavers, long spoons, and oil strainers, their wooden faces contorted into exaggerated smiles, some even with smiles that extend to their ears.

That kind of "hospitality" smile is like an emotion artificially carved into wood with a blade, giving one goosebumps.

They are motionless, yet one suspects that they might move if you turn your back on them.

Mu Sisi stared at the puppets, her mouth half-open, but she couldn't utter a single word.

The crowd stood at the street corner, none daring to take the first step. Until—

"Thump. Thump. Thump."

Heavy footsteps echoed in the middle of the street, like a dying gasp as a ball of flesh slams onto the floor.

A swollen, deformed puppet waddled out of the street, almost spherical with a round belly, on which four large characters were painted in red:

【Welcome to try it】

It wore a moldy chef's hat, its mouth split open like the gears of a meat grinder, with some unchewed remnants still clinging to its serrated teeth. Its voice was dry and hoarse.
"Welcome...to..."

"Greed...banquet...street..."

"The rules are very simple."

It opened its mouth with a click, and a foul stench wafted out, like the breath blowing from the bottom of a pile of corpses.

"One wrong dish...the price...is—life."

The words had barely left his lips when the pot of "Soul-Separating Fish Soup" at stall B-1 suddenly burst open like boiling oil, emitting a cry that seemed to belong to another world—a sound like a baby crying in a grave.
It's like the low whimper of a wolf being skinned, and there's a familiar kind of pain, a texture only felt when the human soul is being torn apart.

Eileen covered her mouth and vomited, while Fujimiya Sumi crouched down in near collapse.

Wang Yichen slowly stepped forward, his eyes as hard as iron. His lips were tightly pressed together, as if he were fighting against his own fear.

Then, he looked up at the crowd, his voice hoarse but firm:

"I...dreamed about this place."

There was silence all around.

Mu Sisi exclaimed, "What did you say?"

Wang Yichen's eyes held a hint of confusion, yet it also seemed more like a frantic awakening: "More than once. I remember this place, I remember this stall."

I dreamt that someone was drinking that bowl of black soup… He was nailed to the wall, laughing, crying, and shouting, 'I'm so hungry.'

“We have to make a choice. Only one dish at each stall is ‘real,’ the rest are soul-devouring traps.”

He walked to the fish soup stall and pointed without hesitation to the clearer bowl of soup between the two: "The clear soup is right."

He turned to look at the crowd: "I need someone... to verify this."

The atmosphere was frozen, no one spoke, and the air seemed to stand still.

Finally, Duan Xingzhou gritted his teeth and stepped forward.

He picked up the bowl of seemingly "safe" clear soup and took a small sip.

three seconds.

He is safe and sound.

The fourth second—

He collapsed to the ground, convulsing, his eyes rolling violently back, screaming, "They're in my ears!! Don't grab me—you're not human!! Not human!!!"

At that moment, the world in his eyes was perhaps no longer reality, but a theater made of flesh and blood, a ghostly figure approaching in his hallucination.

Eileen screamed, and everyone was horrified, while Si Ming narrowed his eyes, his gaze fixed on another bowl of fish soup that was pitch black beside the pot.

Vera calmly stated, "A hallucinatory entity. It induces a fear response by triggering a neurological reflex; it doesn't kill, but it destroys the mind."

Before she could finish speaking, Wang Yichen lunged forward and pressed down hard on Duan Xingzhou's philtrum: "Open your eyes! You can live! You're here! Look at me!"

That almost compulsive will finally pulled Duan Xingzhou out of the illusion.

He collapsed to the ground, covered in sweat, his eyes vacant, as if he had crawled back from hell.

Meanwhile, the other bowl of dark soup began to bubble and gurgle.

White, round beads, resembling eyeballs, floated to the surface of the bubbles, bursting one by one and releasing a nauseating, pungent stench.

“He… guessed right.” Zhuang Yege stared at Wang Yichen, a subtle emotion appearing in her eyes for the first time.

Vera narrowed her eyes: "Or rather... he didn't guess. He really knew."

Wang Yichen didn't turn around. He just stood up, patted his trouser legs, like someone who had finally been able to stand firm again after breaking free from the heavy pressure of illusion.

A resolute light rekindled in his eyes.

He will no longer be a spectator. Now, he wants to be the protagonist of this play.

He hooked the wooden plaque from the bottom of the bubbling fish soup pot, and as he weighed it between his fingertips, soup dripped down its edges and onto the ground with an unsettling "plop" sound.

The sign was greasy and sticky, with characters printed on it that were impossible to recognize at a glance:

"C13 R4 -?"

The distorted arrangement seems to deliberately avoid human reading intuition, and every inch of space between the letters seems to harbor a meaning that should not be named.

Wang Yichen murmured softly, "I...I've seen this structure before."

His voice was extremely soft, yet it was like a drop of hot oil falling into water, stirring up ripples of unease in everyone's hearts.

Some people instinctively took a step back, while many others hesitated, unsure whether to believe him or the city they saw on the verge of collapse.

After a short rest, the team set off again, proceeding along the increasingly narrow streets.

As the street stretched deeper into the distance, the lights grew increasingly dim, even beginning to tinge with a bloody orange-red, like some kind of ominous premonition.

The stalls are no longer neat and orderly, but have become a patchwork of layered and twisted flesh walls, skeletons and remnants of the old market.

The sausages wriggled slowly around the edge of the pot, releasing steam and bubbles that seemed to whisper.

A giant steamer continuously spewed out white mist, and the outlines of limbs could be vaguely seen trembling slightly inside, as if it had not yet completely died.

The floor tiles underfoot were already damp, making a soft "squeak, squeak" sound when stepped on.

Some suspect that it was not water, but pus made up of blood and fat.

Greedy Banquet Street seemed to have transformed into a section of intestine deep within the stomach.

And the rest of us—were merely remnants that had not yet been fully digested.

Mu Sisi covered her nose, her eyes darting around in fear;
Fujimiya Sumire's steps were unsteady, and his face was pale, as if he might collapse at any moment;

Lin Wanqing had given up recording; she was just clutching her sleeve tightly, as if the fabric was her last connection to the world.

Just as everyone was pushed to the brink by the repressed hallucinations—

"Uh...uh...no...you...you're not human..."

Duan Xingzhou suddenly lost control. He abruptly turned his head and stared at Rudolf with a vacant look in his eyes, which were filled with extreme fear and hostility.

He began to convulse violently, wildly waving his arms to drive away non-existent enemies, and screaming loudly:
“You! You’re not human! I saw your skin! You’ve peeled off your faces! Peeled off your faces!!” He staggered back a few steps, knocking over a nearby stall where some kind of fried meat was displayed. The meat crashed to the ground with a wet, cracking sound.

Vera rushed forward immediately, placing a hand on his shoulder blade. A soft, mysterious starlight emanated from her palm as she whispered an ancient prayer, as if she were building a mental barrier for him.

Rudolf and Sirius quickly helped to pin him down on a bench on the street.

After struggling several times, Duan Xingzhou finally fell into a deep sleep, but his pale face and trembling fingers showed that he was still on the verge of hallucination.

This sudden "crack" plunged the entire team into an unprecedented state of panic.

No one spoke, and no one dared to ask what Duan Xingzhou had "seen" just now.

Because they knew perfectly well that this wasn't just Duan Xingzhou's problem.

This was something that would happen to each and every one of them sooner or later—a nightmare invasion.

Si Ming stood at the end of the line, his gaze calmly fixed on the winding street ahead, as if silently counting, or perhaps waiting for the next person to fall.

He spoke in a low voice, so that only he could hear him:
"One of them is already cracked."

He knew this was just the beginning. He understood better than anyone that this street wasn't a test of "courage" or "willpower."

It simply asked the most basic question:

How many can you hold on to?

And the wind began to whisper, like a low murmur before stomach acid churns. Greedy Feast Street opened its mouth.

Soon, they arrived at the stall numbered "G-3".

A glowing sign floated eerily in the air, like some kind of guidance that didn't belong to reality—

"Feast Desserts"

The stall's exterior resembled an exquisite wedding cake tower, with layers of frosting decorations gleaming under the soft yellow light, and a sweet aroma wafting through the air, so strong it was almost dizzying.

But deep within that fragrance, there was an unmistakable stench of blood and rotting flesh, like an undeniable putrid odor slowly seeping from the silk.

"Dessert time~"

A fat doll appeared out of nowhere; its body was so bloated that it had almost no neck, and its wooden form bounced up and down.

The cracked face was forcibly painted with a pink smile, as if nails were driven into it.

It patted its almost splitting belly, making a hollow, gurgling sound, and laughed strangely:

"There are two special desserts here. You must choose one to try before you can pass. If you choose correctly, there will be a reward. If you choose incorrectly... well, hehe."

Its smile gradually widened, its eyes fixed firmly in their sockets, as if they could not move at all, and could only drive fear with its smile.

Two silver platters sat in the center of the stall, covered by dome-shaped lids that emitted billowing steam, one on the left and one on the right.

The left side exudes a soft sweetness of lemon and vanilla, with a light syrup aroma like a spring breeze.
On the right, however, is a faint, foul, fishy smell, like a mixture of rotten seafood and overcooked offal, which can almost make your stomach churn.

“The left side… is too normal,” Rudolf said in a low voice, his expression grave. “Precisely because it is too normal, it may be a trap.”

Wang Yichen stepped forward, staring at the dark-colored, fishy-smelling lid of the plate on his right, his lips pursed, his expression slightly stiff.

A flicker of struggle and hesitation crossed his eyes, but it was quickly suppressed by an almost obsessive determination.

“The right side,” he said, his tone resolute.

These three words caused everyone's expression to change drastically.

"Are you crazy?" Eileen exclaimed. "The right side is clearly poisonous—the smell is enough to kill someone!"

"Is he trying to send someone to die again?" Mu Sisi gritted her teeth.

Wang Yichen raised his hand, silencing all objections, his sharp gaze sweeping over the crowd: "Listen to me. I won't joke with your lives."

The rules of this instance are definitely tempting us to choose the 'safe option'. Something too clean is definitely not right.

His tone was almost forceful, but it was underpinned by a compelling conviction.

He himself didn't even know where this belief came from.

Si Ming watched him quietly, her fingertips tapping the edge of her pocket watch.

He said that line—"I won't joke with your lives"—so naturally, as if he'd said it countless times.

It's like a line being repeated from a script.

"Let me do it."

In the silence, a voice rang out.

Liu Jingyu stepped forward. She had always been the gentlest person in the group, like an invisible anchor of stability.

At this moment, her voice was calm and unwavering: "Everyone has been protecting me all this way. It's time... for me to give it a try."

She gave a pale smile, reached out, and lifted the silver cover on the right side.

A stench instantly assaulted my senses. It was a dark red, lumpy object, its outer layer trembling like frozen meat.
Within the translucent gel, a human face could be vaguely seen—eyes open, mouth agape, as if screaming silently.

Liu Jingyu's expression changed drastically, but she did not back down. Her fingers trembled, but she gritted her teeth and put the pastry into her mouth.

Five seconds, ten seconds.

It started with an eerie silence, then—

"Ugh... Ugh..." She knelt down and suddenly spat out a mouthful of dark red liquid from her throat, which looked like rotten blood mixed with pus.

Her abdomen swelled up in full view of everyone, and a sharp thorn suddenly burst out of her body, spraying blood that stained the floor tiles in front of the stall!

"Something's wrong with her!" Eileen screamed uncontrollably.

Liu Jingyu's eyes were unfocused, her eyeballs trembled violently, and her pupils gradually lost focus. Her mouth was still chewing mechanically, but she could no longer close it.

Her body seemed to be torn apart from within, and a writhing black shadow crawled out of her chest cavity.

Covered in bone spurs and pus, it shrieked as it leaped into the ground, then vanished silently, as if it had never existed.

Liu Jingyu is dead.

Everyone was stunned.

"Why!!" Eileen rushed forward and hugged her body, crying out in heart-wrenching sobs.

Rudolf's eyes widened in fury, his teeth clenched: "Didn't you say 'you remember'?! She believed you!!"

Wang Yichen staggered back two steps, his face ashen: "I...I mean, I thought—"

He changed his tune: "I remember correctly."

These words made Zhuang Yege's eyes turn cold.

"Remember?" he repeated in a low voice, "How much do you remember?"

Siming's gaze fell on the remnant of the wooden plaque resembling a "human face dessert," his fingertips lightly tracing the star chart of his destiny. His eyes turned cold.

Wang Yichen tried to remain calm: "It's no use blaming anyone now. We have to keep moving forward, otherwise... we'll all die."

His voice trembled, but he desperately suppressed his fear.

Just then, a thin puppet string silently descended from the sky and hooked onto Liu Jingyu's finger—

Immediately, more threads descended from the void, slowly wrapping around her limbs, dragging her corpse into the shadows behind the stall like a puppet.

The puppet strings tugged at her, as if she were never a person, but merely a prop after the performance.

Everyone turned their faces away; no one dared to look again.

The stall was empty, yet a faint chewing sound seemed to linger.

"Welcome, next one."

"Greedy Banquet Street won't tell you where you went wrong."
Because the mistake was already swallowed.

"Are you swallowing a snack, or the next game?"

(End of this chapter)