Secret World: I Became a God Through Lies

Chapter 207 Whispers of the Tide, Returning to the Broken Boat

Not all doors lead to the destination.

Some flowers bloom only for those who return.

The aftershocks of the marionette theater had not yet subsided; the entire space seemed to have just emerged from a catastrophe, still lingering with an atmosphere of death and anxiety.

The red lines on the wall peeled off one by one like blood vessels, resembling some kind of wound that could not be stopped from bleeding.

In the center of the stage, the puppet's remains lay supine, its cracked mouth maintaining a stiff, dying smile, as if mocking their struggle in the most absurd way.

As everyone stepped out of the theater passage, they all looked dazed, their steps heavy as if they were crawling out of deep water.

Their footsteps echoed back and forth in the empty corridor, their breaths carrying a belated sense of lingering fear.

Duan Xingzhou was supported by Teng Gongcheng and Wang Yichen on either side. His face was pale, his forehead was covered in cold sweat, and his left leg was bruised and purple from the saw marks left by the silk thread.

Although Vera sealed the fractured bone as quickly as possible, every step he took was excruciating, as if he were being torn apart. His brows twitched, and his eyes trembled slightly, but he remained silent.

Lin Wanqing's condition was even worse. Half of her body was practically hanging on Rudolf's shoulder, her breathing intermittent and like an old bellows.

The cut on her shoulder blade was still slowly oozing blood, which seeped through her stained white coat, clinging to her skin and drying, as if even her skin was breaking apart.

Her eyelids drooped slightly, her mind was somewhat dazed, and she murmured something between a dream and a dream.

Vera knelt down beside her, her fingertips glowing with a faint golden light, as she pressed her pulse, then looked at Siming with a furrowed brow.

"Her and Duan Xingzhou's bodies are rapidly failing," she said calmly, but her eyes betrayed her anxiety.
"I applied talismans to them to stop the bleeding and relieve nerve pain, but this was only a temporary measure."

"If we don't find a safe house soon, or if I don't use a high-level arcane ability... those two probably won't survive to the next round of challenges."

These words were like a blunt blade, slicing through the barely maintained silence in the air. All eyes turned to Si Ming.

He stood at the end of the corridor, his fingers lightly tracing the astrological chart, as if weighing some kind of price. Then, he raised his eyes and looked at the black stone wall in front of him—four doors stood silently on the wall.

Each door's design is unsettling: a rusty iron door covered in spikes, like a ghost from an abandoned prison;

The other archway resembles a stage, decorated with sun-shaped elements, its red paint peeling off, like blood-red sunlight shining through a curtain;
The third door, like ripples on water, occasionally reflects blurry human faces;

The last door is an organic door that looks like flesh and blood writhing, its surface covered with veins, as if it can sense every gaze.

The stone slab on the wall that should have provided a clue has crumbled, leaving only a line of blurry yet unsettling writing:

"Please select your next performance segment."

“These are the entrances to the four instances,” Zhuang Yege said coldly.

“Now is not the time to choose a role, but luckily there’s a door here,” Si Ming said casually. He stretched, but it seemed particularly abrupt, as if the oppressive atmosphere around him had nothing to do with him.

He walked toward the third door, a passageway that resembled a mirror, its surface rippling with a deep blue light.

He murmured: "Nightmare whispers, tides guide, lost sea souls, return to the shattered ship."

Click——

The lock turned with a click, as if recognizing some kind of "qualification." The ripples on the water mirror transformed into a gray-white mist, and a deep passage slowly opened, revealing the cabin of a ghost ship emerging from a dream.

"Welcome back, Speaker."

Whether it was the sound of the wind, the sound of water, or some long-awaited voice, it whispered softly behind the door.

Si Ming glanced back at the crowd and said calmly, "Go in. This door is safe; it was a gift from my dearest friend."

The door swayed gently like a tide, yet it was clearly swallowing up a hope on the verge of collapse.

No one made the first move.

It's so abnormal.

Zhuang Yege was the first to take a step. He didn't need to question anything; he only trusted his intuition.

His figure disappeared into the fog, as if returning to a predetermined course of fate.

Vera then came over and took Lin Wanqing from Rudolf's arms: "I'll take her." Her eyes were firm, but her face grew paler.

Rudolf hesitated for a moment, then nodded. He didn't say much, only muttering softly, "Trust him for a while; maybe we can go a little further."

One by one, figures stepped into the fog gate, like a school of fish diving into the ocean tide.

The last person who didn't move was Xu Jinxiao.

He stood there, his expression blank, his eyes devoid of any emotion, as if he had completely detached himself from the storyline.

He felt neither fear nor anticipation, as if the door "did not exist" for him.

Si Ming stared at him.

“Hey,” he called out.

no respond.

"This door leads to a safe house. You should come in now."

He remained motionless, as if he hadn't heard. Or perhaps it was as if he had never "belonged" to this game.

"Tsk." Si Ming clicked his tongue, as if disappointed, or perhaps giving up.

He turned around and stepped into the fog gate one last time.

Behind them, the water mirror quietly closed, sealing off all prying eyes.

The wind was silent, the mist like a dream. Outside the cabin, it seemed forever, a still sea before drowning.

After the door closed, the corridor fell into a deathly silence.

The facade, which had been shimmering with water just moments before, seemed to have vanished without a trace; all the mist and ripples disappeared like bubbles.
Only the dark black walls stand silently, as if the entrance to the entire space had been erased in an instant.

Xu Jinxiao, standing outside the door, remained in the same position as before she stepped in, like a statue frozen in time.

Only the barely perceptible upward curve of the corners of his mouth revealed a strange arc.

He gazed at the direction that had long since closed, and murmured to himself, his voice as soft as a whisper in a dream:
"...Nightmare...you really are a persistent and good ship."

As he finished speaking, he slowly lowered his head, his gaze shifting from the empty doorway to his feet, his eyes vacant, as if he had fallen into a script that did not belong to this performance.

At the same time, everyone was gently swallowed by Minato, as if falling into a deep, dreamlike state.

When the last wisp of mist completely dissipated, they found themselves standing in a strange and quiet space.

This is the interior of a ship—yet it doesn't seem like it.

Walking inside this huge and quiet cabin, the first feeling is not dampness or turbulence, but a sense of unreality, like a dreamlike structure.

A faint mist seeped from the ship's walls, which were made of bronze and cracked old wood, and each plank seemed to bear the outline of some kind of loss.
That is the reflection of the forgotten, the fate carried away by the tide.

The light source was a chandelier, suspended in the center of the ceiling, its pale blue glow resembling the reflection of moonlight on the water.
Gentle yet not warm, like a seed of light spat out by a nightmare in the middle of the night.

It had no cable connection, no trace of kerosene, yet it remained perpetually lit, emitting a faint, almost inaudible hum, like the heartbeat of the deep sea.

"...Where is this?" Eileen asked in a trembling voice, breaking the momentary silence.

“The Lost One.” Si Ming spoke slowly, standing in front of the crowd, his face as calm as an old sail.

"It is not a ship, nor a domain... It is—a drifting realm between dreams and reality."

“I summoned it.” He turned to look at them. “You can think of it as… a private sphere in some sense, or, to be more precise— ‘a dream of mine.’”

The expressions on everyone's faces varied. Mu Sisi looked around, her gaze complex.

Rudolf frowned as he looked at the lamp, his expression wary.
Duan Xingzhou groaned in pain as Fujimiya Sumi carefully helped him to a bed on the side of the cabin.

“This is a place to heal and rest, but…” Si Ming paused slightly, then turned to look into the depths of the cabin.

"Don't wander around."

He pointed to the other side of the cabin, where a heavy black iron door stood silently, its structure incongruous with the surrounding cabin layout.
The iron surface was covered with dense rust and water stains, as if it had been submerged in the deep sea for thousands of years. "That door leads to the deck."

His tone was calm, yet undeniable.

"Don't try to open it. Don't go near it. Don't listen to its sounds."

"Some parts of this ship... do not welcome you."

Wang Yichen's expression changed slightly. He wanted to ask a question, but he silently shut his mouth when he met Shangsi Ming's indifferent gaze.

Vera was helping Lin Wanqing sit down when a faint golden light flowed from her fingertips into the veins on Lin Wanqing's chest.

That was the lowest level of healing to repair the mystery, but at this moment, it was like a ray of comfort from an angel.

She looked at Si Ming, her gaze filled with undisguised weariness and respect: "I can keep her conscious, but... her body needs real healing."

“I know.” Si Ming nodded, then turned to look at the descending spiral staircase at the bottom of the cabin.

"This ship has its own ship's doctor," he said casually.

It's like telling some kind of myth, "maybe it's a living person, maybe it's a dead person."

"It's also possible that he has long forgotten that he was once a doctor."

He smiled slightly. "But he can always talk about medical things—I'll go see him, and while I'm at it... see if he has anything to eat."

He walked to the edge of the steps, his steps steady and unhurried, as if the swaying rhythm of the entire ship was in sync with his steps.

Before he stepped down the first step, someone behind him whispered, "Is it safe here?"

"If even dreams won't give you a safe haven, then you'll only perish in the storm."

He didn't turn around, leaving only these light and airy words behind.

He disappeared into the darkness at the bottom of the ship, his footsteps fading into the distance along with the dim light of the chandelier.

The chandelier swayed gently after he left.

Click.

It was barely audible, yet like the gentle knocking of a door to a dream, softly opening the second curtain.

The ship trembled slightly.

Like a colossal creature slumbering in the deepest part of the forgotten sea, it slowly turned over, creating a barely perceptible ripple of dreamlike energy.

After Si Ming's footsteps completely disappeared into the lower passage, the ghost ship cabin fell into a brief silence.

It was not a repressive stillness, nor a tense silence, but a void between wakefulness and slumber.

It's as if this ship truly belongs to a dream, not reality.

The group sat quietly by the bed, each with their own posture, yet all sharing a common air of weariness and heaviness.

Some people lean against the wall with their eyes closed, as if forcing themselves to escape reality for a moment;
Someone silently wiped the bloodstains and remaining stitches from their arm, as if erasing the almost inhuman experience they had just had in the theater;
Some people just stared blankly at the chandelier above their heads; the swaying light seemed hypnotic, or like some kind of silent gaze.

The deep blue chandelier hung low from the ceiling, like an eye in the deep sea.
The cold light fell, illuminating the isolated islands where everyone was sinking.

The light wasn't strong, yet it seemed to penetrate the skin, slowly and gently seeping into the bloodstream.
Let each breath carry a sense of tranquility, like the tide.

Vera sat cross-legged beside Duan Xingzhou's bed and slowly re-secured the bandages on his injured leg.

Her movements were slow but extremely delicate; when her fingers occasionally brushed against Duan Xingzhou's knees, a noticeable tremor could be felt.

She didn't look up, only occasionally glancing at the closed black iron gate in the distance. The door leading to the deck remained silent, yet it sent chills down one's spine.

Mu Sisi sat at the stern of the cabin, her easel open, but she didn't put down a single brushstroke for a long time.

Her eyes were fixed on the blank sheet of paper, her lips pressed tightly together, as if she were recalling a puppet in a theater, or as if she couldn't wake up from some illusion.

"...Is it really safe here?" Fujimiya Sumi's voice rang out in the silence, as faint as a whisper.

She leaned on Eileen's shoulder, her eyes still lingering with the fear of the threads tightening around her.

“For now, yes,” Vera replied softly, her tone gentle but offering little comfort.

Just as she finished speaking, the chandelier above her head swayed slightly.

There was no wind, no contact, yet—it swayed.

The next second, everyone heard it.

It wasn't the sound of any single person, nor the rattling of planks, rails, or gears, nor the aftershocks of a psionic trigger.

That was a whisper.

It wasn't syllables, but rather a voice "behind consciousness," like an ancient dream suddenly seeping out from the skeleton of a ship, whispering its tale.

"...The returnee..."

"...the lost..."

"...wandering in the sea of ​​dreams..."

The sound seemed to seep from the cracks in the walls, the gaps in the boards, and the copper rivets in the ceiling, or it seemed to surge up from the "memories" of the cabin itself.

It's not in the ear, but in the bone.

Vera suddenly looked up, her fingers gripping Duan Xingzhou's bandage tightly.

Rudolf frowned, his eyes fixed on the swaying arc of the chandelier like steel needles.

Mu Sisi almost crumpled the drawing board, her eyes darting around as if searching for the source of the sound.

“What was that just now…” Eileen murmured, her voice trembling as she suppressed her emotions.

No one answered.

The chandelier returned to its steady state, and its soft light once again gently bathed the cabin, as warm as water—as if the whisper had never existed, but merely the wind blowing through a corner of a dream.

But no one dared to trust this tranquility anymore.

They exchanged a glance, their eyes revealing an unspoken understanding.

What the God of Fate said is true.

This ship is not their harbor, but a dream, and also a lurking trial.

Meanwhile, deeper inside the lower deck, Si Ming stood before a heavy bronze door.

The door was mottled and scarred, bearing several lines of ancient inscriptions, eroded by seawater but still clearly legible:

"This door leads to the room of memories."

Please first determine if you still wish to remember.

Si Ming stared quietly at the words, his fingertips slowly touching the door knocker.

In that instant, the ship trembled slightly, like a sleeping sea beast, and a faint "heartbeat" could be heard from under the deck.

He didn't speak, he just closed his eyes.

"...I have never forgotten."

Whispers like vows, the door slowly opens, revealing a deep blue corridor stretching into a deeper dream.

Dreams linger where memories are lost.

But the ship—will always continue its voyage.

(End of this chapter)