Secret World: I Became a God Through Lies

Chapter 211 The Red Thread Bell Rings, the Master Responds

They kept their real names secret.

But it never managed to seal away the echo of a problem.

"The bells whisper, the soul returns to the underworld." Zhuang Yege murmured softly, his voice seemingly piercing through the mists of time and reality, deep and carrying a certain fateful echo.

He stood before the last portrait, his expression as if facing an abyss, a layer of unease shrouding his eyes.

The card wrapped in silver threads slowly emerged in his hand, like a relic of the dead summoned from the depths of time.

The broken bronze bell hangs above the distorted runes, like the last echo of a name long forgotten by history in despair.

"Are you ready?" Si Ming stood beside him, her voice as calm as ice, as if she could freeze all ripples before she could speak.

There was no fear in his eyes, only silent sharpness and judgment.

"I'll light one." Zhuang Yege nodded, his tone calm and firm, as if he had already disregarded life and death.

He pressed his right index and middle fingers together at the intersection of the life lines on his wrist.

Suddenly, the third star of reason on the star chart ignited, like a starburst bursting in the night sky.

The dazzling starlight transformed into a ghostly blue ray, and the patterns wrapped around his wrist like living things, inch by inch climbing up to the metal frame of the Soul-Guiding Bell in his hand.

clang--

The first ring of the bell, like an old sound shaken from a thousand-year-old dream, echoed softly through the long night in the corridor.

The red thread trembled slightly, and the runes on the portrait cracked, as if an ancient seal was awakening.

clang--

The second bell rang low and mournful. Instantly, all the portraits on both sides of the corridor emitted a wail, as if a long-suppressed dirge was bursting forth.

That kind of sorrow is silent, yet it can seep into the bone marrow, like the murmur of a ghost, lingering in every inch of air.

clang--!
The third ring suddenly became high-pitched, and a corner of the copper bell shattered amidst the high-frequency vibrations, producing a sharp "crack" sound.

The portrait of the "Crown Man" in the frame suddenly jolted.

The portrait, which was originally disfigured and blurry, slowly shifted its angle, as if it were peering into view or responding to some kind of call.

The red paper seal snapped open with a "click," leaving a deep crack.

The next second—

"He's here," Vera whispered, her voice like a cold knife piercing the still night.

The portrait suddenly peeled off the canvas, and a black and red intertwined ghost fell out of the crack, forcibly torn back from the boundary of death like a sacrifice and thrown into this reality imprisoned by incantations.

It was a spirit body that was already badly damaged, its form as broken as a rag, its limbs twitching and twisting violently in an extremely unnatural and almost blasphemous manner.

His body seemed to be constantly torn apart, reshaped, and torn apart again by an invisible force.

He let out a wail, but couldn't utter a single sound. His mouth opened and closed, his lips and tongue moved as if he were trying his best to express himself, but it was as if his throat had already been sealed by death, leaving only a silent struggle.

“It’s him…” Vera’s voice was as cold as an icy blade, “I recognize the remnants of this spirit.”

"Leo, a genius world-type puppet master."

"A 12-star powerhouse." Zhuang Yege's brows furrowed, and a rare shock flashed in his eyes.

"He's a name I saw during the star-up evaluation. Rumor has it that he disappeared three years ago, suspected of being involved in forbidden experiments."

His voice was so low it was almost a clenched grit, "I didn't expect... he was here too."

Leo's soul convulsed violently on the ground, his pain almost tangible.

He seemed to be experiencing a cyclical tearing—each time his soul was shattered, it would be forcibly reassembled, only to shatter again, over and over again.

“He’s dying repeatedly.” Vera gritted her teeth, her voice filled with barely suppressed anger. “He’s trapped in a deadly cycle of soul repetition.”

Si Ming stared at those already torn lips, his expression grim.

He walked slowly forward, each step feeling as if it were pressing on the edge of his soul.

"Let me see what he wants to say."

Si Ming approached the wailing ghostly figure. Leo knelt on one knee, his body trembling uncontrollably.

His empty eye sockets seemed to gaze into an endless abyss. The pain on his face was no longer physical mutilation, but a kind of mental torment on the level of memory, as if he was being forced to repeatedly recall an extremely painful experience.

His lips moved slightly, repeating the same sentence over and over, without making a sound.

But Si Ming's gaze was fixed on the shape of his lips, and after a moment his pupils suddenly contracted.

Leo's lip movements were extremely peculiar, not forming complete sentences, but rather extremely fragmented pieces of language, frantically compressed, torn apart, and pieced together:
"Secret Remains... Backlash... Death... Endless... Forbidden Path... Path of No Return... Eternal Suffering... Immortal Life of Secret Remains..."

Each word was like a nail, piercing the ear and bone, penetrating the heart of the God of Fate.

His face paled slightly, and he immediately took a step back.

Vera immediately stepped forward, her eyes sharp: "What did you see?"

Si Ming replied in a low voice, his tone as heavy as iron: "He keeps repeating this passage...it's very confusing."

"But the meaning is very clear."

"This building, this door, and the 'Master of Paper Seals' behind it—it is very likely a product of some kind of secret remains."

"The Secret Remains?" Rudolf's expression changed drastically. "This sounds like... some kind of forbidden bio-mechanical experiment?"

“Backlash, suffering, immortality…” Mu Sisi repeated in a low voice, her voice trembling uncontrollably, “It sounds like… that kind of existence that cannot die.”

“It’s worse than that.” Zhuang Yege’s face grew increasingly grim, his eyes like icy flames in the depths of the night.

"Who is Leo?" Fujimiya Sumi asked nervously, her hands clenched into fists, her knuckles turning white.

Zhuang Yege looked at the kneeling, wailing soul figure in front of him and slowly said, "A twelfth-star powerhouse, a genius puppeteer in the world system."

"It is said that he is skilled at manipulating puppet-like mystics and was once considered one of the youngest 'candidates' who could potentially become a celestial calamity."

"But he disappeared three years ago."

Vera's voice was low and hoarse: "Rumor has it that he's involved in an illegal and sinister fusion project."

Si Ming nodded slightly: "Now it seems that behind this door... is the place that caused a twelve-star powerhouse to repeatedly collapse at the soul level."

Rudolf's face turned pale, his Adam's apple bobbing: "Do we still have to go in?"

Si Ming smiled calmly, a smile devoid of any warmth: "If we don't go in, Wang Yichen and the others... will really never come back."

Vera looked at the door, its cracks beginning to appear and its seal slightly ajar, took a deep breath, and her eyes revealed a cold determination: "We have no choice."

Si Ming took a slight breath and slowly pulled out a jet-black and ancient card from his sleeve.

His movements were steady and solemn, as if he were awakening a forbidden memory that had been sealed away.

The edges of the card are engraved with intricate, labyrinthine chessboard patterns, covered with pale gold runes that resemble scattered starlight. On the back of the card is an endless, sprawling black and white chessboard corridor that extends straight into a blank mirror, as if reflecting a realm that does not belong to reality.

At the bottom right of the card is an ancient gold-plated serial number—No. 781.

"High-ranking World-type." Zhuang Yege's eyes flickered slightly, a dark undercurrent surging in his pupils, as he murmured softly, "With such a high number... it's no ordinary item."

With a flick of his finger, the card rose up and slowly spun in the air, transforming into a stream of black and white light that unfolded like the chessboard breathing, eventually landing and extending into a long, secluded chess corridor that quietly stretched out before the silver gate.

At the edge of the corridor, the space ripples gently like water, revealing the outlines of six figures.

They are assembled one by one according to some rules, and are six high-level humanoid chess pieces with alternating black and white colors.

They stood silently in rows, clad in heavy armor, their eyes covered by white cloth, their faces solemn and blank.

They held double-edged scepters, hanging in front of them, their movements as uniform as cast iron, as still as sculptures, their presence so oppressive it was hard to breathe.

Domain Name: The Corridor of Illusion

The voice of the God of Fate rang out in the silence, unhurried yet like a key that unlocked a forbidden realm that no one dared to peek into.

“All beliefs, goals, and identity labels will be stripped away, and those who enter will lose their ‘definition’ and become ‘nameless people’.”

He surveyed the crowd, his expression calm and composed, yet his tone carried an unwavering warning: "As long as you do not step out of this corridor, the chess piece guards will not interfere."

"You may move around, rest, and talk freely within the chessboard—but remember, you must never cross the line."

Vera nodded slightly, her gaze calm and clear: "This is the realm of rules... As long as you abide by the rules, it is the most secure protection."

"You're not planning to take it into battle?" Zhuang Yege raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement flashing in his eyes.

Si Ming shrugged, a barely perceptible smile playing on his lips: "I am the holder, not the contract master."

He paused, then added, "But its domain can last for thirty minutes."

His gaze slowly swept over Rudolf, Mu Sisi, Fujimiya Sumi, Xu Jinxiao, and Lin Wanqing, who was half-lying on the ground, pale-faced but still determined:

"Your task is to stay on this chessboard. Don't move around or think about anything else."

"Even if a monster appears before you, someone calls out to you from outside the domain, or you even see your closest person crying, you must not step out of the chessboard."

"Everything outside the chessboard is an illusion. Any force that attempts to invade the chessboard will be forcibly expelled."

Si Ming's tone suddenly turned cold, his gaze sharp as a knife, "But once you step out on your own, the guards will consider you no longer 'guests'."

"At that time, you will also lose your 'identity' and stepping onto the chessboard again will be regarded as an enemy target."

He paused, then lowered his voice even further, "The consequences are more terrible than death."

Mu Sisi couldn't help but swallow, her face turning pale.

"Is it that scary?" Fujimiya Sumi asked in a low voice, her voice trembling slightly.

“It’s not scary.” Si Ming smiled faintly, his smile as serene as a windless night. “It’s just very serious.”

"It doesn't like 'vague people'."

He reached out and gently stroked the edge of the chessboard. A dark red light flowed from his fingertips, and a red line extending from the corridor slowly rose, as if an invisible boundary completely isolated the chessboard from the outside world.

It's a "boundary of trust," symbolizing the last remaining agreement between the guard and the visitor.

The Fate Master whispered, "Irostia, please guard them well."

In response, six chess pieces fell to the ground in unison with a "click," as if breaking the silence. The six double-edged scepters stood interlaced on the chessboard, their aura quietly gathering, as steady as a living temple.

The red line trembled slightly, and the silver-white gate finally emitted a clear "click".

The sound was like chains breaking, or like someone finally letting out a sigh that had been suppressed for a thousand years.

The door was slightly ajar, and a chilling and eerie cold wafted out—it wasn't actually cold, but it sent a shiver down one's spine in an instant, as if something was watching the world behind the door.

"The time has come." Si Ming twisted his neck slightly, his voice echoing in the silence.

"I'm ready."

Zhuang Yege's right hand gently landed on his waist. The broken copper bell had already merged into the arterial star pattern, turning into a memorable mark that could be awakened again at any time to guide the soul.

“Me too—” Vera responded softly, her tone firm.

She slowly opened her palm, and a Destiny card quietly appeared. The delicate prayer text on the card surface danced between her fingertips, as if responding to her will.

The three exchanged a glance—silence was enough.

Si Ming turned around and looked at the crowd behind him one last time. His tone was calm, yet it left no room for refusal: "If we don't come back within thirty minutes... then let's not wait any longer."

"Run as far as you can."

Mu Sisi pursed her lips tightly, her eyes reddening as she tried to hold back her tears.

Fujimiya Sumire lowered her head, her shoulders trembling slightly. Lin Wanqing looked at them, her eyes filled with pain but she did not back down.

Rudolf didn't say much, only responding with a deep gaze.

"Xu Jinxiao." Siming suddenly called out a name, looking at the man who had been standing quietly in the corner.

The latter slightly raised his head, his expression indifferent, his voice hollow yet clear: "I won't move."

Si Ming nodded slightly.

Then, he, Zhuang Yege, and Vera stepped side by side into the crack in the silver door.

There was no light behind the door.

Only the rustling sound of paper talismans fluttering in the wind seemed like the whispers of the dead from the abyss, slowly approaching.

Three figures disappeared into the darkness behind the door.

The next second—

The silver door slammed shut!

The red line at the edge of the chessboard suddenly rose up, like a barrier sealing off the entrance.

The six chess pieces silently approached each other, slowly walked to the corners of the chessboard, and stood in an alternating pattern, like judges waiting to be awakened.

It was as if a game of Go had already begun, with three pieces placed on the board, and the opponent would appear in the shadows.

"Beneath the sealed paper lies not silence, but..."
Rather, it is the right to speak that has been taken away.

After the silver gate, what awaited was not liberation.

It was a script that had already been written.

"Waiting for you—to correct it with your blood."

(End of this chapter)