Secret World: I Became a God Through Lies

Chapter 259 Whispers Echo - The Nine Gates Await Opening
"Some doors,

Not for escaping,

It's meant to prepare for an even deeper nightmare.

The strong stench of blood still lingered in the air, like an invisible film pressing tightly against everyone's lungs.

The door slowly closed, and the last ray of scarlet light struggled for a moment in the crack before finally sinking into darkness.

Xiao Lianyin sat quietly on a piece of rubble at the edge of the ruins, her back slender, like a goddess statue eroded by wind and rain.

She rested her hands on her knees, her forehead against her interlaced fingers, her body slightly curled up, as if burying herself in a shell of silence.

Blood slowly trickled down her fingers, dripping onto the dust at her feet, staining the ground red and seeping into the soil.

The blood wasn't just from the wound; it seemed more like the emotions that sustained one's will were quietly crumbling away.

Eileen and Lilith knelt beside her, carefully treating her external injuries.

Their movements were extremely gentle; they barely dared to touch her severely damaged shoulders, back, and ribs.
They even avoid actions like lifting their clothes.

They weren't afraid of Xiao Lianyin, but rather—in awe.

Because her injuries were terrifyingly deep.

What's even more chilling is the astrological chart on her wrist—all ten stars of reason have been ignited.
It glowed with an almost eerie red light, like a mark that had been burned back from the brink of death.

That means that even if she survives using martial arts, she has completely lost the ability to use mystical powers for a short period of time.

Her mental neural network had been burned to its limit, and every breath she took was a desperate struggle to hold on to the brink of collapse.

Si Ming stood not far away, his expression solemn, his brows furrowed, and his gaze calmly sweeping over the crowd.

Vera stood beside Rudolph, casting the mysterious healing spell [Hymn Angel] with both hands.

The soft light, like flowing water, barely stabilized Rudolf's critical condition.
Shinoda patrolled the perimeter, her figure like a shadow, vigilantly watching every blind spot at the edge of the ruins, her hand never leaving her knife, her killing intent undiminished;
As Herman and Duan Xingzhou surveyed the route, they built a makeshift defensive line using broken walls and remnants of bunkers. The firelight illuminated their faces, revealing silent yet resolute silhouettes.

Lin Wanqing quietly squatted down beside Xiao Lianyin, gently handing her clean strips of cloth and water, her eyes filled with complex emotions: pity, respect, and a slightly trembling unease.

"Siming." Xin Nai's voice came from behind her, deep and calm, yet with an undeniable sharpness.

She walked to his side, her gaze calmly fixed on the direction where the ruins met the gate of return: "In the next round, we must regroup."

Si Ming nodded slightly, his expression unchanged, his gaze still fixed on that silent figure.

He slowly stepped forward, squatted down, and stopped in front of Xiao Lianyin.

His tone was calm, as if he were issuing a task, or perhaps offering gentle advice to a soldier on the verge of death.
"Miss Xiao."

"Given your current condition, you must temporarily withdraw from the battle at the Mystic level."

Xiao Lianyin did not respond immediately.

She slowly raised her head, her bloodshot eyes fixed on him.

A mocking smile curled at the corner of her lips, her laughter so cold it seemed to freeze the air.

She looked at Si Ming, her voice hoarse and strained, yet carrying a stubbornness that ran deep in her bones:

"Little Master of Fate, you underestimate me."

She slowly raised her right hand, holding a short sword in her palm.

The short sword was entirely silver-white, with a dark red ribbon wrapped around its hilt, making it stand out starkly in the firelight and blood mist.

With a slight flick of the blade, the reflection of everyone around them, their faces slightly tense, was revealed.

"The Xiao family is not only mysterious and cunning, but also skilled in swordsmanship."

She raised her eyebrows, the smile at the corner of her mouth like the fangs of a wounded wild beast, cold and fierce:
"The Star of Burning Reason?"

"The real battle for the Mystic Masters only begins after the fire has burned out."

Si Ming looked at her and remained silent for half a second.

Then he laughed.

It was a tacit smile, a silent agreement among soldiers.

He nodded slightly, a faint yet meaningful smile curving his lips.

He got it.

Even without the Mysterious Strangeness, Xiao Lianyin remains a wounded but unyielding beast of the night.

She was not a victim defeated by betrayal, but a survivor who crawled out of the slaughterhouse, a queen who would dig through flesh and blood to cut off the heads of her enemies.

"Aha, Little Siming, you're now a recognized 'newbie'."

Natasha suddenly interjected, half-squatting and stretching, a contented yet meaningful smile on her face.

Natasha whistled, lightly tapping the two pistols on her shoulders, her tone playful yet teasing:

"Unexpectedly, your newbie status has finally been unanimously recognized by everyone. You still need more practice."

Si Ming sighed helplessly, a self-deprecating smile playing on his lips:

"It's all because you old hands never provide any tutorials for newbies."

"Don't blame me," Natasha said, shrugging.

“I’m not a guild administrator. I’m a mercenary—I’m only responsible for the bounty.”

Her tone was flippant, and the corners of her mouth curled up, as if the tense atmosphere and the brink of death that had just occurred had never existed.

Vera walked slowly towards him, her tone gentle:
"You...are old friends?"

Si Ming nodded, and introduced with a touch of emotion:

"The Mysterious Garden. Ten Stars. Mad Star Gunslinger - Natasha."

Natasha waved lazily as a greeting.

Hermann stood to the side, nodded expressionlessly, and spoke in a low voice:
"Nine Stars. The Loser. Herman."

The revelation of each person's identity seemed to cast an even heavier shadow on the open ground.

At this moment, the old alliance is rekindled, and new allies are formed.

In this city filled with death and selection, the darkness has not yet dissipated, and the smoke of battle has not yet dissipated.

But in the end, they still came together—

Like a flag about to collapse before a violent storm.

She didn't say another word.

Eileen and Lilith carefully cleaned her wounds, moving extremely gently, and not daring to remove too much clothing.

It wasn't out of fear, but because those wounds were too deep, almost tearing injuries, as if accidentally touching them would shatter her will.

In that inconspicuous shadow, something was slowly moving—a faint undercurrent, churning at the edge of the shadow, appearing and disappearing intermittently.

That was an intuition.

It is neither a martial art nor a mysterious technique, but a pure human instinct—danger, the unknown, and a backup plan.

She has not given in.

At the edge of the ruined square, the wind rustled the torn canvas.

The embers of the campfire danced gently, casting dappled shadows on the broken walls, and the dilapidated sculptures twisted like ghosts in the firelight.

But it was precisely amidst these ruins that a trace of human life finally emerged.

Vera handed over a few bottles of water, and Si Ming took them and casually tossed one to Herman.

Hermann caught it steadily, tilted his head back and took a sip. His Adam's apple bobbed, and his eyes softened slightly. The sharpness of that moment faded, replaced by a calm weariness.

Natasha sat casually on the shoulder of a half-collapsed statue, swinging her legs back and forth, lazily scanning the crowd with her gaze, and suddenly chuckled:

"Speaking of which, Herman and I have to 'thank' you, Siming, for coming to this godforsaken place."

Si Ming raised an eyebrow and replied indifferently, "Me?"

Natasha raised her hand and gave a playful "yes" sign, her tone light and cheerful as if she were telling a funny story:
"After you came in, this madman 'Thirteen' started sending out invitations to the Mysterious Masters Guild like crazy, like he was showering them with lovey-dovey stuff. The entire Mysterious Masters Council is in an uproar."

"Soon, the news spread to all the major worlds."

"In a fit of anger, Councilor Ruoli issued a 'highest level bounty' on the City of Mysterious Bones."

"As long as you can bring back firsthand information about the City of Corpses alive—the bounty will be tripled."

Selene leaned lazily against Natasha's shoulder and hummed softly:
"In short, it's a bunch of lunatics betting on who can survive and make a fortune in Madman Thirteen's territory."

Natasha grinned, a smile that carried her usual nonchalance, yet couldn't hide the chilling, feverish excitement in her eyes:

"However, we are not crazy."

"We just know better how to play."

“Especially knowing that—” she pointed at Si Ming, her voice filled with certainty, “the gambles you’re in are always more worthwhile than those elsewhere.”

Si Ming smiled wryly and spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness:
"So you came here specifically for me?"

Natasha pretended to think seriously for a moment, tilted her head slightly, and then delivered a precise finishing blow:

"Half of it."

"The other half is after the bonus, and also—"

"Shopping Spree Plan".

Selene laughed as she openly clung to Natasha's arm, her face beaming with delight.
"We agreed that once the mission is over, we'll have a full-day shopping spree in the Mysterious Garden."

"Buy a new gun, a new dress, and also a ring and a necklace."

“Oh—don’t forget about the new cloak!” Natasha added with a laugh.

The two of them seemed to have completely forgotten the carnage they had just witnessed.
They were so engrossed in discussing postwar shopping plans that their relaxed and lighthearted demeanor seemed like a unique declaration of survival.

Lin Wanqing quietly turned her head and looked at the two top-level mystery masters who had fought their way out of the pile of corpses, now calculating shopping like primary school students. She couldn't help but show a look of amusement and exasperation.

Duan Xingzhou muttered under his breath:
"...I really can't believe these two managed to fight their way out of that godforsaken place."

Mu Sisi whispered in agreement:
"This is the scariest part..."

For once, everyone laughed. Although their laughter still carried a deep sense of exhaustion and unease, it was enough to temporarily dispel the chill and cruelty that surrounded the ruins.

only--

Even in this brief moment of light and warmth, Si Ming never truly relaxed.

He sat by the firelight, relaxed, yet constantly watching for any activity outside the Hokage's territory.

He knew that the real storm was yet to come.

The gambles of the madman "Thirteen" never give you a moment to breathe.

He is both the hunter and the bargaining chip.

The night breeze is slightly cool.

Around the campfire, some meditated, some tended their equipment, and some chatted quietly. But beyond that circle of light—

Si Ming keenly noticed a faint gaze.

From Hermann.

That gaze was extremely light, yet firm and secretive.

He didn't speak, but slowly rose, seemingly just habitually walking towards the edge of the ruins. Hermann quietly followed.

The two stood side by side amidst the broken stone pillars and collapsed walls.

They didn't look at each other, like old soldiers from the battlefield years ago standing shoulder to shoulder again.

Silence reigned all around, broken only by the whispering wind whistling through the gaps in the ruins.

Hermann finally spoke.

His voice was still hoarse, but it was a shade deeper than usual, as if a heavy stone had been lifted from the depths of his chest.
Every sentence carries a certain unshakeable weight:
“My Lord…Faceless Lord, I wish to speak with you.”

Si Ming's brows twitched slightly.

But he didn't answer immediately. He simply squinted and quietly looked at Hermann.

The latter was expressionless, yet it was as if he were reciting some ancient and solemn oath, each word so precise that it was almost not speaking, but rather a declaration:

"He awaits your return in the Council of the Silent Eyes."

"The eyes of silence were forged because of you."

"The Lord of Destiny, the One and Only Throne, will eventually be returned."

Si Ming's lips twitched.

He couldn't help but roll his eyes inwardly.

What the hell...

He certainly remembered that strange realm called the "Sea of ​​Dreams," and that journey that almost made him doubt his own existence.

He had unwittingly ventured into the inner depths of the "Eye of Silence."

At that time, it was just a dream that felt too real, in which I encountered a being known as the "Sleeping Lord".

He had indeed heard snippets of rumors about the "Supreme Council," but he always categorized such information as "unreliable extradimensional phenomena and nonsense."
They thought it was just a projection of the "collective unconscious" of mysterious energy.

He once jokingly referred to it all as a "mythical device" from some mysterious realm.

but now--

Hermann's expression, the absolute conviction in those words, the faceless man's direct calling—
Add to that Madman Thirteen's meticulously laid-out chessboard, with its frenetic yet precise rhythm...

Everything, without warning, began to point towards a vortex in a higher dimension.

It's as if the entire "game" doesn't even take place on the surface of the earth.

Rather, it is above fate.

Si Ming remained silent for a long time, a complex emotion welling up in the depths of his eyes, before finally letting out a soft laugh.

It was a bitter smile.

"...The problem is..."

"I don't know how to get in."

Upon hearing this, Hermann slowly turned his head, glanced at him, and a rare smile appeared on his cold face as he whispered:

"The Faceless One once said—"

“The whispers of fate will not reject its true weaver.”

"You—just listen."

Listen.

Si Ming lowered his head, his gaze falling on the supreme and mysterious object in his hand that was already bound to his soul—the [Thousand Faces].

A playing card, gleaming faintly, spun quietly between his fingers.

As it rotates, the air seems to be slightly distorted, and imperceptible fluctuations seep into the nervous system through the fingertips, pass through the heart, and break through the boundaries of thought.

Then--

The whispers began.

[...Want to hear it again?]

Why didn't you do this sooner?

That was a familiar voice. The Thousand-Faced One had always been there. He had never truly fallen silent; he had simply been forcibly sealed away by the Will of the Fate Master.

Those whispers, temptations, jokes, weariness, and ridicule lingered like poisonous vines in the deepest corner of his soul.

Si Ming closed his eyes.

This sound means a price.

It means out of control.

It means embarking on a path of no return.

But he knew that now, he had no other choice.

He must listen.

must admit.

I have never been an outsider.

He had already been chosen by fate and was already in the game.

He whispered in his heart:
"The One with a Thousand Faces".

"tell me."

Silence, as if time had been stretched into centuries.

Finally, a soft laugh emerged from the depths of the soul, like the sneer of a high being looking down upon the world, or like a judge impatiently brushing away a layer of dust.

The gates of the highest order have never been closed.

【Siming, it's up to you.】

[Anytime, just push it open.]

He took a deep breath, and the playing cards stopped abruptly on his fingertips.

At that moment, he gripped it tightly.

At the same time, in the ruined square, Madman Thirteen's system projection suddenly flickered again.

Accompanying this was a provocative notification tone, like a judgment bell piercing the night, striking directly into everyone's eardrums:

[Clang—clang—clang.]

【Break time is over.】

[Data updated.]

[To the living: Welcome to continue the struggle.]

The night sky roared, as if fate itself was proclaiming a new order of plunder.

In the center of the square, a huge light screen suddenly rose up, projecting the figure of Madman Thirteen.

It was still the same familiar silhouette—half smiling, half mocking, one half of the face offering fatherly comfort, the other half a madman reveling in the prey's struggle.

His voice was like a sharp blade tearing through the air:

"Congratulations to all the test subjects."

"Survived the first round."

"but--"

"Merely being alive is not enough to qualify for a true feast."

Si Ming's eyes narrowed slightly as he lightly tapped the back of a playing card with his fingertips, the rhythm low and calm like a drumbeat.

Nobuna stood to his left, her hand already on the hilt of the sword.

Natasha twirled her twin pistols in her fingers, her eyes gleaming with fire.

Herman lowered his head to check the crossbow string, his movements steady and silent.

Lynn gripped the "Voice of Recall" pocket watch tightly, his knuckles turning white.

Lin Wanqing quietly approached Si Ming, her eyes filled with unease and tension, her breath almost catching in her throat.

Madman Thirteen laughed, as if announcing the start of a grand feast:
"A new game, a new gamble."

"The second round—Nine Gates and Nine Numbers—has officially begun."

Click.

The dog tags on everyone's wrists clicked softly at the same time, and the electronic numbers updated.

The next moment, countless new digital doors silently appeared around the ruins.

The door, as black as iron, seemed to float at a point of fracture in space, like a nine-square grid of death sacrifices.
Each door was slowly rotating, and a string of fluctuating numbers floated on its surface—

Some glowed with an icy blue fluorescence, some oozed a faint blood-red hue, and others carried a dark glow with flowing electric sparks.

The air suddenly became thick, as if filled with the smell of burning and cold sweat.

Madman Thirteen raised his hands, as if the host were singing:
"Teaming up, making choices, betrayal, sacrifice."

"Behind every door lies a new war."

“Every choice is a stripping away of the soul.”

"Wish ya'll good luck."

"Of course, more—"

"It should be death."

The light curtain shattered in the next instant, scattering like fragments of a dream, leaving only a cloud of light dust slowly drifting down in the air.

Siming slowly exhaled, calmly surveying his teammates with eyes as sharp and composed as a hawk's.

In just a few seconds, he quickly analyzed the numbers on everyone's dog tags.
Write down the location distribution of each gate, the optimal tactical team formation, and even potential betrayal paths and variables.

Then, he said in a deep voice:
"gather."

Everyone reacted immediately and quickly gathered around.

There was no hesitation, and no need for extra words.

They are no longer the small team that was initially put together on the spot.

They have gone through bloody battles and betrayals, life and death and trust together, and have become a true battle network.

The God of Fate surveyed the room, his voice low but firm, like the sound of a horn:
"The nine gates have been opened."

"Fate only leaves a place for those who place their bets."

"This time——"

A cold glint flashed in his eyes, and a slow, chilling smile curved his lips.
"We will take control of the game ourselves."

"The door is open, the chess pieces are laid out."

Every step along this bloody path is taken by those who defy fate.

(End of this chapter)