Secret World: I Became a God Through Lies

Chapter 273 A Glimmer of Light at the End of the Night
"The light has not yet risen, and the wind is still cold."

The fire has gone out, but the person has not returned.

If all lies could start a fire

I would use my silence to light a lamp for you.

Daytime on the fifth day.

As light filters through the shattered shadows of the towers in this ruined city, the flames of war have died down, but the smoke of battle has not truly dissipated.

Von Blanc is dead, and the domain has crumbled. Yet, the ground is littered with mechanical skeletons and charred fragments.

Like an inscription nailed to the earth by fate, it bears witness to the existence of war.

The air was filled with the smell of corroded metal, the acrid odor of burnt fabric, and—the sweet, metallic scent of blood.

Si Ming stood atop the high ground, overlooking the entire wreckage area.

This is the ruins of a military factory on the south side of the city. Last night, they fought their final battle here on the fourth night.

Hunter Argos, War Cannon, Netherworld Tide, Foxflame End...

Everything is still vivid in my mind, as if it is still burning in my memory.

But now, time seems to have suddenly slowed down.

The wind blew the remaining corners of the tattered flags, and the neon lights hanging on the collapsed factory buildings reflected the sunlight silently, no longer shining.

In the center of the square, the structure housing von Blank's main control unit remained partially open, its exposed, jagged edges revealing its bare structure.

Like a broken theater stage, it remains without any aesthetic appeal.

The survivors lay there quietly.

There were no bodies, but it couldn't be described as "intact".

They lived, but not fully.

Rudolf lay on his side behind a bulletproof bunker near the collapsed wall on the west side.

After the battle, he was practically carried back.

His left leg was completely shattered below the knee, with the broken bone clearly visible. His armor was deformed, and broken metal fragments pierced through his flesh.

After forcibly resetting the broken bones on his own, he used a spirit-sealing belt to temporarily stop the spreading flesh and blood destruction.

Even so, the leg was still losing its temperature, and its skin had turned pale purple.

He didn't cry out in pain, nor did he groan. He simply leaned against the wall, holding a pen used to record his injuries, and quietly and clearly recited line after line of diagnosis:

"The distal nerve reflexes in the left leg are severed, and the sense of touch is completely lost; the temperature drops to 30.2 degrees Celsius after the sealing bandage is applied... The current status is unusable."

His voice was as mechanical and calm as an engineering report, without a trace of emotion.

Beside him, Vera knelt on the ground, pouring a potion that glowed red into his veins.

That's "Red Prayer Essence," a high-level, mysterious healing potion that's only suitable for critically ill patients whose vital signs are extremely low.

Si Ming had taken the medicine from the Holy Healing Place despite the risk of a high-pressure lockdown; it was originally intended as a last resort for life-or-death situations.

Now, it's used here.

Vera said softly, "This dose can only maintain vital signs; don't expect it to restore your ability to walk."

Rudolf nodded without asking any further questions.

His gaze was calm, his face pale, but without any resentment.

He simply recorded a data point and then slowly closed his eyes.

Vera looked at him, her eyes revealing exhaustion, yet she remained composed.

They are all like this—

Endure silently, persevere silently.

Si Ming stood high above, watching all this, his gaze as cold as steel.

Yesterday's victory does not signify the end.

They defeated von Blanc and destroyed a war zone.

But at what cost?
The price is loss.

It's a severed limb, a burn, an irreparable wound to reason.

It's the silence hidden in their eyes, growing heavier with each battle.

He lowered his head, the Destiny Card in his hand trembling slightly, as if sensing something.

But he didn't speak.

The battle is over.

But the war is not truly over yet.

Further away, Xiao Lianyin was placed in a medical barrier temporarily pieced together from three energy shields.

The fox flame had long since died out, and she lay there quietly like a flickering candle flame, as if she would vanish with the slightest touch.

She is unconscious.

His hands were icy cold, his skin was so pale it was almost transparent, his body temperature was out of balance, and almost all of his life lines and star charts had gone out, leaving only a very faint spot of light at his heart meridian, like a dying candle, flickering on the verge of collapse.

Vera frowned as she examined her, her voice low as if afraid of disturbing someone's dream: "The Star of Reason is only a flickering ember... The potion she took has almost robbed her of the ability to even dream."

And those loyal dogs who originally followed her.

All were killed in action.

No one survived.

They once built a defensive line behind Xiao Lianyin with loyalty and respect, but now, only deathly silence remains.

The "Steel Guardian" still emitted a low, metallic growl from deep within the ruins, like some forgotten mechanical ghost.

Its decaying echoes remind everyone that this is not the end.

It was a warning.

—Wang Yichen's warning.

No one brought it up.

But everyone who survived understood that the "accident" that night was not a coincidence or a mistake, but a pre-planned killing spree.

Si Ming remained silent.

He simply stood on the high ground, quietly looking down at the entire ruins.

It's like reading a map that has been torn apart and roughly pieced together.

This map contains charred bloodstains, cooled steel slag, silently collapsing faith, and silent eyes.

The only thing missing is direction.

Vera's fingertips trembled slightly.

She is not used to treating people; she has never done so before and is unwilling to touch the most vulnerable parts of other people's souls.

What's even more unaccustomed is that someone like Xiao Lianyin, who "never falls down," is now fast asleep.

Her body was too cold to insert a needle, so she could only rely on the precise micro-control of the field to gradually permeate the high-concentration "life heat essence" into the junction between her heart and nerves.

That input method is like slowly reigniting a frozen star.

Vera gritted her teeth and whispered, her voice filled with suppressed anger: "You should wake up."

“You, the dignified Fox Queen, the heir to the Crimson Night bloodline, should not just lie here like this.”

"You shouldn't have been defeated by someone like that."

There was no sobbing in her voice, but it was a deeper kind of anger than sorrow, a helpless kind of anger.

In last night's final battle, Xiao Lianyin burned out her last star, delivering the final blow to Feng Blank in the form of a fox god.

Now, it seems that she too has lost her soul to that blow.

Vera suppressed the lingering backlash from the star chart within her body and used her fingertips to raise the temperature of the protective plate a little higher, trying to use every drop of heat to hold onto her undying consciousness.

Beside her, Rudolf sat quietly against the broken wall. Noticing her pause, he asked softly:
"Will she... wake up?"

Vera remained silent.

That silent, icy moonlit night was long and heavy.

After a long pause, she sighed softly, her voice low and hoarse:

Whether he wakes up or not is not important.

"The important thing is—she's not dead yet."

Rudolf watched her retreating figure, his eyes dark and complex, as if he wanted to say something, but in the end he simply closed his eyes and whispered, "I understand."

Vera did not believe in fate.

I've never believed it.

She believes in reality, order, calm judgment, and the leverage of human resources.

But at this moment, she clasped her hands together and placed them on her forehead, whispering a prayer so soft that even the wind could not hear it.

But she said it.

In the most sincere and least skillful way, I poured out my heart to that gray sky:

"If any starlight has not yet faded,"

"Please light up an exit for her—the dawn."

No one responded to her.

Only the wind flowed through the ruins, carrying blood and dust, leaving a barely audible sigh on the edge of the torn battlefield. It was as if she were speaking to the heavens, or perhaps to herself.

Because she knows.

Even if the gods are long dead,
On this battlefield, there will always be someone who will light the last star for others.

Si Ming sat on a broken rock, wiping the card face of the [Lord of Destiny] in his hand.

His movements were slow, as if he were cleaning off dust or caressing a scarred relic.

Sunlight streamed through the cracks in the broken sky, casting a pale gold glow on half of his face, but it couldn't conceal the dark shadow in his eyes that the wind couldn't dispel.

His face was cold and his expression was so calm it was almost numb; only his fingers were constantly stroking the edge of the card.

"You really didn't expect this?"

Selene's voice came from not far away.

She stood by the broken wall, arms crossed, her red hair disheveled, but her eyes remained as sharp as ever.

The Wild Hunt princess had neither blood flames nor bat wings at this moment; she simply stood there like a sheathed knife, its sharpness concealed, yet capable of sending chills down one's spine.

Si Ming did not respond immediately.

He kept his head down, his gaze fixed on the cards.

"Wang Yichen." He finally uttered those three words.

It wasn't a question, it wasn't anger.

It's a whispered, organized process.

A nearly calm self-analysis.

“He took advantage of our trust.”

"Taking advantage of a loophole in the rules, they proactively requested to join Xiao Lianyin's group."

"Concealing their intentions and drawing out the Steel Guardian. In the meantime, locking the retreat coordinates in advance and cutting off the summoning response channel... every step was precise and restrained."

"No part of the process is accidental."

Selene sneered, a mocking smile playing on her lips: "He set up his scheme in the first five rounds."

“We’ve all been deceived.” Si Ming’s voice was low and deep, as if recounting a script that was destined to happen.

His fingers slid slowly across the cards, as if wiping a blurry mirror, or searching for a reflection that could still show the truth.

The wind blew, and the broken stones in the ruins rustled.

Above the ruins, a paper crane with a broken wing slowly drifted down to his feet, as if it were someone's last wish.

Selene leaned against the wall, remained silent for a moment, and then suddenly spoke:
Whom do you still believe?

Her tone was soft, yet it was like a sharp nail, striking precisely the most vulnerable spot.

The God of Fate raised his head.

His gaze went unfocused for a moment, as if his mind had briefly left his body and drifted away in the wind.

He didn't answer.

Because he doesn't know.

At that moment, all the whispers of the cards seemed to fall silent, and the pulse of the sanity star chart ceased to respond.

The wheel of fate stopped turning at this moment, leaving only a silent crack—a chasm between trust and betrayal.

He once believed in rules, in choices, in the contracts of conspirators, and in the idea that destiny could be written by people.

But now, Wang Yichen has torn that piece of paper to shreds.

They treated them all as pawns.

Selene did not urge him.

She didn't laugh.

She simply stood there, quietly waiting for him to give her the answer.

But the God of Fate knows.

Perhaps this time, even he himself cannot be sure whether the card called "Trust" still exists in his deck.

Zhuang Yege stood guard on the outer perimeter, the lingering dark tide still visible in his eyes.

Vera and Herman tended to the wounded one on each side, their hands flashing with runes as potions and mystics alternately seeped into the flesh, maintaining a meager lifeline.

Meanwhile, Lin Wanqing, Xin Nai, Lilith, Eileen, and Fujimiya Sumi were cleaning up the battlefield and rebuilding the camp not far away, all looking exhausted.

They were either resting or tending to the fire, their movements steady and mechanical.

Lin En and Duan Xingzhou never reappeared.

The entire team was fragmented into scattered stars—each one hanging alone in the coordinates of the shattered battlefield, drawn to one another, yet unable to reassemble into a complete star map.

And he will continue on this path.

Even if the people behind you are falling one after another.

"You want to know why I'm staying here?"

Natasha's voice suddenly came from the side. She strolled over, stepping on the gravel, twirling the familiar pink twin pistols in her hands.
A slight, mocking smile played on his lips, yet concealed a chilling intent that was deeply disguised.

She walked up to Si Ming, stopped, looked up at him, and the wind lifted the strands of hair on her forehead.

Si Ming raised his eyes and looked at her.

Natasha took out a card with black and gold edges from her bosom—it was a high-privilege communication card made by the Mysterious Guild, which only directors and above were qualified to use.

She flicked the card with her finger, and a distorted afterimage appeared on the card:
[Mysterious Garden - Homecoming Request for Communication]

[Interference Key]: Youhua Ruoli
[Attempt to connect to the channel: Failed]

[Cause]: There is currently system-level interference in the Mysterious City, and the doors cannot be opened stably.

“Just now,” Natasha said slowly, “a transmission signal briefly entered the City of Mysteries.”

Si Ming's eyes narrowed slightly, and he leaned forward slightly: "...Someone wants to open the door and come in?"

Natasha nodded, her gaze no longer teasing.

"You know 'Ruoli's' permissions, right?"

"She is not an ordinary board member."

"She is the recorder of 'Above the Star Calamity'."

"He is one of the few beings in the history of the Mysterious Garden who truly entered the realm of the Cataclysm and emerged unscathed."

She paused, then tossed the card to Si Ming.

"In other words—if there is anyone else in this world who can tear open the door, that person must be her."

The cards spun in Siming's palm, their surfaces dimming, their afterimages blurry like shattered dreams.

He looked at the card and murmured, "She's trying."

Natasha replied softly, "But the 'door' isn't something you can just open whenever you want."

"And you-"

She looked at Si Ming, her tone suddenly becoming calmer and more direct than ever before.

"It may be the only anchor point she can connect with."

Si Ming lowered his eyes, his fingertips slowly tightening.

"Ruoli..."

He murmured that name, and a dormant string deep within his heart suddenly trembled.

It's not joy.

It's not hope either.

It is a fear that is almost paradoxical.

It was as if a part of him already knew who she was, but dared not admit it.

“You shouldn’t have been her anchor point,” Natasha whispered.

"Because it will be exposed once she comes in."

“Its identity has been exposed.”

"Expose who you really are."

Silence fell, and Si Ming raised his head, his gaze piercing through the sky that had been repeatedly crushed by smoke and war.

Today is the fifth day.

The black moon has not yet risen.

The light has not yet arrived.

But the wind has already risen.

The wind swept through the ruins and corpses, blowing across the Destiny Card in his hand, swirling up the card's dust and scorched earth, like some unseen force whispering, approaching, waiting—

Next scene.

"Reinforcements have not arrived, and it is not yet dawn."
You thought you had survived a trial.
But some people, outside of fate, are also tearing open the boundaries of the world.

If the door really opens, the person who walks in...

Is he a savior, or a new player in the game?

(End of this chapter)