Secret World: I Became a God Through Lies

Chapter 274 The Key to the Sinking Star
"If you gaze upon the stars, are they also waiting for you to name them?"
The tenth star may not be a god, it might just be—

You acknowledge that you still crave evidence to be illuminated.

Do you want to live?

Then light it.

On the fifth day at noon, it was torn by the wind into an old, yellowed canvas.

Above the factory ruins, streaks of reddish-brown light streamed down from the cracks in the broken cranes, like torn pages written by fate, nailed to this scorched earth after the fire had burned out.

Xiao Lianyin was still asleep. The fox flame had long since extinguished, leaving only a faint warmth on her fingertips.

Rudolf leaned against a protective panel, his breathing erratic. His left leg remained temporarily immobilized by a metal brace.

The broken bones and nerve damage prevented him from getting up. He could only grit his teeth and record the injuries and on-site data with the precision of an engineer, even though his tone was filled with pain.

Xin Nai and Mu Sisi were lying on the ground repairing the runes on the barrier. Their movements were slow, but they carried a calmness tempered by the flames of war.

After the battle, everyone was in a precarious state.

Si Ming sat alone on a section of the collapsed wall of a three-story building, his back against the still-warm concrete frame. The wind howled in front of him, and the star map of his destiny quietly appeared on his wrist.

Nine stars of reason, like nine flickering candles, burn with a faint flame between light and dust, each pulse seemingly struggling in the wind, as if they could be extinguished at any moment.

That's all there is to him now—

Nine Stars Critical Point.

His spirit remains.

The [Lord of Destiny] in his hand remained silent, like a sleeping god, awaiting the next chance to be awakened.

At this moment, Vera stepped out from the makeshift medical array.

She was still wearing that mysterious robe with tattered gold patterns, her cuffs stained with blood. In her hand she carried a bottle of highly concentrated life factor injection that still shone with green light. She walked step by step to his side and sat down.

"Is there something you want to ask me?"

She spoke directly, her eyes sharp and piercing, leaving no room for ambiguity.

Si Ming did not answer immediately, but quietly took out a crystal that shimmered with a blue-gold light from his bosom.

Star Diamond.

It was like a fragment of a star compressed to its extreme, trembling slightly at his fingertips, reflecting the light of the still-dark sky.

Vera's pupils contracted slightly, and the next second she reached out and snatched it, examining it repeatedly in the twilight.

Her brows furrowed, and a strange, complex emotion flashed in her eyes.

"...Where did you get this?"

“In a dream,” Si Ming said calmly, “or rather—the Dream Council.”

Vera fell silent.

Her fingertips gently caressed the surface of the star diamond, gazing at the crystal core that seemed to seal the entire flow of destiny, and she whispered:

"This thing... is not an ordinary star-up material."

"It is a primordial star crystal used outside the battlefield for 'non-ritual unsealing'."

"It's usually only issued to one-time special attack Mystics Masters, or..."

She paused, her eyes darkening: "The Anchor of Destiny."

The God of Fate lowered his eyes and asked in return, "Who am I?"

Vera did not answer.

She simply looked up at him, as if confirming something she didn't want to say aloud.

After a long pause, she asked in a deep voice, "What is your current star rating?"

"Nine stars." Siming glanced down at the star map. "No more, no less."

“With nine stars at the maximum, you can indeed apply for the advancement trial and enter the Mirror Chamber of Destiny,” Vera said slowly. “But the problem is, what you completed in the Mirror Chamber was a ‘perfect’ level clearance.”

"That's why you got that."

She raised her hand and gently placed her fingers on the star chart on his wrist.

The card trembled slightly.

A silvery-white card, as thin as a dream, appeared, its surface shimmering with silver patterns.

On the back is an open golden eye.

[Card Name]: Mirror of Fate

【Type】：Destiny Series·Unbound
[Relic Pact Entry]: You can ask it a question, and the mirror will respond in the form of "Three Questions of Fate". Those who choose the true gate can obtain a key leap.

[Note]: Unique completion reward. Can assist the manager in rewriting the star-up structure once.

Vera said softly, "If the Star Diamond is the key, then this 'mirror' is the door."

"Achieving a star rating is not as simple as having a drink."

She withdrew her hand, her tone suddenly becoming heavy:
"You have to tell it—who you are and what you want to become."

"Only then will it construct a new rational star structure for you and activate that tenth one."

"otherwise--"

She paused, her eyes turning slightly cold.

"You will break down."

Si Ming stared at the mirror card, his fingers tracing the outline of the golden eye, remaining silent for a long time.

The wind blew through the ruins, ruffling his slightly disheveled hair.

Then he nodded.

"I'm willing to try."

His voice was calm and composed, yet it carried a silent weight.

Vera did not try to persuade her further.

She knew that this man's decisions were never something that could be dissuaded from.

She simply reached out and pointed to the empty slot for the "tenth star" on his natal chart.

That location—

After a long silence, it remained like an unlit fuse.

"If you can light it."

Vera spoke softly, her tone finally carrying a hint of distant respect and expectation.

"You will be qualified to—activate the secondary mystery."

"The true second force."

"You will enter another dimension."

But the wind kept blowing.

The faint light of nine stars illuminated the ruins.

And that tenth star, which has not yet been lit, yet is faintly restless.

Si Ming slowly rose, the Star Diamond silently in his palm, and the Mirror of Destiny gently hovering above his palm.

At that moment, the setting sun was suddenly obscured by dark clouds, the horizon suddenly darkened, and thick clouds swept in like ink, swallowing the last ray of light.

The wind has risen.

Ripples spread across the mirror's surface, and a faint blue light emerged from its center, like a pointer or the gaze of a god, slowly pointing towards—his heart.

A sound rang in my ears.

Fate is whispering.

"Siming—are you ready to welcome your tenth star?"

"To have more authenticity, you must give more of yourself."

Si Ming closed his eyes, gripped the star diamond tightly in his palm, and pressed the crystal that condensed the source of life into the very center of the life pattern star map.

A beam of light burst forth from the center of the star map, like a spark igniting a raging fire.

The Mirror of Destiny suddenly trembled and exploded with silver light, transforming into rings of ripples that enveloped his entire body.

The next instant—he was swallowed up by the void.

The Mirror Room: Recreation.

It is not space in the physical sense, but a kind of observatory of fate. The mirror is like water, the star diamond is the key, and the body of the Fate Master sinks and dissolves in the vortex of light and will, finally falling into a world that is both familiar and strange.

Unlike last time, there is no star map, no deduction gate, and no reflection here.

There is only a line here.

Countless threads of fate descend from the invisible void, like nerves, like spider webs, or like the intricate logical chains within some enormous machine.

They droop, intertwine, slide, and swell, as if the entire space itself were a dream weaver, trying to weave "who he is" from countless fragments.

Each line connects to a scene.

The God of Fate can "see" them, not with his eyes, but because memories surface and emotions tremble.

—Those moments he lived, died, betrayed, and laughed.

—Those futures he never reached:
He fell into a pool of blood, completely devoured by the Star Calamity's will, his consciousness shattered deep within the system.

He sat on the main seat of the Secret Council, draped in the badge of "Lord of Destiny," but no longer possessed his own name.

He stood in the center of a fictional theater, bowing to the countless audience members in thanks, but his face—was not his own.

The sound rang out again.

It was neither a whisper nor a declaration.

He is the one with a thousand faces.

He did not actually show up.

The tones converged in the mirror room, like a chorus of echoes from countless different individuals, like a composite personality arguing with itself, or like fate itself asking and answering its own questions:
"Welcome back, Si Ming."

"You think you're going to be promoted, but actually you've just entered the 'weaving bureau'."

The threads of fate pierce through the air like a shadow, like a needle, like light, and like some kind of invisible blade.

They quickly extended out, turning the entire space into an invisible spider web.

Familiar faces appeared at the end of the silk thread, like phantoms being drawn along.

Xiao Lianyin.

Vera.

Ruoli.

The weather cleared up.

Zhuang Yege.

...Wang Yichen.

They were all talking.

It was neither a shout nor a question, but a statement of some kind of "inner judgment":

"You are not trustworthy."

"You're the biggest liar among us."

"You're just using fate cards to avoid the real choice."

"You're not human anymore."

"You are the script."

Si Ming stood in the center of countless threads, like a chess piece suspended high above.

All light was stripped away, and all language pierced his consciousness like needles. He wanted to speak, to protest, to argue, but his voice was stuck in his throat, as if the entire space refused to let him speak.

No—it's not a rejection.

It's a reminder.

This is the true stage of the "Chamber of Destiny":

It's not about verifying how many stars you have.

It's to verify whether you deserve the tenth star.

It's about dissecting you, analyzing you, digging out your structure, and seeing whether you are a "person" or a "chess piece".

The threads began to pass through his body, probing into his consciousness and star map.
It records every time he hesitated between life and death, every time he used cards to avoid human choices, and every time he abandoned his own judgment because of the "convenience of fate".

This is a peeling-like advancement.

The tenth star will never ignite without pain.

It belongs only to those who know who they are.

—Si Ming doesn't know yet.

But the mirror room won't wait.

It has already started counting down.

The bells of the Burning Star have already rung.

The Thousand Faces whispered in his ear, the voice like silk threads wrapped around his ear cartilage, both gentle and profound, as if incantations were piercing through the shell of reason:
"You want to ignite the tenth star?"

"Then you need to remember first—who you are."

"Are you the one chosen by fate, or the one who stole the script of fate?" The next moment, the scene flips.

The entire world is being rewoven under the pull of the threads of fate.

Lines intersect, light and shadow shatter, space is reorganized—

Si Ming saw himself standing next to Ruoli, her student, following her across the boundary of the destiny lines, witnessing the miracle of the unfolding star map for the first time.

He saw himself standing behind Wang Yichen, an observer of the same origin as Crazy Thirteen, his hands hidden under his cloak, but his eyes reflecting the same desire: to control the script.

He also saw himself standing before an unknown stellar core, with a gigantic eye, like the ruins of a god, staring at him, and he was called "the next God of Destiny".

The star chart beneath his feet began to tremble violently, its composition reconstructed.

Every star is twinkling, drifting, and deflecting—as if they are losing their sense of belonging to the "main star" and are unable to confirm who the real "him" is.

"You must find—your current self—within this labyrinth."

"Your past self will tempt you to retreat."

"Your future self will tempt you to move forward."

"Only by finding your true self in this moment can you ignite a new sense of reason."

The voice of the Thousand Faces resonated in the air like a spiderweb.

He started walking.

The mirror room transforms into a multi-dimensional labyrinth, where every path slowly changes and every "he" is beckoning.

There was a “him” who wore a priest’s robe and a crown of destiny, and sat on the star chart seat that all looked up to.

He extended his hand and smiled gently:

"I have fulfilled your dream. Come on, entrust the future to me."

Another "he," draped in a gray cloak, huddled in the broken tower, pale-faced, murmuring softly:

"If you take another step, I will die."

Si Ming stood in the middle of the fork in the road, his steps hesitant, his breathing rapid. His eyes scanned back and forth, trying to discern which of the reflections was his true self.

"who are you?"

He asked each of his "selves".

But none of them answered him: "I am who I am now."

He finally understood.

This is not a process of finding answers.

Rather, it is a test of deletion—deleting all false answers.

He began to sever, one by one, the threads of fate that were unrelated to the "present moment."

He refused to become the same entity as Madman Thirteen, he refused to become the successor of the Thousand Faces, and he refused to become the "perfect solution" conceived by others.

"I am not one of you."

With a single stroke, he severed the illusion of the crown of destiny, and the golden threads disintegrated and scattered like shards of light.

"I'm not him."

He shattered the theater of his childhood dreams with a single blow, and those imagined "heroic narratives" collapsed with a deafening roar.

"I don't want to become any existing destiny."

He began to run, tearing through the gaps between the threads, until he reached the end of the mirror room.

That's a mirror.

A mirror without anything.

Its surface is as smooth as water, as cold as death. But only when you reject all illusions and fabrications will it reflect your truest self.

He stood in front of the mirror.

The mirror surface appears.

It was a face he knew all too well.

No longer perfect.

Loss of self-confidence.

No longer as calm as frost.

Instead, it was a weary, scarred woman, whose eyes held both doubt and stubbornness.

This "he" has never appeared in any card entries.

They are not favored by any god.

There is no predetermined position.

But they still stood at the very center of the storm, gritting their teeth and persevering.

"This is you."

"Only by recognizing yourself, who is still struggling, hesitating, yet still yearning to move forward—can you truly 'live'."

At that moment, the mirror vibrated slightly.

—Then it shattered.

The light, like a thunderclap, pierced through the tenth star position on the destiny chart.

The God of Destiny trembled like a crumbling tower in the wind.

But for the first time, his eyes showed no confusion.

On the destiny chart, the tenth star of reason slowly lit up.

It's not about "proving yourself to be great".

It's because they acknowledge that they are not perfect at this moment, that the cracks and scars still exist, yet they are still willing to move forward.

At this moment, Siming's body floated quietly in mid-air, the light and wind stagnated, and his aura was restrained as if it were still.

The Mirror of Destiny had already shattered into billions of points of light during the Star Ascension Trial. However, the fragments did not disperse but instead slowly rotated around him, condensing into a starlight array.

The nine stars of reason are arranged in order, and the tenth—

At this moment, it slowly ignites, like the dawn piercing the night.

It neither burns nor flickers.

It simply floated there steadily and quietly, radiating a soft, almost pure white light.

Unlike any of the previous stars.

It is neither like passion nor like an explosion.

It is more like a true "self".

Quiet, solitary, yet unshakable.

“…It’s a success.” Hermann stood at a distance and let out a soft sigh.

Outside the temporary medical barrier set up after the war, an energy barrier is surrounding Siming to prevent his spiritual domain from slipping out of control.

Everyone remained silent, their eyes all focused on him.

Vera stood closest, slightly raising her hand to shield herself from the swirling sandstorm, watching the new star embed itself in the center of her destiny chart, the anxiety that had been building up in her eyes for so long finally slowly dissipated.

“He successfully ignited the tenth Star of Reason,” she whispered.

"Ascend to star level on the spot, directly propelled by star diamonds?" Natasha stood frozen, staring at the star map in the sky, her voice still carrying its usual flippancy.

But she couldn't hide the surprise in her voice, "Anyone else would have exploded into a star long ago."

“He is none other than himself,” Zhuang Yege said calmly.

He is—the God of Fate.

Selene leaned against a broken pillar, her long golden-red hair disheveled, her wounds still fresh, but she looked at the star map with a smile: "Only he... dares to ascend to stardom in a place like this."

The wind suddenly stopped.

The starlight faded.

Sima Ming slowly opened his eyes.

His body fell gently, his steps faltering as he landed, but he quickly regained his balance.

Vera immediately stepped forward, steadied his arm, and whispered, "Don't speak. Your senses haven't fully returned."

Si Ming gently shook his head, his voice low and deep, yet revealing a composure that seemed to rise from the depths of the sea:
"I am fine."

There was a long-lost sense of authenticity in that voice.

Like a piece of iron washed clean by flames, just cooled, yet still retaining its heat and sharpness.

The astrological chart on his wrist reappeared.

The ten stars are arrayed like a crown, arranged in layers, exuding an unavoidable sense of oppression.

It is no longer the gambler's frivolity, nor the survivor's caution.

Rather, it is the birth of a manager.

Vera didn't speak immediately, but instead pulled him to sit down by the fire before slowly saying:
"You should have already noticed."

"The tenth star is not just a symbol of power."

"It is—the key to the sub-mystery."

"The activation of the sub-mystery is not a confirmation of permissions, but a... resonance."

"You need to choose a secondary system that resonates with your destiny and try to bind it."

"Can be bound, not checked."

She paused for a moment, her tone grave:

"Instead—victory."

Si Ming looked at her quietly: "What do you mean?"

“Each Mysterious Card is engraved with the ‘Primal Will’.”

"If you want it to submit, you must defeat its true form within its territory."

"Only by defeating it and obtaining its 'true name' can you complete the binding."

"Your real name is the key."

"Have you made your choice?" she asked.

Si Ming nodded slightly and took out the heavy card from his sleeve.

It was a card with a silver-gray chessboard-like sheen. The back of the card depicted an empty corridor and a mirror that never reflected any image.

Card Number: No. 781
[Star Rating]: High-level (Domain Type)

【Category】：World Series

Real Name: Unknown
[False Name]: King of Falsehood, Irostia

[Domain]: Empty Corridor
"I choose it."

Si Ming's tone was low, yet resolute.

"The King of Delusion?" Natasha raised an eyebrow. "The choice of a madman."

“Isn’t this him?” Hermann’s lips curled into a meaningful smile.

"Silence," Vera hissed, then turned to Sirius, her gaze fixed on him. "Then—summon it."

Si Ming slowly raised the card.

The card surface vibrated slightly, and the silver light trembled gently.

A gray-white chessboard pattern instantly unfolded beneath everyone's feet, the air froze, and time seemed to stand still.

Gray fog surged.

A seemingly endless corridor slowly unfolded before everyone's eyes, like a dream.

Space trembled, and the mirror image shattered.

A figure appeared at the end of the corridor—

He was draped in a greyish-white robe, his face was blurred, and his body was weightless, like an illusion reflected when the night met a mirror.

He walked slowly over, bowed deeply, and spoke in a low, resonant voice, like the echo of a starry sea:
"My name is Irostia."

"If you wish to enter into a covenant with me, please step into my corridor."

"Answer me—who are you? What do you want to do? What makes you think all of this makes sense?"

He stretched out his hand.

In the corridor, the wind was still and the sound was gone, and the mirror surface was like a surging tide.

This is more than just a challenge.

This is the only trial on the path to the Mysterious Sub-Path.

—It was a life-or-death battle.

"When you want to become the master of your destiny..."
You must prove it first.

You are not a shadow created by others.

You must walk through that empty corridor.

Looking at myself, who couldn't be reflected in the mirror...
Tell me who you are.
Rather than—who others want you to be.

(End of this chapter)