Secret World: I Became a God Through Lies

Chapter 349 The Feast of Introduction
"The human heart is like a building, with a golden roof and a foundation buried in the mud."

Some pave the ground with blood, others build walls with lies.

—The Secret Advisors of the Royal Capital, Chapter Three of the Old Palace Records
The night unfolded like black velvet, wrapping around the ancient stone pillars and magnificent carpets of the Barletta Manor, as if trying to conceal the former gloom and desolation of this noble mansion located on the edge of the capital.

Today, draped in the illusory shadow of royal glory, it welcomes its belated brilliance.

Sol Barletta stood in the main hall corridor, clutching a glass of deep purple, crystal-clear sweet wine.

He hadn't drunk a drop, yet he was already intoxicated by the glory that was about to come.

His gaze lingered through the intricately carved window lattice as the servants carefully placed the last cluster of crystal-clear frost flowers in the center of the niche, a faint smile playing on his lips.

However, the anxiety and greed hidden in the fine lines at the corners of his eyes were as intense and dazzling as unextinguished ashes.

That day has finally arrived.

A surname that once teetered on the brink of glory and oblivion in the annals of the capital's nobility will, tonight, welcome Prince Orion and three noble councilors who wield significant military and political power.

They came under the pretext of a "manor council tour," but Saul knew perfectly well that their true purpose was to observe "people."

He, the head of the Barletta family, wanted to show these nobles who held the fate of the kingdom in their hands what truly deserved to be chosen.

He turned around, stepped onto the thick velvet carpet, and walked steadily toward the study on the second floor.

Along the way, the azure musk and cinnamon scent from the incense burner permeated the air, mixed with the aroma of beeswax and kerosene, sweet yet oppressive, like a spell inscribed for power.

In the study, Sophie Barletta sat in a dark red velvet armchair, her face calm and melancholy, as if she had already foreseen the irreversible nature of this conversation.

"Father, are you really... determined to do this?" Sophie asked, her voice carrying a hint of deliberately suppressed resistance.

"Aesop Lee, can his appearance really change everything as you wish?"

“Of course.” Thor’s reply was tinged with undisguised arrogance.
“Aesop Lee is no longer the collateral branch boy he once was. He is the new symbol of the Barletta family, the most scarce and needed force in the capital.”

Sophie lowered her head slightly, her eyelashes casting a shadow, and her lips pursed gently, no longer arguing.

She knew all too well that her father had never stopped for anyone's opinion.

Saul walked slowly to the bookshelf and pulled out a parchment with a star chart drawn on it from a row of old scrolls.

As it slowly unfolds, the star map shimmers and glows under the candlelight, appearing almost alive.

"What His Highness Orion wants is not loyalty, but a powerful tool that will allow him to sit on the throne with peace of mind."

His Excellency Prince von Het had already warned him that what the royal family lacked now was no longer empty praise, but rather mystical masters capable of conquering the world with star charts and cards.

He paused, his tone suddenly becoming heavy as lead.
"A ten-star mystery, a master of the world-type wind element, a man who survived a privateering naval battle—tell me, who would refuse such a bargaining chip?"

He turned his gaze to Sophie, his voice low and resolute: "You did very well, the prince truly dotes on you."

If your brother doesn't mess things up tonight, he might still be able to get a new name.

But the only person who could truly hold onto Orion and ensure that the name of Baleta would endure in the capital was Aesop Lee.

He is our only true strength.

He emphasized the word "strength" with extreme force, as if he wanted to crush the lingering shame and powerlessness.

Sophie sighed softly and asked gently, "But Father, have you asked him if he is willing to bear the fate you have given him?"

Upon hearing this, Thor gave a dismissive smile: "Willing? The fate of a family has never required individual consent."

He turned around, his hands behind his back, his gaze deep, as if he could already see the curtain of his own destiny slowly being drawn back.

A gentle night breeze rustled through the air. On a distant tower, Ian—the man known as "Aesop Lee"—gazed silently at the dreamlike nightscape of the capital.

On the back of his hand, the life lines slowly unfolded like fine ink marks, and a ten-star world system star map quietly rotated, with endless mysterious power whispering within.

He could vaguely hear the clinking of wine glasses and the decadent sounds of string and wind instruments coming from the main building of the manor, as if it were a grand ceremony destined to be hypocritical and empty.

Ian smiled slightly, a deep light flashing in his eyes, and murmured softly:

“Siming, you’re right. The world they believe in is nothing but a lie that no one dares to expose.”

He tossed his cloak and slowly walked down the tower.

His figure disappeared into the darkness, like a character about to step onto the stage.

Inside the main hall of the Barletta Manor, candles were lit, and the grand feast was just beginning.

Little did they know, the curtain had only just been raised on this night's drama.

The afternoon in the capital was as oppressive and dull as ever, like a storm that was slow to arrive, lingering in every seemingly calm corner.

Just after the third chime of the tower's bell, a magnificent motorcade drove out of the capital's main gate and slowly proceeded along the riverbank avenue of the Tulip River.

The imperial carriage, adorned with obsidian and cloud-crystal silver rings, was escorted by dozens of Golden Ring Guards clad in mysterious cloaks.

Like a flowing river of power, it slowly flows toward the stage that had already been prepared at the Barletta Manor.

Inside the carriage, Orion leaned against the soft couch, his eyes cold and distant.

His long, slender fingers tapped lightly on the unopened secret letter from Parliament, his brow furrowing slightly.
Seemingly impatient with the upcoming meeting: "What do you think of that Aesop Lee that Sophie mentioned, Rottweiler?"

The Viscount Rowena, sitting opposite me, had eyes as cold and clear as an icy lake.
The soft, yet jarring sound of the intelligence report pages turning in his hand: "Intelligence indicates that this Iso Lee Barletta did not take the official flight route on his return journey."

Instead, they bypassed the port authority and went directly to the Royal Capital Harbour via a 'special channel,' which seems to have ulterior motives.

Orion scoffed, a hint of disdain flashing in his eyes: "What do you think he's smuggling?"

"That possibility cannot be ruled out." Rottweiler's lips curled slightly.

"But more likely, he possessed some 'spoils of war' that had to be 'secretly' smuggled back. Such methods at least prove that his mind is far clearer and more ruthless than that of an ordinary cryptanalyst."

Orion's eyes narrowed slightly, and he said in a deep voice, "You mean, he knows how to hide cards?"

Rowena nodded slightly: "Moreover, he is a wind-type dual-wielding arcane mage of a ten-star world system. Such a configuration is only possessed by the royal family or high-ranking families in the entire capital."

“Then he has a strong hand.” A glint of indifference and unwavering confidence flashed in Orion’s eyes. “It all depends on how he plays it.”

The carriage stopped in front of the Barletta Estate.

Orion stepped out of the carriage. Under the sunlight, his cloak shone like molten gold and flowing silver, and his aura was as proud as that of a born king.

The estate owner, Sol Barletta, bowed to greet him, his tone perfectly humble: "Your Highness's presence is an honor to my humble abode."

Orion nodded slightly, his voice tinged with coldness: "Sophie taught you, not bad."

Thor's expression remained unchanged, his smile deepening: "Sophie merely reminded me that His Highness never lingers for worldly things."

The prince smiled slightly, a hint of sarcasm in his expression: "She always understands me."

After getting out of the car, Rottweiler quickly scanned his surroundings, memorizing the secret defenses and sentry positions inside and outside the manor.

He leaned down and whispered, "They are very well prepared, it seems they are waiting for us to fall into a trap."

Orion's gaze, however, fell on the young man at the entrance of the hall—the young man was dressed in a dark blue military robe, with a reserved demeanor and a face as resolute as a stone carving.

The black and silver mysterious binding band on his wrist carried a kind of chilling, hidden threat.

Orion's gaze narrowed slightly; this person was more complex than he had anticipated.

Thor smiled and led the way: "Your Highness, please follow me. The banquet has been prepared."

—

The glass dome in the center of the banquet hall reflected a golden halo, like a theatrical stage interwoven with threads of fate.

Orion took his seat at the head of the table, his gaze sweeping over the opulent yet unrefined decor. He couldn't help but scoff, "It seems that the wealth of the Barletta family is ultimately nothing but an illusion."

Thor remained calm and raised his glass: "Your Highness has keen insight and wisdom, but the family's foundation can still be cultivated. The key is whether Your Highness is willing to give it a chance."

After three cups of wine, Thor smiled slightly and steered the conversation: "Your Highness's visit today wasn't just for the coming-of-age ceremony of my still-unruly son, Ferrar, was it?" Orion glanced at Ferrar with undisguised annoyance, his voice as cold as a sword:

"He's only suited for copying in the study, not for going to the battlefield. You should understand, what I lack isn't a pen, but a knife."

Thor was not surprised. He smiled calmly and stepped aside to introduce another figure: "Your Highness, please allow me to introduce you to the heir of the Balletta family, who truly belongs to the battlefield."

Aesop stepped forward, his military uniform standing tall and straight like a sword, his eyes cold and resolute.

He knelt slightly on one knee, bowed his head in greeting, and said in a low and calm tone, "Iso Lee Barletta is willing to serve Your Highness with my life. If Your Highness has any doubts, I am willing to testify with my life."

Orion raised an eyebrow slightly, his tone sharp: "How many enemies can your secret techniques intimidate on the battlefield?"

"Victory on the battlefield depends not on numbers, but on mindset."

Aesop Lee’s voice was calm and steady, as if he were whispering, “A chaotic army will be defeated by a thousand soldiers; an elite army can be defeated by a single man.”

Rowena's eyes instantly sharpened like ice blades as he whispered to Orion, "These are not words that ordinary nobles can utter."

Orion finally sat up straight and stared at the person in front of him: "Are you sure your mystery is a World-type Wind-type Double Ten-Star?"

“Indeed,” Aesop Lee said calmly. “They all awakened during naval battles, without being disturbed by external forces.”

The entire room fell into a deathly silence.

The awakening of the Ten Stars Double Mysterious Awakening means that he possesses mysterious potential comparable to that of the royal family's direct descendants.

Bringing such an entity under one's command would not only enhance combat power but also symbolize authority.

Orion took a deep breath: "Your family background seems unclear. Where are your parents?"

“My father died in a naval battle, and my mother died from the backlash of a mysterious force,” Aesop Lee said in a deep voice. “Lord Thor adopted me and gave me a surname. I will repay him in this lifetime.”

Thor couldn't help but speak up: "Your Highness, Aesop Lee not only possesses a talent for mystery, but is also unwaveringly loyal. I implore Your Highness to consider this matter."

Rowena then asked, "What if His Highness's decree contradicts the Council of Nobles?"

"If it aligns with the greater good, I will risk my life to do it." Aesop Lee calmly raised his head, his gaze intense.
“If it goes against the greater good, I will still carry it out with my life. For here, my greater good is Your Highness’s will.”

A cold, sharp glint flashed in Orion's eyes as he chuckled softly:

"Very well, tomorrow at noon, you will fight two of my guards. If you win, I will award you military insignia and make you a candidate for private army."

Thor was so excited he almost trembled, and bowed deeply, saying, "Your Highness is wise."

Orion stood up and glanced at Aesop Lee indifferently: "Remember, I don't like disappointment."

Aesop bowed again, his words carrying a subtle implication: "Your Highness, I have never disappointed you."

Orion turned and left, but Rottweiler stopped at the door and gave Aesop a deep look back at him. In that look, there was no longer trust, but wariness and suspicion.

That night, behind every candlelight in the Barletta Manor lay countless unseen schemes and ambitions, just like the unfathomable darkness behind the young sorcerer's faint smile.

As night falls, the Barletta Estate seems to be draped in a deep blue curtain.

Lights illuminated the manor's main hall, extending along the long corridors and seeping into the garden paths, like burning, secret runes.
It guides those with their own thoughts to the abyss beneath the shadow of fate.

Orion returned to the main guest room specially prepared for him in the manor, took off his cloak, and leaned lazily against the velvet chaise lounge.

He looked up at the golden ring emblem on the dome, remained silent for a moment, and then slowly spoke:
“What do you think of Aesop Lee?” he asked, a rare hesitation in his voice.

Rotvina didn't answer immediately, but silently walked to the side, poured two glasses of wine, picked one up himself, and gently placed the other in front of the prince. His eyes were like ice mirrors as he coldly said:
"He was like a perfectly crafted sword, sharp and flawless, dazzling in its brilliance, yet unsettlingly unfamiliar."

Orion frowned: "Stranger? Does that mean he's inexperienced?"

Rowena shook his head and took a sip of his wine: "No, Your Highness. His perfection is rather suspicious—every word, every action is just right, as if it were meticulously rehearsed."

"You don't believe him?" Orion's gaze turned slightly cold.

“I believe he’s useful, but I absolutely do not believe he’s without guile,” Rowena said calmly but sharply.

Orion chuckled softly, picked up his glass, and swirled the wine inside.

"In the capital right now, which sword isn't poisoned? Compared to that fate-maker from yesterday, at least he knows when to bow his head."

Rottweiler didn't respond; his gaze pierced through the darkness outside the window, silently making a mental note:
Every step Aesop Balletta takes, every lifeline, every mysterious awakening must be thoroughly investigated, with no omissions allowed.

Inside the study on the other side, Saul sat alone in a high-backed chair, his fingers stroking an old silver noble ring.

The flickering, dark orange light of the fire illuminated his calm yet ambitious face. He murmured to himself:

“The prince is tempted. Military status, command authority, even the deputy military post… If things go smoothly tomorrow, he can get everything.”

He picked up his quill, dipped it lightly in ink, and wrote several names on the parchment. His handwriting was sharp as a blade, as if with each stroke he made, he was reshaping the future of the Barletta family.

"I have waited for this day, through a night as deep as an abyss." A dark glint flickered in his eyes.

“Earl? No, that’s just the beginning—the Duke is my destination.”

Meanwhile, atop the tower outside the training grounds, Iso Lee—who should more accurately be called Ian—stood quietly atop the watchtower.

The wind swept through his black robe, ruffling the stray hairs on his forehead.

He gazed at the training ground below the tower, isolated by a mysterious barrier, his face expressionless, yet concealing an endless storm.

He slowly raised his right hand and untied the mysterious binding band wrapped around the back of his hand.

Instantly, a blue-silver ten-star life pattern slowly emerged like a galaxy, its halo spreading out and illuminating the tower as if it were the center of a vortex.

“I bought trust with obedience and tempted doubt with humility, and they did indeed fall into the script written by the God of Fate.”

Ian closed his eyes and whispered, his voice seemingly piercing through the void and reaching the abyss of another self.

“You’re right, Si Ming. They never ask why the sword is drawn, they only ask whether the sword’s sharpness is obedient.”

He opened his eyes, his gaze like that of a colossal beast slowly awakening beneath a frozen winter plain, dark and captivating.

"But they will eventually discover that what they are holding is not an inanimate object, but a dragon that has already awakened."

He tightened the bindings again, and his figure slowly disappeared into the darkness.

Meanwhile, in the guest of honor's quarters, Rowena quietly reported to Orion:
"Your Highness, the candidates for the martial arts demonstration have been selected."

"who is it?"

"Silver Claw Kvita, a three-star Fate Mystery, is skilled in close combat; Fire Fox Liana, a four-star Life-type, is proficient in sustained combat."

Orion raised an eyebrow and chuckled: "Two seasoned veterans here to test a newcomer?"

"If Iso Lee is truly a ten-star world-type, these two are merely a backdrop for him to display his power."

Rowena calmly added, "But if he can't even get past them, he doesn't even deserve to be called a sword."

A cold glint flashed in Orion's eyes, and he nodded slightly: "Then let's see tomorrow whether he is a real sword or just an empty shell."

Inside the manor, the lights gradually went out, and silence enveloped everything, but in everyone's heart, the fire of power struggles had already been ignited.

Tomorrow, this seemingly simple martial arts demonstration will be the true opening night of the theater of destiny.

Those who build walls with lies are not necessarily in high positions.

The humble, bowed eyes often conceal a hint of mockery.

The sword is drawn, but not pointed at the enemy.
But it silently gnawed at its master's hand.
Poison penetrates to the bone,

There is no cure.

—Excerpt from "The Secret Talkers of the Royal Capital: The Old Palace Chronicles: Final Chapter"

(End of this chapter)