Secret World: I Became a God Through Lies

Chapter 356 The Three Royal Decrees: The Lion King's Last Words
"True kingship is not commands, cards, or flags."

Even when you are on your deathbed, there are still people willing to take your life.

—From *Fragments of Royal Power: Herbal Testament of Henrian: Seal*

The wind swept through the top of the palace tower, fluttering the golden lion banners on the walls, their sound echoing softly over the city of Trean.

The voice seemed to come from the distant past, from that fateful moment, speaking in a heavy and secretive tone.

Forty years ago, Henrian was not a king.

He was merely a prince's younger brother, at the very end of the line of succession, a young man whose star chart had not even fully materialized—until he stepped into the world of the gate called "Crimson Ring Boundary," venturing alone into the abyss of fate.

There was no rescue there, only a death tide of crystal worms.

He struggled, was injured, and was on the verge of death. Just as he was about to close his eyes and accept a meaningless death, a pale starlight pierced the darkness.

A massive, pale war lion stood atop the dark chasm, its gaze as cold and arrogant as flames looking down upon him.

That is the wildness of antiquity, a mystery that is never easily bestowed upon humankind.

Henrian reached out his hand without hesitation, as if fate had already whispered the ending to him.

High-tier Life-type Mystic Card: Lion King's Soul - Pale Lion

The covenant's attribute: Summons a giant, pale lion to fight for its holder.
Mysterious Entry 1: Lion King's Body - Grants the holder strength and agility beyond human limits.

Mysterious Attribute 2: Roar of Will - The holder is immune to any mind control and can boost the morale of the entire army with a roar.
Mysterious Attribute 3: Lion Soul Unity – The holder can merge with the war lion, becoming the "Lion King Warrior," gaining Wild Healing and Invincible Body.

Henrian chose this card, thus embarking on the path of "Empire Builder".

Ten years later, he was no longer young, but had become the "King of the Lions".

With the Lion King's War Spirit as his vanguard, he conquered the four borders and thirteen vassal states, uniting the shattered lords into an empire through blood and fire.

The most awe-inspiring scene was when he entered the main hall of the Harlan tribe alone, shattered the seal of Mirror Lake with the roar of the lion king, and forced the Harlan queen to submit.

He stood before the mirror, covered in blood, his voice deep and authoritative, as if a judgment had been handed down:

"What you see is no longer me. It is the will of Trelian destiny itself."

Behind him, the roar of the pale war lion shook the entire Mirror Lake.

But emperors did not only wage war.

In the eighth year of his reign, he stepped into the Royal Treasury, personally unlocking the gate sealed by a century-old curse, and received the true "Core of Royal Power" belonging to Trelian:
High-tier World-type Mysterious Card: "King's Destiny: The Thirteenth Silent Island"

The covenant's inscription: Summons a closed, miniature world with its own spatial laws; only the Word of the Gate can open its entrance.

Mysterious Entry 1: Forbidden Realm – Anyone designated as a traitor by the holder can never leave this realm without a royal decree.

Mysterious Attribute 2: Life Mark Substitution - When the holder faces a fatal attack, the fatal damage can be transferred to a loyalist within the Silent Island.

Mysterious Entry 3: Sect Leader Succession – Only members of the Terian royal family can inherit the position. If the succession fails, the sect will spiral out of control, and the taboos will be unleashed.
This is not a simple card game; it is the empire's deepest prison and most secretive gateway.
It embodies the majesty of royal power and the terror of darkness, imprisoning unspeakable celestial calamities, mysteries, and the souls of sinners.

Henrian understood that from this moment on, his life, his soul, and his destiny were completely intertwined with the fate of the empire.

When the empire was at its peak, it was glorious; when it declined, it was like today, teetering on the brink of collapse. Now, he is bedridden and unable to rise, and the empire is shrouded in a fog of turmoil and conflict.

At this moment, the card lay quietly in a golden box deep within the royal palace, awaiting the arrival of the next "gatekeeper." Meanwhile, the hidden whispers continued to emerge from the darkness behind the door:

"Is the king... going to die?"

What truly cemented his status as a Trean legend was the legendary battle known as the "Battle of the Dead Flame."

The North Sea Alliance surrounded him like a raging tide, and he piloted his newest warship, the "Royal Rose," straight into the enemy lines.

After five days and five nights of bloody battle, the warship was nearly sunk, and all around were whispers of despair and mockery:

"Do emperors also have a death day?"

Henrian stood on the bridge and coldly replied, "No, I am still the king."

In that instant, a miracle occurred.

The warship restarted from destruction, with ghosts swirling on its decks. These were the indomitable souls of the fallen soldiers, the glory that refused to fade into oblivion, and the brief gaze of the "Sleeping Lord" upon the emperor.

High-tier World-type Mysterious Card: *The Ghost Ship: Saint Trean Royal Rose*

The covenant's attribute: Summon a 10,000-ton ghost warship and control the surrounding seas.
Mysterious Entry 1: Necromancer Returns – Fallen soldiers become ghosts and continue fighting.

Mysterious Entry 2: Rotating Barrage - Infinite Firepower, lasts for five minutes, cooldown after five minutes.
Mysterious Entry 3: Lone Charge - Captain activates a 20-minute invincibility and unlimited ammo mode (limited to once per day).
He stood at the bow of that ghostly warship, his gaze burning like flames, as if the fate of the entire empire rested on his shoulders:

"My journey will only end as long as the empire exists."

The sound of the wind from that day still lingers.

Deep within the royal palace, layers of curtains hung low like cloud shadows. The air was filled with the bitter and chilly fragrance of burning pine resin from the cold forest and mysterious life-sustaining powder, as if trying to conceal some impending end.

King Henrian VII of the Lion King leaned against his throne, his faint breaths like embers in the twilight, as if they might be extinguished at any moment.

He opened his eyes heavily, stared at the faded golden lion relief on the curtain, and finally murmured to himself:

"...So, I'm still alive."

The imperial physician and his attendant, with tears in their eyes, stepped forward to speak, but he slowly raised his hand to stop them.

“Go and summon my children…” His voice was like an old wooden plank humming in the wind, “I don’t know how many more nights this fire of fate can burn.”

The doors opened silently, and Orion stepped into the hall.

He was dressed in military uniform, with a snow-white sword at his waist, and his steps were firm and powerful.

He knelt on one knee, his face handsome yet cold, with a hint of suppressed anxiety between his brows.

"Father." His voice was low, but he couldn't suppress the longing in his heart.

Henrian looked at his eldest son, whom he had personally groomed into the "most perfect heir," his eyes swirling with complex emotions, his voice weary yet reaching the very depths of Orion's soul:
"You've come, Orion... You've been gazing at this throne for a long time, haven't you?"

Orion raised his head, his gaze intense yet restrained: "What I ask for is nothing more than to shoulder more responsibility for the empire."

"The Royal Mandate Chart is what you desire most," Henrian pointed to the sealed box beside him, "but do you think that obtaining it will make you a true king?"

Orion's eyes flickered slightly, but he replied firmly, "Isn't that so?"

Henrian sighed deeply, his eyes like blades piercing the soul:

"What you really lack is not a blueprint... but someone willing to die for you. Unfortunately, you've never had such a person."

His voice turned cold, tinged with sorrow:

"You only have desires, but you never have the determination to sacrifice yourself for the empire."

Orion's expression changed drastically, his fists clenched slightly, but he could no longer speak.

Henrian waved his hand, indicating: "Step back. You will get what you want... but not today."

Orion left in silence, his steps heavy as the deep sea.

The moment Medici stepped into the palace, the entire space seemed to be suddenly sealed off by frost.

Her black royal robes seemed to absorb all the light, her face was cold and sharp, and her eyes no longer held any desire for the throne, only a fanatical longing for the word "god".

Henrian looked at her, trembling, and spoke for the first time as a father, not as a king:
"Meddes... I understand you don't love the Empire, nor do you love me, your father... But I beg you to abandon that path to the Cataclysm... Those sacrificed maidens should not be your ladder to godhood." Medici paused for a moment, then slowly approached, leaning close to whisper in his ear, her voice like an icy needle in the darkness:
"Royal power? What a fleeting and pathetic illusion."

"Just like you, Father, your life was but a candle in the wind, while I am embarking on the path of calamity—when the blood moon descends, I will be eternal."

Henrian grabbed her wrist suddenly, with a force as if trying to hold onto her soul:
"You will destroy the entire empire, you will turn all people to dust..."

Medici interrupted him coldly:
"Only from the dust can a divine throne be raised."

She turned and left, her steps like the blade of judgment.

Henrian leaned back on the couch, tears silently streaming down his face. He finally understood that his strongest daughter had embarked on a path of no return.

Two slender shadows, like reflections in a mirror, entered the palace. Arthur and Victorian stood before Henrian.

They did not bow, but simply gazed at the soon-to-be-retired king with an air of "equality."

Henrian slowly raised his head, his voice almost a whisper in his sleep:
"You've already made up your minds?"

Victoria didn't answer, a subtle, unfathomable smile playing on her lips. Arthur, however, responded gently:
"Yes, Father. And I think you don't mind."

Henrian sighed softly, closed his eyes, as if accepting his fate:

"I am powerless to interfere."

After a brief silence, Arthur turned and left, glancing back as he went, his voice like a fleeting phantom:

May the lion rest in eternal sleep.

A few moments later, Edel strode into the palace. He was dressed in the simplest court attire, his expression flustered and confused, and he trembled almost uncontrollably as he knelt on one knee.

At this moment, however, for the first time, Henrian showed a hint of relief beyond his exhaustion. He slowly placed a folded, mysterious card into Edel's palm:
"The Royal Rose is now yours."

Edel was shocked and panicked: "Father, I...I am not worthy..."

Henrian smiled weakly, his voice a whisper like sand running dry:
“You are most like me, Edel. Remember your oath, not of loyalty to the throne, but of commitment to the people.”

Edel was about to speak again, but Henrian stopped him with a weak but resolute wave of his hand.

As he stepped out of the royal palace, Edel felt the card in his hand tremble like a heartbeat, as if it were awakening along with his destiny.

The curtains fell again, and silence returned to the hall. Henrian closed his eyes, his rose scepter slipping slightly from his hand, but he did not pick it up again.

His voice murmured in the hall, as if he were talking to himself:

"My empire...may you find a glimmer of light after the storm."

Deep within the royal palace, silence reigned like an abyss. The sound of curtains falling was as soft as silk, and even the golden lion banners on the window lattices seemed to have lost their last breath.

A soft yet firm footstep sounded.

Liseria stepped into the palace, her plain dress flowing like moonlight, her hair light yet bearing the heavy glow of a long night.

She gazed at her father on the bed—the once mighty Lion King who rode a pale lion and surveyed the vast lands of the empire, now as weak and pale as a candle wick about to burn out.

She slowly knelt down, her voice trembling softly:

"Father..."

Henrian slowly opened his eyes; those pupils that once made a million soldiers tremble were now dull and lifeless.

He gazed at Liseria, his eyes as deep as distant stars, and asked softly:

"Liseria... what are you looking at?"

Liseria was startled, thinking her father was already losing consciousness, and quickly grasped his hand, tears welling up in her eyes:

“I am right here, Father. I have never left.”

Henrian smiled slightly, a clear and sharp glint suddenly flashing in his eyes—the kingly aura that had once terrified his enemies.
"No, you're not looking at me. What you're seeing in your eyes is... the whole of Trelian."

Liseria was suddenly jolted, her heart churning with turmoil. In that moment, she finally realized that her father had never been deceived; he had always known the deepest desires in her heart.

Henrian gripped her hand tightly, a burning heat emanating from his palm, as if he wanted to use his last strength to infuse something into his daughter's lifeline:

“In your eyes, there is a light that your older brother and sisters will never have. It is not the desire for power, but... faith.”

His voice was deep and powerful, piercing through the veil of royal authority:
"What the Empire needs is not an heir, but a successor who can bear the fate of Trelian."

A surge of intense power suddenly flowed from Henrian's palm into Liseria's.
A silvery-white life line suddenly appeared, like a lazy yet majestic lion that had just awakened.

It opened its eyes and gazed at her calmly.

"Liseria, you must stand up, whether you lead Edel or go it alone."

You must thwart their plot and save Trean from burning in the darkness.

Tears welled up in Liseria's eyes as she gripped her father's hand tightly. The fiery life lines on her palm slowly settled, and the silver lion seemed to whisper a question:

"Are you ready to bear this heavy flame?"

Henrian finally succumbed to his weakness and slowly closed his eyes. Physicians and court sorcerers rushed in, activating life-stabilizing spells to desperately try to preserve that last glimmer of life.

But everyone understood that at this moment, the Lion King truly entrusted his lifeline and soul to the successor he had finally chosen.

Liseria walked out of the royal palace, and the heavy doors of the palace slowly closed behind her, as if tolling mournful bells for the soul of an imperial father.

She stood in the corridor, the first rays of dawn from the east shining down, illuminating her pale yet resolute face, and also revealing the faintly pulsating life line on her palm.

The silver lion silently opened its eyes, its gaze fixed on the depths of her soul. It neither roared nor charged, but simply watched her calmly.
"Trian's fate will henceforth be in your hands."

She looked up at the distant capital, and familiar yet shadowy faces floated into her mind:

Orion, the throne-chasing man full of desire but lacking any sense of responsibility;
Medici, the ruthless woman who treads a path of blood from thousands to try and ascend to the throne of the gods;

Arthur and Victorian, the mysterious figures who lurk behind the throne like shadows;
And then there's Edel, the older brother who, though still unawakened, already bears the heavy burden of the empire's future.

She—who should have been outside this conflict—was chosen by the flames of fate.

She spoke softly but firmly to herself:

“Father, I will not let you down. I am not fighting for that throne forged of gold and vanity…”

"I will fight for the millions of people in this empire, for those who dare not even light the lamp of dreams."

"From this day forward, I am no longer a royal orphan; I am the inheritor of the flame."

She slowly raised her head, took firm steps into the morning light, and walked towards the stage that fate had laid out for her.

She knew that once she took this step, there was no turning back. Her destiny mark no longer belonged to her alone, but to every soul of the empire.

Because she is no longer the heir, she is the successor of the flame.

—The last glimmer of hope for the empire.

"The three royal decrees are not the glory of a king, but the plea left by a father."

What he inscribed with his lifeline was not the right to destiny, but rather—the ability to ensure that children continue to protect this nation.

—From *The Edge of the Star Map: The Lion King: The Final Chapter*

(End of this chapter)