Secret World: I Became a God Through Lies

Chapter 459 Wine and Illusory Fragrance
"Some gods do not manifest a physical form."

They only need a breath to make you forget you are breathing.

—From "The Final Train: A Chronicle", page 3

Si Ming sat at the bar, staring at the small nameplate on the bartender's chest.

"8? Waiter number eight?... Or is 8 your score?"

The bartender smiled and shook his head, his voice gentle: "Sir, you're joking."

As he spoke, he reached out and took the ice water, then naturally poured it onto an inconspicuous cactus at the end of the bar.

A faint fragrance spread out.

Is it the scent of flowers? Or the scent of wine? Si Ming couldn't tell for a moment.

The bartender leaned down, his tone unhurried: "Even if it's truly an eight out of ten, sir... how do you intend to hunt me down?"

Si Ming fiddled with the freshly mixed cocktail between his hands, the liquid reflecting a faint smile beneath his mask.

"Of course—that's right."

The playing cards suddenly shot out of his palm, raining down on the bartender.

However, the moment the card touches the opponent, a ripple spreads through the air, like a reflection falling into water, and vanishes instantly.

The bartender, still smiling, said softly:

"Guest, you look exhausted. Drink this and get some sleep."

When you wake up... perhaps it will be the moment the train arrives at the station.

The sound seemed to emanate from the depths of the wine.

Si Ming's eyelids grew heavier and heavier, and an unprecedented weariness swept over him.

The faint fragrance in my nasal cavity was rapidly becoming stronger.

—The world seemed to shake along with it, and the vision of the Fate Master suddenly split open.

In my left eye, there was still that quiet, old-fashioned mahogany bar.

The warm yellow light shone on the polished bar counter, making everything seem normal.

The bartender's figure was blurry and serene under the light, yet strangely indistinct; his face seemed to be lightly veiled by mist, making it impossible to see clearly.

But in the right eye, the scene is completely different—the same bar, but it has long since decayed as if it had been buried underground for thousands of years.

Moss and decaying fungi covered every grain of wood, viscous spores floated in the air, and green sap dripped from the lamps.

The bartender's face was already rotting open, with wriggling vines crawling beneath the skin, as if blood vessels and plant roots had merged into one.

Two worlds overlapped before his eyes, like a double illusion, or like two real mirrors.

"Which one... is the real one?" The thought flashed through Siming's mind, but her thoughts were as slow as if she were stuck in a quagmire.

The faint fragrance in my nasal cavity grew stronger and stronger.

Is it the smell of wine? The smell of flowers? Or—the poisonous fumes from plants growing in the grave soil?

His nerves gradually went numb. The sound began to draw out, and the air seemed to freeze.

Even the bartender's deep voice seemed to come from a great distance: "Guest... have a drink... it will help you relax..."

Si Ming felt his thought process slowing down. He reached out his hand, his movements so slow they were almost like those of a puppet.

In my left eye, there was a glass of amber-colored whiskey, the glistening ice reflecting a soft light.

In his right eye, however, it was a disgusting container filled with grayish-white eyeballs and green pus, with bubbles churning and whispering.

My fingers involuntarily came together and gripped the cup.

The coldness of the liquor seemed to freeze his nerves.

The rim of the cup rested on my lips.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the bartender's enigmatic smile.

Then, he suddenly realized a detail:
On the left side of the bar, there is a pot of emerald green cactus with small white flowers.

On the right, in that rotten ruin-like illusion—in the same spot, there was another cactus, with thorny branches, identical flowers, and even the cracks in the flowerpot were exactly the same.

Two worlds of illusion, the only thing that remains the same.

Si Ming's heart sank suddenly.

That cactus was staring at him.

The rim of the cup almost touched my lips and teeth.

The liquid churned and bubbled, and eyeballs collided merrily within it, making a crackling sound.

Siming's breathing quickened, the fragrance of flowers and wine mingling deep in his nostrils, winding around his thoughts like silk threads.

Just as the liquid was about to pour into his throat—

Time stood still.

The bartender's smile froze, and the glass that Si Ming held in his hand also stopped in mid-air. All smells and sounds seemed to have been sucked away, leaving only a suffocating silence.

The next moment, a hand suddenly grabbed the top calyx of the cactus next to the bar.

"—!" A piercing shriek burst forth from the flower, like a metal blade slicing through the universe. The entire still world shattered abruptly; the bar, the bartender, the glasses… all turned into countless shards of glass, scattering from the sky.

Only one person emerged from among these fragments—Si Ming.

He held the cactus in his hand, his fingertips digging deep into the calyx, his gaze sharp and cold, yet a faint, ambiguous smile played on his lips.

"The Great Old One, the God of Mars, the Sleeper of Lavomos—Usum."

His whispers echoed in the shattered illusion, as if he were preparing a coffin for the phantom.

When I looked up, the carriage was no longer a quiet mahogany bar, but had abruptly transformed into a huge freight car.

The railway tracks rumbled, and darkness surrounded them, with only a colossal object looming before them.

It was an extremely bizarre plant.

The bluish-white bulbs, like mountains, filled half the carriage, their surfaces covered with countless swollen roots, each like a pale human arm, trailing saliva-like sap.

Thick branches spread out and are covered with wriggling vines, resembling a living cage.

At the top, a crimson calyx slowly unfolds, its petals revealing strange patterns that resemble an open eye.

In the very center of the calyx, a tiny, pearly figure appears and disappears, as delicate as an innocent elf, yet exuding a chilling aura in its smile.

Si Ming slowly tossed the cactus in his hand to the ground with a muffled thud.

His gaze fell on the enormous calyx—someone had embedded a metal plaque at the base of the petals.

The nameplate gleamed with a cold light, and only one number was engraved on it:
27.

Si Ming chuckled softly, his tone as if he were gambling with fate:
"Is this your score? — Usum."

The calyx made a loud bang, and the air was torn apart.

The petals of Usum suddenly closed, and the crimson vine whip lashed down, whistling sharply and making the entire carriage tremble.

Countless vines entwined around the green leaves and lashed out, like giant mouths biting and lunging at Si Ming.

Each leaf vein dripped a foul-smelling liquid, splashing onto the metal floor and corroding it into smoking holes.

The figure of the God of Fate leaped and darted among the green leaves. A white clown mask appeared and disappeared in the mist, as if mocking the gods of old.

He nimbly dodged the combined attack of petals and vines, and the moment he landed, several man-eating calyxes suddenly opened, spewing out three different colors of deadly poisonous gas, their fangs bared, and they all lunged at him.

"...Tsk."

Si Ming bent down, his entire body disappearing into the swirling poisonous gas.

The carriage was instantly enveloped in a verdant mist, the air thick with the scents of flowers and the stench of blood. Time seemed to stretch out, and every moment could be a chance to drown one in the illusion.

However, just when the poisonous fog was at its thickest—

A white figure suddenly broke through the fog.

The clown's expression on the mask of the Fate Master twisted in the firelight. He raised his hand and waved it, sending countless playing cards flying out of his palm.

The cards instantly burst into flames, transforming into deep red lotus flowers of fire that rapidly bloomed in the air.

—Evil Fire.

The flames lunged at the roots of Usum, clinging to them like a maggot clinging to a bone.

Flames surged through the pale vines, which twisted and struggled wildly, accompanied by shrieks and cracking sounds, turning the entire carriage into a burning hell in an instant.

Si Ming's figure flashed, stepping onto the huge crimson calyx.

The firelight illuminated his back as he looked down at the illusory figure at his feet, his tone carrying a flippant chill:
"Burn to ashes in this world-burning inferno—Usum."

boom!
The flames burst forth.

The entire carriage was instantly engulfed in flames.

Si Ming leaped lightly down, his back gracefully disappearing through the sea of ​​fire. He pushed open the train door and entered the next carriage.

The leaderboard above the head is updated accordingly:

[Si Ming - Points: 32 - Rank: Ninth]

……

The fire gradually died down, and the ruins fell silent.

A figure slowly appeared; it was a mysterious man dressed in a train conductor's uniform.

He leaned on his cane, looked at the charred remains of plants, and shook his head slightly.

"Although it's just an illusion of Usum..."

He muttered to himself, a meaningful smile playing on his lips:

"But to be able to break the illusion so cleanly and efficiently... Si Ming truly lives up to his reputation."

"For those who slept in the past, dreams and the fragrance of flowers are their prison."

If you dare to tear open the illusion, you must gamble with the gods—a gamble that will ignite something extraordinary.

—From the Forbidden Records of Lavomos, fragments

(End of this chapter)