Secret World: I Became a God Through Lies

Chapter 491 Evening Bell Tavern: Old Shadows and New Beginnings
Laughter can mask amnesia.

A wine glass can conceal murder.

In the shadow of the evening bells,
Everyone was wearing masks while drinking.

—"Tavern Ballads"

The cold, impersonal system announcements still echoed in the air above the tavern.

[Player: Si Ming]

[Through the dungeon: Hell Post Office]

[Number of levels cleared: 1]

【Points: 2009】

[Already logged into the leaderboard]

The members of the Brotherhood of the First Eye had faces as stiff as stone.

The knight commander, who had just been loudly mocking, now seemed to have been slapped in the face, a sentence stuck in his throat that he couldn't utter.

The monks' whispers ceased, and the young men in Shinto attire exchanged glances, their eyes darting around.

The air froze for a few seconds.

Then, the knight commander flicked his cloak and snorted coldly, "Let's go!"

The voice was muffled and hoarse, filled with barely concealed embarrassment.

They turned and left, their footsteps thumping heavily on the tavern's wooden floor.

The attendants, who had been whispering and chuckling, now fell silent, only daring to lower their heads.

The tavern's brass bells jingled again as they pushed open the door to leave.

The sound was crisp, yet it seemed to mock their defeat.

The atmosphere eased.

A young man wearing a white clown mask leaned against the doorway, scratching his head, his tone full of confusion:

"What's wrong with them? Why are they all staring at me like that, like they've seen a ghost?"

His tone was casual, even joking, instantly easing the tense atmosphere.

Several drinkers couldn't help but chuckle softly, as if a taut string had finally been released.

Isabel slowly stepped forward, her expression finally relaxing a bit.

She bowed respectfully to Director Ruoli, a faint smile playing on her lips.

"With the mission accomplished, my task is complete."

She paused, her voice low and soft, yet carrying a resolute sense of farewell:

"Director Ruoli, please allow me to take my leave."

Ruoli's gaze was calm as she nodded gently: "Go."

Isabel bowed slightly, then turned and left.

Her figure was quickly swallowed up by the lights and crowds outside the tavern.

Only Si Ming and Ruo Li remained in the tavern.

The atmosphere was no longer one of tense confrontation and oppression, but rather a wonderful sense of ease and tranquility.

The tavern quieted down.

Only the flickering lamplight and the soft clinking of glasses could be heard.

Si Ming walked to the bar, turned slightly to the side, and his gaze fell on Ruo Li.

Before me stood a graceful and elegant noblewoman.

Her clothes were exquisite, and her every move exuded a composure born of long experience with power.

She was beautiful, yet not frivolous; it was as if she was meant to stand there.

However, in Si Ming's eyes, this figure slowly overlapped with another image deep in his memory.

—That was under the laboratory lights.

The keyboard clattered, and code rolled on like a tide.

Lu sat in front of the screen, his eyes bloodshot, his hands still tapping incessantly.

Suddenly, a soft yet heavy force rushed up from behind.

"Hey, Xiao Lu."

Li Youhua's laughter was loud and clear, as pleasant as drinking a glass of wine.

She spread her arms and shoved Lu's head deep into her chest, patting him gently: "Relax, don't die suddenly from typing on your keyboard."

"You...you can't—!"

Lu struggled, but was pinned down and unable to move, his voice muffled.

Li Youhua laughed even harder: "Hahaha, look, your face is all red."

She leaned closer, half teasing and half concerned: "You stay up all night every day, do you want me to sleep with you?"

Lu was stunned, his ears burning hot.

Li Youhua just blinked and continued laughing: "Just kidding, relax a bit."

—Fragments of memories have scattered.

Si Ming came to his senses and looked at Ruo Li in front of him.

The laughter, the unrestrained manner, the overly intimate gestures—all of it is gone.

At this moment, Ruoli simply smiled calmly and serenely.

"You're really lucky, Siming."

Her voice was dignified, yet carried an unquestionable authority.

"Now that you're back, get some rest."

"Then, restore your level and Cataclysm level as soon as possible."

"We're waiting for you."

Si Ming remained silent for a moment, then a slow smile appeared on the corners of his mouth beneath the mask.

"understood."

He spoke of it casually, as if he were agreeing to something insignificant.

But only he himself knew the turmoil in his heart.

Ruoli stood up, taking her entourage with her, along with the oppressive aura emanating from her.

The tavern fell silent again.

Only at the far end of the bar, a young man wearing a white clown mask leaned against a high stool.

He raised his hand in a languid tone and said, "A glass of tequila, please."

The bartender nodded and pushed the drink towards him.

The amber liquid rippled gently under the dim light, and the glass reflected distorted flames.

Si Ming picked up the cup and gently swirled it.

He didn't rush to drink, but slowly watched the reflection in the wine.

Si Ming rested his chin on his hand, deep in thought:
"Above the Star Calamity...?"

"Hmm, sounds like Xuanweizi's doing." "How much did they add after I left?"

He smiled softly, but the smile carried a hint of irony and nostalgia.

Deep in my memory, that strange man in yellow who always liked to hide 'Easter eggs' in the code seems to be sitting in front of the screen opposite him again.

"...I really want to see how he'll be laughing right now."

Si Ming took a sip of the tequila, and the spiciness of the tequila instantly slid down his throat, bringing a burning sensation.

He tilted his head back, and the smile on his mask looked even more bizarre in the glow of the wine.

Inside the tavern, the noise from outside seemed exceptionally distant.

He slowly exhaled, raised his glass, and gently touched it to the glass in the dim air, as if he were drinking with his past self.

The atmosphere was relaxed, yet tinged with a hint of loneliness.

That kind of loneliness is not "being alone", but "understanding deep down that only I can walk this road".

Deep in his eyes, there was still a hint of wariness that he couldn't hide.

he knows--

Towers have never been peaceful places.

Even this glass of wine could be coveted.

The amber liquid in the wine glass was still half full.

Si Ming held the rim of the cup with one hand, swirling it slightly, watching the light and shadow refract into crooked lines in the wine.

Just then, a familiar voice suddenly rang in my ears.

It wasn't a bartender, nor was it the whispers of a pub.

Instead, it flowed from his own mind, carrying a familiar sarcasm and sneer.

——The One with a Thousand Faces.

"It's just a low-level dungeon."

The voice was slow and hoarse, as if countless masks were whispering in unison.

"That's how you almost lost your life."

"Siming, your performance is getting more and more boring."

"It makes me... and that great being, feel bored."

Every word was like a cold needle, piercing the air of the tavern.

Sima Ming didn't look up.

He simply swirled the glass in his hand, letting the liquid trace arcs in the glass.

"..."

The corners of his mouth behind the mask curled up slightly, but he didn't make a sound.

He simply lowered his head and took a small sip of wine.

The spiciness of the liquor slid down my throat, a burning sensation mixed with a touch of invigorating clarity.

The air was still for a few seconds, and a suffocating atmosphere enveloped the tavern.

The God of Fate knew this in his heart.

The fact that the Thousand Faces suddenly switched back to this mocking tone means only one thing—

The original surveillance has been reinstated.

This is not a joke between friends.

These are lines from the stage, a whip that forces him to continue performing.

Si Ming shook his head and gently swirled the remaining liquid at the bottom of the cup in the light.

He didn't argue.

No explanation.

No emotion was expressed.

He only drank that one sip of the spicy liquor with a light touch.

This is both a response and a cover-up.

The last sip of wine in the glass was spicy and fiery.

The God of Fate tilted his head back and drank it all in one gulp.

The heat of the agave slid down his throat, and he exhaled a long breath, as if expelling the remaining pent-up emotions in his chest.

He looked up and gazed at the square outside through the dimly lit tavern window.

—That giant leaderboard was flashing coldly.

The names on the leaderboard shone brightly, and the records of the strong individuals hung high, as if looking down on all the newcomers below.

At the very bottom, the name of the God of Fate hangs quietly there:
【Si Ming】

[Number of layers: 1]

【Points: 2009】

Unremarkable, not glamorous, yet it truly exists.

He silently calculated in his mind:
"Since we've encountered Youhua..."

"Then the others... must be inside the tower as well."

"Find them, find the right opportunity, and awaken them."

This is the next move in the game.

It is also the only direction.

Si Ming smiled gently, placed the wine glass on the bar, and it made a crisp "ding" sound.

Then he pushed open the wooden door of the tavern.

squeak-

Outside, the lights were bright and the crowds were huge.

The sounds of hawking, shouting, and clamor blended together to create a roar like ocean waves.

The leaderboard gleamed coldly under the dome's light, as if reminding everyone:
This is the hunting ground.

This is the stage.

Si Ming's figure disappeared into the lights and crowds.

It was inconspicuous, yet shrouded in an invisible sharpness.

The stage has been changed.

The next scene is slowly unfolding.

The wine was finished and the guests had left.

The laughter and mockery subsided into silence.

But the figure that walked out of the tavern...

They are already planning for a new stage.

—From *The Secret Manuscript of Evening Bell Pavilion*

(End of this chapter)