Secret World: I Became a God Through Lies

Chapter 514 Flower Street Illusion: The Nightmare of Flowers Opens

Where the red lanterns are lit, the shadows of flowers dance with soul.
Amidst laughter and conversation, the story begins with bloodshed and resentment.

The Flower Nightmare has begun, and the street has become a prison.

—Cherry Blossom Night Street Chronicle

The ruins of Kabukicho at night feel like living in another world.

The broken neon lights flickered on and off, and the scattered billboards swayed in the wind, creaking like dying gasps.

Si Ming and his group of six walked slowly across the street corner.

Scattered cherry blossom petals fluttered in the wind on the street, a scene that should have been romantic, but instead was tinged with a blood-red chill.

Suddenly, pink mist filled the air.

The red lights along the street lit up one by one, as if someone were lighting lanterns one by one from an unseen height.

The lamplight was not warm; instead, it cast long, distorted shadows, as if each figure had been stretched into an alien shape.

“——Gah!”

A piercing bird cry suddenly echoed from the sky.

Dozens of tengu swooped down, their wings twisted, their eyes bloodshot, and their iron beaks gleaming with a cold metallic light.

Their figures flitted back and forth amidst the neon lights of the ruins, like black swords slashing at the ground.

Meanwhile, the shadow of the long-armed ghost stretched out in the fog, its arms like iron chains slicing across the entire street, twisting and rubbing, making a sound like stone slabs tearing against steel bars.

The ruins of Kabukicho now resemble a demon market, filled with indescribable shikigami and strange shadows.

The sound of a shamisen filled the air.

The tone was thin and drawn out, piercing the eardrums, carrying an eerie sound of crying and laughing, as if a ghostly woman was chanting softly.

"hiss--"

Nobuna gripped her katana tightly and exhaled coldly, "They came really fast."

The next instant, the tengu swooped down from all directions, its sharp claws and iron beak aimed directly at the six people.

Si Ming simply chuckled and raised his hand.

Between his fingers, the playing cards scattered with a clatter, transforming into a swirling storm.

Countless sharp playing cards spun around him, as if lifting a wall of paper blades.

The swooping tengu shattered upon contact, their feathers and blood mist mingling and rushing towards them, only to be torn to shreds by the card storm, splattering onto the red lights around the street and staining them with an even more dazzling scarlet.

As the playing cards spun, strange patterns appeared on their faces: a mask with a half-smile, an upside-down cherry blossom pattern, and distorted Kabuki makeup.

The stringed music and low chanting in the air did not stop, but instead became even more mournful, as if mourning for these slain shikigami.

Si Ming lowered his voice, a faint smile playing on his lips beneath his mask: "Welcome to the Hell of Lies."

The horde of crows howled in agony, black feathers fell like snow, and the ruined street corner was completely transformed into a battlefield of demonic shadows.

The sound of the shamisen grew increasingly mournful in the air above the street, as if someone were gently stroking the strings deep within a bloody mist. Then, the melody shifted, becoming low and melodious, like the prelude to a courtesan's entrance onto the stage.

Mist surged, cherry blossoms intertwined with blood mist, and a shadowy flower path slowly unfolded.

Just then, three beautiful figures walked side by side, their steps light as a dance, as if stepping on every note of a shamisen.

Flower Garden · Qiluo —

She wore a kimono with a blood cherry blossom pattern, and her hair was piled high, adorned with gold hairpins and pearl flowers.

Her blouse was open, revealing half of her breasts, and a cold, alluring smile was hidden behind a folding fan, yet her gaze was that of a leading lady manipulating a stage.

She tapped her fan lightly, her voice cold yet mocking: "Welcome to the red-light district... This is a feast of blood."

Kasakain Ayame —

Her kimono was draped diagonally over her body, revealing her smooth shoulders and slender waist. Her steps were alluring, and her fingertips were twirling faint threads. The outline of a spider web was vaguely visible in her silhouette.

Her voice was soft and alluring: "Guest, don't get lost... getting lost is also a kind of fate."

Hanakain Yukino —

She was the youngest, with two hideous streaks of blood and tears on her fair face. Her kimono was as red as blood, and she held a shamisen horizontally in her arms.

With a gentle pluck of the strings, the tone was as low as a sob: "Cry... no one can escape this street."

Their movements resembled those of geishas, ​​with the shadows of fans, silk threads, and the sounds of strings echoing each other, like the opening of a stunning night market.

But it was accompanied by a chilling wind and a blood mist, both beautiful and eerie, like a nightmare procession in hell.

Xiao Jinyan subconsciously widened his eyes, swallowed hard, and muttered softly, "...Although her face is as pale as a ghost, her figure...is quite pleasing to the eye."

Xiao Lianyin immediately slapped him on the back of the head with a chop: "Shut up."

The three women slowly stood side by side, beautiful and alluring, yet their smiles sent chills down one's spine.

The entire ruined street corner of Kabukicho seemed to transform into a stage for a ghostly brothel the moment they appeared.

The mist churned, and blood mingled with cherry petals.

Hua Kaiyuan Qiluo slowly raised her folding fan, her red lips curving slightly, and gently waved it.

In an instant, the air seemed to be lifted like a curtain, the street corner collapsed with a crash, and the surrounding ruins and flickering lights were torn apart and reconstructed.

Instead, there are three red-lit flower streets that stretch into the endless depths.

Red lanterns hang high, paper umbrellas droop low, and the light reflected from the lanterns is not warm, but a bewitching crimson.

The flower-lined street seemed endless, enticing people to step inside step by step.

Ayame chuckled softly, her fingertips twirling the silk threads, her eyes sparkling: "The barrier has been activated... Guests, find the only exit, or you will be forever entangled here." Her words were ambiguous, like a gentle reminder, yet also like a lover's coquettish murmur.

Yukino held the shamisen, her fingertips gently plucking the strings. The sound was low and mournful, like a sob, and tears seeped blood onto her pale face.

“And before you find the exit, you will all become regulars on Flower Street.”

Her voice trembled, seemingly filled with sorrow, yet secretly brimming with excitement.

Qiluo smiled, her face half-hidden behind her folding fan, her cold tone filled with allure:

"Why leave, guest? The night here never ends. You can enjoy fine wine and laughter, revel every night, and never want to leave."

The three laughed together, like a geisha ensemble, yet with a bewitching poison.

As the laughter subsided, their figures gradually blurred, as if swallowed by cherry blossom mist, slowly retreating into the depths of their respective flower-lined streets.

Only three red-light intersections remain, like gaping maws, waiting for prey to step in.

Fog billowed, red lights flashed, and three flower-lined streets lit up simultaneously amidst the ruins.

At that moment, Kabukicho was no longer a ruined city, but rather seemed to have been pulled into a glamorous yet eerie theater.

In the center, the red mist of the flower street was as thick as blood, and the light of the lanterns swayed in the mist, as if soaked in wine and tears.

The geishas on both sides of the street were covered in white powder, their faces were pale, their smiles were stiff, and their clothes were half off, revealing their snow-white shoulders and blood-stained long sleeves.

They waved their sleeves, drawing alluring arcs in the air, but their eyes were empty and lifeless, as if they were performing a geisha show for the dead.

Flower Street on the left-hand side—

The air was damp, and cobwebs hung like curtains from the eaves, connecting paper umbrellas, red lanterns, and corpse puppets.

Between the pavilions, a dazzling dance was being performed. The dancers' waists were as lithe as snakes, and their laughter was charming, yet beneath their smiles lay fangs and blood.

The corpse puppet was suspended on silk threads, swaying gently with the movements of the geisha, as if imitating human pleasure, but it sent chills down one's spine.

Striptease and hunting overlap here, and the line between spectator and victim has long been blurred.

Flower Street on the right-hand side —

Tears flowed from the sky lanterns, turning into bloodstains as they hit the ground, staining the entire street.

The laughter of the prostitutes on the street was melodious, yet interspersed with sobs; laughter and tears mingled, like two vocal cords roaring in the same throat.

The glamorous courtesans, adorned in white powder, took turns twirling and dancing under the lights, each holding a red fan, their robes half-open, their movements alluring, their perfumes scattering, yet mingling with the rusty, bloody stench.

With each step of the dance, a crack would seep into the ground, as if the entire street might collapse into an invisible abyss at any moment.

—The facade of romance and extravagance is distorted to the extreme here.

Every detail exudes "temptation," and behind every beautiful sight lies "something that should not be seen."

The six men stood in front of the third street, their breathing rapid.

They knew that this was not just an illusion, but that the world-system barrier itself had been distorted into some kind of indescribable city.

Under the lamplight, those alluring courtesans and bewitching figures seemed to be simultaneously human, ghost, and an extension of the barrier, defying definition.

Red mist, silken curtains, blood and tears...

The three streets, like three giant snakes with open, laughing mouths, quietly awaited their entry.

Red lanterns swayed in the mist, and the three flower-lined streets opened up like three abysses, vibrant and alluring.

The six remained silent for a moment, the pervasive scent of blood making the air thick and sticky.

Calvino smiled and raised his chin, a hint of excitement in his eyes: "There's no rush anyway, so why don't we... play with them for a bit?"

Si Ming nodded slightly, his voice behind the mask calm: "Two people in three groups."

No sooner had he finished speaking than Xiao Jinyan raised his hand and shouted, "I can manage on my own!"

His eyes flickered with an indescribable mix of courage and lewd thoughts about the prostitutes of the Phantom Street.

Stop daydreaming!

Xiao Lianyin showed no mercy, grabbing his ear and pulling it back tightly.

She said coldly, "I'll team up with you, let's see if you dare to mess around again!"

Si Ming chuckled softly: "Me and Xin Nai, in the middle."

Nobuna placed her hand on her long sword, nodded coldly, and her eyes, sharp as blades, pointed directly at the blood mist ahead.

Calvino put his arm around Lilia's shoulder and walked straight toward Left Street.

He chuckled softly, "Spider Silk Illusion Dance? Perfect, let's try our duet."

Xiao Lianyin practically half-lifted her younger brother, dragging him to the right: "Bewitching all beings? I'd like to see if they can bewitch my Tushan Fox Lord!"

The mist swirled, and crimson cherry petals rained down.

The six parted ways, each step into a different illusionary street, as if entering a stage play where three erotic courtesans were performing simultaneously.

The red light flashed violently, and their figures were simultaneously swallowed up at the three intersections.

The three streets opened, and six guests entered the game;

A dance of beauty and resentment, a song of blood and mist.

Who can escape the nightmare of the flowers?

Whoever can break free from their destiny.

—The Secret Manual of the Flower Nightmare Clan

(End of this chapter)