Secret World: I Became a God Through Lies

Chapter 545 Ghost Show Night Festival
Humans perform, ghosts watch.
On the night of the Ghost Festival, the lights are bright.

If you sing the song of death,
Who remembers?

The living are the guests.

—From *Zi Bu Yu* (The Master Did Not Speak Of), Volume on Playing Shadows

As night fell on the back mountain, the mist was slowly torn apart by the cold wind.

As the group climbed the stone steps, the half-collapsed opera stage came into view.

It was an extremely old wooden theater, with a corner of the roof collapsed and tiles scattered.

Strangely enough, the lantern lit up by itself.

One by one, red lanterns were lit, their light reflecting off the dilapidated pillars, as if someone were welcoming guests.

The sound of gongs and drums came from inside, echoing faintly and emptily in the valley.

Roland stopped and frowned. "There's something strange about this place."

Selene looked up and pointed ahead: "Listen... it sounds like someone is singing."

As soon as she finished speaking, a clear, crisp sound of silk strings filled the air.

The stage was empty.
But there was a shadow moving.

The singing was melodious and poignant, like weeping.
"I urge the king to drink wine and listen to the song of Yu, for this parting from this life is like a dream."

As the melody ended, the tattered curtain swayed gently.

A paper umbrella snapped open, and a white-clad figure fluttered in the lamplight.

The next moment, the entire opera troupe appeared.

Their bodies were translucent, and their toes were off the ground;
The roles of "Sheng, Dan, Jing, Mo, and Chou" take the stage in turn, their faces contorted in grotesque expressions and their robes tattered.
Some are missing hands, some are faceless.
But they all wore smiles—the kind of smiles that suggest they wouldn't leave the stage even if they were to die performing.

They sang as they arranged themselves into a procession.

The gongs and drums sounded by themselves, and the curtains rose without wind.

Roland gasped: "...The Ghost Opera Troupe."

Outside the theater, a stone tablet lit up with blood-red characters.

"Tonight is the Ghost Festival, and ghosts play at the altar. Uninvited guests, please do not disturb them."

The writing was as red as blood, slowly seeping into the ground.

Selene said softly, "Does this mean... we shouldn't disturb them?"

“It’s too late.” Si Ming squinted. “They’ve already seen us.”

They slowly walked into the theater.

The air was filled with the smell of paper ash, and the altar was covered in filthy blood.

The central altar cracked open, and black mist continuously billowed out from the crack.

Roland observed for a moment and then said, "Just like before, there should be an altar here as well."

He took out a bottle of liquid that emitted a blue glow and handed it over.

"Purifying Water - a quest card we obtained in the previous area. Theoretically, it can purify impurities."

Si Ming took the bottle, unscrewed the cap, and inside was holy water that shimmered slightly.

"Just give it a try."

They split up and acted separately:

Selene cleaned the congealed blood from the surface of the altar;
Roland placed three incense sticks;
The God of Fate poured cleansing water into the four corner grooves.

Pale blue light spread along the stone's texture, and the air felt refreshing for a moment.

Roland looked at the halo and breathed a sigh of relief: "It works."

As soon as he finished speaking, a low "thump" sound came from underground.

The floor tiles beneath the altar began to bulge.
Black mist surged, and a pale hand emerged from the ground, its fingernails dragging mud.

"Eh?" Celian took a step back, her eyes narrowing slightly.

Roland's expression changed drastically: "Oh no, have we disturbed them?"

The next second, the entire theater seemed to explode.

A group of ghost troupes poured out from both sides of the stage.

The clown stuck out his long tongue and wrapped it around Roland's wrist;
The male lead wielded a gong, letting out a deafening roar;

The female lead, dragging a tattered umbrella, cried out in a voice that turned into a noise wave, instantly oppressing people's nerves.

"Damn it, this isn't an ordinary wandering spirit!" Roland roared, quickly retreating.

Siming raised the playing cards, and a flash of light appeared.

He severed the clown's tongue with a single stroke.

The tongue fell to the ground and turned into smoke.

“They are hindering the ritual,” the priest whispered. “Continue the purification of the altar!”

The group fought as they retreated.

With each injection of a corner of Soul-Purifying Water, a layer of black mist was suppressed;
But if one part is interrupted, the foul air will immediately return.

Roland gritted his teeth and kept the incense burning: "Just one last piece is missing!"

Celian shielded him, her blood claws sending two ghostly figures flying.
Another ghostly figure lunged at them from behind.

Si Ming ducked to dodge the scythe.

Suddenly, his fingers touched something under the altar.

Cold and smooth.

He looked up.

It was a statue of Huaguang Bodhisattva buried in dust.

The Bodhisattva's face was blackened by the smoke.

But his eyes remained compassionate.

The God of Fate picked it up and placed it in the center of the stage.

"Gamble."

He gave it a gentle push.

The moment the statue hit the ground,
The lanterns throughout the entire theater lit up at the same time.

A golden halo spread.

All the movements of the ghosts froze in mid-air.

“That is…” Roland was stunned.

"The guardian deity worshipped by the opera troupe," Si Ming said calmly. "It seems they still respect this custom."

Under the light, the faces of the ghostly figures gradually blurred.

The drumbeats subsided, and the weeping stopped.
Only the female lead softly hummed a final line:
"The flowers fall, the play ends, and the soul returns to the stage."

As the light and shadow dispersed, the ghosts turned to ashes in the wind.

The black mist at the altar dissipated.
The blue light came back on.

The first round of suppression was successful.

Selene, panting, withdrew her blood claws.
He turned to Si Ming and raised an eyebrow: "You're really something. You've become a Buddhist?"

Si Ming smiled and brushed the dust off his hands.

"I am not a Buddhist."

"It is a rule of faith."

A night breeze blew by, and the lantern's flame flickered gently.

It's as if it's implying that the show isn't over yet.

The radiance of Huaguang Bodhisattva quickly faded.

The golden light receded like a tide, leaving only a faint ray of light falling on the center of the stage.

The wind died down, and even the ashes stopped drifting.

Subsequently,

The tattered curtain rose by itself.

The sound of gongs and drums rang out again, no longer wild, but rhythmic.

"Dong—Clang—Clang clang—"

A flute melody accompanied by drumbeats rose softly.

The air was tense, and the light was dim.

In the center of the stage, the mist swirls and billows.
Two figures slowly took shape in the smoke.

They were dressed in traditional opera costumes.

A man wearing a tattered tiger-striped battle robe, carrying a long spear, with fierce eyes;
A woman dressed in white silk robes, holding a silk handkerchief, with gentle eyes.

Xiang Yu, the Hegemon-King, and Yu Ji
The protagonist of this ancient play.

Their bodies were translucent ghostly figures, their robes dripping with blood.

Her makeup was ruined.

Yet they still sang their final song.

"My strength could uproot mountains, my spirit could cover the world, but the times are against me, and my steed will not go."

"Yu Xi, Yu Xi, what can I do?"

Yu Ji slowly turned around, her sleeves slicing through the air as she danced lightly.
The remaining petals slipped from the cuffs.

The overlord roared to the sky, gripping his spear tightly.

The stage lights were lit again, their red glow like blood.

They reenacted the farewell.

Yu Ji slowly raised her short sword.

A gentle smile—

"I am willing to follow you to the Yellow Springs."

The longsword fell.

Blood splattered, resembling red plum blossoms.

The overlord knelt down and picked up her silk handkerchief.
With a roar, it drank the last of its blood.

The blood mist condensed into a new curtain in the air.
Both ghosts turned their eyes to the audience below the stage at the same time.

They watched Si Ming and his party.

Do you understand the meaning of life and death, separation and parting?

The voice was deep, like lines from a play.

It also sounds like a genuine complaint.

The air solidified at this moment.

Yu Ji's silk handkerchief fluttered lightly, carrying a cold breeze as it flew out and transformed into rays of light.

It swept past the stone pillar, sharp as a blade.

Roland was unable to dodge in time and suffered a cut on his shoulder.

The Overlord's spear followed.

The silver-white gun shadows split into three in the air.

One shot sent Celian flying, another aimed straight at Si Ming.

Selene unfurled her blood wings and suddenly stood in front of Si Ming.

Bloodwing was shaken and emitted a muffled thud.

But she did not back down.

"He's too fast!" Roland shouted, releasing black mist for cover.

The black mist spread, obscuring the entire stage.

Roland's voice came from the fog: "I'll strip them of their sight! I'll find their weakness!"

Si Ming threw out a deck of cards with his backhand.

Silver light weaved through the fog, severing several binding ribbons.

But the next second, the Overlord stomped his foot on the ground.

The ground shook violently, and the black mist was dispersed.

"I am guilty, and I have grievances! Who dares to stop me!"

The spear swept across, the wind howling like thunder.

Selene gritted her teeth: "We can't drag this out any longer!"

Siming's gaze swept across a corner of the stage—

On a small table covered in dust,
There was an open play script lying there.

It was an old booklet with four characters on the cover:

"The Hegemon and Consort Yu".

A thought struck him, and he leaped into the air, dodging the gun's thrust.

He picked up the script with one hand.

The pages turn automatically.

A page was turned by the wind, and the words shimmered in the blood-red light.

"I have no regrets about sharing life and death in this life; once this song is sung, I will go to the Yellow Springs."

The words seemed to come alive.

Blood trickled down the pages, reflecting on Yu Ji's face.

Her movements suddenly stopped.

The silk handkerchief slipped from her hand, and her eyes trembled slightly. "This music... goes to the Yellow Springs."

She looked up at the Overlord.

There were tears in her eyes.

The Overlord's spear thrust stopped in mid-air.

He slowly lowered his head, looking at that page of words.

A bitter smile appeared on his lips.

"So we were already dead all along."

Taking advantage of the opportunity, Si Ming picked up the brush dipped in red ink beside the memorial.

The voice was deep, like a curse or a prayer.

"Since life and death are predetermined, resentment will be extinguished."

The flower bed has been reopened; the soul returns to its home.

Draw blood lines with a red ink brush.
Write the character "净" (jìng, meaning clean or pure) in the air.

The words floated towards the script, transforming into patterns of light.

The light spread instantly.

The entire stage was bathed in white light.

The blood-red curtain was torn open.

The music started again, no longer eerie, but mournful.

Yu Ji slowly walked towards Xiang Yu.

Their robes became white again.

She reached out and gently stroked his face.

"General, we have finally finished singing this part."

The Overlord's gaze softened.

He put down his spear and bowed his head slightly.

"I have no regrets about sharing life and death with you."

They embraced.

Light emanated from their bodies.

Gradually fade their outlines.

Yu Ji's voice echoed in the light:

"Being able to finish this performance is worthwhile."

Then, she transformed into light and shadow, merging into the script.

The overlord then departed, leaving behind only a spear that had turned to ashes.

The stage fell silent, and the wind began to blow again.

The play script on the table closed automatically.

On the cover, the original dark red title has turned pure white.
An extra line of fine print appears on the last page:
"net."

The God of Fate reached out and gently stroked it.

The light slid across his palm.
Transformed into tiny starlight.
It drifted into the night sky.

He whispered:

"The play is over."

The stage lights went out one by one.

The wind blew through the tattered cloth, like someone sighing softly.

And beneath their feet

The light of the purification altar quietly began to awaken.

Silence fell over the stage.

The script was closed, and the light dissipated like smoke.

Just when everyone thought the mission was over, the wooden planks under their feet suddenly made a "crack" sound.

The entire stage trembled slightly, and dust fell from the beams and pillars.

"It's not over yet." Si Ming's brow twitched.

A crack appeared in the center of the stage floor, and a cold wind blew out from below.

Red and white light intertwined, entwining the crack and slowly transforming into a circular altar.

Purification altar.

The altar was in ruins, with two intertwined characters carved on the stone surface—"pure" and "filthy".

The two are intertwined, like two sides that are mutually reinforcing yet mutually restraining.

Selene whispered, "This is... the altar? It's different from the ones I've seen before?"

“Yes.” Roland responded, sweat dripping from his forehead and down his chin. “The final cleanup.”

In the instant the light converged, a blurry shadow appeared on the stage.

The white mist condensed and took shape.

A tall, thin figure in black slowly raised his head.

He was dressed in mourning clothes, his face was as pale as paper, his eyes were black, and his tongue was drawn out.

He gripped an iron chain in one hand and held a blood-red scythe in the other.

White Impermanence.

The shadow beneath his feet spread across the entire stage.

The air suddenly turned so cold that it frosted over.

Even the gongs and drums stopped on their own.

He raised his head, his voice hollow.
It was as if hundreds of souls were speaking at the same time:
"Anyone who trespasses into the underworld is guilty."

He swung the iron chain.

The sound of chains breaking the wind was like thunder.

The air was torn apart, emitting a piercing shriek.

"Move!" Si Ming shouted.

Selene spread her blood wings, sending Roland flying backward.
He walked into the chains himself.

Her blood claws clashed with the scythe, sparks flying.

But the next moment, the chain twisted, looped around her waist, and yanked—

She was dragged down.

"It's an illusory entity!" Roland shouted. "Attack through it!"

Si Ming rolled to the side, his gaze falling on the old wooden table on the left side of the stage—the stage for the opera troupe's civil and military performances.

Scattered on it are gongs, drums, suonas, and gong pieces.

A thought flashed through his mind.

"The play cannot be cleared before it is over."

He swept over, kicked over the old cloth, and slammed his hand on the drumhead.

"Boom--!"

The sound of drums exploded and echoed among the ruins.

At the same time, he grabbed the blood-stained pen and wrote the character "启" (qi) on the drumhead.

A flash of golden light, and the sound of drums like waves.

The ghosts of the opera troupe that had been suppressed once before actually crawled out of the shadows again.

The five ghost actors, representing the roles of Sheng, Dan, Jing, Mo, and Chou, raised their heads.

His eyes were still vacant, but his movements were returning to normal.

Si Ming shouted, "Get on stage!"

The sound of gongs and drums rose again, and the suona horns blared.

In an instant, the entire theater lit up.

Candles were lit in the paper doll audience seats.

The ghost opera troupe returned to the stage, all dressed in their best costumes.

The grand opera for purifying the soul on the Ghost Festival was performed once again.

"Tonight we mourn the wronged souls, may all filth return to the Yellow Springs—"

The opera music echoed.

The figure of Bai Wuchang (White Impermanence) became distorted in the light.

"...How dare you...disobey the laws of the underworld—"

He growled and swung the chains, but each time he struck the opera troupe ghost,
Instead, the ghosts transformed into light and shadow and bypassed him.

"You've been banned from performing," Si Ming said coldly. "This is their 'Soul Cleansing Song.'"

The White Impermanence roared, his scythe sweeping out in a half-arc motion.

The chains wrapped around the neck of the God of Fate.

Si Ming rolled away to dodge, then threw out a playing card with his backhand.

A silver light cleaved through the air and struck the character "秽" (filth) on the altar.

that moment,
The lights on the entire stage suddenly flipped—

The light turned into a white flame.

The opera music was transformed into Buddhist music.

The colliding energies of Yin and Yang forcibly pulled the illusion of Bai Wuchang into a physical form.

"Now!" Si Ming roared.

Selene took flight.

The blood claws transformed into long blades and slashed down from the sky.

Blood and white flames intertwined.

It struck the White Impermanence squarely in the chest.

He let out a long, mournful howl.

The chain broke, and the sickle fell to the ground.

At that moment, the ghost troupe's singing stopped.

Bai Wuchang raised his head and looked at Si Ming and the others.

A hint of peace appeared on his face.

"The music ends, the crowd disperses, the flowers fade, the hair turns white, and the beauty of youth is gone..."

"How many people know the sorrow I feel when I am separated from my loved one?"

The voice fell,

His body slowly disintegrated.
Turning into specks of light dust,

It was scattered by the wind.

The cracks in the altar began to close.

The characters “净” and “秽” have been restored to their original positions.

A beam of holy white light shot into the sky from the altar.

It illuminated the entire theater.

The paper figures on stage sat quietly.

It slowly turned to ashes in the light.

One by one, the lights went out.

Only the breeze and gray snow remained.

Roland asked in a low voice, "Is it over?"

Si Ming nodded.

"The purification altar is now cleansed."

He walked to the altar.

Pick up a mysterious card that flashes white light from the stone trough.

The card was engraved with an ancient character: “秽”.

Si Ming tucked it into the card album and put away the Fate Pen.

"Let's go. The next altar is at the foot of the mountain."

They turned and left.

The footsteps faded away.

The stage curtain closed automatically without any wind.

The sound of gongs and drums echoed softly in the wind:
"Farewell My Concubine, the curtain has fallen—"

The lights went out completely.

The entire theater finally returned to tranquility.

On stage, people are both dead and alive; off stage, people are as if they are dead.

Only those with pure hearts can understand this ghost story.

—From *Zi Bu Yu* (The Master Did Not Speak Of), Chapter on Cleaning the Field

(End of this chapter)