Secret World: I Became a God Through Lies

Chapter 105: Beyond the Card Game, Within Destiny

"When you think you control your destiny, the real manipulator has already been plotting in secret."

The second whale call sounded, the deep and profound sound waves echoing in the gambling hall where the chips were sleeping.

The whalebone decorations inlaid on the ceiling trembled, and it seemed as if an invisible undercurrent was stirring in the air.

It was a warning from the abyss, the heartbeat of the Whale Grave, and the silent countdown of time.

Siming tapped the table lightly, his knuckles rhythmically hitting the black velvet, as if responding to the distant echo.

He glanced at Lorient across from him slowly, with a faint smile on his lips and an unfathomable look in his eyes.

Time is passing and the reins of fate are tightening.

But Lorient seemed to be completely unaffected by the whale's cry and still maintained a polite and calm smile.

He clapped his hands gracefully, signaling the waiter behind him to bring the playing cards to the table.

"Now that the guests are seated," he said, his tone as calm as if he were presiding over an afternoon tea.

"Then let us begin this—a gamble of fate."

Eight decks of playing cards were neatly placed in the center of the gambling table. The backs of the cards reflected a faint luster under the light, like a layer of quietly lurking water.

Lorion raised his hand, his fingertips running across the deck, his movements smooth and almost graceful.

The cards slid into his palm like water, and then flew between his fingers, like a magician's silent illusion.

He smiled softly, his voice as gentle as the breeze: "According to custom, after the cards are shuffled, guests can check the cards to ensure fairness."

Siming didn't say anything, but just reached out to take the white card, flipping the deck skillfully and smoothly.
The cards flew between his fingers, making a delicate friction sound - it was a rhythm that only gamblers understood, even, stable, and without the slightest lag.

So clean.

No marks, no traces, no artificial creases. Each card looks as if it has just been taken out of the card factory, perfectly hidden in a certain "order" beneath justice.

Sima Ming raised his eyebrows, and with a half-smile, inserted the white card into the bottom eighth of the deck - that was the end mark of the first round of this gambling game.

He gently pushed the shuffled cards back onto the table, locked eyes with Lorient, and smiled faintly: "Very clean method. From the casino?"

Lorient shrugged, his smile still gentle and harmless: "After all, in this line of work, who shouldn't have some professional ethics?"

Their tone was calm as water, but the water beneath the table was quietly surging.

The card box snaps shut and the gambling officially begins.

In the first round of dealing, four cards fell one after another on the black velvet table. They landed silently, but like four dice, they quietly plucked the thread of fate.

Sima Ming: Eighteen o'clock.

Mrs May: Seventeen o'clock.

Lorient's fingertips lightly swept across the table, his eyes smiling, his voice soft: "You two, please make your choice."

"I'm suspending trading." Siming's tone was steady, his eyes clear and firm.

He knew that eighteen points was already the optimal solution. In this game, every act of greed could bring about abyssal retribution.

Madam Mei frowned slightly, her eyes hesitant, and finally said softly, "I want a card."

The waiter silently handed over a new card and flipped it over.

Five o'clock.

Total points: twenty-two.

Bust.

Mrs. Mei sighed softly, without showing any anger on her face. She just pushed a hundred chips to the center of the gambling table.
His expression was as elegant and calm as ever, as if this was just a warm-up game that was not worth mentioning.

Sima Ming tilted his head slightly and glanced at Lorient.

The other party was also smiling at this moment, calmly revealing his cards.

At that moment, Siming's pupils shrank slightly.

His eyes were not on the cards, but on Lorient's movements - a subtle deviation in rhythm, an overly steady gaze.

Fleeting.

But for Sima Ming, that was enough.

His hands quietly retreated under the table, his fingertips no longer turning the chips, but gently stacking them up, as if preparing for a deeper gamble.

He looked at Lorient, a meaningful smile slowly appearing on the corner of his mouth.

The air trembled slightly, so subtle that it seemed just an illusion.

But Sima Ming knew that it was not an illusion.

In that instant, the world's dynamics shifted, ever so slightly, yet powerfully enough to alter the outcome. Like an invisible hand, it quietly tugged at a thread that should have been steady, dropping a pebble on the surface of fate, creating ripples that didn't belong there.

To ordinary people, it was just an ordinary flip of the card.

But in Siming's vision, he clearly "saw" the thread of fate entwined around the gambling table.
There was a line that was originally still, but at that moment, it trembled slightly, like a plucked string, producing a different timbre.

His eyes subconsciously locked onto Lorient's fingers.

The pair of pitch-black dice continued to spin lazily in his palms. The movements seemed unconscious, but in fact they were almost synchronized with the fluctuations of the thread of fate.

Then—the cards are turned over.

Ace of Spades.

Blackjack, Blackjack.

Kill all.

The bet was frozen in an instant.

Mrs. Mei sighed lightly and said nothing more. Her expression remained calm, but the imperceptible fluctuation between her brows revealed a hint of uneasiness in her heart.

Siming, however, didn't move an inch. His hands remained on the gambling table, his fingertips tapping the velvet surface slowly and firmly, the rhythm like a drumbeat, like a heartbeat.

He looked at Lorient quietly, his eyes as sharp as a blade, while the latter still smiled back at him, as if the Black Jack he had just turned out was just a meaningless coincidence.

He is manipulating fate.

This thought flashed through Siming's mind in an instant, and everything suddenly became clear in his heart.

He finally understood that the other party didn't need to do anything with the shuffling or dealing of the cards.

He controls not the cards but the outcome itself.

Lorient only needs to gently stir fate, and those seemingly random things will obediently fall into the orbit he set.

He doesn’t cheat – he just decides the future.

Lorient's smile didn't fluctuate at all, still looking gentle and considerate, even with a hint of concern.

"Mr. Siming, it looks like your luck is not very good this time."

He spoke in a nonchalant tone, as if he was just trying to lighten the mood for an unexpected minor loss.

Sima Ming chuckled softly, his voice was light, but it contained a dangerous edge.

He slowly leaned back in his chair, his movements casual, yet filled with coldness and inquiry.

"Luck?" he repeated, his voice low.

He slowly raised a finger and gently pointed at the pair of dice in Lorient's palm.

"This thing...isn't like an ordinary dice."

Lorient was still smiling, his face expressionless.

He flicked the dice lightly, letting them spin around on his fingertips and then stop.

"Oh? What are you doubting?"

Siming didn't beat around the bush. His voice was low but firm, like a knife quietly falling between the cards.

"I suspect you're—playing with fate."

As soon as these words came out, Mrs. Mei frowned slightly, her eyes moving back and forth between the two of them, a hint of elusive doubt in her eyes.

The entire gambling game seemed normal. The cards were cleanly shuffled, dealt in a standard manner, and played at a steady pace, with each card being dealt according to the rules.

But Sima Ming knew that it was not a coincidence.

This guy... is controlling fate itself.

Lorient finally chuckled, and that smile was like a whirlpool in the sea, gentle, dangerous, and with a bit of inexplicable joy.

He slowly put away the dice, placed his hands lightly on the table, leaned forward slightly, his eyes penetrating the dim light and quietly falling on Siming's face.

"interesting."

"So, how do you plan to turn your fate around?"

Siming's eyes were half closed, and a smile slowly rose at the corner of his mouth, with a sharp arrogance in his smile.

"Then let's see—"

"Who is the real manipulator of fate?"

(End of this chapter)