Secret World: I Became a God Through Lies

Chapter 107 Bloody Arena, Whisper of the Wind
"When the wind reveals lies, the truth becomes a sharp blade."

The echo of the third whale call lingered in the air for a long time, low and slow, like a dull bell from the belly of the deep sea, shaking everyone's nerves.

In the arena, the blood-red sand had long been stained by battle, and the air was filled with the pungent smell of sweat, metal, and blood. Every breath seemed to carry a salty and suffocating feeling.

Alison stood quietly in front of the Lost's team, the wind blowing past her.

Lifting a strand of blood-stained hair, her gaze was cold and sharp, piercing through the dust and enemy shadows, locking onto the neatly-organized elite squad of the Terrian Navy across from her.

Her gaze finally stopped on that familiar yet unfamiliar face - Alfred Lane.

He had been her adjutant, a comrade who had fought alongside her, a comrade who had shielded each other from the sword in storms and fire.

But now, the eyes that once watched the sea side by side with her now looked at her without any emotion, standing in the enemy camp.

On the high platform, in the VIP room, red wine slowly swirls in the crystal glass, and the swaying reflection of the wine is reflected in a pair of indifferent eyes.

Edmund leaned back in his chair, swirling his wine glass playfully, as if he was watching a carefully planned hunt.

Lennox smiled easily and was talking in a low voice with Kerkoson, his tone full of undisguised excitement and hunter-like coldness.

They had already issued the order - to eliminate Alison.

On the ground, Alfred gripped the sword tightly in his hand, his knuckles turning white.

His gaze lingered on Alison for a brief moment, but he eventually looked away and gave a low order:

"Array."

Team Terrian responded quickly and moved swiftly, pressing forward like an iron front.

Their steps were steady and in unison, each step hitting the sand at the same frequency, as if they were not humans, but war weapons made by the empire's machinery.

This is the terrifying thing about the imperial army.

Discipline is their sharp weapon and their belief.

Alison's eyes darkened, and a hint of hesitation arose in her heart.

They were her comrades-in-arms, the brothers and sisters she had fought so hard to protect.

But now he has become a killer who wants to kill her.

"Do you need any assistance?"

A relaxed female voice sounded, and Alison turned around to see Rosalind "Ironheart" Dewar and the Scarlet Rose Pirates standing not far away.

There was a nonchalant smile on the corner of his mouth, but his eyes were full of sharpness.

Alison raised a faint smile and shook her head: "No need, just take care of yourselves."

Baroque rolled up his sleeves, and the throwing axe in his hand spun flexibly between his fingers, making a light sound of metal collision.

He grinned, revealing a bloodthirsty excitement: "Adjutant, do you want me to go up and smash them to pieces?"

Alison didn't answer. She looked at Alfred again, her eyes becoming more complicated, like an undercurrent surging under a cold wave, heavy and sharp.

At this moment, Ian came to her side, his voice so low that it almost melted into the wind.
With a teasing chuckle, he said, "First Mate, the wind whispers in my ears, telling me many secrets. Especially those... that I don't want anyone to know."

He raised his hand, and a tiny whirlwind spun at his fingertips. The sound of the wind was low, but it was like a whisper singing in her ear.

Alison frowned slightly, her eyes gradually became focused, and she listened attentively.

The wind blew gently, but it seemed to be telling her something.

In the whispers, some truths that she had never known before were revealed layer by layer like peeling sails.

Her expression suddenly turned cold the moment she heard this, and the hesitation in her eyes completely faded away, replaced by anger and a clarity that burned to the bones.

"...Are you sure?" she asked in a low voice, her voice sharp and cold.

Ian said nothing more, but nodded calmly: "The wind doesn't lie."

Alison's knuckles clenched, turning slightly white, and a cold light slowly gathered in her eyes.

She finally understood—

From the very beginning, this battle was not just a fight of flesh and blood, but a reckoning of fate and betrayal.

These elite naval squads—they weren’t here to advance at all.

They... were traded goods. The truth exploded in Alison's mind like thunder, and the rage in her chest seemed to burn her internal organs to ashes.

The top leaders of Terian were willing to sacrifice their most loyal soldiers and their proudest fighting force just to gain more spots for "Sleeping Believers"?

Those warriors who once swore to fight for the empire, their blood, their faith, their glory - in the eyes of those in high positions, they are nothing more than chips with considerable power.

Alison suddenly looked up, her eyes cold but burning with undisguised anger: "Is there any way to let everyone in the arena hear the truth?"

Her voice seemed to cut through the clamor of the battlefield.

A frivolous and smiling voice responded: "Oh? This is my specialty."

Evette "Snake Kiss" Coleman walked over with a smile, her posture lazy but murderous intent hidden beneath her shadow.

As she approached, she lifted Ian's chin with her index finger, her voice soft as wine, yet concealing a hint of bloodthirsty pleasure:
"The spreading of gossip, scandal, and secrets? That's my specialty."

Ian raised an eyebrow, laughed in agreement, and extended his hand to shake it, a wisp of wind swirling in his palm: "Then? Let's meet at the top railing, Ms. Snake Kiss?"

Ivette curled her red lips, her eyebrows and eyes were charming, but her eyes were as sharp as a dagger: "I'm happy to accompany you."

On the other side of the battlefield, the killing has not stopped yet.

But in the blind spot of everyone's sight, a roar had already exploded.

"open circuit!"

Baroque rushed into the enemy group like a furious war bear, and the flying axe in his hand turned into the fangs of a beast, tearing the enemy's chest and throat.

He had no fancy moves, only the most direct killing intent and suppressive power.

Blood splattered everywhere, the sound of bones breaking was endless, and the pirates blocking their way collapsed and fell to the ground one after another as if swept by a hurricane.

Ian and Evette followed closely behind, taking advantage of the torn gap to quickly cross the battle line and head straight for the towering railing in the center of the arena.

Their intentions were instantly captured by the Red Rose.

"Cover them!" Rosalind gave the order, and the pirates of the Red Rose quickly adjusted their formation and split into several assault teams.
Rush into the enemy group and forcibly suppress the enemies who try to stop Ian and Evette.

The entire battlefield fell into new chaos because of this sudden action.

It was hard for others to understand - what were they doing? In this life-or-death duel, was there anyone with ulterior motives?
Alfred stood at the front of the battle formation, his brow furrowed. He looked at the fast-moving members of the Lost and the Scarlet Rose, and at Alison.

He didn't understand her intentions, but he felt a different aura from her.

Hesitation is just a moment.

He gritted his teeth and growled, "Forward!"

Team Trian regrouped and advanced steadily, like a cold iron pressing down on the ground, heading straight for Allison.

But she stood in the middle of the battlefield, motionless, meeting his gaze coldly.

"Alfred." Her voice was low, yet resounding like a bell. "Do you really think you're fighting for the Empire?"

Alfred paused for a moment.

Alison slowly raised her gun, her eyes cold as ice, aiming forward, her voice like the echo of a glacier breaking:

"Then let me tell you in person—your true value."

At this moment, Ian and Evette were almost approaching the railing. The sound of wind and human voices were intertwined in their ears, and the deadly battle was still going on.

And the confrontation between Alison and Alfred will eventually detonate the real core of the conflict.

On the platform, Lennox and Edmund were still sipping red wine, as leisurely as ever.

They looked down upon everything as if they were watching a play with a pre-written ending.

But they didn't realize that—

The true script of this play has been quietly rewritten without their knowledge.

When the wind lifts the veil of truth, this arena will no longer be just a stage of blood.

It is the starting point of judgment.

(End of this chapter)