Secret World: I Became a God Through Lies

Chapter 128 Weaving of Destiny
"You can fool everyone, but can you fool fate? If you could—what would you be willing to risk?"

The flames and mist intertwined like a nightmare from the bottom of the sea.

The Whale Grave Fleet was slowly closing its encirclement. That shadowy warship floating on the edge of reality and slumber—

The Whale Grave, like the eyes of the abyss, stares coldly at the struggling lives on the sea.

The Crown and the Lost were like two seriously injured baby whales, gasping for breath in the center of a whirlpool, and could be swallowed up into pieces of whale bones at any time.

Sima Ming stood at the highest point of the Lost's bridge, the dark blue sails whistling and fluttering behind him, like a blade slicing through the sky.

His gaze was strangely still, like a thin blade that had not yet been unsheathed. A pitch-black card slowly emerged from between his fingers, and the patterns on it moved like a living thing - the Supreme Mystery Card, "Lord of Fate".

He spoke softly, as if whispering to the heavens, the sea, or fate itself:

"...Fate, I need a weaving."

A soft light appeared on the fate star map, but it suddenly went out in the next moment.

Sima Ming was stunned for a moment, then he murmured in understanding: "...The rules are unknown, and fate cannot recognize the weaving target."

"I can't sew for a future I can't see clearly."

At this moment, a lazy but firm voice came from the side:

"Then don't move."

Ian leaned against the side of the boat, his cloak fluttering like a sail. He slowly took off the Wind Whisper Ring and put it on his index finger.

The wind whispered in his ears, just like his voice:
"This time, let me do it."

He took a deep breath, turned his palm over, and a silver-blue card spun in the wind, flashing with elemental light.

"High-level world-system mystery—Windtalker, activate."

In an instant, the storm rose and the sea surface was overturned as if by an invisible giant hand!
With Ian as the center, an invisible wind field suddenly expanded, covering the entire battlefield for five nautical miles.

The air was filled with whispers, the wind speaking, the sea confiding, and the murmurs from deep within the deck of the Whale Grave.

In the cracks between steel and bones, there seems to be a low chant that has not been heard for millions of years, a gospel that is eternally dormant.

Ian's pupils turned blue, he slowly opened his eyes, and his voice was calm and clear:
"I heard it. The Whale Grave Elegy... is singing a song of life and death."

He turned to look at Siming, and like a guide, he whispered:

"listen--"

"Rule One: The Realm of Slumber. Kerkosen cannot be attacked aboard the Whale Grave. Any attempted attack will result in backlash."

"Rule Two: Deep Sleeping Lament. As the elegy spreads across the Whale Tomb's territory, those who listen will gradually fall asleep and become part of the Whale Tomb's hull."

"Rule Three: Lord of Lament. Kerkosen has the right to name anyone and initiate a bet with their soul. The person named cannot refuse."

The whisper of the wind finally swirled behind him, circling like a giant dragon:
"The rules of the Whale Tomb are an absolute game where souls are used as chips."

At this moment, the core of the Whale Tomb, like a huge heart, was exposed under the dissection of the wind.

Siming's eyes narrowed, his mind already weaving the threads of fate. He slowly turned his head, his gaze settling on Lilia to his right.

She stood on the deck, her face pale, her lips tightly pursed, but her eyes were clearer than ever.

"I need your secret code."

"I know." Lilia nodded and dragged her tired body to his side.

A whispering spirit emerged between the two of them, its spirit emitting a low-frequency humming sound, as if responding to the fate they were about to interfere with.

"I can only construct a localized whisper field once." Her voice was hoarse but firm. "You'd better not fail."

Siming didn't answer. He simply raised the Master of Destiny calmly, his fingertips trembling slightly, a sign that the Star of Reason was about to burn.

He took a deep breath and whispered to fate:

"Fate—let me tell you a story."

"You once granted the power to gamble one's life to a man named 'Kerkosen.' He is the Lord of Lamentation, the deity of the Whale Grave."

"But I say—his gambling is so boring."

The words were transmitted through the secret language field, and the entire Whale Grave Fleet in the Sleeping Sea heard these words.

The sound pierced through the fog and echoed between each warship.
It reached the empty ears of every sleeper, and also reached the depths of the Whale Tomb, which seemed to never respond.

"His gamble only continues to send people into deep sleep and throw struggles into the abyss." "But today, I, the Lord of Destiny, bring you a new bet."

Sima Ming raised his right hand, and a star of reason burned and shattered!
"I will choose a gambler, and he will make the bet—not his own soul."

"But rather—the fate of the Whale Grave itself."

At this moment, the entire Whale Tomb Fleet fell into an eerie silence.

It was as if even the sea breeze had forgotten how to breathe, and the "divine silence" of the Whale Tomb was like an ancient beast awakened.

Its laws were shaken, and for the first time in a thousand years, its "lament" heard the challenge from fate.

——The thread of fate was intervened by another hand.

On the decks of the Lost and the Crown, everyone seemed to hear a game between gods.

"If he wins, the Whale Grave Lament will be silent for a day, and the Lord of Lament will remain silent and let today's battle go."

"If he loses, he will become the oar of the Whale Grave, paddling the Sea of ​​Sleep for eternity."

The wind stopped.

The seagulls flew away.

Kerkosen's voice finally rang out, deep and cold, like the breath of the abyss:
"...Lord of Destiny, are you provoking me?"

Siming's lips curled slightly, his expression calm, but his voice was like an ice blade cutting through the night:

"I'm offering you a more exciting bet, Kerkoson. And I seem to remember that one of the rules you set yourself was that you couldn't refuse an invitation to a 'death match bet', right?"

Silence for three breaths.

At the top of the Whale Tomb, suddenly a dark blue thunder struck down, tearing the sea surface apart!
Nasir Krosa emerged from the thick fog, his robe fluttering, his face icy, and his voice resonating like the tide:

"Who do you think you are? You want to rewrite the laws of the Whale Tomb? You can't interfere—"

But before he could finish his words, a lieutenant on one of the secondary ships in the Whale Tomb Fleet suddenly knelt on the deck, trembling all over and his face pale.

"...What if...what if the sleeping state is just a scam?"

His voice was so low that it was almost swallowed by the sea breeze, but the next moment it cut through the silence like a knife.

The realm of the Whale Tomb Elegy began to tremble.

The dormant area that was originally sealed like an iron curtain suddenly had a tiny crack.
The crack was like a drop of cold dew falling into a boiling iron pot - exploding, steaming, and out of control!
Alison's pupils suddenly shrank, and she instantly caught sight of the crack, and shouted:
“Raise the flag!!”

The flag of Bloody George, as if responding to the call of fate, rose into the wind at the top of the bow!

That blood-red battle flag is not a piece of cloth, but a vow, tearing through silence and oppression in the wind and setting the entire sleeping sea on fire!
The fiery red fighting spirit spread from the two ships and burned into the blood of everyone.

The soldiers of the Crown suddenly woke up, some cried, some roared, and some bit the hilt of their swords and returned to their positions!
The cannons fired again and the battle on the deck resumed.

The ghostly crew members on the side of the Lost seemed to be summoned, and they lined up from the shadows, standing at attention with swords in hand, responding to the call of the battle flag!

For the first time, there was real "shaking" on the front line of the Whale Tomb Fleet!
The Whale Grave Elegy did not fall silent, but it began to go "out of tune".

Siming stood on the bridge, panting like a cow and sweating profusely.

The only two remaining stars of sanity on the star map flickered faintly, like dying sparks.

He heard the whisper of the Master of Fate—gentle, cold, like a knife cutting wings:
"Very good, the story convinced me."

"But the price has to be paid."

"In the Whale Grave game, you must—bet yourself."

Siming didn't immediately agree, nor did he refuse. He simply raised his head and gazed at the Whale Tomb, which floated like a temple between the sky and the sea.

The wind rises again.

He slowly stretched out his hand, pointing to the shadowy top of the bridge of the Whale Grave in the distance, looking into the abyss of dark blue light.

The voice was not loud, but clear as a verdict:
"I convinced fate... maybe I can convince the world."

"Come, Lord of Lamentation—"

"It's your turn to bet."

(End of this chapter)