Secret World: I Became a God Through Lies

Chapter 15 The Night Messenger and the Executioner
"The game is open, the stakes are set. Are you a spectator, or a gambler? The blood feast is approaching, and there is no escape."

The Moon Hunter Tavern was immersed in a warm dimness, the smell of liquor intertwined with the smell of damp wood.

The candlelight danced on the wall lamp, casting flickering shadows. As night fell, a storm lurked in the darkness outside the door.

It seemed as if it would tear the night apart at any moment.

Siming's fingers nimbly flipped a few playing cards, the edges trembling slightly at his fingertips, making a subtle buzzing sound.

He flipped the cards over, interlaced them, made them disappear, and reappeared seemingly at random, as if he was accidentally playing with something, but he knew that this was more than just a performance.

The game has begun, the stakes have been set, but the rules...are still unclear.

He glanced at the door of the tavern and saw two figures stepping silently into the shadows at the door.

Avel, the Night Messenger.

He was clad in a dark grey robe, his cape hanging low over him, his face hidden in shadow, like darkness itself.

His steps were light and silent, like a breeze passing by. When he passed by the lights, his vague outline would only briefly appear, following him like a shadow.

He raised his hand slightly, revealing his pale and slender fingers.

A wisp of black smoke emerged from the fingertips, like a fragment of the night, and dissipated quietly with a breeze.

"Loren." His voice was low and cold, as if it came from the depths of the night, carrying with it some unquestionable questioning. "We have a question."

Roca, the executioner.

He followed Avel silently, as tall as a walking gallows, and full of oppression.

His muscles were bulging, scars were everywhere, his face was covered with flesh, and his eyes were like a blood-stained blade, sharp, cold, and full of cruelty and bloodlust.

He carried a huge battle axe on his shoulder and swung it casually, the heavy blade drawing a dangerous arc in the air.

The sharp edge swept across the table, bringing with it a hint of coldness.

"Problem?" Loren sat at the bar and slowly raised his head. His golden pupils flashed slightly, emitting a strange light in the dim candlelight.

Avel's gaze penetrated the shadow of the cloak, and his voice echoed slowly amid the hustle and bustle of the tavern.

"The door is locked."

The atmosphere in the pub stagnated slightly.

Several astrologers who were facing their wine glasses raised their heads, their eyes met briefly in the air, and then they lowered their heads as if nothing had happened and continued their gambling and chatting.

Their reaction was... too natural.

Siming flicked the playing cards in his hand gently, the force of his fingertips was just right, causing the cards to spin slightly in the air.
Then it fell steadily into his palm. He glanced at Loren and sighed lazily: "This is really bad news."

But he didn't ask Loren directly, instead he turned his gaze to Celian.

The girl gently shook the wine glass in her hand, and the amber liquid slowly swirled, reflecting her freckled face.

She looked at Siming with a smile, as if she had been waiting for him to ask this question.

"So, you all know?"

The corners of Celian's mouth curled up slightly, and her eyes held a hint of meaningful mockery.

"Of course I know." She shrugged and said lightly.

She casually shook her glass, as if she was talking about something very ordinary:

"Every year during this month, the Blood Clan holds a 'Blood Feast'. Before the feast is over, the gates of North Town will be sealed."

“There’s only in, no out. This is tradition.”

Her tone was calm, even with a hint of joking ease, as if this was just a natural holiday custom, like the first snow that would fall in winter in some mortal world.

Siming's eyes narrowed slightly, and his fingertips rubbed the table for a moment.

"got used to?"

His eyes slowly swept over the astrologers in the tavern.

They continued their gambling, some still guzzled wine, others chatted with fellow travelers, the atmosphere remained lively, not even a subtle tension emerging. There was no trace of anxiety, no uneasiness, no sign of trying to find a way out.

...This is so abnormal.

Outsiders are born intruders. They don't belong to this world; they are always looking for cracks, trying to tear open the boundaries of the unknown.

They will not be willing to be trapped, will not be content with being bound, and will not accept a fate from which they cannot escape.

But why are they so calm?
Siming's lips curled up slightly, his fingertips tapped lightly on the table, and a thought quietly emerged in his mind.

Are they really used to it?

still is……

Forced to accept?
Roca snorted impatiently, the battle axe swaying slightly on his shoulder, and then with a "bang", the heavy blade slammed into the floor, shaking the wooden floor slightly.

The entire tavern fell silent for a moment, and everyone's attention was drawn to the dull sound.

"And there's some bad news."

His voice was low and gloomy with a hint of impatience.

"The 'trophies' brought from the Golden Country were sent to the Blood Castle."

Loren's fingers tapped lightly on the table, and a golden light flashed in his right eye, as if he had caught some ominous signal.

"Blood Castle?"

"That's right." Roca nodded and sneered, his tone full of mockery.

"The guards of North Town have no doubt about the rule of the vampires. They believe that all items taken over by the vampires must be sent to the Blood Castle for 'redeem'."

Siming raised his eyebrows slightly and stroked his fingers lightly on the table, as if he was sorting out a gambling game that was gradually unfolding.

"In other words, our spoils... may have been listed as 'sacrificial offerings' by them?"

The corners of Roca's mouth curled up slightly, revealing a hint of a cold smile. His voice was low and firm: "It's not 'very likely', but definitely."

Siming knocked on the table and said meaningfully, "It seems that they don't intend to give you a chance to retreat."

Loren stared at the people in front of him silently, with a golden light flashing in his right eye from time to time, as if he was thinking about something.

His fingertips gently stroked the silver coins on the table. His expression was calm, but there was a barely perceptible coldness in his eyes.

He was calculating, calculating the value of intelligence, calculating the weight of risk, and calculating whether this gamble could be manipulated.

"Now?" Loren spoke slowly, his tone low and filled with the cold calculation of a businessman.

"We have two options."

His eyes swept across everyone's faces, taking in everyone's expression.

"First, follow the example of those outsiders and pretend you know nothing. Wait until the blood feast is over."

"Anyway, we are only here to gather intelligence. During this time, we can try to negotiate with the vampires, or at least, not actively provoke them."

"Second, go out and place your bets."

His voice paused for a moment, as if giving everyone time to think, and then continued: "Since we are already trapped at the gambling table, let's see our luck."

Loren's eyes swept over everyone calmly, waiting for their choices.

Avel remained silent, his figure disappearing into the shadow of his cloak, like a being blending into the darkness.

Roca snorted coldly, lowering his head to adjust the blade of his battle axe. He seemed unconcerned with the details of the bet, having always preferred to resolve issues through force. Celian leisurely swirled her wine glass, the amber liquor swaying gently on the glass's walls like the surface of a calm lake.

Natasha leaned back in her chair, her red lips slightly raised, smiling meaningfully.

Then, everyone's eyes fell on Sima Ming at the same time.

Loren's voice sounded slowly, with a hint of temptation and a hint of secret competition.

"What about you?"

"From your perspective as a poker player, what do you think?"

Sima Ming smiled lightly, picked up a silver coin on the table and flipped it between his fingers.

The silver coin slid nimbly between his slender fingers, and every rotation cast a faint cold light under the lamplight.

He was in no hurry to answer, but seemed to be thinking, or perhaps... waiting for the most suitable moment.

Then he flicked it lightly.

The silver coin leaped up and spun in the air, reflecting the dim light of the tavern and the secretive and deep gazes of everyone, before finally falling back onto the table with a crisp metallic collision sound.

Siming looked at the fallen silver coin, the corners of his mouth curled up slightly, revealing a faint smile, and there was a hint of thoughtful indifference in his eyes.

"Since you don't understand the rules, why don't we see how others play?"

His voice was relaxed and composed, with a certain con man's cunning and calmness.

Loren's eyes changed slightly, his fingertips paused for a moment, and then returned to normal.

Siming leaned back in his chair and casually shook the playing cards in his hand. His tone was frivolous, but it couldn't hide the scrutiny deep in his words.

"alright."

The corners of his mouth rose slightly, and his eyes were as deep as the undercurrent in the night.

"Then let's see what tricks they are up to."

Extra: Hunting of the Blood Moon Princess
Frontier:
"Mortals and outsiders are all sacrifices to the vampires. However, when she gazes into the abyss, the abyss gazes back at her."

Under the cover of night, North Town was shrouded in a blood-red glow, with pale fires burning on both sides of the street, making the darkness hazy and eerie.

On top of the tower, a figure in a dark red robe overlooked the city below, his red pupils flashing with dangerous light, and a faint smile lingered at the corner of his mouth.

Princess of the Blood Moon.

The ruler of North Town, the most beloved daughter of the Blood Night Tyrant, and the glorious symbol of the blood royal family.

Her fingertips tapped lightly on the armrest, and her black nails scratched across the stone throne, making an inaudible friction sound.

In the square below, the wailing of humans could be heard one after another. They were brought here to accept the "taxes" belonging to the vampires - a tax system that required blood offerings in exchange for survival.

The hunting servants knelt on the ground, begging for mercy in low voices, while she looked at them indifferently, like a god looking down on all living beings.

Her voice was soft, yet filled with irresistible authority:
"Tonight, fifty people will enter the Blood Castle and donate their blood."

"This is not a request, this is an order."

Blood is the lifeblood of the vampires, the sacrifice that keeps them alive. Before every Blood Feast, hundreds of humans are brought into the Blood Castle to become the vampires' blood servants, or more directly, their blood food.

This is the rule, and it has not changed for thousands of years.

But at this moment, a low voice broke the silence of the night.

"Do not."

silence.

Everyone turned around in horror and looked at the man who spoke.

He stood outside the crowd, with a slender figure, wearing a black cloak, and an expressionless silver mask on his face. He looked at the Blood Moon Princess coldly and indifferently.

His eyes were like he was looking down at a lowly beast—

Just like in the past, she looked at these humble mortals with this look.

That was the look of a superior towards an inferior.

The pupils of the Blood Moon Princess shrank slightly, and then the corners of her mouth curled up, revealing a scornful smile.

"You are... a foreigner?"

Her voice was soft and sweet, carrying the unique charm of a vampire, like a poisonous snake coiling around the throat of its prey.

However, the man did not react at all, and continued to look at her indifferently, as if he was looking at an insignificant toy.

The Blood Moon Princess' smile disappeared.

She stood up, her dark red robe fluttering in the wind, and with a slight lift of her fingertips, a wave of blood suddenly surged across the sky!
"Kneel down."

The surging blood turned into a torrent, rushing towards the man like a beast, with pure blood clan suppression,
Any human being, any life, under the control of the blood of the vampire royal family will be instantly eroded and forced to surrender.

however--

The blood wave stopped.

As if blocked by an invisible barrier, the bright red torrent stagnated in front of the man and stopped flowing.

The Blood Moon Princess widened her eyes slightly.

——Her blood has lost its effectiveness?
The man finally raised his hand and waved it casually, his tone as calm as water:
"Go back."

It was as if he was just chasing away an insignificant fly.

In an instant, the blood wave collapsed, and all the blood flowed back like a tide, disappearing into the night.

The Blood Moon Princess's breathing stagnated slightly.

For the first time, she felt an unfamiliar emotion——

fear.

A card slowly emerged from the man's hand. He murmured in a cold and ruthless tone:
"Summon—Faceless Hunter."

A black crack tore open from the air, and a strange-looking monster slowly stepped out.

It has no face, only a shifting, blurred outline, a vortex of swallowing light and shadow.

The Blood Moon Princess reacted immediately. Her body began to swell, her skin turned pale, her fangs extended, her sharp nails slicing through the air, and scarlet bat wings sprouted from her back.

Vampire King form!
She no longer hides the true power of the vampires, but fights with all her might!
However, it only took a few seconds.

A black figure passed by like a ghost, and in the moment when light and shadow were distorted, the throat of the Blood Moon Princess was imprisoned by cold claws.

She opened her eyes wide, and all her pride and dignity, all her royal glory, collapsed at this moment.

She was powerless to fight back.

She is the royal family of the vampires, the ruler, the hunter——

But now, she realized that she was the prey.

She struggled and tried to use the vampire's recovery ability, but her blood completely solidified under the monster's control.

The man looked down at her and said lightly:
“You think you’re in control, but you’re just a pawn in another game.”

His eyes were cold and without any mercy, just like when she used to gaze at those mortals.

(End of this chapter)