Secret World: I Became a God Through Lies

Chapter 18 Bloody Invitation and Blood Curse

The candlelight in the Moon Hunter Tavern flickered, illuminating every face with a different expression.

The dim light casts a slightly swaying shadow on the rough wooden table.
The air was filled with the spicy smell of alcohol and the unique damp smell of old wood.

The drunken adventurers were talking in low voices in the corner, and the sound of dice hitting the table was accompanied by faint laughter.
It is especially clear in this moment of silence.

Siming leaned lazily on the back of the chair, his fingers gently turning a playing card, his eyes passing over the silver coins scattered on the table.
The corners of his mouth were slightly raised, and there was a faint smile in his eyes.

Loren sat opposite, the light of his golden eyes flickering slightly. Obviously, he had sensed some unusual aura.

There was a subtle change in the air, and an almost imperceptible smell of blood slowly spread.

The door of the tavern was pushed open, and the night wind blew in, bringing with it a low and distant whine.

The visitor was wearing a black cloak, delicate white gloves on his hands, and an elegant smile on his pale face.

His steps were light and smooth, like a flowing black shadow, without a sound. He stopped in front of everyone.
He bent slightly, and his deep voice sounded like an ancient bell, revealing a certain fatal attraction under the candlelight.

"Dear distinguished strangers." He raised his head, his blood-red pupils flickering slightly in the shadows.
Like a predator sleeping in the abyss, he whispered, "The Master of the Blood Castle sincerely invites you to the upcoming 'Blood Feast'."

He raised his hand, and a dark red invitation quietly emerged, as if held up by the night.

The invitation card seemed to be carved from solidified blood, with twisted and strange patterns emerging on its surface, like countless intertwined blood vessels.
It wriggles slightly in the candlelight, flowing with slow and quiet vitality.

The entire tavern fell into deathly silence at that moment. All whispers stopped abruptly, and the air seemed to be sucked out at this moment.

Someone quietly stood up and quickly retreated into the shadows;
Some people lowered their eyes, as if they didn't want to be involved in this gamble that was destined to be related to the vampires.

Most people remained silent and watched the scene quietly - everyone knew that
The "Blood Banquet" is never a simple banquet, but a ceremony, a grand ceremony of the vampire clan, and a game with a sense of fate.

For the invited outsiders, this may mean honor - or it may mean an abyss from which there is no escape.

The smell of blood in the air became stronger and stronger, as if the scent of the invitation card seeped into everyone's nostrils bit by bit.

Roca stared at the invitation silently, his rough hands slowly clenched, and his joints made a slight "creaking" sound.

He slowly stood up and snorted coldly, his tone full of undisguised sarcasm and disdain:

"Sorry, I have no interest in the vampire's 'banquet'."

Someone in the tavern took a deep breath, then quickly lowered his head, moving away from the potential storm.

Loren glanced at Roca, a subtle hint of deep thought flashing across his brows, while Siming raised his eyebrows.

He watched the confrontation in front of him with great interest, the playing cards in his hand tapping lightly against the table, making a subtle rhythmic sound.

The vampire messenger showed no anger at all. His smile remained elegant, and there was a playful glint in his eyes.

He raised his fingers slightly, and a low humming sounded in the air, as if invisible strings were vibrating in the darkness.

An invisible force instantly spread out, silently wrapping around Roca's limbs like a spider web.

Roca's body suddenly stiffened, his pupils shrank sharply, and cold sweat instantly seeped out of his forehead.

He tried hard not to kneel down, but the muscles all over his body seemed to be bound by invisible shackles.
The flow of blood seems to be controlled by some rules.
Every heartbeat carries a burning sensation, like a hot iron chain clinging to the bones, gradually tightening.

"'Blood Curse'." The Blood Clan Messenger whispered with a smile.

The tone is as gentle as the whisper of the night,

"It won't hurt you, it just lets you experience a little bit... the majesty of the vampires."

Roca clenched his teeth, his face was pale, and his legs were trembling slightly, but he still held on tightly to prevent himself from falling.

His anger surged, and a dangerous light flashed in his eyes, but his blood began to freeze uncontrollably, and the beating of his heart was slowly suppressed.

The vampire messenger stared at him, the smile on his lips never changing.

He gently smoothed the wrinkles on his white gloves, his tone still gentle and polite.
As if he was just chatting with a guest: "You should learn to adapt to this world." He said,

With a slight wave of his hand, the restraint in the air instantly dissipated, and the curse receded like the tide.

Roca gasped sharply, cold sweat running down his forehead.

He slowly straightened up and licked the corner of his mouth, but the murderous intent in his eyes had not completely disappeared.

However, this scene did not elicit any angry response, and the Blood Clan Messenger still maintained that elegant smile.
It was as if what happened just now was just a casual test.

Loren sighed softly and took the invitation.
He said calmly, "Please tell your master that we will consider his kind invitation."

The Blood Clan Messenger nodded slightly, with just the right amount of calmness and grace.

He bowed slightly, then slowly retreated, as if the darkness swallowed his figure.

Only when his breath completely disappeared did the noise in the tavern slowly resume.

However, the smell of blood in the air has not completely dissipated, like an invisible shadow, hanging over everyone's heart.

The invitation was placed on the table, and the dark red lines seemed to be still slowly wriggling.
Like blood that hadn't yet completely solidified, it exuded a subtle, eerie quality. In the candlelight, the invitation glowed with an eerie luster, like a still-beating heart.

The air in the pub was so heavy that it seemed frozen. An oppressive silence spread, and people could almost hear each other's breathing.

Although the drinkers were talking in low voices, they would glance at Siming and his party from time to time.
With a little exploration, but more of alienation and avoidance.

Regulars at the Moon Hunter Tavern all knew that once a vampire invited them into the Blood Castle, the host and guest of the banquet were never decided by them.

Loren didn't rush to speak. He just tapped the table with his fingertips, the rhythm slow and steady, as if he was organizing his thoughts.

The light of the golden eyes flickered slightly in the candlelight, reflecting the unfathomable calmness in his eyes.

"The vampires won't invite outsiders for no reason." He finally spoke, his tone calm, yet revealing a hint of vigilance.

"They must have set up a gambling game, and we..."

His eyes slowly swept over the crowd, stopping at the invitation, and the corners of his mouth tightened slightly, "It's just one of their bargaining chips."

There was a hint of uneasiness in the air.

Avel sat in the shadows, head lowered, like a silent statue.

After a moment, his voice came faintly: "The question is, what is the stakes?"

No one answered because no one was sure.

Loren was silent for a moment, then slowly said, "It could be something in our hands, or it could be someone..."

Before he finished speaking, Sima Ming suddenly chuckled, breaking the heavy atmosphere.

"You guys are too nervous." His tone was relaxed, as if he didn't care about the predicament at all.

He stretched out his finger and flicked the invitation casually, his eyes flickering slightly.

"At least, we now know that 'Blood Feast' is the only entrance."

He paused, a frivolous arc appeared on the corner of his mouth, and his tone was lazy, as if he was a gambler who had already taken a seat, watching the dealer slowly reveal the cards.

"If the gambling game has already begun, the most taboo thing is hesitation."

Loren stared at him for a few seconds, the scrutiny in his eyes fleeting.
Then, he smiled softly and nodded slightly: "You are right."

He tapped his fingers lightly on the table and whispered:
"Now that we're seated...why not see what we can actually win?"

As soon as he finished speaking, Avel suddenly stood up, breaking the slightly relaxed atmosphere. His eyes were sharp.
Like a dagger hidden in the darkness, it points directly to the most pressing problem at hand.

"Where's Hermann?" His voice was low and cold, revealing a dangerous aura that could not be ignored.

Loren's expression changed slightly. He thought of the Shadow Messenger he had sent out.
Logically, Herman should have responded long ago, but there has been no news from him.

Avel's eyes narrowed slightly, and an ominous light flashed in his eyes:

"I sent a messenger to look for him a long time ago... but until now, he still hasn't responded."

His voice was calm, but it carried an inexplicable sense of oppression.

Several astrologers in the tavern subconsciously shrank back, fearing that they would be involved in some trouble.

Loren tapped his fingers lightly on the table, his voice slowly lowered:

"If Herman was targeted by the vampires, he should have received an invitation to the Blood Feast."

As soon as he finished speaking, Avila's eyes became more profound.
He slowly uttered a possibility: "But what if he didn't receive it at all?"

For a moment, the air seemed to freeze.

Everyone's expression changed.

The vampires will not ignore a valuable outsider.

If Hermann did not receive the invitation, it meant that the vampires did not intend to treat him as a "guest" - but rather as some kind of "special treatment target."

Roca frowned and whispered, "This is impossible... Herman can't be controlled so easily."

Siming did not speak, he just looked at the invitation quietly.

His fingers slid silently across the table, as if he was calculating something.

After a few seconds, he narrowed his eyes slightly, with a faint smile on the corner of his mouth.

"Interesting..." His voice was soft and hoarse with a hint of meaning.

"Our bet seems to be more complicated than we imagined."

The lights in the tavern flickered slightly, casting deep shadows and making everyone's face dim and unclear.

(End of this chapter)