Secret World: I Became a God Through Lies

Chapter 194 The Hammer of the Bull-Headed Altar

"When you pray, do you pray for salvation, or for a hand to pull you out of the abyss?"

"Unfortunately, sometimes that hand just pushes you deeper."

After Wang Yichen's team passed the level, the whole room fell into a brief and depressing silence.

Some people slumped on the ground, their faces as pale as if they had lost all their color;
Some people subconsciously clenched the corners of their clothes, their throats were dry, but they couldn't make a sound.

Liu Jingyu tried hard to maintain a calm expression, but the panic in her eyes had already revealed a flaw in her disguised strength.

Lin Wanqing squatted in the corner, hugged her knees, and stared at the bloodstain on the ground - that was the blood that spurted out before Hernan was killed. It had not yet dried, but it had already solidified everyone's courage.

Xu Jinxiao was still standing there, his face like a gray shadow, so silent as if he had long been detached from reality.

Irene suddenly burst into tears and tried to suppress them, but the more she cried, the more she trembled.

"That's real... It's not an act... He's dead... He's really dead..."

Her fingers trembled slightly in front of her cheek, as if she was trying to wipe something away, but she could not wipe away the blood in front of her eyes.

Her voice was almost broken, like a seabird with a cracked shell, crying in the enclosed space of steel: "It's just a choice. Choose the wrong one... and you'll die..."

Before she could finish her words, she was choked with sobs and could not continue.

Her crying was like a needle, piercing everyone's ears and making people tremble.

Wang Yichen stood there, his body seemed to be nailed to the ground. He kept trying to straighten his back and maintain the posture of the "wise captain".
But the cold sweat on his forehead had already slid down his temples, silently soaking his collar.

His hands, hidden behind his back, his fingers numb and shaking, that slight tremor - he didn't even notice it.

This was not the first time he faced the theme of life and death, nor was it the first time he served as a guide for "human observers."

He even said jokingly in countless past episodes of the show: "Death is just the end of a story."

But that’s not the show.

There were no colored lights, no audience, no pre-written scripts or safe words.

This is blood, this is life, this is the person who was cursing and saying "My life is in my own hands, not yours" just a few minutes ago.
Now all that was left was a twisted pool of red.

He wanted to speak, but his throat seemed to be nailed shut. His Adam's apple rolled up and down several times, and he could only utter a dry mutter to himself: "...It's okay, it's just a probability."

But this sentence "it's just a probability" seems so absurd and fragile in front of the pool of blood on the ground.

He forced himself to stop his eyes from wandering and refused to look at the corpse.

But the pool of blood under his feet seemed to extend intentionally, like a wronged soul flowing out from fate, dragging his ankle.

For the first time he truly realized—

I am not hosting a "game".

He is an actor on this hellish stage, a sacrifice, and someone who will "die" in the next second.

On the other side of the barrier, the Sima Ming team quietly watched this violent "unveiling ceremony".

Siming leaned against the wall of the barrier, his expression normal, his right hand lazily in his pocket, like a traveler waiting for the rain to stop.

There was a faint smile on the corner of his mouth, but against the backdrop of blood and tears, that smile seemed almost indifferent.

"Master," Celian raised her eyebrows, her tone cold and sarcastic.

"They just cleared a three-question exam, but they act like they just crawled out of hell."

Siming blinked and said in a faint voice, "The Three-Gate Game is nothing more than a toy box of probability to us."

He paused, his eyes fixed on the still spreading bloodstain, and his voice deepened:
"But for them, that was the first drop of...real 'blood'."

Celian licked her lips and smiled seductively: "How many people do you think will be scared to death in the next game?"

"It's hard to say." Siming raised his finger and tapped his temple lightly.
“The fear of death is never hidden in action, but in thinking.”

Just then, there was a strange noise from the ground.

Vera team's trial judgment - triggered.

The gray-white floor tiles in the center suddenly sank, cracking like the mouth of the underworld. A twisted magic circle rose from the abyss.
Like a summoning circle infused with blood, it emitted a sickening gasping sound.

There was no flame, no light, only a black spiral that made your scalp tingle.

It was as if a long-awaited existence was about to reveal its true face behind this door.

"Team Two, assembled."

The card's announcement was as cold as iron, with a hint of digital distortion echoing, resonating in the claustrophobic space.

Immediately afterwards——

It appeared. It was an unignorable figure, like a nightmare walker dragging countless corpses from the bloody hell, stepping into this judgment seat erected by fate.

The bull-headed body is over three meters tall, with layers of muscles piled up to the point of almost losing human proportions. It looks like a creature of disaster that was reshaped by a god tearing up the earth in anger.

Its hair was ragged, and its dark brown hide had been mottled and corroded by flames and rust, with the exposed texture still bearing unhealed brand marks and scars of blood and flesh.

And its eyes - those strange and morbid blood-red vertical pupils - were looking down at everyone slowly and emotionlessly.

Its horns were curved like sharp blades, asymmetrical on both sides, with a strip of cloth from a stump wrapped around one side and a half-lost mandible hanging from the other.

The broken teeth were still dripping with milky white turbid mucus.

Its hands were tightly gripping the huge iron hammer. The hammer head was covered with cracks and rust, and was embedded with irregular iron nails, as if it was cast from the enemy's skull.

The dark red dried blood mixed with some kind of white sticky substance that was still dripping, making a "click, click" sound on the ground, like the god of death patiently knocking on the edge of time.

The air becomes denser.

The stench, rust, and burnt meat smell hit me in the face, making me want to vomit.

Mu Sisi took two steps back on the spot, her face pale: "...This is not a 'monster', this is fear itself... Minoan Minotaur? No... It shouldn't exist in reality... right..."

Fujimiya Sumi almost collapsed to the ground, covering his ears tightly with his hands, but he could still hear his heart beating wildly - every beat echoed like a hammer on his soul.

"Challenge: Rock, Paper, Scissors."

The card system's voice was emotionless, like a cold judge, "The winner survives, the loser endures the [Judgment by the Hammer]."

"Rules: Each player fights independently, three rounds each, two wins clear the level, and success is achieved without death."

"The penalty for failure will be enforced by the guards."

The hammer fell to the ground, and the dull "boom" when the metal touched the ground was like the ringing of a verdict, shaking everyone's nerves.

Vera didn't say anything, but her eyes burned through the oppressive space like flames.

She took a step forward, her figure thin but upright, and that step seemed to gently kick away the darkness surrounding everyone.

She turned around and scanned the team members with a sharp gaze:

"Fujimiya, Ms. Mu, Mr. Rudolph."

She nodded softly, her tone gentle, but like the last bell before prayer.

"Fear is human nature. I am afraid too."

“But I’m not alone.”

She slowly raised her hand, and her fingertips gently touched the inverted cross pendant on her chest.

A faint resonance was heard there—a silver-white holy spell emerged, like a gentle glimmer rippling in the air.

She sang softly, a string of ancient words that sounded like a hymn or a whisper, as if flowing from a distant and silent faith:

“I once heard the whispers of angels hanging upside down in a sea of ​​blood in the inverted temple of the ‘Hymn Gate’.
They told me, 'Even if the light is pressed into the ground, it will shine within you, for you.'"

The sound seemed to hit the softest part of everyone.

"Now, I ask you to trust me just once."

Fujimiya Sumi bit his lip and nodded vigorously. Rudolph said nothing, but slowly took a step forward and stood beside Vera.

Mu Sisi held the drawing board in her arms, as if she was holding her only support.

In the observation area, Wang Yichen stood behind the glass, cold sweat dripping from his forehead.

He looked at the slime dripping from the Minotaur and the grayish-white fascia tissue adhering to its body, and his stomach began to churn.

"We... aren't really on some variety show, are we?"

His voice was so soft that it sounded like an auditory hallucination, followed by a nervous, dry laugh. He finally understood:

——The failure here does not mean losing fans or getting bad reviews.

It is death, it is broken bones under the hammer.

The countdown numbers appear.

10, 9, 8...

Vera closed her eyes and opened her lips slightly:
"Agents stand for faith."

She opened her eyes, her gaze was like stars, and she smiled:
"Trust me once, we will survive."

(End of this chapter)