Secret World: I Became a God Through Lies

Chapter 20 Blood Gamble, Twisted Face
In the dark night, everyone wears a mask. But when you think you've uncovered the truth, are you sure that face... is really his?

The candlelight flickered slightly in the wind, illuminating the figure standing in front of the obsidian gate of the Blood Castle.

Siming stood there quietly, his cloak slightly raised, his fingertips stroking an invisible card, his eyes deep, as if penetrating reality and looking into some deeper darkness.

That is a memory that should not be mentioned.

About - The Faceless Lord.

Before setting off, Loren whispered to Siming about a strange past event. His voice was low, as if he was recalling a nightmare that he could not get rid of.

"That man... I've only seen him once in my boss's office."

That day, even Huck, the overlord of the Golden Country, could only bow humbly at his feet.

Loren's tone was very soft, but Sima Ming could hear the suppressed fear, like a shadow engraved in his bones, which had not yet dissipated.

"I could only watch from afar... but I clearly remember that man having the twelve zodiac signs tattooed on his wrist."

Loren paused, his eyes darkening slightly.

"Do you know what this means?"

Sima Ming didn't respond, but just looked at him meaningfully.

Loren lowered his eyes, his voice becoming a little hoarse.

"The highest star rating known to the Mystic Master, the Supreme Card..."

"Then I saw—Huck's face suddenly became blurry, like a painting soaked by water."

"He wasn't bleeding, he was melting."

After the words were spoken, silence enveloped the space between them.

Siming tapped the table slowly with his fingertips and narrowed his eyes.

"……melt?"

The corner of Loren's mouth twitched, and his face was slightly gloomy.

"Yes... His face turned into nothingness, and then, he grew a completely different face."

Huck's wailing still echoed in his memory. It was not ordinary pain, but the despair of being deprived of "self".

"Every time his face changed, he felt pain... It felt like he was no longer himself."

Loren took a deep breath and slowly uttered a name——

"The Faceless Lord."

Sima Ming was silent for a moment, then smiled gently, his tone leisurely and with a hint of elusive meaning.

"The twelve star patterns... the ability to tamper with one's identity..."

He stroked the cards in his hand, with a slight smile on his face.

"It's really interesting."

He withdrew his thoughts and looked up at the Blood Castle in front of him.

Scarlet lights flickered on the obsidian walls, and deep shadows engulfed the towering spires, like a sleeping beast waiting for its prey to fall into its trap.

Siming raised the corners of his mouth slightly and chuckled softly.

"So, tonight, whose face...will change?"

The blood feast has begun.

The hall of the Blood Castle was magnificent and eerie. Dark flames burned on the high-hanging candlesticks, and the scarlet light and shadows reflected the twisted sculptures.
Each stone-carved face is lifelike, as if moaning softly, telling of an unknown past.

In the center, a long table stretched across the room, covered with crimson silk, with gold and silver utensils arranged in an orderly manner. Each wine glass was filled with dark liquid, which glowed with an eerie luster under the candlelight.

The air was filled with a subtle smell of rust, like the whisper of a bloody night.

And on the throne—

Tyrant of the bloody night, Duke Dracula.

He was wearing a scarlet royal robe, and the broad armrests were sprinkled with mottled golden light and shadow. His slender fingers slowly tapped the armrests, and his red pupils flickered slightly in the light and shadow, carrying an unignorable majesty and oppression.

He raised his eyes and slowly scanned the crowd.

"Strangers—"

His voice was low and magnetic, like a murmur flowing under the night sky.

"Welcome to the Blood Feast."

"Your arrival makes this ceremony... even more interesting."

In the dim light of the burning candles, Siming looked at every face at the banquet.

Loren still maintained the usual composure of a trader, tapping his fingers lightly on the table, as if he was weighing the situation.

Roca snorted coldly, obviously disdainful of the vampire's arrogance, but he did not act rashly and was still waiting for a suitable opportunity.

Avel stood in the shadows, as if ready to hide at any time, the darkness flowing around him, making him seem as if he didn't exist.

And Celian——

She had a subtle smile on her face, her red lips gently sipping the wine glass, her eyes so deep that they were unfathomable, as if she had expected all this.

Everyone is waiting, waiting for the tyrant's true intentions to be revealed.

The tyrant's gaze swept over them one by one, finally landing on Sima Ming.

——At that moment, Siming’s fingers paused slightly.

The Bloody Night Tyrant's lips curled up slowly, revealing a faint smile. His sharp fangs shone with a chilling coldness under the candlelight. "I invite you—"

He spoke in a low voice, his tone gentle and elegant, as if he was stating a fact that had already been decided.

"It's not because you are strong."

The air seemed to freeze in an instant, the nobles of the vampire clan raised their heads slightly, and the whispers at the banquet disappeared.

Duke Dracula's smile deepened, his fingers gently stroked the armrest, his voice low and firm.

"But because—"

"You have the 'chips' I want."

In an instant, the temperature in the entire banquet hall seemed to drop sharply.

Loren frowned slightly, while Siming just continued to rub the playing cards in his hand lazily, with the smile on his face still unchanged.

The smell of blood in the air seemed to be stronger. The firelight flickered, and the shadows cast on the obsidian wall trembled slightly, as if an invisible existence was spying on all this.

Sima Ming chuckled softly, his voice leisurely, as if everything was under his control.

"This is really..."

He gently turned over the playing cards and tapped his index finger on the table, his eyes deep and his smile meaningful.

"It's getting more interesting."

The candlelight flickered slightly, illuminating the deep blood-red glow in the banquet hall.

A familiar voice slowly rang out, accompanied by the gentle sound of a pocket watch turning.

"Everyone, long time no see."

Siming's smile paused slightly and he turned to look.

Hermann stood at the door of the banquet hall, with his usual gentle smile on his face, and his fingertips lightly turned the pocket watch, as if he was just a returning companion who happened to come back at the end of the banquet.

However, Siming's smile faded quietly, and his eyes narrowed slightly.

Not right.

Something is wrong.

Hermann's gait, the curve of his smile, even his habitual stroking of his pocket watch, were all flawless. However, precisely because of this, this "perfection" seemed strange.

All of this seemed like a precisely choreographed play, like... some kind of deliberately created "Hermann".

Herman's true self seemed to have disappeared.

Loren's expression darkened, the glimmer in his golden right eye dimming slightly, as if he were weighing the line between reality and illusion. Avel's pupils shrank slightly, his fingertips hidden beneath his black cloak, as if ready to face any uncertain situation at any moment.

"Hermann?" Loren asked in a low voice, taking a tentative step forward.

Hermann smiled a perfect, gentle expression.

"What's wrong, Loren? Shouldn't you be happy to see me?"

The tone, expression, and even the warmth in his eyes at that moment were all impeccable.

But Sima Ming did not take a step forward, but slowly took a step back.

Intuition set off alarm bells in his mind.

Hermann was no longer Hermann.

The air seemed to grow heavier, and even the burning candlelight trembled slightly for a moment.

The vampire nobles in the banquet hall were still sitting on both sides of the long table, with a faint smile on their lips, as if this scene was no longer strange to them.

The Bloody Night Tyrant slowly stood up, his cloak fluttering like a bloody mist. His fingers gracefully stroked the armrest, revealing an unfathomable smile.

"Now that the banquet is over," he began slowly, his voice so low it looked like the whisper of the bloody night itself, "let's play some fun games."

He leaned forward slightly, his crimson pupils staring directly at Siming, his smile evil and cunning, as if a hunter had finally closed the trap, waiting for the prey to struggle.

"The bet is on."

His voice was steady and carried an unquestionable authority.

"The stakes are—blood."

In an instant, the temperature in the entire banquet hall dropped sharply.

Loren's fingertips tightened slightly, and the light in his golden right eye flickered slightly.

Roca gripped his battle axe tightly, a dangerous look emerging between his brows.

Avel stood in the shadows, his body slightly tense, while Celian gently swirled her wine glass, a meaningful smile on her lips, as if she already knew the rules of the game.

Sima Ming's gaze met the tyrant's, the flickering candlelight reflected in his deep eyes.

His fingertips gently flipped a playing card between his sleeves, and the corners of his lips raised slightly.

He chuckled softly.

"Well, since it's a bet—"

"Who is the banker?"

The candle flame flickered violently at this moment, and the light and shadow lengthened everyone's figures, just like the shadow of fate slowly spreading and swallowing everyone.

In this gambling game, who is controlling the chessboard, and who is trapped in the game?

(End of this chapter)