Secret World: I Became a God Through Lies

Chapter 27: Gambler of Fate

The candlelight in the Blood Castle flickered, the long gambling game was coming to an end, and the light was reflected on the pale and tense faces.

At the poker table, there are only two opponents left——

Siming, the gambler of outsiders, the weaver of fate.

The Duke of Blood Night, the ruler of the vampire clan and the symbol of invincibility.

The other Blood Marquises had all retreated. The Blood Marquis of Dongzhen's face was as pale as paper, and his fingers were trembling unconsciously.

She lowered her head, not daring to look into the Duke's eyes, not even daring to make a sound.
As if afraid that this moment of silence would become a judgment on himself.

She lost, not only her chips, but also the Duke's trust - she lost her status in the vampire clan.

Siming tapped the table lightly, his tone was a little nonchalant:
"Mr. Dongzhen, are you still not going to leave?"

Duke Bloody Night did not speak, but his fingertips moved slightly, as if ringing the death knell of fate.

The Blood Marquis of Dongzhen's shoulders trembled. She slowly stood up, bowed deeply, and said in a low, hoarse voice: "...Please allow me to take my leave."

She walked away from the gambling table with stiff steps, not daring to look back.

At this point, there are only two people left in the gambling game.

The air seemed to grow heavy, and every time the candle flame jumped,

It was like the sound of a timer ticking, locking Blood Castle firmly in this fateful showdown.

Duke Bloody Night finally slowly raised his eyes and truly looked at Sima Ming for the first time.

In those scarlet pupils, there was no longer a condescending look, but an examination of "the same kind".

There was a moment of silence, so long that it seemed to engulf the entire fortress.

Then, Siming slowly uttered a sentence, his voice as calm as the echo of a dead bell:
"You've already lost from the start."

Duke Bloody Night raised his eyebrows slightly, and a faint smile appeared on the corner of his mouth.
The voice was low and slow, with a certain unspoken danger: "Are you kidding me, stranger?"

Siming looked at him, his eyes as sharp as a knife, without wavering at all: "You know."

He gently turned the chips between his fingers, his voice leisurely and firm:
"From the moment this gamble began, the loser was already destined—and that person is you."

The Duke of Bloody Night's smile paused slightly.

At that moment, the air almost froze, and all the candlelight seemed to have lost its warmth, and the atmosphere in the entire room dropped to freezing point.

Natasha stood by and looked at Siming quietly.

Her pupils shrank slightly, and her eyes lingered on him with complicated expressions, as if she finally understood something.

She murmured to herself, "...So that day, the card hunter's game seemed like kindergarten house to you, right, Siming?"

Her voice was very soft, but in the silent air, it fell into everyone's ears.

The smile on the Duke of Bloody Night gradually faded, his scarlet eyes narrowed slightly, as cold as the dead silence under the night sky.

His fingertips tapped lightly on the table, and every tap was a steady and low echo of fate.

"Then tell me how I lost." His voice sounded slowly, like a sharp sword that had not been unsheathed.

Create an invisible crack in the air.

Siming smiled, his eyes calm, his fingertips casually turning a chip on the table.
It spun lightly on his fingertips, as if the entire gambling game was under his control.

"First of all, you rely too much on the dealer's cheating methods." He said softly, with a hint of mockery in his tone.
"But when you realized I might have 'marked' all the cards, your confidence began to crumble."

The Duke of Bloody Night's eyes remained cold. He did not speak, but the tapping of his fingertips paused for a moment.

Siming smiled slightly and continued, “Secondly, your blood marquises compete with each other and are willing to kill each other in order to win your favor.

And all of this... was just guided by me."

He slowly glanced at the empty seats. Those Blood Marquises who were once full of confidence could no longer even touch a corner of the gambling table.

"Finally, your vampire's greatest weakness is pride."

Siming's voice was slightly lowered, with a hint of coldness, "You won't accept that you might be schemed against by a foreigner.

So, until now, you still believe that you can win."

The Duke of Bloody Night slowly withdrew his fingers, and the tapping of the table completely stopped.

He was silent for a moment, then smiled softly.

It was a low, dangerous, and even slightly joyful laugh, as if the gamble had finally reached its most anticipated moment.

"Very good." He said slowly, his low voice like a whisper before nightfall.

He raised his hand slightly, signaling the dealer to continue, his scarlet eyes as deep as the abyss.

"Come, then—let us see which side fate is on."

The candlelight flickered slightly, and on the card table, four hole cards slowly fell in front of the two people.

There is no turning back in this game.

This will be the ultimate showdown - one is a gambler who is proficient in lies and manipulation, and the other is the king who controls blood and death.

The card game is about to reach its final conclusion...

Extra: Celian's Whispers

“The threads of fate intertwine, but the true weaver is often not the one who appears to be pulling the strings.”

Night fell over Beizhen, and the black tiles gleamed coldly in the moonlight, like a silent ocean.

Celian stood on a high place, overlooking the figures walking in the streets.

Her boots tapped the eaves lightly, kicking up a cloud of dust, and her eyes fell on a special figure.

Sima Ming.

The man who fell from the sky and plunged headfirst into the haystack of the old horse. The man who seemed to control his own destiny, yet always played the role of gambler and magician with a smile on his face.

That person, she decided to "pay attention" to.

Her eyes wandered and fell on Siming's shoulder.

—Or, more precisely, a subtle distortion in the shadow that fell on his shoulder.

She curled the corners of her lips and a cunning light flashed in her eyes.

"You're finally here, Red Wing."

She had known for a long time that the vampires would send people to keep an eye on this interesting outsider.

But she didn't expect that he would be the one to come——

Viscount Redwing.

She chuckled softly, as if she had heard some funny story.

His fingertips slid casually across the eaves, leaving a faint gray mark.

Viscount Red Wing—no, Luther von Black, the former swordsman, now a vampire noble.

Celia knew him well.

He had been her prey, now her servant.

Back then, she had stood on the corridor of the Blood Castle, looking down at the man lying on the ground, covered in blood.

He was once the strongest swordsman in the North and the last barrier against the vampires, but in the end he struggled at her feet like a dying beast.

She had intended to kill him.

But she changed her mind.

Because she wanted to see how he would struggle if she gave him a little "hope"?

So, she dripped a drop of real blood and fed it into his lips with her own hands.

She watched him transform in the curse of blood and evolution,
Watching him transform from a human body into a servant of the vampires, watching him think he had been "reborn".

...But he didn't know that that drop of true blood completely turned him into her slave.

He was hers, hers forever.

The true blood of the vampires is not only a gift of power, but also a shackle, a brand, and a curse.

As long as she wanted, she could sense his location, control his will, and even turn him into ashes in an instant.

But she never actually used this ability.

Because she knew that it was more fun to make someone submit voluntarily than to force them to obey.

And Viscount Red Wing is the perfect experimental subject.

When she saw the red-winged blood bat quietly following Sima Ming, she knew—

My father has noticed this man.

A sense of pleasure rose in her heart.

She was worried that she couldn't find any way to make her father interested in this man who was suspected of controlling his fate.

The Bloody Night Tyrant's vigilance was too strong, and he was bound by the Twin Princesses.

His mind has become solidified, imprisoned by the laws of the vampires and bound by the curse of blood.

But what if there is someone who can make him see "hope"?

What if there was someone who could make him doubt the inevitability of fate?

She licked her lips and smiled softly.

"Red Wing...you are still as loyal as ever."

She gently closed her eyes, sensing the familiar blood connection.

Viscount Redwing's loyalty to the Bloody Night Tyrant is unquestionable, but his loyalty to her is instinctive.

Even though she is “dead,” even though her identity has changed, this connection remains.

Her voice echoed softly in her blood, like a whisper, like a call—

"Red Wing, what are you looking at? Who are you staring at? What are you afraid of?"

At that moment, she seemed to feel Hongyi's blood flow slightly stagnant.

She smiled.

"Keep a close eye on him, my viscount... and then, tell me everything you see."

She slowly opened her eyes, and the light of the blood moon shone in her pupils, deep and distant.

Her fingers tapped lightly on the eaves, as if playing some silent melody.

Fate, fate.

——To whom does destiny belong?
She really wanted to know, Bloody Night Tyrant, if there was a chance to escape the deception of the Twin Princesses, would he be willing to give it a try?
She wondered, father, if he still missed the self who held high his spear in the human fortress?

If he still remembered, if he still longed...

Then maybe she could give him a chance.

A chance to rewrite your destiny.

She laughed softly, her laughter was low and gentle, like a whisper in the night.

(End of this chapter)