Secret World: I Became a God Through Lies

Chapter 88 Whale Grave and Everyone’s Nightmare

"This city devours everything—gold, glory, and memories."

“But some things, even if buried by time, will never be forgotten.”

Hunter Tide Lane has always been the busiest area in Whale Tomb. There is no peace and quiet here.
There was only a cacophony of noise mixed with the sounds of pirates reveling and trading.

Various vendors are densely packed in the shadows of the harbor, selling everything from old canvas to damaged weapons.
From wreckage salvaged from the deep sea to various ancient trick cards, there is everything.

Ian wandered casually through the chaotic market, his eyes aimlessly scanning the old objects.

To a man accustomed to storms and battles, this market was just another chaotic battlefield.

The only difference is that gold and trickery are used here instead of swords and guns.

Until his eyes fell on an inconspicuous stall.

It was an old leather bag, lying quietly among a pile of tattered belongings of the crew. The mouth of the bag was slightly open, revealing the edges of a few dice.

In the dim light, the carvings on the dice revealed six familiar sea beast patterns, and the edges appeared dim and warm due to the rubbing of time.

Nightmare dice.

His fingertips unconsciously touched the dice, and the texture under his skin instantly activated certain memories deep in his mind.

Under the dim cabin light, the companions of the Wind Whisper Fleet sat together in the cabin, the sounds of laughter and the rolling of dice intertwined, and the long night at sea was filled with gambling and alcohol.

That night, he had a dice like this in his hand. In the end, he won all the bets on the table, but he also lost something more precious.

A deep laugh broke his thoughts. The stall owner was a skinny old man.

The wrinkles on his face were so deep that they seemed to have been carved by the sea breeze. He had a burnt yellow pipe dangling from the corner of his mouth, and his eyes were half-closed, revealing a cunning look.

"Are you interested in this thing?" The old man exhaled a puff of smoke, his tone leisurely, but with a hint of observation.

"Where did you get it?" Ian's expression remained unchanged and his tone was casual, but his fingertips involuntarily tightened a little.

The old man shrugged, his expression as if he was used to it. "A lot of what was salvaged from the bottom of the Sea of ​​Dreams is old stuff from shipwrecks... Why, do you recognize it?"

Ian's eyes flashed, and after a moment of silence, he gently closed the dice bag.
His fingertips lightly stroked the rough fabric of the bag, then he shook his head: "...No, just taking a look."

He paid, put the dice bag into his pocket, turned and left, and continued walking deeper into the market.

The bottom of the sea. He had never heard of this place.

But this place made him feel inexplicably uneasy.

On the other side of Liechao Lane, a shooting competition is in full swing.

The pirates of the Whale Grave are keen on competing in marksmanship, and the sharpshooter duel is one of the most popular gambling games here.

Whether it is a flintlock rifle, a crossbow, or even a javelin, they can all be used as a means of competition here.
The winner not only wins a generous bet, but sometimes also takes away some rare loot.

Rex was just standing on the periphery watching casually, he was not in a hurry to take action.

It wasn't until his eyes swept over the prize in the center of the gambling game that his expression suddenly froze.

It was a naval saber. The engraving on the hilt had become blurred due to the erosion of time, but he could still make out the familiar mark.

He took a deep breath and his expression changed slightly.

He recognized this knife. It shouldn't be here.

This is not an ordinary saber, but a command sword that once belonged to a fleet. Only officers above the rank of squadron leader are qualified to wear it.

What made him most uneasy was that its owner had died in the Sea of ​​Thousand Souls many years ago, and this sword should have sunk into the abyss along with the battleship.

Why did it appear in the Whale Grave? Who brought it?

Rex's eyes narrowed slightly, and his expression became cold.

He knew that he had to get the saber back, and the most direct way was to win the game.

He walked towards the registration desk, tugged at his gloves, and looked at the referee with a calm and sharp gaze.

"Sign up." His tone was so calm as if he was talking about an insignificant matter.

The referee looked him over and without asking any questions, he casually tossed him a flintlock rifle and said, "Five bullets. If you hit three copper coins in one go, you'll advance."

Rex took the gun, rotated the gun body with one hand, and skillfully pulled the bolt with his fingertips, with a faint smile appearing at the corner of his mouth.

"Simple," he said.

The referee casually threw out five copper coins, which spun and rose in the air, reflecting the faint light of the fire, like broken stars dancing in the night sky.

Bang—the first gunshot rang out, and the first copper coin was pierced accurately. It paused slightly in the air, then broke into two halves and fell to the ground.

A second shot rang out, and a second copper coin was also shot, and fragments flew down and hit the gamblers' boots.

The third, fourth, and fifth shots—almost instantly, all five bullets were fired.
The five copper coins formed a trail of afterimages in the air, and were eventually shot through without exception. The broken metal pieces scattered on the ground in a shimmering circle.

There was a sound of gasps from the surroundings, and the gamblers watching looked at Rex in shock.
They originally thought that he was just an ordinary challenger, but they didn't expect his shooting skills to be so sharp and accurate that even the referee's face changed slightly.

"...Damn it." The referee cursed under his breath, then reluctantly waved him forward.

Rex shrugged, holstered his gun, and glanced at the prizes behind the judge.

"So, what's the next challenge?" His voice was low, with a hint of indifference and coldness.

He had to get the saber back no matter what.

The underground fighting arena of the Whale Grave is one of the bloodiest and most frenzied places in the entire city. There are no rules, no mercy, only naked violence and gamblers' revelry.

In the center of the ring, the blood-soaked floor reflected a faint blue light, and the air was filled with the scent of sweat and alcohol.

The savage roars and shouts of the pirates echoed in every corner.

Baroque stood in the center of the ring, his heavy breathing mixed with the deafening cheers around him.
He raised his hand to wipe the blood from the corner of his mouth, licked the corner of his lips with the tip of his tongue, and tasted the fishy sweetness of rust.

His opponent had fallen to the ground, his chest heaving violently, muffled groans coming from his mouth, his arms twitching slightly, and it was obvious that there was no possibility of him standing up again.

The pirates who were watching erupted in deafening cheers, and the gamblers raised their gold coins high in the air, shouting frantically, "One more! One more!"

The crowd was suddenly pushed aside, and a burly figure passed through the circle of pirates and slowly stepped onto the ring.

He was shirtless, his muscles were like steel under his bronze skin.

His body was covered with hideous scars left by swords and fists, each one looking like the mark of a bloody battle.

His head was as shiny as a mirror, his arms crossed, and he looked at Baroque with bloodthirsty fighting spirit in his eyes.

"You're quite good at fighting." The bald man grinned, revealing a mouthful of broken yellow teeth, his voice low and hoarse.

Baroque shook his shoulders, tilted his neck slightly, making a series of crisp sounds of bones rubbing against each other, and a sarcastic smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.

"It's okay." He answered casually, but his eyes were already fixed on the other person's muscle movements and movement trajectory.

The bald man's smile slowly faded. He took a deep breath, exerted force on his feet, and got into a stance.

"I hope you can still stand firm." Before he finished speaking, his fist suddenly blasted out, hitting Baroque's face like a cannonball!
Baroque didn't dodge at all, his footsteps didn't move at all, instead he charged straight at the fist -

The sound of fists hitting foreheads exploded on the boxing ring, like a heavy hammer hitting a rock, shaking the air so much that it seemed to tremble.

The bald man staggered back, a look of brief surprise on his face.

Baroque slowly raised his head. The skin on his forehead had cracked and blood was slowly sliding down his cheek, but his eyes were still like a bloodthirsty beast, full of fanaticism and excitement.

"...Are you crazy?" The bald man growled, with a hint of uneasiness in his eyes.

Baroque chuckled, revealing his white teeth. His voice was filled with an irrepressible fighting spirit, like the low roar of the waves before they surged.

"I'm crazy? Then you really underestimate me."

Before he finished speaking, he rushed forward and punched out like thunder.

There was nothing fancy about this punch, no unnecessary movements, just pure, violent, direct destructive force.

The fist whistled past, and the bald man's pupils shrank slightly. His body instinctively wanted to dodge, but it was too late -

Baroque's fist hit his chest like a mountain hitting him head-on!
A dull roar exploded on the boxing ring, and the bald man's chest collapsed, and he flew backwards like a kite with a broken string.

He hit the guardrail of the ring hard, and the steel guardrail shook violently. His body slid to the ground, a mouthful of blood foam spurted out of his mouth, his eyes were dull, and he completely lost consciousness.

There was dead silence.

Then, the whole boxing ring erupted in deafening roars and cheers. The gamblers' enthusiasm almost overturned the boxing ring.
Gold coins were thrown into the air, wine was poured in handfuls, and the air was filled with primitive violence and the ecstasy of victory.

Baroque shook his hands, spat out a mouthful of blood foam, swept his eyes over the bets on the ground, and finally reached out to pick up a piece of dark blue emblematic cloth.

The material of the coat of arms cloth is soft yet tough, and it is engraved with an ancient mark.

The edges of the runes faintly flickered with a faint blue light, as if hiding some forgotten curse, or a secret buried by the ocean.

Baroque frowned. Although he didn't recognize the symbol, his instinct told him that this thing was unusual.

The secret of Whale Tomb has just begun.

(End of this chapter)