The Secret Cult Chronicles of the Decaying Lake Manor

Chapter 118 "Hunting the Moon" is Approaching

George turned around abruptly, and the heavy oak door to the alchemy room had been silently pushed open without anyone noticing.

The pale sunlight filtering through the window outlined Viscount Edward de la Porte's figure in a rather stern and imposing manner.

He was still wearing that dark brown morning robe, and walked into the alchemy room as he would on any other day.

"Father." George pulled the golden branch in his hand back slightly.

The Viscount did not comment on this; his gaze fell on the translucent, iridescent "twig" in George's hand, and a genuine interest appeared on his face.

"Is this your work?" he gestured politely. "May I take a look?"

George had no choice but to hand over the [Heavenly Golden Branch].

The viscount took the branch, raised it, and slowly turned it toward the fire and the snowlight outside the window.

His gaze followed the delicate, hair-like golden veins, the halo seeming to possess life, pulsating slightly in his hand.

After a long silence, he finally let out a heartfelt sigh and returned the golden branch to George.

"Exquisite. The carving and casting are done to perfection, and the infusion of spirituality and the resonance of principles are flawless." The Viscount's voice was filled with undisguised admiration.

"At your age, I might be able to make something like this—but that would be after years of theoretical study and countless failures. You, my child, how long have you really been pushing open this door—your talent may even surpass mine."

His face was full of satisfaction, and he looked like a model of a loving father.

George gripped the golden branch tightly, but his doubts only deepened.

He put down the golden branch and decided to test the waters.

"Father," George carefully chose his words, his tone as natural as if he were merely curious, "I've suddenly become curious lately... Was Mother also an extraordinary being? What was her path like?"

Under the viscount's slightly surprised gaze, he added, "I noticed at the family cemetery that my mother's tombstone was unusually simple, very similar to my grandfather's and great-grandfather's, and different from other family members'. Also, my mother used to occasionally go to the grove to gather herbs, and she was knowledgeable in some music theory—did she, like the rest of the family, walk beneath the surface of the world?"

The viscount raised his eyebrows slightly, a look of surprise flashing across his face only briefly.

"You have a keen eye for detail." He walked to the window, gazing at the snow-covered garden outside, his silhouette appearing somewhat desolate in the firelight.

"Edrina Vanderbilt, your mother was Frisian." The Viscount's voice softened with a touch of nostalgia.

"The Van der Burg family is an ancient and extraordinary lineage on the continent, inheriting some ancient and unique druidic magic."

Edrina herself was exceptionally gifted, possessing profound knowledge of natural history, ritual studies, and astrology.

He turned around, casting the light into a certain point in the void, as if piercing through time.

"Although our marriage was initially arranged by my father, we later came to know and love each other because of our shared thirst for knowledge and truth. She is my best research partner and the person I have ever truly loved in my life."

The romantic words that came from his mouth did not sound frivolous; instead, they washed away the sediment of time and revealed sincerity and sorrow.

George listened quietly without interrupting.

This emotion seems genuine; at least the viscount's nostalgia at this moment doesn't seem feigned.

But did he still remember the methods his mother had left behind, and the dark figure that warned him to "run away"?

"So," George chimed in at the opportune moment, "that Mother also possesses strength and wisdom no less than yours?"

"You could say that," the Viscount nodded, then his expression turned serious.

Before George could continue the conversation, that gentle nostalgia quickly subsided.

He looked at George, then quickly switched to another expression: "George, the Moon Hunt is about to begin."

"Hunting the Moon?" George frowned, trying to recall. "You mean—?"

"The last full moon before the winter solstice will be in the next few days." The viscount's tone was more solemn than ever before.

"At that time, I will perform a ceremony. This will be your final and most crucial gift. It will bring you immense benefits, enough to lay the foundation for your future path. The ceremony itself requires nothing from you; simply wait."

George felt a slight chill run down his spine.

After all that had happened, the "gifts" and "benefits" his father spoke of sounded to him almost like some kind of dangerous ritual.

"Where will the ceremony be held? What specific preparations do I need to make?" he pressed further.

The Viscount gently waved his hand, declining all the details. "You just need to make sure your body and mind are in top condition; I'll take care of the rest."

He walked to the door, placed his hand on the doorknob, and prepared to leave.

"Father," George called to him before he opened the door, "what does this ceremony—symbolize?"

The viscount stopped in his tracks.

He didn't turn around, but kept his back to George, and his voice came: "One day, you will understand the nature of sacrifice."

As soon as he finished speaking, the heavy oak door closed silently behind him, and the alchemy room fell silent once more.

George stood still, unconsciously drifting into consciousness, the image of the card table appearing in his mind.

The card representing the "Heavenly Golden Branch" floated silently.

He checked repeatedly, looking at the attributes and effects without missing a single detail, but he didn't see any hidden markings or similar tricks on the table.

Was the Viscount too disdainful to tamper with it? Or was he so confident that George, even with such a weapon, posed no threat to him?

George sat at the table, not studying the books, but lost in thought for a long time.

The various fragments of the past two weeks pieced together in his mind.

After an unknown amount of time in deep thought, there was a gentle knock on the door of the alchemy room.

George snapped out of his reverie, tidied up the alchemy table, and then said, "Please come in."

The door opened, and Sybil stood in the doorway.

Today she changed into a beige long dress, and her hair was loosely tied back.

"George?" Sybil's voice was hesitant. "I heard you've been in the alchemy room, so I wanted to come and see you. Is that alright?"

"Of course." George stepped aside to make way for the doorway. "Come in, it's just a bit messy in here."

Sybil entered the alchemy room, her gaze sweeping over the long table piled high with vessels, the neatly arranged glass bottles on the potion rack, and the rows of cabinets and drawers.

George snapped out of his daze.

"It's magnificent." She walked to the table, reached out and touched it lightly. "I knew it, people like you should all have your own little world of your own."

George didn't reply, he just looked at her quietly.

"You know, I used to sometimes wonder if my mother would have a room like this." Sybil turned around and leaned casually against the alchemy table.

"Sometimes she would take me with her when she went to pick herbs. In special circumstances, she would have me carry her wicker basket and sickle during the new moon so we could go out at night to pick mistletoe."

My younger sister counted on her fingers: "Most leaves and flowers are best picked before noon after the morning dew has dried; mugwort in its early flowering stage is picked during the full moon or the approaching full moon; burdock is dug up in autumn for decoction..."

'

George felt a slight stirring in his heart: "She taught you a lot."

Sybil gave a wry smile: "But what she taught most was how to be a lady. How to play the piano, how to dance, how to smile appropriately in social situations, things like that."

Her eyes suddenly changed.

"George, Mother must know the family secret—why does she spend so much time teaching me these seemingly useless things?"