The Secret Cult Chronicles of the Decaying Lake Manor

Chapter 121 Expulsion

As evening fell, leaden clouds hung heavily over the town of Holleby, pressing down on the red-brick chimneys and slate roofs where the townspeople lived.

As the cold air fell from the sky, there were few pedestrians on the street. Occasionally, a shopkeeper wrapped tightly in a coat would hurriedly close his shop, and the firelight cast a dim yellow glow behind the window glass.

At that moment, a huge black carriage with its windows closed drove across the stone-paved road.

The wheels rolled over the road, making a sizzling sound that was particularly noticeable in the rather desolate evening.

It didn't stop in town, but turned straight onto the path leading to the sea.

About ten minutes later, the carriage stopped in front of an inn on a promontory.

This is a two-and-a-half-story brick and stone building with withered vines climbing its exterior walls. The gray-black stone slabs on the sloping roof give it an elegant look, and the sign at the entrance reads "Albatross Hotel" in simple lettering.

At the hotel reception desk, a young man in a black tuxedo was idly wiping the counter.

He looked up when he heard the sound of wheels and saw that the car door had slid open silently.

A figure clad in a long, black robe descended, the hood pulled low so that his face was completely hidden.

He didn't even glance at the attendant who was about to come forward, and went straight to the stairs.

Almost simultaneously, a burly middle-aged man in the same dark coat stepped down from the other side of the carriage, standing like a silent wall in front of the attendant and a servant who was about to go upstairs to deliver food.

Just as Zhao Shi was about to ask a question, she was silenced by a glance from the other party.

The figure in black robes ascended to the second floor and stopped in front of a heavy oak door inlaid with copper ornaments.

He didn't knock, he just snorted coldly.

A faint hissing sound came from inside the door lock, like a pat of butter melting in hot soup.

The cold metal latch slid back into the hole slowly and silently, and the bolt retracted on its own.

The man pushed open the door, closed it behind him, and walked toward the balcony, his black robe visibly dissipating as he went.

With each step he took, Viscount Edward de la Porte's indifferent face came into view.

He walked to the balcony, pushed open the glass door, and let the sea breeze flow into the room.

The woman on the balcony was already looking warily toward the door.

Upon seeing that the visitor was a viscount, the lady's unfriendly expression intensified, and her hand trembled as she reached for her waist.

At this moment, the leaden-gray waves outside the balcony were lapping against the headland, which was sinking into a blue hue in the evening, and the sound of the tide was monotonous and dull.

"I don't recall ever asking you to stay on my land, Ms. Celsa. By the way, your knife is laughable to me."

Every word the Viscount spoke was like a meticulously crafted blade, radiating a cold desire to slice through the person before him.

Celsa pursed her lips, forcing herself to remain calm as she replied, "Then you should know better than anyone that I am not staying on your territory. As a subject of the Empire, my freedom to go wherever I want is fundamental and has nothing to do with the jurisdiction of Viscount Rotten Lake."

The viscount stared at her indifferently.

"Irrelevant?" He gave a very faint smile, a smile devoid of any warmth. "I think I need to remind you that your 'freedom' is best left unsaid."

"In the current situation, certain underhanded tactics" are not only futile, but could also bring consequences you cannot afford.

Facing this stubborn lady, the Viscount softly uttered a few words.

"Dr. John Gordon, Experiment 0, 1851."

Seeing the person in front of him turn deathly pale at a visible speed, the Viscount knew that this sentence was a greater blow to Lady Celsa than all the previous words.

Without saying anything more or waiting for her response, he turned and walked towards the door.

The shadowy black robe once again spread from the void and enveloped his body, and he left quietly, just as he had come.

Celsa felt as if all her strength had been drained away in an instant. She staggered back a step, grabbed the balcony railing, and let out a long breath.

The cool sea breeze filled her lungs, finally allowing her to recover slightly from the chilling pressure.

This place was far from London, and she was on a secret mission, isolated and helpless. Moreover, the Viscount knew about her weaknesses...

After a long while, she composed herself and her clothes, then turned and went back to her room.

She walked to the cane leaning against the wall, and habitually reached out to take down the small bronze incense burner hanging at the end of the cane, intending to open it.

However, the moment her fingers touched the incense burner chain, something unexpected happened.

The metal part connecting the silver bird head of the cane to the incense burner began to melt right before her eyes.

The silver liquid flowed down like molten mercury, and when it came into contact with the wooden staff, the staff spontaneously combusted, with bright red flames leaping out from the burning smoke!

Celsa gasped and instinctively dropped her cane onto the carpet.

Strangely, the molten silver and burning charcoal did not ignite the thick carpet, nor did they flow everywhere.

The molten silver seemed to come alive, meandering and gathering among the carpet fibers, only to cool and solidify rapidly.

When the smoke cleared, a shocking stain was left on the carpet.

The molten and cooled metal twisted and deformed, coiling on the ground like an ugly and hideous scar, or a bloated and twisted metal snake, gleaming with a cold light.

Celsa's face turned ashen. She muttered a curse under her breath and quickly and efficiently began packing her belongings.

She obviously couldn't keep that "cane," so she took out a spare ordinary cane from her travel bag and tidied herself up.

Although her heart was still pounding violently in her chest, she had to get out of there immediately.

Meanwhile, inside Paradise Island Manor.

After returning to the mansion, George first went to his room to retrieve some things, and then went straight to the tower entrance.

He carried the "master key," and the iron gate opened by itself when he approached.

George descended the familiar spiral stone steps, his goal clearly set on the lowest level of the tower.

However, when he reached the level below where he had last met Stone and tried to find a way down, he found himself in trouble.

The spiral staircase seemed to have reached its end, below which was a flat stone wall faintly illuminated by runes, without any doors or gaps.

George stopped and frowned.

Has the Viscount adjusted the tower's permissions again?

As he was deep in thought, trying to use his spiritual sense to perceive the space behind the stone wall, a familiar yet strange fluctuation suddenly surged from the shadows around him.

The resident of Xianqiu, with long silver-gray hair and eyes, and dressed in a magnificent peacock robe, appeared silently as if he had always been standing there.

His (or her) face remained androgynous, and his (or her) silver-grey eyes calmly gazed at George.

Without saying a word, the Xianqiu native once again extended his long, slender hand with delicate fingertips to George, palm open.

George felt relieved and took the three Celestial Diamonds out of his pocket, placing them in the other person's palm.

A very subtle, almost smiling curve seemed to appear at the corners of Xianqiu Min's mouth.

He/She gently tapped the surface of the three diamonds one by one with their long, slender fingertips.