The Secret Cult Chronicles of the Decaying Lake Manor

George was overjoyed and quickly took it.

Upon handling it, I didn't feel the coolness of metal; instead, I felt a sudden heat.

After the incident with the shadowy figure, he still allowed himself to go out alone, let alone at night. If it weren't for this item, he would definitely have refused.

He wore the amulet on his person and checked its properties at the card table.

【Golden Sun Amulet】

[Sexual aspects: candle, star, tool, medium]

This amulet is modeled after offerings made by the ancient Brittans during the Bronze Age to the "Sun Without Darkness." While the meaning of the sun in modern occultism has diverged from its ancient origins, this amulet still radiates its ancestral brilliance, just like the sun's own undying light.

The viscount watched him put on the amulet with a smile and waved his hand.

"Go ahead, Carson will take you to old Hanmo."

As they were talking, Carson quietly stepped forward, carrying a small, dark wooden box lined with cork for shock absorption.

He placed the huge flask into the box, fastened the clasp, and then lifted the box.

"Young master, please come with me."

George followed Carson out of the alchemy room.

Instead of heading towards the main staircase, the butler led George through several narrow servants' passageways, bypassing the main living areas of the mansion, to a side door.

As soon as the door was opened, the damp, chilly air unique to the island in the middle of the lake at night rushed in.

A tall, gaunt figure was waiting outside the door, carrying a bright lantern in his hand—it was Old Man Mo, the night watchman.

He was wearing a heavy, old overcoat, his large frame almost completely obscuring the light from the lamp in his hand.

The head, tilted slightly forward, was outlined by the lamplight, revealing deep wrinkles on the face, making it resemble a silent and reliable scarecrow in the night.

Two hunting dogs sat quietly at his feet.

"Hammor, the master has instructed you to accompany the young master to the lakeside." Carson handed the small wooden box to old Hammor.

Old Man Mo took the box, nodded, and said in a hoarse, low voice, "Understood, Mr. Carson."

He looked at George, his cloudy eyes revealing no emotion.

"Young master, the horse is ready. The roads are slippery at night, so please stay close to me."

Two horses were tied to a hitching post not far away, snorting white breath.

The old man hung the lantern on his saddle, nimbly mounted his horse, and placed the small wooden box steadily in front of him.

George mounted another horse, with his hounds trotting silently ahead to lead the way.

The night was deep, and Paradise Island seemed to be covered by the dark velvet cloak of the goddess Nyx. Only the sound of horses' hooves on gravel and mud and the small halo of light from the swaying lanterns indicated the presence of humankind.

Old Man Mo was extremely familiar with the roads, and he walked quickly and steadily even in the dim light.

A damp, cold wind caressed their faces, carrying the fishy smell of the lake and the scent of grass and trees.

They first arrived near the east bank dock.

The old man reined in his horse, carried a lantern and a small wooden box, and led the way down the gentle slope to the water's edge.

In the light of the kerosene lamp, George could see that the lake water near the shore still had that unsettling dark red hue.

The old man opened the wooden box, took out the heavy flask, and unscrewed the stopper.

Just as the old man was about to collapse, George suddenly spoke.

"Wait, Mr. Hammer. My father said we need to make sure it's poured where the lake meets the shoreline. Let me see the exact location."

The old man paused, then did as instructed and gently lifted the flask.

George stepped forward and touched the bottle opening by the light, seemingly examining the slope of the lake shore and the waterline.

He held his breath and focused his mind deep into his brain.

In an instant, a new card began to materialize on the surface of the card table in the void.

The card depicted a flask shimmering with a faint light, exactly like the one before him.

Light-Clearing Agent

[Sexual Aspects: Candle, Star, Potion]

Ancient druids would concoct a purifying potion at noon on the summer solstice using sunstone and dried oak bark, and store it in a golden vessel symbolizing the sun. This potion was refined through alchemy, resulting in a more complex and potent formula, specifically designed to dispel dark forces.

George's heart stirred slightly. His gaze swept over the huge flask, then he glanced at old man Mo.

"That's enough, Hammer, this is it." He released his grip and took a step back.

The old man nodded, and with a forceful pull of both hands, slowly poured the liquid from the flask into the dark red lake water.

The medicine didn't make a loud noise when it hit the water, but in the area where it was poured, the lake water seemed to boil for a moment, producing a large number of tiny, colorless bubbles that shimmered.

A very light aroma, similar to peppermint oil mixed with burning saltpeter, spread out and quickly overpowered the original metallic smell.

The dark red color faded and dissipated at a visible speed, as if erased by an invisible force, revealing the original color of the lake water beneath.

Although it still appears deep and dark, it is no longer the filthy place that makes one's heart tremble.

The old man watched all this in silence until the effect stabilized, then put the flask back into the wooden box.

The two mounted their horses again and rode around the island's shore to the second location.

After thinking it over several times, George tucked the handkerchief into his sleeve.

After Old Man Mo led them to the second lakeshore, George suggested that he pour the medicine himself this time and asked Old Man Mo to watch over the surrounding area for any abnormalities.

The latter, unsuspecting, led his hunting dogs to keep watch over the surroundings.

George was able to use the handkerchief he had pulled into his palm to pick up some of the medicine while pouring it out.

Fortunately, no accidents occurred, and the medicine successfully resolved the contamination. He then pocketed the handkerchief stained with the medicine.

George and Old Man Mo then rode their horses to the final lakeshore.

Under the hazy moonlight, the lantern swayed in front of the old man's saddle, casting flickering light spots.

The hound, which had been trotting swiftly ahead, suddenly stopped, its neck fur standing on end, and barked at the dim woodland.

"Something's not right," the old man said, reining in his horse.

He placed the small wooden box firmly in front of the saddle, and pressed his withered hand on the lid.

George felt a chill run down his spine, and he was deeply impressed by it.

He immediately dismounted and whispered, "I need to concentrate on the investigation. Hammer, take good care of me from now on."

The old man nodded and whistled. The two hunting dogs immediately returned to his side, growling menacingly as they warily surveyed their surroundings.

George closed his eyes and focused his mind.

Combining the methods taught in "Night Wanderings" with his knowledge gained during this period, he has learned how to enter the spirit world—even if the success rate is perhaps not as high as with the aid of medicine.

A familiar feeling of weightlessness washed over me, and the surrounding scenery was instantly shrouded in an eerie cobalt blue and oil paint, giving things an inexplicable sheen even at night.

He was lucky enough to enter the dream realm on his first try, but the scene before him made his heart tighten.

The towering, dark figure I'd seen at noon, the one that seemed to devour light, stood ten yards away at the edge of the woods, as if formed from darkness itself. At that moment, its hollow eye sockets emitted a faint white light.

This time it was not alone.

George finally understood the picture described in the delirium of the patients at the St. Simeon Sanatorium.

Beside the tall, dark figure before him, several twisted, menacing shadows, radiating a chilling malice, seemed to be drawn together by invisible chains, encircling it.

At that moment, those shadows, like sharks smelling blood, silently drifted toward him.