The Secret Cult Chronicles of the Decaying Lake Manor

George pushed open the door and entered the Viscount's bedroom.

The heavy, dark velvet curtains were tightly closed, completely blocking out the sunlight.

Thomas stood beside a high-backed chair by the bed, holding a stack of linen sheets, as if he had just finished cleaning.

"Has Father's condition changed?" George approached the bedside.

The Viscount on the four-poster bed remained in that almost frozen posture—his pale, wax-white face half-buried in the pillow, his breathing so shallow it was barely perceptible.

"Stable, but there are no signs of recovery," Thomas replied softly, his hands still moving. "The master has overexerted himself and needs slow repair."

George nodded and pulled out a form.

"I need to prepare a new materials list, for the family..."

The two then went aside and whispered for a moment, checking the inventory and alternative plans for some key materials.

Midway through the conversation, while Thomas was checking the list, he inexplicably drifted into spiritual intuition.

Last night he obtained the [Path to the Spirit Realm] and successfully traveled through the dream world. Now he can enter freely without having to change his posture to adapt.

He "looked" at the viscount on the bed.

The humanoid flame that had once burned fiercely and radiated blinding light in all directions had now dimmed considerably.

But what caught George's attention even more were the strangely colored threads and black shadows that had once been entwined within the light.

He "saw" that the black light that had been lingering within the flames had quietly shifted away.

They coalesced into a point of dense, inky black, hovering about an inch directly above the viscount's head, like an ominous halo.

The bluish-white light with a deep blue hue was no longer a tangled thread, but a walnut-sized ball of light residing in the Viscount's heart.

What does this mean?

George observed silently for a moment and noticed that after the azure light cluster embedded in the heart pulsed, a tiny golden light spot would occasionally peel off, rise along the veins of the flame, and eventually merge into the darkness above.

He suppressed the urge to get closer, or even try to "touch" the two visions spiritually.

This remnant of extraordinary power is something that he, a mere novice at breaking through the veil, cannot easily interfere with.

He noted down this strange vision of the spirit world, and then naturally returned to reality.

"Thomas, please get ready quickly, I won't disturb Father's rest any longer," George said again.

Thomas nodded: "Understood, young master. We should be able to raise all the funds tonight."

"Thank you for your hard work." George's gaze swept over the Viscount's face one last time before he turned and left. "The problems at the manor are temporarily resolved. I'll come back to check on things later."

As George stepped out of the Viscount's bedroom, his pace slowed.

He recalled his father's almost delirious words in the study before he fell into a coma: "The immortals come from mortals, and the answer is written on the riddle itself."

The question resurfaced in George's mind: besides perpetuating family privileges, what exactly was the Viscount—and the two generations of Viscounts before him—trying to accomplish?

What did the Viscount come into contact with during his failed attempt to ascend to heaven?

He shook his head, suppressing these heavy mysteries for the time being.

-----------------

The afternoon sun dispelled the morning mist, and Paradise Island Manor revealed a long-lost tranquility in the warm autumn sun, so everyone gathered together for afternoon tea in the garden pavilion.

After several days of gloom and turmoil, this moment of peace is all the more precious.

"Speaking of places, Mr. De La Porte, the estate is truly impressive."

After tea and a casual chat, Bates found George.

"George, we sparred at the fencing club back in London. Now that we're at the manor, I want to continue honing my skills, especially with the new insights I've gained recently."

He gave George a meaningful look.

George immediately understood what he meant.

"Of course, we can ask Carson. The family must have had a dedicated fencing room or gym before," he nodded in response.

They returned to the mansion together and found the butler in the servants' quarters, who was leading several male servants to move silverware.

The butler seemed to have fully regained his usual composure and competence, as if the slight difficulties had not defeated the old man.

George stepped forward: "Mr. Carson, Lieutenant Bates is looking for a spacious room to practice swordsmanship and physical fitness. Does the manor have a suitable place?"

Carson pondered for a moment: "There's a gym on the east side of the third floor of the mansion, which was set up during your grandfather's time. Although it's been closed for a few years, the basic equipment should still be there."

He added, "There's also a relatively open woodland on the north side of the mansion, near the island's warehouse. That would be more suitable for practicing techniques that require a larger space, or for training with multiple people. However, the weather is getting cooler now, so it might not be very convenient outdoors."

George thought for a moment: "Let's check out the gym first. If there's enough equipment, indoor workouts will be fine."

"Of course," Carson nodded. "Would you like me to show you around the gym first?"

"Then let's go now."

George thought for a moment, then called Elliott over. Led by Carson, the group went up the side staircase to the third floor, where the butler opened a slightly secluded oak door.

The room was surprisingly spacious, roughly the size of a medium-sized banquet hall.

On a shelf near one wall, there were various swordsmanship tools—practice swords, protective gear, hand targets, and even a dusty mirror wall.

There was a large open space in the center of the room, with a worn but still thick wooden floor.

In the corner were some dusty tarpaulins and miscellaneous items piled up.

"Most of the equipment is here; cleaning and tidying shouldn't take too long." Carson looked around. "If we need to change the mats or add more protective gear, I can order them."

Bates stepped forward, took down a practice épée, brushed off the dust, swung it a few times, and nodded in satisfaction.

"The balance is good, and the weight is just right. This place is simply perfect."

Elliott looked around curiously and walked over to the target stand to examine a leather target.

George surveyed the space and finally made a decision.

"Carson, this is fine. Prioritize clearing out the equipment; just pile up the clutter aside for now. Will we need it within two days?"

"Of course, young master," Carson replied. "We can arrange for someone to start cleaning this afternoon. You should be able to use it tomorrow."

-----------------

Night once again enveloped Paradise Island.

Inside the makeshift alchemy room, candlelight and furnace fire intertwined.

George began making the supplement he had conceived that afternoon, based on the materials Thomas had gathered from various places.

The ingredients this time were relatively standard—dried linden blossoms, a small amount of valerian root, and honey produced on-site by the estate.

The key step is to use spiritual guidance to integrate and infuse it with a faint aura of "silver".

As he repeatedly verified the knowledge from "The Art of Alchemy" with the techniques from the secret cards in "The Grand View of Alchemy," his operation became increasingly smooth.

Within an hour, a clear amber-colored potion appeared in the glass bottle.

George put the medicine away with satisfaction, planning to give it to Sybil the next day.

Just as he was about to pack up his equipment, a thought struck him, and his consciousness drifted into the card table in his mind.

The [Rationality] card, which was consumed in analyzing "The Art of Alchemy," has now regained its soft blue glow after a three-day cooldown.

The other card, "Rationality," is expected to cool down by tomorrow night.

This means that he currently has two available [rational] resources.

The list of books left by the viscount in his possession contained three categories of books that needed to be analyzed:

Firstly, books about Siwei.

Both "A Critique of the Phototaxis of World Religions" and "Where Do We Belong, Volume One" involve the cognition of the transcendent and supreme being—Siv, one as a source of light and the other as a virtual source.

Understanding Savi is an essential foundation for climbing the path to the extraordinary, especially since his cult needs to choose its objects of worship.

Secondly, there are materials containing knowledge about the spirit world. "Night Wanderings" and "Blessed Land" have given him initial contact with the dream realm, but "Pilgrimage in Pursuit of Radiance" contains more systematic knowledge.

Thirdly, the Viscount's notebook, "Burning the Heart with Fire," is a summary of his experience in ascending the path of cultivation. Analyzing this is equivalent to standing on the shoulders of predecessors and obtaining an advanced guide.

After a moment's hesitation, George decided to strengthen his own abilities.

The Viscount's experience, after all, is the path paved by his predecessors, and is naturally the best choice.

Moreover, there's another card to play tomorrow night to restore rationality.