The Secret Cult Chronicles of the Decaying Lake Manor

The two hurried along the path opened up by the light.

Kelly Moore followed closely behind George, her gaze sweeping over the hideous swarm of insects that had been temporarily driven away, and suddenly sighed softly.

"George, this quiet manor seems to have become fraught with misfortune because of my grandfather's and my visit."

Upon hearing this, George turned his head and gave a relaxed smile.

"Miss Moore, you flatter us. The seeds of these calamities were probably sown here long ago... We just happened to be here at the right time."

The two remained silent the entire way and soon arrived at the isolation room on the north side.

Carson, the butler, was listening to the servants' reports on the connecting corridor between the rooms when he saw George and Kelly approaching and immediately went to greet them.

"Master George! Miss Moore!" Carson's voice was choked with anxiety through his cotton mask. "Two more servants inside have developed fevers... The situation is getting worse."

"Carson, this is a newly made medicine." George placed the heavy cloth bag on the ground. "I've calculated the dosage; one small bottle for each person will temporarily control the symptoms."

Carson immediately summoned the two male servants who remained there and began to arrange for the distribution of the medicine.

George's gaze swept over the closed doors, his heart heavy.

"Someone needs to be here to oversee things... Miss Moore, could you please stay here?" George said in a deep voice.

"Your experience and knowledge can help you better handle emergencies. And if that thing—I mean the potential danger—is less likely to spread."

After thinking it over, Kelly Moore nodded in agreement: "Of course, I'll stay and assist Mr. Carson."

Carson also looked at George: "Young Master, are you going back to the mansion? They need you more now."

George nodded, his gaze sweeping over the temporary "epidemic zone" one last time, before turning to say goodbye to Kelly and Carson and hurrying back to the mansion along the way he had come.

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

Earlier, outside the bedroom window of Viscount Edward de la Porte on the second floor of the mansion, a strange figure was silently suspended in mid-air, a few feet away from the window.

Its exposed hands and feet were pale human limbs, and the dark burgundy nightgown with several large, burned holes along the edges looked particularly jarring at that moment.

But that hideous, horrific head—a mosquito-like but enormous deformity—was emanating a strange, insatiable hunger for food and thirst for drink.

Those compound eyes, which occupied most of her face, shimmered with a jewel-like luster in every tiny section, gazing greedily at the glass window, as if trying to peek into the room through the gaps in the heavy velvet curtains.

A long, thin mouthpart gleaming with an eerie oily sheen protruded from its face, trembling slightly with the rise and fall of its wings.

It tried again and again to get close to the closed window.

Every time it gets close to the window, about three feet away, its body twitches inexplicably, as if it has hit an invisible but incredibly hot barrier.

The greedy glint in its compound eyes instantly turned into fear. Its strange body shrank back violently, and it made a series of "snap, snap" sounds that belonged to an insect.

It tried changing angles, from the side window, and even around to the balcony, but the result was always the same.

That invisible barrier remained steadfast, protecting the faint but stubborn core of light within the room, and the powerful, near-extinct entity that bore its weight.

It instinctively yearns for that aura, and something within it also thirsts for something else, but they are unable to approach or touch it due to some higher-level influence.

After another collision and a moment of hesitation, it stopped trying.

The distorted green light in the compound eyes flickered a few times before turning in another direction—to other areas of the mansion, where more vibrant, delicious, and poorly guarded life was found.

It emitted a low, piercing buzz, its translucent wings flapped violently, and its figure vanished into the shadows like a ghost.

Meanwhile, inside the mansion.

It started in the ground floor corridor, then in the spare living room on the first floor, and then in the corner connecting the study on the second floor... A few flies fluttered out from the inconspicuous corner, making a rather jarring buzzing sound in the currently quiet mansion.

Thomas, who was preparing to return to the Viscount's room to continue his duty, also encountered a small swarm of flies hovering in his path at the corner of the stairs.

The flies showed no intention of avoiding his presence; instead, they swarmed around him in an unnatural manner.

Thomas's face darkened as he felt the fly's compound eyes staring at him.

He ignored the insects and quickened his pace, heading straight for the Viscount's bedroom.

Pushing open the door, the room remained dimly lit, and the Viscount lay quietly on the four-poster bed, like a fragile marble statue.

Thomas strode to the bedside, his gaze falling on the luxurious gauze curtains hanging above the bed.

At the very edge of the bed curtains, closest to the headboard, a discreet, long object wrapped in a dark cloth was cleverly tied.

He reached out and untied the cloth cover, and a staff made of dark metal and ivory, with a large amber inlay at the top, slid into his hand.

It is indeed the Staff of Katharsis.

Thomas knelt on one knee by the bed, gently lifting the viscount's lifeless head with his other hand to expose his throat.

He gently placed the shimmering amber at the tip of his cane a few inches below the Viscount's Adam's apple.

In an instant, a silent change occurred.

The amber at the top of the staff resembled a strange fruit, with a crack silently appearing on its surface.

Immediately afterwards, a pure white cube, which did not emit light but was so clear in the dimly lit room that it seemed to be visible in every detail, and had a texture that transcended the boundaries of real matter, slowly emerged from it.

It rotates quietly along the central axis, its internal structure complex yet harmonious, exuding an aura of absolute purity, absolute tranquility, and absolute grandeur.

A moment later, it seemed to sense its target, and like a drop of water merging into a lake, it slowly disappeared into the viscount's pale throat skin and vanished completely.

A few breaths later, Viscount Edward de la Porte, who had been asleep for several days and nights, suddenly opened his eyes.

"You did a good job, Thomas. Perfect timing... The manor is tainted again."

He felt no weakness or discomfort after being in a coma for several days, just like waking up on an ordinary morning.

As he stood up, he removed the cane, the one with the extinguished amber tip, and sighed:

"The separated 'pure white' has returned, and time to maintain balance is running out. Thomas, how many people have arrived now?"

Thomas suppressed the joy on his face at seeing the Viscount awaken and quickly replied, "Sir, now all that's missing is the High Court representative."

"Are you in such a hurry? It seems you're really worried about George..."

The viscount, getting out of bed, muttered to himself as he helped Thomas change his clothes.

"I wonder who the person on the stone throne will send this time. If it's a baroness, that would be quite a show."