The Secret Cult Chronicles of the Decaying Lake Manor

George wandered through an obscure passage in the Book of Thresholds concerning the ritual of "transformation of form," his fingertips tracing lines of annotations written in bold black ink.

Some were little fingers drawn along the edges of the pages, pointing to important passages. The symbols varied in proportion and thickness, and some even had delicate sleeves, suggesting they came from some eccentric owner. Others appeared newer, and George recognized them as the Viscount's handwriting.

The wick popped slightly, and the candle flame flickered.

George put down his book and pencil, and pressed his eye socket.

After advancing to "Enlightenment", his mental endurance and information processing ability have indeed improved a lot. He no longer feels the dizziness of mental exhaustion after reading for several hours in a row.

However, there are still limitations to the improvement of physical abilities—the lighting technology of this era is far from satisfactory, and the problem of eye strain from driving at night remains unresolved.

After a short break, he picked up his pencil again and drew his attention back to the book.

According to the theory of the Book of Thresholds, rituals of the "transformation of form" are essentially spiritually induced reshaping and solidification of the form dominated by the primordial spirit.

This process requires finding specific mediums, symbols, and energy flows based on the specific circumstances, and its goal should be clearly defined from the outset...

He compared his understanding of the power of the illusory source with his own mind and sketched out possible reversal plans in his notebook.

If the corresponding "reverse ritual" can be found...

A series of urgent but restrained knocks on the door interrupted his thoughts.

George raised an eyebrow, casually clipped the notebook inside the book where he was reading, and pushed it aside.

"Come in."

The door opened a crack, revealing a male servant from the mansion, probably on night duty.

He was pale, and his restraint as a servant was barely maintained.

"Young Master, I'm so sorry to disturb your rest. There's a knock at the gate of the manor."

He paused before finishing his sentence, amidst George's skeptical gaze.

"The person who knocked on the door said she was a representative from Highgarden and wanted to see Viscount Rudwell."

George stood up, picked up the pocket watch beside him, and glanced at it.

The Viscount's message before he fell into a coma clearly mentioned the High Court representative, which is correct.

But the High Court representative should be of noble birth, so why would he come to the island at this time? Not to mention there are unspeakable things happening on the island.

"When you say 'she,' are you referring to a person, or a woman?"

"Yes, young master. I only saw a figure wearing a cloak, and the voice was a woman's."

Things are becoming increasingly suspicious.

"Go and wake up the Inspector and Lieutenant Bates, and have them come to the foyer to meet me immediately." George carefully locked the Book of Thresholds back in the drawer and turned to get his clothes.

"Be quiet, don't alert anyone else."

"Yes, young master." The servant immediately turned and left.

George put on his coat and casually slung the newly acquired silver sword back into its sheath, hanging it at his waist—not exactly polite, but he couldn't care less at the moment.

He then put on the Golden Sun Amulet before quickly going downstairs.

Two male servants stood guard in the entrance hall, one holding a candlestick and the other carrying a lantern.

When George arrived, he stopped the two from making a fuss and simply waited quietly to the side.

Inspector Douglas and Lieutenant Bates arrived at the foyer almost at the same time as George.

Neither of them was dressed appropriately, and they had clearly gotten up in a hurry.

But the inspector's expression had completely switched to work mode, and Bates even put on his dagger.

"Someone from High Court?" the inspector asked in a low voice. "The one the Viscount mentioned before he fell into a coma?"

George nodded in confirmation: "It should be."

Now that everyone had arrived, George had his servant open the heavy door.

A cold wind, carrying the night air, swept in, and a thin figure stood outside the gate.

She wore a dark-colored jumpsuit with the hood pulled low, completely obscuring her face.

Most striking was the mask she wore—a silver mask covering her entire face, shaped like a medieval plague doctor: a narrow, long, beak-shaped mouth and nose, goggles-like eye openings, and edges outlined with delicate fern leaf patterns.

Under the light of the porch lantern, the silver mask reflected a cold light, making the whole face seem like a riddle forged from ice and metal.

She stood upright, leaning on a cane with a silver bird-like sculpture at the top, showing no unease or trepidation whatsoever for a late-night visit.

The strange man outside the door—or rather, the strange woman—slowly raised her hand and bowed with a very standard, rigid gesture of courtesy.

"At the residence of Viscount Xiuhu." Her voice was slightly muffled through the silver mask, but her words were clear.

"I am a special representative appointed by the Duchess of Asor, authorized by the inner court, to witness the succession of the Viscount of the Lake of Decay. You may address me as 'Madame Celsa.' The supporting documents are here."

She took out a letter stamped with a deep red wax seal from her sleeve and handed it forward.

George looked at the inspector, who frowned slightly, clearly suspicious of the way the visit was being made so late at night, but nodded nonetheless.

George then stepped forward and took the document bearing the quarter shield.

He quickly glanced at the contents—it was indeed an official document authorizing this "Ms. Celsa" to handle inheritance witnessing matters, elegantly worded, and stamped with clear blue seals from multiple departments.

The problem is that George has extremely limited knowledge of the inner workings of such High Court proceedings, and his uncle and grandmother, who know the family best, are not present at this moment…

"Ms. Celsa, I am George de la Porter, the eldest son and rightful heir of the current Viscount of the Lake of Decay." George closed the letter, his tone as polite as possible.

"My father is currently seriously ill and needs to rest absolutely as advised by the doctor, so it is really inconvenient for him to receive guests. If you have any questions, I can pass them on or have a preliminary discussion with you."

The silver-masked Ms. Celsa paused for a moment.

"Is the illness serious?" The woman's voice remained steady, but George vaguely detected something akin to domineering.

"I came here originally to meet with His Excellency the Viscount to discuss the details of the ceremony. But since the Viscount is unwell, the situation must be unusual."

She paused, her gaze behind her glasses seemingly sweeping over the scabbard at George's waist before settling on the inspector and Bates.

"Who are these people...?"

George raised his hand and introduced, "This is Inspector Moore from the Anti-Suppression Bureau, and this is Lieutenant Bates from the former Imperial Federation's Bharata Army."

Ms. Celsa seemed to show no particular reaction to the two men's identities, merely nodding slightly: "I see. Then—"

"Gentlemen," a tired but authoritative voice came from the direction of the stairs.

The elderly Lady Violet, leaning on her cane, slowly descended the stairs with the help of her personal maid.

She wore a heavy cardigan over her bathrobe, and her silver hair was clearly not well-groomed, but her gaze remained sharp.

"It's so late, who is this distinguished guest?"

When the old lady walked into the foyer and saw Celsa's attire, a hint of surprise flashed in her eyes.

George went up to the old lady and asked, "Grandmother, why did you come down?"

Ms. Celsa immediately turned to the old lady and bowed again.

"Your Excellency Lady de la Porte, Celsa at your service—Duchess Asor has asked me to convey her greetings. I apologize for disturbing you so late at night, but I am here regarding the Viscount's succession, with authorization from Her Majesty the Queen's inner court."