The Secret Cult Chronicles of the Decaying Lake Manor

Chapter 123 Evil Object

The two began practicing together.

George was no match for the lieutenant before, and now he can't even handle his style of play.

Bates' swordsmanship has indeed improved significantly, flowing smoothly like water and penetrating every nook and cranny, and his grasp of "time intervals" is even more natural.

George's enhanced reaction speed and acuity, thanks to his spiritual enhancement, allowed him to predict some actions, but knowing how to do something did not mean he could use various means to make it difficult for the lieutenant to gain any advantage.

He was convinced that the evenly matched contest was purely due to the lieutenant's feeding tactics and deliberately losing the game.

After twenty minutes of intense sparring, the two put away their swords.

George, unaware of what was happening, received a towel from Elliott, while Bates leaned against the wall, wiping his neck with the towel.

"Very good skills, George. Now, three or five ordinary people can't threaten you anymore," Bates said.

Have you thought about your future goals? I mean, on the path to extraordinary achievement.

George wiped his sweat. "I don't think I have any 'goals' to speak of; at best, it's just about 'surviving.'"

He thanked Elliott and sat down, then asked, "And you, Lieutenant, after you've seen the world beyond its surface, what is your goal?"

Bates put the sword back on the shelf: "You've always been practical, George—I appreciate that."

He sat down on another chair and smiled gently: "Based on my being alive, I want to live like a human being."

"It doesn't sound like a difficult goal to achieve?" George raised an eyebrow slightly.

"Yes, but it's not simple either." Bates' voice deepened.

"In Bharata and Lysobha, I have seen far too many examples of people falling into inhuman states. Officials, soldiers, ordinary people."

He paused for a moment, his gaze drifting into the distance.

"And the walking dead," Bates muttered.

Seeing his appearance, George suddenly recalled the roar of Don Arthur under the influence of the "lice plague": "You're sending evil things to the colonies! Those things that caused chaos in Lesotho, Akipé, and the New World—it's all your doing!"

He put the towel aside, stared at Bates, and spoke.

"Lieutenant, when Arthur Tumbert was suffering from the 'lice plague' that day, he yelled at the inspector that the Empire was 'sending evil things to the colonies,' causing trouble in Lesobia, Akipé, and the New World. At the time, we all thought it was tainted nonsense, but now—"

He paused, then didn't continue.

Bates remained silent.

The only sound in the gym was the occasional faint sound of waves lapping against the shore outside the window.

After a moment, he scratched his head, looking unusually troubled.

"Well, George, there are some things you'll find out sooner or later." Bates' voice was lower than usual.

"You are the heir to a noble family, and—I suspect those things are also related to the source of our power."

He looked up, his grey-blue eyes meeting George's: "In Bharata, especially in the border regions of Punjab and the colonies, I've seen plenty of things that 'shouldn't exist.'"

"The official explanation is a labor shortage," the empire said, explaining that it needed a large workforce in its colonies to build railways, mine resources, and cultivate cash crops. As you probably know, the number of workers and soldiers transferred from the homeland over the years has been far from sufficient.

George walked to the bench next to him and sat down, remaining silent.

"At first I thought it was just a variation of hiring local laborers." Bates' fingers rubbed his knee, "until I was stationed in a riverside town called Playaga, tasked with escorting a special cargo."

"The documents at the time described it as a specimen," but I was ordered not to open the wooden crate, but only to escort it to the port of Calcutta and hand it over to a steamship called the "Circle."

He stopped talking, his gaze turning unusually cold and hard.

"An accident occurred during transport. One rainy night, the wooden crate cracked during the bumpy ride. I heard sounds inside, like there were living creatures inside, struggling—"

This narrative has the feel of a horror story, firmly holding George and Elliott's attention.

"I ordered the soldiers to inspect the site. When the wooden crate was opened, inside were... three human corpses. They certainly looked like specimens, placed haphazardly, the crate was basically 'stuffed'."

The lieutenant's pupils dilated as he gestured to his wrist.

"Their skin was ashen, their pupils dilated, but their muscles still had an unusual tension. And—there were neat suture marks on their necks, wrists, and ankles, as if they had been reconnected by some kind of surgery."

"The strangest thing was that when I called people to inspect the goods, one of the corpses suddenly had an arm squeezed out of the box," Bates said in a low voice.

"We didn't understand what had happened, and we didn't dare go closer; all we could see was the corpse." He broke free from the box and sat up. To our astonishment, he opened his eyes; they were cloudy, grayish-white.

George gasped, and Elliott turned pale.

If George were to turn his head at this moment, he would find that the latter's face showed no surprise or astonishment, only the awkwardness and embarrassment of being confronted by past fears.

"The medic was terrified. My soldiers pinned him down with bayonets, but he struggled abnormally hard, and even when his joints were broken, he didn't react."

"Finally, we had to strike him hard on the back of the head with the butt of our rifle to calm him down." The price was that his two eyes, devoid of whites, popped out from the front and rolled away on the ground like two glass beads.

Bates let out a long breath, as if expelling all the chill from his memories.

"Later, everyone who had seen that thing was questioned—but the process wasn't very serious, and the higher-ups didn't seem to take it seriously. The response was that it was a new labor transportation experiment by the logistics department. I soon found out why they didn't take it seriously because I saw more, even 'living' corpses of laborers." Bates' voice was almost a soliloquy.

"Perhaps because we were given a clear path, we were assigned to oversee these technological innovations," supervising a group of so-called Colonial Spirits—Vessels. They moved stone and timber in rows at construction sites along the riverbank, like puppets on a stage, pulled by invisible strings.

"Their skin began to fester and peel, revealing dark red muscles and blackened tendons underneath, yet they continued to work tirelessly."

He looked up and stared directly at George: "Do you know what's the scariest thing, George?"

"What is it?"

"They weren't an isolated incident; they were a large-scale, mass-produced tool." I later learned that similar "laborers" could be seen from plantations in Lisobia to mines in the New World.

"They felt no pain, had no consciousness, and only followed the most basic instructions. Local indigenous people and some immigrant workers began to call them zombies."

The usually stoic lieutenant's lips trembled as he added, "You know without me even saying what these things are made of."