The Secret Cult Chronicles of the Decaying Lake Manor

Compared to the [Abyss] criterion of some counter-relationships, the [Candle] criterion is clearly a better choice.

A thorough understanding of the situation is key to promotion, which is one of the reasons George felt confident returning home.

He eagerly anticipated using the [Candle] criterion card.

But to his surprise, he discovered that it was unusable.

Upon closer reflection, he seemed to understand something.

On a night when candle wax dripped, I was able to see, through the light of dawn, the mysteries that still lingered beneath the surface of the world.

The use of this card is probably conditional, "On a night when candle tears fall".

George pulled himself out of his thoughts, got out of bed, and lit a bright yellow butter candle in the room.

The faint crackling sound of the burning wick was particularly clear in the silence, and as the wax melted, it dripped onto the candle body, forming tear-like wax marks.

The candle wax dripped, just as the card required.

He lay in bed, sinking into the depths of his consciousness once more.

A heavy card table emerged from the darkness, and the card 【Journey of Dreams (Candlelight)】 emitted a warm and alluring glow.

Just as George expected, he then triggered the "Use" button on the edge of the card.

A strange sense of detachment washed over me instantly, as if my soul had left my body.

An indescribable surge of heat suddenly erupted from his heart, washing over his limbs and bones, making his senses both exceptionally clear and slightly surreal.

The edges of my vision seemed to ignite with an illusory flame, becoming dim, but then the darkness receded like the tide.

George's vision seemed to penetrate a thin film, revealing the scene beneath the surface of the world—the room was shrouded in a faint cobalt blue halo.

He sat up in bed and saw that his "hands" were emitting a steady orange-yellow light, like a warm and steadfast candle flame.

A wonderful feeling of harmony between mind and matter, of the nascent spirituality, filled my heart.

The world gained an additional dimension in his perception.

He slowly opened his eyes, and the real world became clear again.

The candlelight seemed brighter, and the trails of dust in the air were visible to the naked eye.

The faint spark of "spirituality" within my body has become stable.

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

The next morning, George got up early and ran into Lieutenant Bates as he went downstairs.

George keenly sensed an inexplicable feeling about Bates, as if he were looking at a hunter who had just finished a hunt and was full of pride.

"It worked?" Bates should have also keenly noticed the subtle changes in George's aura.

"It worked," George replied calmly.

The two exchanged a glance, and without a word, a tacit understanding was reached, allowing them to stand side by side on a new level.

"Then, from now on, I will be your 'introducer' on the path to the extraordinary, George."

Bates spoke, his tone regaining its usual composure.

"Alright, sir." George smiled slightly. "We'll have to proceed with caution from here on out."

Before long, the three of them had eaten oatmeal, smoked meat and hot tea provided by the inn, and then left the inn and rented a carriage to head north of Yorkshire.

The carriage bumped along, and George saw rolling fields outside the window, the harvested wheat stubble a golden expanse, dotted with dark green hedges and red-brick farmhouses.

Perhaps because it was novel, he found the scenery lovely.

Of course, this also means that the environment here is relatively primitive.

George gazed at the scenery outside the window, silently making plans in his mind.

When the carriage passed through a wide-open field near the riverbank, he signaled to the driver to stop.

"Wait a moment, driver, I'd like to get out for some fresh air and enjoy the view of the river," George said.

He looked at his companions: "You two, why don't you come down and stretch your legs a bit?"

The coachman muttered about the time, but still stopped the carriage by the roadside.

Bates didn't ask any more questions, nodded, and got out of the car first. Elliott quickly followed.

George led the two men away from the main road and toward the river.

Beneath my feet lay soft grass, the air thick with the scent of earth and withered grass.

A not-so-wide river flows gently in the distance, its waters reflecting the sky.

The surroundings were empty, with only the rustling of the wind through the grass.

"The scenery here is really nice, much better than London." Bates stretched his shoulders and looked around at the riverbank.

George didn't reply. He walked to the riverbank, squatted down, and ran his fingers through the cool water.

He needs to concentrate and try to draw upon the power within him called "spirituality".

He recalled his feelings from the previous night, focusing his thoughts on the warm sensation in his chest.

At first, it seemed as if a stone had sunk into the sea, leaving no ripples.

George was not discouraged. He adjusted his breathing and, as some accounts in "Night Travels" suggest, tried to "ignite" it.

Gradually, a strange feeling arose.

The "spark" seemed to be awakened, trembling slightly, and a warm current spread out.

George felt his body temperature rising, his skin slightly burning, and his heartbeat becoming clear and strong, pounding against his eardrums.

An indescribable sense of excitement surged up, as if the blood in my body was rushing faster.

His senses seemed to have sharpened a bit; the sounds of the wind rustling through the grass were clearer, and the creaking of the carriage wheels in the distance could be heard distinctly.

He opened his eyes and looked at his hands.

It lacked the radiance I felt in the dream realm last night.

He tried to clench his fist and feel the power in his muscles.

He suddenly stood up and tried to jump in place.

My body seemed lighter and more energetic than usual.

He ran a few steps quickly along the riverbank, his movements fluid, but his breathing wasn't as rapid as he had expected, as if extra energy was sustaining his exertion.

He stopped and looked at the river.

His mind seemed to become unusually active. He tried to find a mathematical hypothesis at random, and his thinking became exceptionally clear. The connections that he usually had to ponder repeatedly seemed to be obvious at a glance.

George had a preliminary assessment: this spiritual power could temporarily enhance his physical fitness and mental agility, at the cost of expending energy and generating a sense of excitement.

Based on the book's description of the shadows in the dream realm, he speculated that this power originating from the "candle" might also cause some kind of "burning" damage to those non-physical entities.

This seems rather limited, merely reinforcing the basics of mortals.

But George quickly suppressed his disappointment; this was only the beginning of their initial acquaintance.

The path to extraordinary achievements is long, and power inevitably has room to grow.

"How are you feeling?" Bates' voice sounded from behind, tinged with inquiry. He and Elliott had already walked over.

George turned around, a look on his face that was somewhere between tired and excited.

"Yes, breathing in some fresh air definitely helps."

His gaze swept over his two companions, and he said vaguely:

"I think we all need some changes. Since there are extraordinary forces in this world... things in the manor are probably not so simple."

Bates glanced at George, but didn't ask any further questions; he simply nodded calmly.

"Ready at any time, young master." Elliott also pursed his lips nervously, his eyes revealing determination.

"Let's go," George straightened his collar, suppressing the lingering excitement within him. "We still have a long way to go."

The three returned to the carriage.

The wheels rolled again, traversing the country roads, heading towards the decaying lake.

When the carriage finally arrived at the town of Rotten Lake, it was close to four o'clock in the afternoon.

As the autumn sun sets in the west, it casts a few pale gold hues on the edges of the clouds in the sky.

In the cool breeze, the vast expanse of the decaying lake, its waters rippling with gray-green waves, unfolded before my eyes.

In the center of the lake, the outline of an island covered by trees can be vaguely seen; that is Paradise Island.

The three of them stepped off the carriage and saw a rather deserted dock, with only a few small boats tied to the wooden posts.

A young man wearing a dark wool coat and a baseball cap was standing by the pier looking around. When he saw George and his two companions get out of the car, he immediately jogged over to greet them.

He was tall and thin, with the ruddy complexion typical of country folk.

"Young Master George?" The man removed his hat and bowed to George. "The manor received your telegram and instructed me to wait here. The ship is ready."

George nodded slightly; he recognized the boatman and servant who worked at the manor.

"Thank you, Sam."

His gaze swept across the dock and the lake, finally settling on the small sloop waiting for them.

The paint on the hull is mottled, indicating that it has been around for quite some time.

A sense of familiarity welled up in my heart for no apparent reason.