The Secret Cult Chronicles of the Decaying Lake Manor

George nimbly boarded the carriage and sat down next to the Viscount.

As soon as he settled in, the viscount tapped the floor of the carriage lightly with the tip of his cane.

Thomas gave the reins a tug, and the carriage immediately started moving, heading along the gravel path toward the east coast of the island.

The wheels rolled over the road, making a monotonous sound.

The viscount's gaze swept over the somewhat withered gardens on both sides of the road, and his voice inexplicably drowned out the sound of horses' hooves and wheels.

"You have a basic understanding of spirituality, but how to use it to deal with the malice of the world is still a blank slate."

"Remember, if we disregard mortal objects, there are roughly three types of power that extraordinary beings use in combat."

"Firstly, there is one's own spirituality. But an individual's spirituality is ultimately limited; if used intensely, it will be exhausted and is only suitable for emergencies or for performing some less effective spells—unless one receives external support."

"Secondly, there is ritual. Through specific places, times, materials, symbols, and prayers, one invokes high beings or invokes the great power of the world. Ritual can achieve great things with little effort, enough to change the environment of a place, cast powerful spells, or assist in the creation of extraordinary tools. However, in addition to the harsh conditions for the success of a ritual, even the slightest mistake can lead to a catastrophic backlash."

"Thirdly, there are tools," the viscount said, his gaze falling on the cane in his hand.

"Artifacts imbued with the power of the laws, meticulously crafted potions and equipment... they can bring about all sorts of extraordinary effects, but they are also very difficult to manufacture, often requiring a deep understanding of specific laws and a large amount of rare materials."

Finally, the Viscount added with considerable pride, "Our 'Candle' principles have indeed made significant contributions to alchemy and manufacturing."

George listened carefully, noticing that the Viscount's words were more fluent than usual, and that an unusual blush had appeared on his pale cheeks, as if he had been briefly energized by some inner force.

The carriage continued its journey, gradually approaching the east bank.

Suddenly, George noticed some scattered black dots on the road ahead, which were constantly wriggling.

As the carriage drew closer, the black dots multiplied and became denser—they were frogs.

Countless frogs covered the road ahead, spreading to the withered grass on both sides and covering the road, their croaking deafening.

They crowded together, leaping and thrashing, forming a creeping, undulating wave that was slowly advancing toward the manor's main residence.

George disliked frogs in his previous life, and now, seeing the ground covered with something even more repulsive than toads, he could tell his face must be looking terrible.

However, these swarms of frogs seemed to be blocked by an invisible barrier.

When they try to cross an invisible line, their bodies suddenly stiffen, then they are instantly charred as if swept by an invisible flame, and finally crumble into a small pile of ashes.

Amidst the crackling and popping sounds of burning, a pungent, acrid smell of burning protein began to fill the air.

"Don't be surprised, our manor is well protected." The viscount's voice remained calm as he sat opposite George.

"I have just activated an old artifact, which carried out a ritual that invoked a trace of the power of the [Man of Light and Shadow]. These filthy creatures cannot cross this boundary."

He paused, his tone filled with deep reverence.

"However, you must know that even the most revered healers, when faced with the Saviors, can only be like children using a magnifying glass to gather sunlight to ignite a piece of paper, humbly borrowing the last rays of their power, unable to truly touch even one ten-thousandth of their vast will."

The carriage crossed the invisible boundary without any hindrance.

The moment he crossed the boundary, the Viscount raised his cane, and an invisible heat wave seemed to rise around the carriage.

Those frogs that tried to pounce or were merely located in the carriage's path were instantly reduced to ashes with a very brief "poof" sound just a few feet from the wheels.

George gripped the edge of the carriage tightly, staring intently at the creatures struggling on the brink of destruction.

They are indeed different from ordinary frogs, with their bodies covered in a greasy, shiny, pus-like bump.

Some individuals even had small but sharp teeth showing in their mouths, and their bulging eyes on both sides of their heads gleamed with an abnormal, murky malice.

His spiritual perception told him that the source of the purifying power that had wiped out the frogs by the car came from the cane in the viscount's hand, which was now radiating a slight warmth.

"After I was wounded, I became powerless in many things," the Viscount suddenly said calmly. "I mostly have to rely on these tools I made in my early years to deal with troubles."

George then asked, "Your injury...?"

The viscount's gaze suddenly turned deep. He turned his head and glanced at George, his eyes filled with a complex and unfathomable expression.

In the end, the father simply shook his head, looked again at the road ahead that was being continuously purified, and said nothing more.

The carriage continued towards the lakeshore where the frogs were most concentrated, carving out a short path through the stench of burning and ashes.

The carriage struggled along the road teeming with frogs, its wheels crushing the creatures that tried to surge forward, which were all reduced to ashes by the invisible barrier emanating from the Viscount's cane.

The acrid smell, mixed with the fishy odor of the lake, permeated the gloomy air.

Thomas gripped the reins tightly, controlling the slightly agitated horse, and finally stopped the carriage in front of a relatively open gravel beach on the east bank.

The Viscount alighted first, followed closely by George.

Although the Viscount's cane had wiped out the frogs in the vicinity, the ground beneath his feet still retained an unpleasant slime.

Countless slimy creatures wriggled and rustled outside the area, like ants swarming in endlessly after smelling food.

The viscount ignored this and took an exquisite silk bag from the waist of his robe. The bag's opening was embroidered with intricate symbols in gold thread.

He didn't reach inside; he simply moved his mind, and the bag opened by itself.

Countless shimmering silver powders flowed out as if blown by an invisible wind, landing precisely on the open ground in front of them.

The powder spreads automatically, outlining complex and intricate lines and geometric patterns, quickly forming a circular array about fifteen feet in diameter.

The silver powder seemed to seep into the ground upon contact, emitting a faint yet clear hum.

George immediately noticed that the surging swarm of frogs around him seemed to have crashed into an invisible wall, retreating in terror and not daring to cross the edge of the formation even an inch.

Thomas took two heavy black iron boxes from the back of the carriage and placed them at the Viscount's feet.

The viscount lightly tapped the lid of the box with the tip of his strange cane, and the lid popped open.

Inside were several rather unusual bronze plates, several amber stones with what appeared to be flowing flames inside, a bronze mirror inlaid with a tiny gold sun emblem, and a black wooden token wrapped with silver wire.

The viscount swung his cane and struck the ground heavily.

Instantly, eight giant rocks protruded from the ground surrounding the circular formation, while the copper plate inside the box flew up and embedded itself in those rocks.

The remaining objects then floated up on their own, flying towards several key nodes of the array and gently landing in the pattern outlined in silver powder.

"Blood, frogs... none of these are trees without roots."

While intently adjusting the position of the last item, the Viscount explained to George, his eyes never leaving his hands.

"They originate from the overflow of Siwei [the Abyss]—a great power symbolizing the unknown and the depths of water, whose power erodes the present world and creates this filth."

He completed the final step, stepped back slightly, and examined the completed ritual.

"Therefore, it is necessary to invoke the opposing force to purify it. The [Blazing Sun] in the Light Source Division governs the sun and the principle of burning, and its radiance is sufficient to cleanse this abyss of darkness."

Once the formation was complete, the Viscount gestured for George and Thomas to return to the carriage.

Thomas quickly took out a thick cloth, blindfolded the two horses, and gently stroked their necks to soothe them.

The viscount then stepped alone into the center of the formation.

After he stood still, he placed his hands on the top of his cane, tilted his head back, and began to chant.

It was not a language George knew; the syllables were ancient and resonant, with a strange rhythm.

It was less a prayer and more a short but powerful hymn, each word seemingly sparking tiny flames in the air.

"...

In tenebris profundissimis, verum nomen tuum canimus, Sol Invictus, invincibilis!

Dux siderum fulgidorum, qui vices temporum annique temperas, Rex lucis interminatae!

Deus noster ignis est. Lex tua sacram lucem ignemque accendat, atque omnes tenebrarum fontes abluat!

... "

The moment the last syllable fell, the entire array suddenly burst forth with an intense light that was almost blinding.