The Secret Cult Chronicles of the Decaying Lake Manor

With the help of the old lady's personal maid Agnes, the medication process went very smoothly.

After confirming that the old lady's condition was stable, the two left the room amidst Agnes's repeated thanks.

Kelly let out a long sigh of relief in the hallway.

"Mr. De La Porte, your medicine is truly effective. The old lady is a respectable lady, and it is a pleasure to see her recover."

"Thanks to the family." George took a third vial from his pocket and handed it to Kelly. "This one is for the inspector, as a personal thank you for your help in this incident."

Kelly took the medicine, her eyes lighting up slightly, and then heard George hand her a folded piece of paper.

"This is a summary and key points of the recipe. I think it might also be of some use to the Anti-Corruption Bureau," George added. "It's part of the compensation."

Kelly's eyes flashed with surprise, but she did not take the paper.

"This... George, this is too valuable." She looked directly at George and said seriously, "Besides, the Anti-Corruption Bureau doesn't have an alchemy department; the potions are all centrally distributed by the Royal Academy of Sciences. Obtaining a formula like this is a very complicated process, so you should take it back."

"Alright, I was being presumptuous." George calmly took back the formula. "Also, thank you for your advice."

Kelly then smiled again.

"In fact, the manor's hospitality is more than enough as compensation."

She turned and left, her light steps indicating that she was in a good mood.

George was not offended by the failed attempt to test her; after watching her leave, he turned and headed towards the servants' quarters.

Elliott was already there waiting.

In Carson's room, the butler remained in a state of intermittent, incessant chatter and nervous agitation.

George did not interrupt him, but instead took out the fourth bottle of medicine.

"Mr. Carson," George's voice was gentle yet firm.

The butler paused for a moment and looked at him.

"Please drink this. Then get some rest."

George handed the medicine to Carson.

The butler's gaze was somewhat unfocused, but out of some kind of instinctive obedience, he took the medicine and drank it down.

Carson's excited, incessant chatter gradually subsided, and he slumped back onto the bed.

The restless aura surrounding him dissipated, the excitement on his face faded, and the deep weariness within was revealed.

"Young Master..." Carson's voice was low, carrying a weakness that came from surviving a catastrophe, "I think I understand... those things again..."

"It's all in the past, Carson." George stepped forward and gently patted him on the shoulder.

"You've been under a lot of mental stress. Don't think about it too much right now; what you need most is sleep."

Carson's eyelids were starting to droop.

He mustered his last bit of consciousness and gave a grateful, faint but sincere smile.

"Thank you, young master. I'm so sorry to have caused you so much trouble..."

"Go to sleep," George whispered.

Carson closed his eyes, and his breathing quickly became even and deep.

He finally drifted into a long-awaited, peaceful sleep.

George and Elliott left the room silently.

In the corridor, George encountered Mrs. Hughes, the housekeeper, who had come after hearing the news.

"Master George!" Mrs. Hughes' voice was filled with suppressed anxiety, "Mr. Carson, he..."

"He's cured, Mrs. Hughes," George said with a smile. "He just needs rest now; that medicine solved his problem."

Mrs. Hughes finally felt relieved, clasped her hands together in front of her chest, and her eyes instantly welled up with tears.

"Thank God...and thank you, young master. Mr. Carson...he's had it so tough. I'll go tell Mrs. Patmer the good news right away."

"Go ahead, you've all worked hard." George nodded.

Mrs. Hughes hurried away. George could hear her quickening footsteps, followed by an barely suppressed joy as she pushed open the kitchen door.

"Mrs. Patmer, Patmer! Mr. Carson is healed! The young master has healed him!"

A surprised response came from the kitchen, followed by a conversation between two women in hushed tones.

George stood in the corridor of the servants' quarters, listening to the mundane sounds full of life and hope, and a genuine smile appeared on his lips.

He turned to Elliott: "You should go back and rest too. The estate needs to be reorganized over the next few days, so you'll probably be quite busy."

And perhaps they will be given an even greater mission.

"Yes, sir." The gloom in Elliott's eyes had completely vanished, replaced by determination and a radiant light. "I will do my best."

After saying goodbye to Elliott, George returned to the main house to prepare for the upcoming dinner.

This day began very early and ended very late.

At dinner, the dining room was unusually warm. Everyone except the Viscount was seated neatly around the long table.

Mrs. Patmore prepared a special dinner, with the main course being a carefully cooked sole dish. The sole was tender and served with a special Hollandaise sauce, making it exceptionally delicious.

"Excellent! This sole is the best I've had in a long time," Inspector Douglas exclaimed after tasting it. "Please be sure to convey my thanks."

The conversation shifted from food to life on the estate, creating a relaxed and harmonious atmosphere.

George clinked glasses with his uncle Albert and cousin Arthur, whispered a few words to his grandmother, and politely exchanged his thoughts on afternoon tea snacks with Miss Kelly.

During the meal, George put down his knife and fork, turned his head and asked his uncle sitting next to him.

"Uncle, I haven't noticed any brown trout from the lake on our meals these past few days. I remember this should be a good time for fishing?"

Uncle Albert paused for a moment, then gently wiped the corner of his mouth with a napkin.

"Brown trout..." he began slowly, his tone slightly different from his usual gentleness, "Five years ago, your father ordered a fishing ban on the Rotten Lake."

George's heart skipped a beat.

five years ago.

The year his mother died was the year the viscount began to "fall ill".

"Was it Father's order?" George asked, his tone revealing only curiosity.

"Yes," Albert replied briefly, then naturally turned to Lieutenant Bates.

"Mr. Bates, you must have tasted many more kinds of river fish in the colonies?"

Bates obligingly took over the conversation, and the atmosphere in the restaurant began to flow again.

But George knew that he had already remembered this detail.

After dinner, everyone went their separate ways, and George invited Lieutenant Bates to go to the alchemy room with him.

After the two arrived, George took out the document prepared by the Viscount from the drawer—"Training and Health Preservation: The Secrets of Warriors."

"These are some references from the family collection that relate to your path," George said, handing the materials to Bates. "I've glanced at them; they should be very useful to you."

Bates took the book and began to turn the pages; the slightly loud clatter of the pages revealed that he was not entirely at peace.

"The book's content, combined with my recent explorations and the essence of the 'hunting' principles—violence, cunning, and conquest," George said as he flipped through the book. "I think you need to pay special attention to two points."