The Secret Cult Chronicles of the Decaying Lake Manor

The following day, George was busy handling the handover, packing his personal belongings, and waiting for Elliott's discharge procedures to be completed.

During this time, he also tried playing cards from "God's Blessed Land" in his sleep, but he was never able to trigger the "use" option.

One evening, George once again immersed himself in the card table, and the familiar "use" button finally appeared on the edge of the card.

He immediately "pressed" the button, and a long text appeared.

The author doesn't directly mention the location of the chaos, but his indirect metaphors throughout the text—from crossing the "boundary" of the lake, to the "glass island" where everything is self-sufficient and the islanders live to be a hundred years old, to the nine sisters who call each other fairies—all reveal that he has touched upon the invisible world.

The eldest of them was a highly skilled healer, and more beautiful than her sisters. Her name was Morgan; she was an expert in herbal medicine and could cure chronic illnesses, and she also possessed various forms of magic… It is said that she taught her sisters mathematics and rhetoric.

Then came three cards.

The first card depicts a long-haired woman wearing a gauze dress, who appears elegant and pure.

The teachings of the fairy maiden in the lake

[Sexual Aspects: Candle 4, Wine 2, Secret Transmission]

Morgana Lefève, one of the nymphs of the lake, was wise and beautiful, skilled in musical instruments and herbs. She once placed the king on a golden bed and restored him to health through her healing arts; this is one of her deeds and experiences.

The second picture shows a golden cup, from which a pale golden liquid appears to be flowing.

Morgan le Fay's Holy Grail Fountain

[Sexual characteristics: candle, wine, recipe]

[A bright and vibrant beverage, with a sweet and intoxicating taste, resembling cider. It is modeled after the fountain of youth on Glass Island and can also be used as a medicinal ingredient.]

The third card depicts a harp.

Song of Glass Island

[Sexual Characteristics: String 2, Candle 2, Skill]

The pleasing laws are hidden between the plucked strings, and the desire to listen incessantly naturally arises. They make one's speech fragrant and one's mind clear, like sunlight illuminating the bottom of a crystal-clear lake.

[You have not yet come into contact with the spirit world and do not possess the spirituality to use this technique, therefore you cannot use it.]

After the light disappeared, George clicked on the phase and learned the meaning of another principle.

[Wine: Life is like a cup, holding sweetness, longing, and bitterness; life is like wine, its essence as fragrant as summer flowers and as crimson as blood. [Wine is the criterion of longing, instinct, and rebirth.]]

[String: Plucking a string reveals three things: whether it is connected, whether it resonates, and whether it can be sensed. [The string is the standard for resonance, connection, and cognition.]]

Overall, I gained a lot from analyzing the new book.

George's heartache at losing 60-70% of his net worth has subsided considerably.

Then he recalled that a day had passed between obtaining "Night Wanderings - Volume One" and triggering its "use" function.

However, it took only three days from the time I purchased this book, "The Land of Divine Blessing: A Historical Account of the Glass Island," to be able to analyze it today.

It seems that you can't immediately analyze a book just by having it; that's probably the rule at the poker table.

However, George is not yet certain whether the interval is fixed, random, or related to other factors.

The newly acquired skill requires a promotion, which is worth considering, but it's best to wait and see how Lieutenant Bates fares before making a decision.

And also...

Sleepiness gradually overwhelmed George.

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

Two days after their last meeting, Elliott's discharge from the hospital was completed smoothly in the early morning.

George, Bates, and Elliott met at the entrance of the St. Simeon Sanatorium and boarded a pre-hired four-wheeled carriage to London Railway Station.

Inside the carriage, Elio's eyes shone with a light he hadn't seen in a long time as he scanned the flowing street scene outside the window.

After an hour-long carriage journey, they arrived at the train station.

This is a colossal structure built of brass and steel, with intersecting cast iron trusses supporting the dome, and brass rivets shining like stars in the night sky.

As for why it wasn't corroded into verdigris by the steam from the nearby steam engine, that remains a mystery.

In the station square, porters hurried along pushing luggage carts equipped with gear transmissions, the wheels making a clattering sound as they rolled over the rail-like tracks.

Before long, a muffled rumble came from the end of the tracks, accompanied by a sharp whistle that pierced the sky.

A black steel behemoth slowly pulled into the platform, its massive drive wheels encased in thick cast iron rims, and billowing white smoke billowed from its chimney.

Thick steel plates form the body of the car, while crisscrossing brass pipes and valves meander and jut out along the sides. Rivets resemble the scales of a giant beast, and the bronze headlights at the front are like bright yellow eyes.

This is the industrial behemoth of our time.

After the train arrived, they boarded a train heading north.

The carriage swayed rhythmically along the rail joints, and the hazy London outside the window was gradually replaced by open fields.

The journey was long, and Bates spent most of his time reading the hunting guide.

His gaze shifted between contemplation and sharpness, as if searching between the lines for something deeper than hunting skills.

George used this time to reorganize the information in his mind—the card table, cards, sexuality, and the obscure knowledge in the books he had read.

The path to extraordinary achievements has begun, but the road ahead is shrouded in mystery.

As noon approached, Bates closed his book, breaking the silence.

"This book mentions some unconventional things."

George looked up, waiting for him to continue.

Bates spoke in a very low voice, barely audible to the two of them.

"The book describes a kind of 'hunter needing to establish a connection with the target, perceive its essence, and even understand the rhythm of its existence during the chase.' It sounds mysterious, but... it reminds me of some hunting experiences in the Bharata jungle."

His grey-blue eyes looked at George.

"Sometimes, when facing the most dangerous prey, what's needed isn't just skill and weapons, but also intuition. This book seems to systematize that, even hinting at something called principles—or, if I had to say, the 'hunting' principles."

George felt a slight stirring in his heart. Miss Moran's recommendation of the book was indeed quite meaningful.

"Do you believe that this 'hunting' is also a path to transcendence?"

"Perhaps," Bates replied cautiously. "The book doesn't explicitly say it, but the atmosphere it describes is very similar. It emphasizes tracking, sensing, understanding, and ultimately... control."

"This has something in common with dealing with cunning enemies on the battlefield." He paused. "If such a power truly exists, then its advancement method is probably also related to this."

George nodded slightly, took out "Night Wanderer's Notes" from his pocket, and handed it to Bates.

"You can use the rest of your time to read this book; it should help you refine your ideas."

As evening fell, the train arrived at Yorkshire train station. The three of them got off the train with their luggage and, following the coachman's advice, found a hotel in town to stay in.

At dinner, the three of them enjoyed stewed mutton with black bread provided by the hotel. Elliott ate with particular care—it was a hot meal he hadn't had in a long time.

Bates would occasionally chat with George about the scenery along the way, while George would secretly reflect on the events that had occurred during the meal.

After dinner, Bates opened the wooden lattice window, letting in the crisp, fresh autumn air.

He took a deep breath, turned to look at the other two, and a rare relaxed smile appeared on his lips.

"Want to go for a walk? The night view here is much prettier than London's coal dust."

So the London visitors left the hotel and began to enjoy the peaceful autumn night along the main street that runs through the town.

Unlike the hustle and bustle of big cities, the nights in Yorkshire are much quieter, with the gaslights casting a warm yellow glow that stretches the shadows of pedestrians long.

Occasionally, townspeople would lead their horses by, or tourists would stop to admire the shop windows along the roadside. The whispered conversations were gently carried away by the evening breeze, and everything seemed peaceful and pleasant.

As Elliott gazed up at the sparse stars on the horizon, a sharp neighing of a horse suddenly shattered the silence!

Amid the gasps of the crowd, George caught a glimpse of a tall, brown horse galloping wildly down the main street from the corner.

Startled by something, it broke free from the groom's restraints, its horseshoes pounding on the stone road like drums striking everyone's hearts.

Among the fleeing pedestrians, a child crossing the street suddenly went limp and collapsed to the ground.

His eyes widened, and the pastry in his hand rolled onto the stone pavement, where it struggled on the ground.

But the brown horse's horseshoe was already less than ten feet away from him, the horseshoe bobbing up and down, and tragedy seemed imminent.