The Weak Prince Is A Cultivation God
Chapter 36: A King Must First Break The Crown

Chapter 36: A King Must First Break The Crown

Inside the foul-smelling belly of a Ranevian tavern, the world rotted with every breath.

A long crooked hall of timber and torchlight swayed with laughter, lechery, and the reek of wet blood. The floorboards were warped and sticky, drowned in years of spilled ale and thicker fluids.

Somewhere beneath the din, rats squealed as they chewed each other apart in their cage fights, the onlookers hooting and slapping coins down like it was sacred sport.

A few Mad Vipers lounged near the pit, bellowing encouragement at their chosen vermin.

"That one—bite his damn eyes out!" a man howled, slapping his knee as two emaciated rodents clawed at a shred of moldy cheese.

On the far end, draped across stained cushions, girls danced and laughed hollowly beneath the groping hands of half-conscious men. Some were barely clothed; others simply didn’t care anymore.

A woman with mascara running down her cheek drank straight from the bottle as a man buried his face in her lap. Another lay sprawled across a table, snoring while someone traced circles into her bare thigh with a knife.

But at the center of this den of debauchery, there was less chaos—only conspiracy.

A wide, round table sat like a throne in the eye of the storm. Seven men surrounded it—six leaned in and laughed, but the seventh, seated calmly in the center, listened with a crooked grin that didn’t quite stretch.

That was Venom.

Ranevia’s blood-soaked pit viper. The leader of the Mad Vipers.

A tall, sharp-jawed man with cruel eyes and a jagged scar that ran from his lip to his collarbone. A long dagger spun between his fingers idly as he listened to the latest.

"I’m telling you," one of the men said, laughing, "the Black Fangs are pushing deeper into the western hills. One more shipment hijacked, and the whole Farside market’s theirs."

"They’re biting harder than usual, boss," another added, throwing back his drink. "Fangs think they smell weakness. That we’re spread too thin."

"Shit," said another. "And the Ash Tongues? They ain’t staying quiet either. Got word from the east that they lit up a border outpost. Took it for themselves."

Venom chuckled quietly and leaned back. "Let them scramble for scraps. The Vipers are Ranevia. Always have been."

That drew a round of cheers. Mugs clanged. Laughter echoed again.

Then one of the younger lieutenants, with a half-burnt face and one good eye, leaned in and smirked. "You lot heard the rumor though? Some noble brat’s supposed to be taking over soon. A prince. Solaris blood."

Everyone laughed harder this time.

"A prince?" one cackled. "In this shithole?"

Another slapped the table. "What’s he gonna do? Raise taxes on thieves? Teach whores etiquette?"

The room roared. Even Venom smiled.

"A prince walking into Ranevia," he said, voice cold and amused. "...is suicide."

They all nodded in agreement.

Then, suddenly—

BOOM.

The tavern doors exploded.

A body shot through them like a cannonball, crashing through splintered wood and slamming into the far wall with a thunderous crack. Plaster rained down. A crater formed where the body hit, then slumped to the floor.

It was Kanger.

His mouth hung open, bloody teeth scattered across the wood. His arm was bent the wrong way, legs twitching.

The tavern fell into stunned silence.

All heads turned to the shattered entry.

A voice followed next. _{f.r(e)e\webn.ovel.co\m}

"Don’t worry," it called, calm and amused, "he’s not dead."

A figure stepped through the doorway—young, dark-haired, calm-eyed.

Then Lan glanced back at Kanger’s broken form.

"...Or actually... he might be."

"Who the hell are you?" one of the men barked, already rising.

"Excellent question, albeit not the most pressing," Lan replied, his voice a velvet blade. "So instead I’ll raise you one better... Who is Venom?"

His gaze swept their faces.

"Our dear friend over there," he gestured lazily at Kanger’s corpse, "was kind enough to lead us here as the place to find him."

Everyone but one man stood immediately, weapons sliding free—knives, hooks, broken swords, even a flaming chain.

Only one man stayed seated.

Lan’s eyes fell on him. "And I presume... you’re the man I seek."

"Stop your yapping," one of them hissed, lunging forward with a dagger raised.

He only made it a single step. Then his body jerked, head snapping back as his throat burst open.

A crimson streak zipped past.

Blood gurgled from his mouth as he collapsed.

[Qi Blades]

Tiny red blades shimmered into existence all around Lan, circling him like hornets.

They zipped forward again, slashing across the eyes, throats, and wrists of every man who had taken a step.

Screams echoed. Steel clattered to the floor. In an instant, four more dropped—some clutching wounds, others twitching in their last breath.

Lan stood at the center, the floor painted with gore.

He stood without a blink.

"Now," he said, stepping forward as the rest froze in place, "before the rest of you so enthusiastically run towards your death... let me inform you: I am here for a discussion. So calm down."

None dared move.

The edges of Lan’s Qi blades hovered dangerously close to flesh. One floated inches from a man’s eyeball. Another sat above a jugular, humming.

Lan walked toward the round table.

Venom hadn’t moved. His eyes studied the prince carefully now—no longer with amusement, but caution.

"You know," Lan began as he took a seat across from him, "I think about war a lot. Perhaps a byproduct of having witnessed so many."

His voice didn’t tremble. If anything, it rang more confident now.

"Many will tell you war is a curse upon any world. But I, in fact, see it as a ritual—a cleansing. Beyond the slaughter and destruction... there is a pending beauty that lingers."

Venom said nothing. His men were too afraid to.

"Because it is only from the blood of the old," Lan continued, "can something truly new be born. And I thought about it long and hard..."

He leaned forward.

"I had originally intended to ravage war across this territory. A great cleansing. Burn it to rubble and ash so I may rebuild it into something worthy."

A pause.

"But then I realized..." Lan smiled.

"I can’t afford to waste such resources."

He glanced around the room—at the scared, the violent, the useful.

"Resources such as yourself."

The words hung in the air like smoke.

Venom’s hand tapped once against the table. His face unreadable.