The Weak Prince Is A Cultivation God
Chapter 38: Fangs Against Crown

Chapter 38: Fangs Against Crown

Venom took another sip of his wine, slow and unrushed, then wiped the rim of his mouth with the back of his hand.

"You put me in a tight situation, Prince," he muttered. "See, I’m not really the type to submit."

The tension shattered like glass would.

In a single breath, Venom’s eyes ignited with a sickly green light, and his body pulsed with mana. The air twisted—then roared.

With a grunt, he slammed his palm into the floorboards. A pulse of warped energy exploded outward.

[Gnashing Pulse]

A storm of ghostly serpent fangs erupted from beneath the tavern, shredding the floor as spectral vipers burst outward, howling like wind through bone.

The shockwave blew apart Lan’s Qi Blades in an instant. Tables, chairs, and Mad Vipers alike were thrown like dolls in a hurricane. The tavern’s walls blew outward—stone and timber collapsing under the raw force.

Lan’s boots slid across the ground as he braced himself, skidding back through shattered glass and smoke. With a sharp grunt, he twisted his body and grounded his heel, stopping his momentum. A breath later and he was already upright.

Across the chaos, the Fourth Guard caught Seraphine mid-air as she fell backward. Without a word, he landed in a crouch and gently set her down, his gaze already tracking threats like a beast scenting blood.

Venom stood in the wreckage, laughing under his breath.

"You come here expecting to rule this place?" he snarled. "You’re just as foolish as the ones before you."

He tore off his blood-stained shirt, revealing a body carved like it had been chiseled from iron. His veins beat with unnatural energy, bulging under a web of tattoos—each one a mark of power etched with pain.

His magic aura bloomed wide, thick with savagery.

Lan’s gaze flicked around.

The Mad Vipers were already recovering, rising to their feet with blades drawn and blood trailing from their noses and mouths. They surrounded the cratered remains of the tavern, forming a loose circle.

Venom stood at the center like a thing of battle, retrieving a massive black-iron axe from his hip holster. It hissed as it left its sheath, radiating a mana scent as pungent as rotting meat.

Lan exhaled through his nose.

"I suppose this was unavoidable," he said.

He turned his head slightly toward the Fourth Guard, voice low. "Hold them off. I’ll return."

"As you command, your Highness," he replied.

Venom took a step forward.

"Don’t you see, Prince?" he bellowed. "This is not a hell that can be conquered—"

His voice cut off. _{\n(o)v.e\l.com}

A blur.

A shockwave.

Lan’s fist connected with his abdomen before the brute could finish the sentence, his body folding under the force like a bridge under avalanche.

CRACK.

The impact was deafening. The ground cratered beneath Venom as he was sent flying through the remains of a brick wall, dust and debris trailing behind like an exploding comet.

Lan’s figure flashed forward in pursuit, leaving only a streak of afterimages where he had been.

Behind them, the Fourth Guard unseathed his sword.

"He didn’t say I could kill you," he called out to the surrounding Vipers, "but I do intend to teach you all very painful lessons."

—---

Venom crashed into the alley behind the tavern, stone shattering under his tumbling body. He bounced off the side of a broken pillar and landed in a heap, groaning.

But before the dust could settle, Venom’s eyes snapped open.

He roared.

[Blood Siphon Aura]

Dark red tendrils whipped outward from his skin, drawing ambient life-force from every bleeding body nearby—both ally and enemy. It flooded into him like liquid fire, reknitting his cracked ribs and bruised flesh in an instant.

He stood upright, the great axe now firmly gripped in his hands.

Across the courtyard, Lan landed softly, his expression unreadable.

He exhaled once. Then reached into the air and pulled.

A ripple in space twisted open beside him—his subspace.

From it, a weapon slowly emerged.

The Devil’s Lie.

The hilt as simple it ever was. Wrapped in weathered gray cloth, frayed at the ends. The blade appeared rusted, dull. But the moment it touched open air, the ground around Lan hummed.

Whispers filled the silence—words no man could make out. A pressure like history itself pressing on the lungs.

Venom frowned. "What the hell is that?"

"My sword," Lan replied. "She’s a little... blunt in conversation."

With a flick, he drew the blade fully and took a stance.

Venom growled and stomped forward, axe raised.

"Fine. I wonder if princes bleed red like the rest of us."

Lan’s eyes narrowed. "Come find out."

Venom rushed in with surprising speed for his size, the air cracking around him as his axe carved a wide arc toward Lan’s shoulder.

Lan didn’t dodge.

He stepped into it.

Steel met rust.

The clash sent a shockwave spiraling outward, the force knocking stones loose from the surrounding rubble. Venom’s axe halted in mid-swing, caught along the edge of Lan’s cursed blade.

The Devil’s Lie didn’t have the metal ring of clashing swords. It groaned instead.

Lan pressed forward, muscles tightening under his robe as he pushed Venom back, one step... then another.

Venom gritted his teeth, trying to hold ground.

"Not bad for a corpse-in-waiting!" he snarled.

Lan smiled faintly. "I’m not waiting for anything."

Then his foot twisted and he launched an elbow at Venom’s throat, forcing the brute to stagger. Lan’s next slash came upward—graceful, sudden, unstoppable.

Venom raised his axe just in time, blocking again.

Sparks flew. Stone split.

But despite Venom’s superior size and power, he was being driven back. For every thunderous swing he threw, Lan parried with a whispering strike that cut through muscle and air alike.

The Devil’s Lie flickered with invisible force. Though sealed, it still remembered what it was.

Venom stumbled back, panting now, a shallow gash running across his chest where Lan’s sword had finally kissed flesh.

"You’re strong," he admitted. "But strength alone won’t save you from this place."

"Strength is just the beginning," Lan said, walking toward him. "I’m here to start something more profound."

Venom grinned, blood in his teeth.

"Then brace, Prince. Because I’m not done yet."

Their blades met again—louder, fiercer.

Behind them, the Fourth Guard danced through enemies like a perfect warrior, his blade finding knees and elbows with surgical cruelty. Seraphine stood with her hands clenched, prepared to cast if needed, though her eyes remained on Lan.

Lan twisted, spun, then ducked under another slash.

It were like two titans testing each other’s foundations. And neither had yet drawn their true power.

But the clash had begun, and it would not end gently.