The Weak Prince Is A Cultivation God
Chapter 43: Blood Candles

Chapter 43: Blood Candles

His body still ached from the fight. His mind still burned with plans. But for now, just for a moment, he let himself rest. He stared at the wooden ceiling.

"First step taken..." he murmured.

"...many more to go."

———

Next Morning.

Low flames of the lanterns left the room in muted amber, shadows twisted across the walls of the old governor’s war room.

It had no space for sunlight.

Dust still clung to its corners, and the air smelled faintly of rusted iron and old ink. But now, the table that sat unused was occupied.

Lan sat at the head, his presence carrying authority that seemed so natural. Across from him sat Venom—his bruises fading but his posture still deferent—as well as four men he’d handpicked from among the Mad Vipers.

Each of them bore the soul brand seared into their necks, faintly glowing red like cursed flesh.

They were the beginnings of an army.

Venom leaned back in his chair, gesturing to each of the four in turn.

"This one’s Wren," he said. Wren was wiry, with sharp features and scars carved into his cheek like tally marks. "Expert in recon and infiltration. He can disappear in a shadow and slit a throat before they feel the cold."

Wren offered Lan a silent nod, his eyes never quite meeting his.

"Next is Garran," Venom continued.

Garran was massive, his arms thick as tree trunks and covered in tribal tattoos. A bruiser in every sense, but his gaze was calm and precise, like a man who’d seen more death than most could imagine.

"My fists break bone," he said simply.

"Thorn," Venom gestured to the next, a woman with short-cropped hair and a red scarf tied around her wrist. Her fingers were stained with dark ink, her eyes calculating.

"I handle traps, poisons, and interrogation," she said coolly.

"And lastly, Halmer," Venom said. Halmer looked older than the rest—late thirties, perhaps—with greying temples and a slight limp. "Tactician, ex-sellsword, and the only one of us who can still read maps properly."

"Pleasure," Halmer said, offering a slight bow of the head. "Venom says you’re planning to destroy whatever is left of resistance. That still the plan?"

Lan tapped his fingers against the table.

"Yes. I want control. All of it. Before the next moon cycle."

Venom raised a brow. "That soon?"

"Yes," Lan replied, eyes steady. "I’m not here to play games with thugs. I’ve establisher an understanding with the Mad Vipers. Now I want the rest of Ranevia to be on common ground."

"Then we’ll need to move fast," Thorn said, sitting forward. "There are two major gangs left as you know. Each with their own kind of madness."

Wren nodded. "We’ve scouted them before. Let’s break it down."

Halmer unrolled a rough map of Ranevia’s sprawl onto the table, marking regions with charcoal strokes.

"First," he said, "there’s the Black Fangs. Ex-mercenaries. When the kingdom stopped paying them after the last border war, they didn’t retire—they turned raider. Now they operate out west, right along the cliff routes that lead out of Ranevia into the trade passes."

"They hit caravans and take whatever they want," Wren added. "Food, weapons, slaves."

"Disrupting supplies and keeping the west starved," Thorn spat.

Lan studied the map.

"They’re well-armed?" he asked.

"Extremely," Halmer said. "They’ve got siege gear, stolen wagons, even a few crude spirit-forged weapons. Their leader is a beast of a man—or half a man, rather. Calls himself Bragg. There’s rumors he’s a failed hybrid from some old experiment. Stands eight feet tall and fights like a maddened gorilla."

Lan’s eyes narrowed slightly. "Noted."

Venom continued, tapping a different part of the map. "Then there’s the Ash Tongues. The real nightmare. They operate in the eastern hills—deep in the old temples from before the kingdom even claimed this land."

"Slavers, sadists, freaks," Thorn muttered.

"They worship something," Garran said, his tone colder than usual. "They call it the Court of Red Candles. A cult older than the hills. Their rituals keep the mana beasts away from their territories."

Wren nodded. "That’s how they keep the people loyal. Not through gold or protection. Just fear."

"Every full moon," Venom added, "they drag out prisoners—sometimes entire families—and perform their little fire-and-blood shows. Claim it’s divine offering. And it works. Beasts never cross their borders."

Silence fell for a moment.

"They’re the most dangerous of the lot," Halmer said grimly. "Even if we wipe out their soldiers, we’ll still have to deal with the cult. And they’ve got ties we don’t fully understand—some say even to the Empire’s darker corners."

Lan’s gaze lingered on the eastern region of the map, his finger tapping the drawing of a jagged hill where an old temple ruin had been marked.

"Then that’s where we strike first," he said.

Thorn blinked. "You want to start... with them?"

"They’re the hardest to break," Lan said. "So we break them first. Hit the head of the snake and make the rest of the body squirm."

Venom folded his arms. "You’re sure about that? We go in there without a plan, we’re offering ourselves up for sacrifice."

"Oh, there’ll be a plan," Lan said, rising from his seat. "But hesitation is what they’ve always expected from Ranevia’s ’governors.’ Not this time."

He turned to the branded warriors around the table.

"Prepare a scouting party. I want everything we can find on the old temple ruins. Entry points. Escape routes. Ritual times. Numbers. We leave for the eastern hills in a day."

Halmer nodded. "I’ll have a team ready by dawn."

Thorn gave a crooked smile. "And I’ll start preparing poisons. Just in case the cult doesn’t feel like talking."

"Good," Lan said. He turned to Venom. "Send word through your network. I want anyone loyal to the Vipers to understand—we’re not hiding behind territory walls anymore. We’re cleaning this cesspool, one gang at a time."

Venom gave a long exhale. "Alright, Prince. You’ve got my blades."

Lan nodded and looked once more to the map.

The eastern hills. The Court of Red Candles.

They had to fall.