The Weak Prince Is A Cultivation God
Chapter 45: Pray For The Cultists

Chapter 45: Pray For The Cultists

By the following day, Ranevia’s narrow alleys were filled with movement. Under Lan’s orders, the Mad Vipers sharpened blades, packed provisions, and outfitted themselves in blackened leather and muted armor—none of the usual chaos or drunkenness was seen in their ranks.

A strange discipline had begun to take root. It was fear, but it was also something more that.

Purpose perhaps.

In a corner of the newly-claimed governor’s estate, around a heavy oak table, Lan sat with his most trusted figures. Seraphine, absent, having not come out her room in a long time.

When Lan asks about her wellbeing, Miller tells him she’s fine, however she seemed to have grown some sort of obsession with the words of the script he gave her.

But aside from her, the rest—Venom, Halmer, Thorn, Wren, and Garran—were present, hunched over maps and diagrams illuminated by flickering lanterns.

Lan stood, fingers resting lightly on the edge of the table.

"The plan has changed," he announced.

The men looked up at once. Venom raised a brow. "Changed?"

"We’re not negotiating with the Ash Tongues. We’re wiping them out."

Venom exhaled slowly, his knuckles tapping against the map. "That’s a lot of useful men dead."

"They won’t be useful alive either," Lan said. "New intel confirms what we knew. Since they’re not just a gang and all members of the Court of Red Candles, they will forevr remain loyal to the cult beyond reason, beyond fear—even beyond death."

Venom’s eyes narrowed. "Not even the Soul Brand would keep them in line?"

Lan shook his head. "It will kill their souls, but the damage would already be done. The Red Candles, they’re infiltrators. Poisoners. Manipulators—trained to die for their mission. Once inside our ranks, they’ll rot us from within. We cannot risk it."

Halmer gave a slow, approving nod. "So what’s the plan?"

"A surprise attack." Lan leaned over the map. "They think they know what’s coming. I’d wager they’re already preparing to feign resistance and submit. That’s what they’ll expect."

He looked around the room, voice lowering.

"So I’ll give them what they expect."

Lan pointed to the eastern hills marked in red on the parchment. "I’ll approach alone, with Venom. They’ll see a familiar face. I’ll appear diplomatic, cautious. They’ll drop their guard. If they are foolish they will immediately submit thinking I’d buy it, any smarter and they would put up a fight on just for show. A way to sell their submission as defeat."

He glanced up.

"But while they’re watching me, the rest of you will already be there—emerging from the dark, surrounding the temple. And by the time they realize it’s a purge..."

"It’ll be far too late," Thorn finished with a small smirk.

"That’s a solid plan," Halmer said.

"Yes," Lan replied, "but for it to work, there’s one crucial condition—stealth."

He tapped the table sharply. "If we move in large numbers, we’ll be seen. If we’re seen, they’ll prepare. And if they prepare, this mission becomes failed as they some might escape and scatter."

His gaze settled on Miller, who stood silently near the wall, arms crossed.

"You’re staying behind."

Miller blinked. "Why, Your Highness?"

"I trust you to protect Seraphine in my absence."

Miller straightened, then bowed his head. "Understood."

"Venom, you’ll ride with me—openly."

The gang leader nodded, silently accepting his role.

"The rest of you," Lan looked to the remaining four, "you move through the dark. No light. No sound. You reach the perimeter and hold. Once I give the signal, you strike. We don’t leave a single soul breathing."

"Understood," Wren said, his voice barely audible.

Thorn cracked her knuckles. "Finally. We get rid of those bastards."

"Good," Lan said. He stepped back from the table. "We move at nightfall."

———

The eastern hills rose in the distance.

It looked like broken teeth from the frozen earth, sharp and shrouded in mist. Snow clung to the ground like ash, and the air had a strange smell—wax and blood, ancient and bitter.

Lan and Venom rode side by side on horseback, each carrying a single lantern that flickered in the wind. Their cloaks billowed behind them as they made their way across the winding path that led toward the Ash Tongues’ domain.

Behind them—unseen, unheard—four shadows moved like smoke through the hills. Thorn, Halmer, Wren, and Garran, all cloaked in black, darted from rock to ridge with practiced silence.

By midnight, the base of the Ash Tongues came into view.

It was unlike the slums of Ranevia, where buildings leaned like drunks and roofs sagged from rot. This place had structure, reverence. Stone columns marked the entrance. Carved torches burned steadily, casting the shape of a tall, dark temple against the hills. Ancient and unfitting.

It looked older than the rest of Ranevia.

Venom narrowed his eyes. "This was once a shrine to a god that had not been worshipped in several decades. They claimed it. Converted it. Now it’s theirs."

Lan said nothing. His eyes were locked on the doors.

As they drew closer, a figure stepped out from the shadows beneath the temple’s awning. Clad in a red cloak, the man was tall, graceful in the way snakes are.

His voice slithered out as their horses stopped.

"Fourth Prince Lanard," he said with mock warmth. "What a surprise. We weren’t expecting you...so early."

"I bet," Lan replied, his tone cool and unreadable.

The man chuckled. "You’ll forgive the lack of fanfare. We thought you’d send envoys first. A message. A threat, perhaps."

"No need for theatrics," Lan dismounted with slow grace, brushing snow from his boots. "I wanted to speak directly."

Venom remained mounted, staring coldly at the red-cloaked man.

The figure stepped forward, just enough for the torchlight to reveal his face—pale, with lips too red and eyes too wide.

"Of course. Please, come in. The Ash Tongues always welcome guests who show proper... humility."

Lan’s lips curled slightly. "You’ll find I’m very polite."

Behind the temple, unseen by the welcoming committee, four shadows melted into the stone and snow, taking position.

Within minutes, the base would be surrounded.

And none would survive.