The Weak Prince Is A Cultivation God
Chapter 50: The Way Forward.

Chapter 50: The Way Forward.

The battlefield was littered with corpses.

Mana beasts, split down the middle. Cultists and slavers, carved as if the air had become a sword. Blood soaked the cracked temple stones, leaking into the dirt, spreading like a silent scream.

And in the center of it all stood Lan.

Devil’s Lie hung loosely from his hand, its black blade steaming as if thirsting still. His fingers were stained with blood—some his, most not.

He wasn’t moving. He was seeing.

A haze clung to the edge of his vision, less from fatigue, more from something... deeper. The blade was humming, almost whispering into his hand. And as it drank the blood that clung to its edge, something strange began to happen.

Visions. Flickers. Shadows behind the eyes.

"They called us monsters..."

"I had no choice."

"This world has no gods. Only wolves."

Lies.

Each of the Ash Tongues had died with false truths lingering in their hearts—coward’s dogma, butchered philosophies, perverted meaning—and Devil’s Lie fed on every last one.

And Lan felt it. The sword did more than just cut the body—it exposed deception. It revealed the stories men told themselves to justify horrors.

He saw through their delusions, one by one, as the blade revealed them.

[Devil’s Lie: 0.2% Unsealed]

The number etched itself into his mind.

The weapon was awakening. Slowly.

He clenched it tighter, forcing back the rising headache. He had no time for revelations.

Thorn groaned from where she lay half-conscious among the rubble, blood matting her hair to her face. Venom knelt beside her, grim.

"She’s still bleeding," he muttered. "Too much. Even if she pulls through, she’ll never move the same."

Lan’s jaw tensed. He turned toward the rest of his wounded force. Halmer’s arm hung limp and broken. Garran’s leg was bent unnaturally. Wren sat slumped, too exhausted to even whisper.

They were alive. But barely.

"Get the horses," Lan ordered coldly. "Now. We return immediately."

No one argued.

As they did, Lan looked at the top of the hills where the distant trees sat.

He knew hidden within them, they watched him. And he knew why they would not make their move tonight.

This was his victory, but not without cost.

---

Before Dawn – Governor’s Estate, Ranevia

The sky was just beginning to bleed orange when they returned to the estate. Faint light pushed past the black horizon, its warmth still weak—like the first breath after drowning.

Their horses galloped through the mud-caked gates.

Miller stood at the door, wrapped in a cloak. His eyes widened as he rushed to meet them.

"What happened?" he demanded, helping Venom lower Thorn from the saddle. Her pale face looked like cracked porcelain.

"An unfair fight," Venom muttered. "The worst kind."

"We were ambushed by beasts," Lan said.

Miller grunted and lifted Thorn with surprising care, laying her gently on the old couch inside the main hall. Garran and Halmer slumped against the walls, dragging their ruined limbs.

Miller turned back, face grave. "Where’s Wren?"

"Dead," Venom said. "Body’s gone."

Lan closed his eyes for a moment. Just one. Then he asked, "Where’s Seraphine?"

Miller blinked, seeming to remember. "She’s... busy. Said she needed a furnace. We got her one. She’s been at it for hours. Hasn’t come out once."

At those words, Lan’s weariness evaporated.

Excitement surged through him like lightning. He nearly stumbled toward the side wing, the familiar hum of alchemical flames faint against the walls.

"Seraphine!" he called, just as he reached the threshold.

The door opened before he could push it.

She stepped out—her golden hair now streaked with soot and tied in a loose, messy braid. Her cheeks were smudged black, her robes singed, and she held a silver platter in her gloved hands.

On it sat two dozen pills.

Each one glowed with a golden sheen, as if wrapped in morning sunlight.

Seraphine blinked at Lan, then at the wounded littered across the parlor.

And then, with disbelief in her voice, she said, "Perfect timing."

Lan’s eyes were on the pills.

She held up the tray proudly, trembling. "I did it, Lan. I actually did it. A perfect refinement. The Golden Lotus Body Pill."

Lan’s breath caught in his throat.

He knew the name.

Golden Lotus Body Pill. A legendary-grade restorative.

One of them, just one, could be traded for a noble’s ransom. They were the kind of pills wars were started over.

"You refined these?" he asked, incredulous.

She smiled—tired, proud, barely holding it together. "I..did."

She thrust the tray into Miller’s hands. "Give one to each of them. And you—" she pointed at Lan, "—you take one too."

Miller moved with precision, placing a glowing pill in the hand of every barely-breathing viper. Halmer swallowed his whole with a grimace. Garran blinked at his before popping it in with a shrug.

Lan took his in silence.

As the pill passed his lips, the effect was instant.

It was like swallowing sunlight.

Heat blossomed in his gut, then surged outward like a second heartbeat. His wounds hissed, sealed. Bones snapped back into place. Torn flesh wove together like silk.

He exhaled slowly, stunned. Every ache, every break—it was gone.

Venom sat up, blinking in shock. "What... what level of magic is this?"

Lan stared at his hands. At the fading traces of blood that had once been deep gashes. He smiled faintly.

"It’s not magic."

Venom frowned. "Then what is it?"

Lan stood. His voice was calm, clear.

"It’s alchemy. Real alchemy. From beyond this world. More than mana."

The room was still.

Lan looked at the men who now sat up, fully healed. Thorn gasped as she touched her chest, realizing the wound that had nearly killed her had vanished.

Lan’s next words echoed like prophecy.

"Starting today," he said, "you will all abandon your false understanding of strength. You will throw away the idea that magic is the pinnacle of power."

He looked each of them in the eye.

"From this day forward, you will follow me. You will walk a new path—a forgotten path. You will walk the true way."

He raised Devil’s Lie, the black blade now clean, but no less terrifying.

"You will become cultivators."

Silence met his declaration.

Then Venom, ever the skeptic, tilted his head.

"And what exactly does that mean?"

Lan looked toward the sky, now brightening with dawnlight.

"It means everything you thought was impossible... is only the beginning."