The Weak Prince Is A Cultivation God

The northern forest stretched for many miles. A sea of withered giants, thick with fog and silence. Towering pines clawed at the overcast sky, their dark needles soaked in frost, and their trunks scarred by age and wind.

Snow coated the ground in scattered patches, melting slowly into the mossy earth beneath.

The air was bitter—so cold it stung the lungs—but there was peace in its stillness, and there was hope, the kind of quiet that swallowed footsteps and silenced even the birds.

A faint golden shimmer traced the perimeter of the forest, where Lanard's talismans hung on brittle branches and hollow stones.

Their paper edges barely fluttered, but the power woven into them distorted space, bending light and memory. From the outside, no path led in.

Deeper in, nestled between glacial hills and ancient roots, a collection of hidden structures stood: stone halls, forge tents, barracks carved into the cliffs. Fires burned low, watched by silent sentries, while others moved in shadows, training, sharpening blades, or repairing armor.

It was a makeshift stronghold built for survival, not comfort.

This was exile—but also preparation. The forest had become more than a hiding place. It was the crucible from which something far more dangerous would emerge.

The talismans pulsed faintly in the air—like sleeping embers stirred by a long breath. At the heart of the hidden forest, beneath an earthen chamber sealed by layers of spirit runes, the silence broke.

Lanard Solaris IV opened his eyes.

The space around him shifted. Cold spiritual mist evaporated from his skin, his body exhaling faint trails of violet and silver Qi.

His bones ached with newfound density. His soul thrummed with refined power. He stood slowly, like a man returning from death—leaner, sharper, and far more dangerous than when he had entered.

The seclusion chamber groaned as the seals unlocked. A sliver of pale northern light filtered in through the carved stone doorway, illuminating the entrance like a divine sign.

Lan stepped forward, barefoot, and emerged from his long isolation.

Within moments, the word spread. A ripple through the forest. A breath held for six months now released.

---

The meeting hall had changed little in his absence. Worn stone walls reinforced with formation lines, maps pinned across the northern regions, and a crude table carved with old battle scars. But the people seated inside straightened as soon as he entered.

Bragg stood first, his massive frame blocking the firelight. "You're alive," he said, his voice neutral but his relief clear.

Miller was silent, as always, but inclined his head slightly. A sign of respect.

Venom leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. His jagged scar twitched as he grinned. "Took you a while. We were starting to think you somehow died."

Lan moved to the center and sat, his expression unreadable. "Transcending realms isn't like peeling bark. It takes time."

Venom raised an eyebrow. "So you've reached godhood now?"

Lan's pale grey eyes flicked toward him, calm and cold. "No," he said. "But I'm close enough."

That silenced the room.

He rested his hand on the table, fingers tracing an old burn mark. "Catch me up. Everything. Since I went under."

Bragg nodded, stepping forward. "Maximus hasn't stopped searching for us. It's become more aggressive over time. Diviners, spies, even whispers of soul-reading familiars combing the Empire's outer territories. The southern wards you placed have held so far, but... it won't be long before they try brute force."

"They're desperate now," Venom added. "Too many of their plans hinge on eliminating you before the others make their next move. Word is, Maximus put a price on your head bigger than most dukes' dowries."

Lan was quiet for a moment. "Then he should keep chasing."

Bragg continued. "As for Solaris—"

Miller, still seated, finally spoke. "They used the gold."

Venom clicked his tongue. "Rebuilt their army with it. After that beating you gave them... they were bleeding soldiers and coin. But the gold from Ranevia kept them alive. For a while."

Bragg nodded. "But the mines have gone dry."

Lan's eyes narrowed slightly.

"They couldn't go deep," Bragg explained. "The formations. Your talismans were the only things that made those depths viable. Without them, they hit rock and death. No mana. No ore. Just unstable earth. Collapses started again. The mine's dead now."

A small satisfaction flickered in Lan's eyes. "So they built a wall with gold dust and now they're out of dust."

"Exactly," Venom said. "They've been quiet lately. Not enough coin to fund another campaign. But they still hold the territory."

"Not for long," Lan said flatly.

Miller tilted his head. "You're planning to take it back?"

Lan stood and began pacing slowly. "Not take it back. Take all of it. Solaris isn't just a problem to push aside. It's a stain. And it's time we burned it out."

He turned to them. "Tell the men. Prepare them. We march for Solaris. I want the King's head."

The silence that followed was like the moment before a blade falls. Bragg clenched his fist and bowed his head slightly.

"As you command."

Venom's grin widened into something darker. "Finally. Some action again."

Miller simply stood, waiting.

Lan glanced back at the map on the wall, his fingers tracing the outline of the Solaris border. Then he paused.

"What of Iris?" he asked, his voice low but sharp.

The others exchanged a look.

"She's gone," Bragg finally said. "Vanished from the capital nearly four months ago. No message. No body. Just... missing."

Lan's gaze darkened.

"Maximus has silenced all talk of her," Venom added. "Which means either she's dead—or she's doing something that threatens him."

"Missing, huh?" Lan repeated softly, almost to himself.

A long breath filled the room.

"Perhaps it's time," Lan said, "that I paid the Imperial City a visit."

The three men said nothing.

Lan turned fully toward them. "Solaris first. Then the rest of the Empire. We will not hide anymore."

And with that, a new war had begun.