The Weak Prince Is A Cultivation God-Chapter 57: Accepting Rejection

Darkness swallowed everything.

Lan fell endlessly through his own spirit sea—weightless, breathless, lost. The rage of the storm had consumed his will, his mind, and even the forming core within his chest. The sea had rebelled, a rebellion without malice, just pain. It had cried out through the chaos, and Lan could no longer tell where the sea ended and he began.

He was drowning in himself.

He reached for breath.

For light.

Anything.

But none came.

Until—

Warmth.

A single thread of golden Qi pierced the blackness, like a sunbeam falling into a bottomless abyss. It was divine.

Lan’s eyes widened.

It pulsed once... then again. It wasn’t harsh or intrusive. It was gentle. Reassuring. It called to him not as a master commands, but as a friend offers their hand. He recognize it. It wasn’t from within him. It came from outside. From the waking world.

Lan inhaled. Deep. This new Qi had given him strength, so he let himself go. Surrendering to the chaos—to the truth of it. The sea roared one last time, and he welcomed it.

Let the waves crash.

Let the thunder scream.

He opened his arms to the black water and whispered, "I am not afraid of you."

And in that moment—the storm ended.

The sea hadn’t vanish or became quiet out of fear. Now It just simply... obeyed.

Lan floated above it. The core within his chest pulsed steadily—it was no longer unstable. No longer shattering. It was forming.

A dark crystal. Dense. Impossibly heavy. Forged from everything he was.

The system flickered to life:

[Progress to Core Formation: 100%]

[Spiritual Will: 10%]

[You have Entered True Core Formation Realm]

The sea beneath him lay still, like glass stretched across eternity. It wasn’t lifeless, just disciplined. Power now surged through its depths like an army awaiting a single command.

With a wave of his hand, the entire ocean rippled in response. He smiled faintly.

"Good," came Wuchen’s voice behind him. The specter of the cultivator god stood at the edge of the horizon, arms folded.

"You’ve done it. You’ve become one with your foundation. Few cultivators ever reach this understanding so early in their journey."

Lan turned to face him, but said nothing.

"Your core is stable," Wuchen continued. "Strong. But not without cost."

Lan nodded. "I saw myself break."

Wuchen stepped forward. "And from that fracture, you forged something unshakable."

The system chimed again:

> [All techniques have been upgraded using accumulated EXP]

[You have unlocked new techniques:]

– Spiritual Pressure

– Will Imprint

– Talisman Formation

– Will Manifestation

– Severance Field

– Rain of Dark Judgment

— Absolute Sense

Lan’s exhaled. These names... these were not simple techniques. Each of them was a weapon forged from thought and soul.

"These are the tools of one who walks beyond the known path," Wuchen said. "With these, your influence will stretch further than blades ever could."

Lan clenched his fist, power wrapping around his fingers like shadowed flame.

"Then it was worth it."

"It was," Wuchen agreed. "But remember—True Core Formation is not the end. It is only the gate. The Nascent Soul will be your next trial, and unlike now... you will not be able to rely on brute will alone."

Lan narrowed his eyes. "How long before I can reach it?"

"That depends," Wuchen said, slowly fading, his robes scattering like smoke. "On whether you are willing to die again."

And then he was gone.

The sea remained.

But it was his now.

—

Lan’s body moved.

The sealed room, once so silent, echoed with the crackle of energy and the faint sound of breath.

His eyes opened, burning violet.

He groaned as he pushed himself up, arms trembling slightly from the strain. He had collapsed during the final breakthrough—barely clinging to life.

A soft exhale greeted him.

Seraphine.

She sat beside him, kneeling, arms crossed and soot-smudged. Her golden braid had loosened, and her eyes were red with exhaustion. But the moment she saw him move, her whole body relaxed.

"Finally," she breathed, voice cracking with relief.

Lan coughed once. "Did I... oversleep?"

She shot him a look that could flay skin.

"Three weeks, Lanard. You were supposed to be in seclusion for one."

His brow lifted faintly. "Three... weeks?"

She nodded, reaching for a small empty vial on the floor. "And I had to feed you six Qi-refueling pills while your heart refused to beat like a sane man’s."

Lan stilled. The memory returned—that beam of light, that warmth in the darkness.

He looked at her, voice quieter now. "That was you."

She blinked. "What?"

"That light. The warmth I felt. That was you." He met her gaze. "You saved me."

Seraphine’s lips parted slightly, caught off guard.

A smile—smug, exhausted, and just a little proud—curved her mouth.

"I know," she said softly. "And I always will."

Lan exhaled, leaning his head back against the cold wall.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Then Seraphine stood, brushing the dust off her robe. "You should come out soon. The others think you’ve died and I’ve been reanimating your corpse like some demented warlock."

Lan chuckled hoarsely. "Give me a moment."

She gave a small nod, turned, and walked out the chamber, her presence lingering like the scent of lavender and ash.

Lan remained seated, letting the silence return.

But it wasn’t heavy now.

He lifted his hand, summoned a wisp of dark Qi, and watched as it danced along his fingers. The difference was staggering.

His energy no longer fought him. It moved with intent. With clarity. His very presence felt denser, as if the world had to make room for him now.

The black sea within had become a kingdom.

And he was its king.

[You have entered the True Core Formation Realm]

Lan smiled.

There was still the Nascent Soul to reach. Still the Heavenly Realm beyond.

But for now, Ranevia had a cultivator who could challenge kings. He stood slowly, bones crackling as power surged through him.

There was much to do.