The Weak Prince Is A Cultivation God-Chapter 60: The Mines

The frost-hardened path to the mines crackled beneath their boots.

Lan led the group—Venom, Bragg, Garran and Thorn following close behind. Morning mist curled through the ravine, hugging the broken scaffolds and rusted mining tracks like ghosts too stubborn to leave.

The mine’s entrance stood ahead, jagged and dark like a wound carved into the earth. It was once the Solaris Kingdom’s pride, now hollowed out and left to rot.

But that was before Lan.

He stopped at the mouth of the tunnel and pulled out the talisman pouch, its interior pulsing faintly with spiritual energy. The others gathered around, watching him closely.

"We’ll set two per blast," Lan explained. "One Staggered Pulse to break through. One Reinforced Ward to prevent collapse. Together, they’ll dig us deeper without crumbling the tunnels."

"Seems a lot safer than explosives," Garran muttered, inspecting the talisman’s glow.

Lan handed the two talismans to Bragg. "Place the Staggered Pulse in the center of the target wall, about waist-height. Then put the Reinforced Ward just above it, angled slightly down so it shields the space."

Bragg nodded and got to work.

Once the talismans were secured to the stone face, Lan stepped forward. His eyes glowed faintly as he activated both with a touch of spiritual will. The glyphs pulsed—red for destruction, blue for defense.

"You’ll have two minutes before the blast," Lan said, his voice echoing in the tunnel. "That’s more than enough time to clear the radius. Let’s move."

They retreated down the tunnel. Lan counted under his breath. Fifty... sixty...

Then the ground gave a deep, resonant crack.

It wasn’t like a normal explosion. It didn’t echo through the mountain or tremble violently. Instead, it rippled. A single, precise breath of force that shook the stone like thunder beneath still water.

They returned carefully.

And when they saw it, their jaws fell.

Where solid rock had once stood, there was now a clean tunnel—sixty meters long, sloped slightly downward. The walls were smooth, scorched in spirals from the pulse. Not a single support beam had collapsed.

"You have got to be kidding me," Thorn whispered.

Bragg stepped closer, running a hand along the tunnel wall. "No cracks. No fallout. It’s... surgical."

Venom grinned. "We’ve been wasting years doing this the hard way."

"We’re not done," Lan said. "We keep going. I want to reach the lowest depth this mountain can offer."

They moved forward, their boots crunching softly on the debris-dusted stone. The air grew cooler. The flickers of light from their torches dimmed slightly, almost as if the mine itself was holding its breath.

At the end of the tunnel, they repeated the process—placing the next set of talismans, activating them, retreating.

Another blast. Another tunnel carved from darkness.

They advanced slowly down the sloped path, cautious now. Every few meters deeper, the air seemed to twist, their mana becoming harder to control. Lan noticed it first—then the others confirmed it.

"It’s like... my mana’s flickering," Wren said. "Feels off."

They kept going.

And then they saw it.

Gold.

Not flecks. Not threads. Veins.

Great, thick arteries of it running along the wall—some laced into the ceiling, others entwined with jagged, pulsing crystals that glowed with eerie hues—purple, silver, and deep azure.

Bragg froze mid-step. "How... how is this possible?"

Venom whistled low. "I thought this mine was dead."

"It wasn’t," Lan said, stepping forward. "The empire gave up before reaching this depth. What we’re looking at... this is untouched."

They fanned out to inspect the cavern. Garran knelt beside a crystal, extending a finger toward it—only to recoil as his mana surged uncontrollably.

"They disrupt mana," he said. "The closer I get, the more unstable it becomes."

Lan narrowed his eyes. "I’m not certain but i think it does more than disrupt. They drain. These seem to be mana leeching crystals. Rare. Dangerous. But incredibly useful if refined properly."

Bragg looked up from a gold-veined wall. "So what now?"

Lan glanced around, then nodded to Venom.

"We begin excavation. I want three mining teams set up by tomorrow—no deeper until I’ve personally secured the next layer with more talismans. These crystals could rupture if mishandled."

Venom grinned and saluted with two fingers. "Aye, boss."

As they returned to the surface, light filtered in through the mine’s entrance. Frosty winds greeted them. Lan felt the sun again—and the weight of everything yet to be done.

---

Later that evening, the estate was quiet enough for the scratch of quill and parchment in Lan’s study to seem loud.

He sat alone, scrolls scattered across the desk—plans for refining crystal, trade routes, alchemical research Seraphine had sent. Ranevia was growing. Piece by piece.

And then—soft blue light flickered from the far end of the table.

The communication rune.

Iris.

Lan turned toward the crystal and pricked his finger, letting a drop of blood fall on it.

The crystal shimmered.

"Hello, princess," he said, lips curved slightly. "It’s been a while."

The light flickered, and then her voice flowed through like velvet.

"Oh? Missing my voice already?"

"Very much," Lan said. "Was but a few days from collapsing if I didn’t hear from you."

"That’s good," Iris replied. "Because I need you to come to the imperial city. Immediately."

Lan’s smile faded a fraction. "Yeah, no way. I’ve got too much going on. Can’t leave now."

Her tone shifted. "Lanard... I need you to do this. If you don’t come, my bid for the crown may end."

Lan’s brow furrowed. "That urgent, huh? What’s going on?"

She hesitated.

"The Emperor has announced Acceptance."

Lan blinked. "Announced what now?"

"It means he’s ready to begin the process. To name his successor. All who intend to claim the crown must present themselves—and their supporters."

Lan leaned back. "Ah. So it’s a fancy noble parade. My favorite kind of event. If I’m lucky, maybe there’ll be a new duke’s son there."

"Lan..."

He heard it in her voice—something sharp. Something honest.

"I need you there," she said.

Lan was silent for a long time. Then: "I’ll leave for the Imperial City in four days."

He heard her breath catch.

"Thank you."

The crystal dimmed.

Lan stared at it for a moment longer before pushing his chair back and rising to his feet.

Four days.

He turned to the window. Ranevia’s cold winds whispered across the hills beyond the estate. Far below, torchlight flickered where the mining teams were preparing for work.

He exhaled, then reached for a map on the wall—one of the imperial roads leading south.

"Have to finish things up then."