The Weak Prince Is A Cultivation God-Chapter 64: We Are Rich

By morning, the fog that had clung to the hills of Karihad began to lift, unveiling a world still drenched in dew and chill. A gray sun hovered behind a thin curtain of clouds, casting the abandoned quarry in pale light as Lan, Bragg, and Venom arrived.

They came masked, just as before—no names, no marks, no banners. Only heavy carts pulled by black horses and silent riders trailing behind.

The designated location sat just beyond the edge of the dead quarry—neutral ground agreed upon by both parties.

Half-collapsed scaffolding, rusted chains, and the bones of old mining tools littered the ground. The perfect place for criminals to shake hands.

Lan stood near the largest cart, arms folded, the lacquered black mask hiding everything but the cold steel of his gaze. Beside him, Bragg stretched with a tired grunt, eyes scanning the horizon.

"They’ll come," Venom muttered, adjusting the blade at his side. "They always do when gold calls."

Bragg frowned. "And if they try anything?"

Lan didn’t glance at him. "Then we kill them all."

His voice was calm. Certain. The kind of certainty that made the wind itself seem to pause.

Bragg smirked and nodded. "Right. That’s comforting."

They didn’t have to wait long.

From the opposite ridge, two dozen figures crested the slope, their long coats trailing behind them like tattered flags. Armed, masked, disciplined. These weren’t street rats. They were professionals. Syndicate men. At their center rode the buyer—a man dressed in simple black, with gloves, and no mask. A subtle show of power.

They met in the middle.

No one bowed. No one greeted.

Instead, the buyer gestured to his men, who fanned out around the cart. One produced a device—an old relic, rune-carved and humming faintly with blue light. He placed it atop the pile of gold bricks.

A pulse rang out. The relic glowed.

He turned to his master and gave a nod.

"Clean," the buyer said simply. "As promised."

Venom nodded. "As paid for."

The buyer looked to Lan. "Distribution and collection—weekly, yes?"

Lan gave a single nod.

"You’ll be here?"

"No," Lan said. "You’ll deal with my men. I’ve other matters to attend to. But the gold will be here. Every week. Don’t be late with payment. We won’t be."

The buyer smirked. "Efficient. I like that."

He gestured again, and one of his guards brought forward a long chest—wide and heavy. They opened it before Lan and stepped back.

Inside, stacked neatly in leather-bound rows, were gold coins. Aregard-mint. No enchantments. Pure currency.

Lan stepped forward, waved his hand slightly.

[Spiritual Will Activated]

Every coin lifted into the air, spun slowly in a controlled orbit before falling back into the chest.

Bragg blinked. "What the hell was that?"

"Counting," Lan said simply.

Venom whistled. "And?"

Lan closed the chest. "Thirty-six thousand. As agreed."

The buyer extended a gloved hand.

Lan didn’t shake it. Venom did.

The deal was done.

With that, the buyer turned, his men falling into step as they began their retreat over the ridge. The last to leave gave one final glance back—just a brief moment of tension, of possibility—but then disappeared into the morning haze.

They were alone again.

For a long moment, no one said anything.

Then Bragg stepped forward, ran his hand through his beard, and muttered,

"Are we... rich?"

Lan didn’t answer immediately. He simply looked out toward the horizon where the syndicate had vanished.

Then—his lips curled under the mask.

"Yes," he said. "Yes we fucking are."

He reached into one of the smaller pouches tied to the cart and tossed it to Venom. "Pour the wine."

Venom didn’t need to be told twice. He grinned and pulled the cloth-wrapped flask from the cart, biting the cork loose and spitting it into the dirt.

From the back of the carts, the Mad Vipers emerged—rough men, most of them bloodied from digging and guarding and surviving. They hadn’t spoken much since leaving Ranevia, but now, with the coin secured and the sun rising, they were allowed to breathe.

Cups were passed. Wine flowed dark and sweet. Laughter broke the stillness of the quarry like cracking ice.

Lan leaned against the cart, cup in hand, and let the warmth spread down his throat. For the first time in months, maybe years, the future wasn’t just blood and vengeance—it had form now. Shape. Gold.

But business, as always, never slept.

He turned toward his men, voice clear.

"This is how it begins," he said. "From this point forward, we act like what we are. Not a gang or a band of outlaws. A territory."

Venom and Bragg nodded, solemn now.

"First—begin paying the miners, the workers, and every soldier under our banner," Lan ordered. "Fair wages. Speak to Miller. He’ll know what’s right."

Bragg grunted. "That’ll buy loyalty for sure."

"Good," Lan continued. "Next, send riders to the neighboring territories. Buy food. Enough to feed every family and beggar in Ranevia. I want no child starving. Not on my land."

Venom raised his cup. "A king who feeds his dogs is a king they’ll die for."

"We’re dogs no more," Lan said. "We’re wolves. And we’re hungry."

He turned, lifting one of the gold crates, and effortlessly sealed it into a swirling void of light—his subspace ring shimmering as it swallowed the wealth.

"I’m taking half of this with me," he said.

Bragg frowned. "Where?"

"I’m going to the Imperial City, remember."

Silence.

He secured his coat, sheathed Devil’s Lie, and adjusted his gloves. He mounted his horse—black as ash, its eyes glinting like embers—and took one last look at the gold they’d earned.

"Tell Seraphine she should begin immediate testing on her new pill," he added. "Whatever converts mana to Qi—that’s our next step."

The Vipers nodded.

"And the rest?"

Lan looked over his shoulder.

"Build. Fix the homes. The roads. The bathhouses. Every order Seraphine gives, treat it like mine. Ranevia will become a kingdom in all but name."

He clicked his tongue.

The horse moved.

Dust curled behind him as he began his ride into the rising sun. His silhouette grew smaller against the light, swallowed eventually by the golden mist of the hills.

But his presence remained.

In the gold. In the men.

In the future he had just bought with blood, stone, and fire.