The Last Cultivator Novels & Stories

Xavier Pov As soon as we arrived back in the royal palace, I escorted Luna to the garden. On our way there, I mind linked Cole and asked him to capture Killian and lock him up in the cell. He had dared to send an inappropriate picture to my girl. So he needed to be punished heavily. No one messes with my queen and live to tell the tale.

Elara was Cassian's only Luna, and they had loved each other for ten years. But at this year's remembrance ceremony, Elara's name on the stone tablet suddenly split open. The Moon Goddess no longer blessed her, no longer claimed her. Another woman, Seraphina, was about to become the next Luna. And Elara had only five days left to live. What made it worse was that Cassian had known all along. Three years ago, he had led Elara up to the crown himself, and he had signed that contract himself. He knew perfectly well that being Luna had never been an honor, but an offering to the Moon Goddess. Yet Cassian kept it from her for three years. All he said was, "I want to save you." Only later did she

I'm going to edit every chapter soon, and as I've said before, I'm still learning and will continue to learn more, so please bear with me if you come across some of my mistakes. Did you find the finale surprising? Because I am, I never intended for it to end that way; the original ending idea was for Santi, who is still alive and paying his debts by suffering in prison with no hands and feet. But I hesitated since it's rather unrealistic for him to still be alive that long given that he’s already at a critical old age; even if this is fiction, I want it to be as true to reality as possible. In the end, we witness Zackary steadily evolving into his grandfather and half-brother’s evil personal

Luna hugged Hannah while the boys took take of Hansel and the Pale Hawk. “Theodore.” Soheila's voice was cold. She took all of their attention. That's how powerful Soheila's words were. “Bring us back.” She coldly said without looking at them as she kept on staring at the ashes of the nice blue cultivators. The last blue cultivator was struggling and panting as he felt the strong mental strength.

"Something about a sole beneficiary clause, contingent on confirmed lineage. What does that mean?" Something flickered across her face, there and gone fast enough that I almost missed it, replaced quickly by the warm, unbothered expression she'd worn through every hard conversation since the diagnosis. "That's just me making sure things are settled properly," she said, reaching over to pat my hand. "Making sure whatever I have left goes exactly where I want it to go, without anybody who never bothered showing up while I was alive trying to come in afterward and claim a piece of something they didn't earn."

The surviving cultivators—in their quest for immortality and transcendence—began looking into other avenues. However, both were only getting even more difficult as time passed, with plenty of cultivators who were the last of their sects dying in grief and regret. And with each death, the past glories of their thousand-year sects became lost in time. That is, until Barlin heard from that senior figure about the legend where one sect found the final gate to ascension at the southern end of Earth, which also happened to be the coldest. He had claimed back then, that it was perhaps the last bastion of hope for cultivators in the Degenerate Age of Dharma.

She walked over to the wardrobe and his shirts were all over the place, it made her sad. Without thinking, Riley began to pull Adam's belongings from the wardrobe with tears in her eyes.she poured it all on the floor and went ahead to pull out everything that reminded her of him, the sheets, the pillows that she could swear still had his scent all over it, the pen holder she bought for him to stack his pens, the chair, and finally, the picture of him holding her on the waist that stood firmly on the bed stand. The picture went crashing on th floor and Riley fell with it,crying uncontrollably. The events of last night didn't still make sense to her and all she wantd was to drive up to his hou

When he looked at the furthest end of the cathedral's compound, he saw cotton packed in worn out sacks and nearby a cotton farm was a tractor which was used for farming. "At this premise we live like brothers," the priest announced using a microphone, "we don't have to use our guns to harm each other but to fight our enemies and those machines. Right now we have no place to take our produces to because the old shop is no more. We should be looking to the solution to our problems and not fighting each other." The whole crowd listened attentively to their priest, but the man who had fired stood up and left without saying a word, from his looks you could tell that he didn't concure with what th

The harvest was coming in, but the wheat was the color of bone. Six months had passed since the Great Stillness, and the village of New Orizon had become a sanctuary of Agrarian-Survival (subsistence living based on manual farming). The mountain valley, once a site of cosmic trauma, was now a tapestry of tilled earth and timber cabins. Kazimir had traded his pulse-blade for a heavy iron plow, his broad shoulders now tanned and corded with the honest muscle of a laborer. He looked like a man of the earth, yet his eyes—ever watchful—still scanned the treeline for ghosts that no longer haunted the woods.

On the third to last day before my planned death, I would face the world’s cruelty one more time. I replied with care. “Yes, Mr. Cardea.” I let out a quiet laugh at myself. People prepared for a rainy day to survive. I prepared for one to die.